Thank you for remembering us over the weekend. Special thanks to those of you who chose to join us in fasting and talking to Father on Saturday. We had a great time of refreshing and unifying together in preparation for all that lies ahead. The next few months will be busy ones. We started moving my supervisors in yesterday. Ends up I'll be moving in the next couple weeks. I also have to make a short visit to Kenya. Lots of things are in the works. I will try to do better at sharing with you more often.
In our time together as a team I was thinking about you. I was thinking about how 150+ of my team lives on the other side of the world. It has been great for us to be back together here, but you guys will likely only ever be together in spirit. I would like to offer you the opportunity to have a glimpse of some of those you are partnered with as you lift us up. Many of you check in here frequently but many others don't. If you are willing add a comment to this blog.
Let this info be your comment so that others know a bit about you. 1. First Name 2. City and/or State and/or Country of Residence 3. Where you met me (i.e. Falmouth, Georgetown, Baylor, Waco, Paducah, High School, Family, etc.) 4. How long we have known one another.
Don't feel pressure to do this. It is only to give you an idea of who is joined with you, and to give me an idea of who is reading this journal. Be "safe" with responses.
Thank you for your commitment!!
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Friday, April 08, 2005
Language Favorites...
So, I have been a huge slacker when it comes to journaling. I apologize for disappearing. One day I will either stop disappearing or just stop apologizing for it. You should have recently received a newsletter. If you didn't a few things might be the cause: 1. Somehow I have not put you on the list. 2. Email glitch. 3. The newsletter is getting put in your junk or bulk mailbox.
If you didn't receive the update and would like to please send me an email and I will try to get it out to you. Also, if you had trouble reading the information let me know. You may be receiving it in a format that your email program can't handle.
A couple updates. My supervisors have found a house and will be moving in next week we hope. Ryan had surgery on Wednesday morning in Louisville. I have not yet received an update to know how it went. I almost called my family this morning, and then I realized it was 1:30am their time and that likely wouldn't have made Dad real happy. We begin our retreat at 2 this afternoon. That is your 6am your time, if you are in central time.
For sometime I have been intending to share with you some information about language but haven't yet done it. As you probably are aware I have stopped full time language study. Even though I don't spend multiple hours a day focusing on learning language I am still learning language. I am doing my best to have short conversations with everyone that I can. I still only have a very small understanding of the language. I do have a few favorite sayings though. I have gotten miles out of the shock and often laughter these bring from listeners.
They are amazed that a foreigner is learning their language so they usually compliment me with the word "gobez." (Please excuse the gross transliterations, as there is no way to truly transition the language from their writing to English print.) "Gobez" means clever. I quickly respond that I am not that clever and I don't know much of their language by saying, "Gobez idelum. Amarinia bedemb, menager alchelem." It is a bit of an oxymoronic sentence in that it is a very formal way to say I don't speak Amharic very well. It would be like an English learner saying, "Thank you for your compliment, but I dont deserve it because I still dont speak English very well, but I am learning." The more likely response would of course be, "English, no speak good."
They usually disagree and tell me I speak very well and blah, blah, blah. Then I like to say, "Cus bu cus..." It means little by little and comes from one of their proverbs. Together we finish the proverb with, "...enculal bigrew yihadal." They laugh with me and again compliment me as together we have said, "Little by little the egg walks by legs." They get a kick out of me caring about what they say and how they say it. I enjoy their enjoyment and enjoy getting a bit better with language everyday.
Now that I am out of fulltime study it is less like an assignment and more of a game. I hate to study but I love to play, so I think this time might help my language even more than the studying did.
Thank you for your continued faithfulness. Know it was a huge blessing to send out an email this past week to the 150+ that are joined with me in this journey of reaching the 60 to 70 million people of this nation for the truth. Pray hard!
If you didn't receive the update and would like to please send me an email and I will try to get it out to you. Also, if you had trouble reading the information let me know. You may be receiving it in a format that your email program can't handle.
A couple updates. My supervisors have found a house and will be moving in next week we hope. Ryan had surgery on Wednesday morning in Louisville. I have not yet received an update to know how it went. I almost called my family this morning, and then I realized it was 1:30am their time and that likely wouldn't have made Dad real happy. We begin our retreat at 2 this afternoon. That is your 6am your time, if you are in central time.
For sometime I have been intending to share with you some information about language but haven't yet done it. As you probably are aware I have stopped full time language study. Even though I don't spend multiple hours a day focusing on learning language I am still learning language. I am doing my best to have short conversations with everyone that I can. I still only have a very small understanding of the language. I do have a few favorite sayings though. I have gotten miles out of the shock and often laughter these bring from listeners.
They are amazed that a foreigner is learning their language so they usually compliment me with the word "gobez." (Please excuse the gross transliterations, as there is no way to truly transition the language from their writing to English print.) "Gobez" means clever. I quickly respond that I am not that clever and I don't know much of their language by saying, "Gobez idelum. Amarinia bedemb, menager alchelem." It is a bit of an oxymoronic sentence in that it is a very formal way to say I don't speak Amharic very well. It would be like an English learner saying, "Thank you for your compliment, but I dont deserve it because I still dont speak English very well, but I am learning." The more likely response would of course be, "English, no speak good."
They usually disagree and tell me I speak very well and blah, blah, blah. Then I like to say, "Cus bu cus..." It means little by little and comes from one of their proverbs. Together we finish the proverb with, "...enculal bigrew yihadal." They laugh with me and again compliment me as together we have said, "Little by little the egg walks by legs." They get a kick out of me caring about what they say and how they say it. I enjoy their enjoyment and enjoy getting a bit better with language everyday.
Now that I am out of fulltime study it is less like an assignment and more of a game. I hate to study but I love to play, so I think this time might help my language even more than the studying did.
Thank you for your continued faithfulness. Know it was a huge blessing to send out an email this past week to the 150+ that are joined with me in this journey of reaching the 60 to 70 million people of this nation for the truth. Pray hard!
Saturday, March 19, 2005
A Day Finding a Park...
Yesterday was a great adventure. It was a coworker's birthday. She is here short term and still misses home sometimes so we wanted to make sure her birthday was incredible.
We decided to drive out to a national forest. (Didn't do the mountain thing I mentioned.) We didnt exactly know where the place was. We just started out in the direction we had been told to go. We had been told it was just before a certain road, but when we didn't see it there we kept going. Eventually we stopped to ask for help.
After about six times of asking for help we ended up on the right road. The directions never completely made sense, until we found the right place. Then what they had said fit together. The crazy thing is that if they didn't know where we were trying to go, they would never have said, "I don't know." They would have made up something. I still believe some of them may have done that. They gave something so broad it couldn't have been wrong. We were going to test this if we stopped once more. I was going to ask the way to Super Wal-Mart, just to see if we could get a response from them. We didn't have to stop again so we never asked.
Come to find out the park was much farther out of town than we expected. We drove for quite a while down some pretty rough roads before finally arriving. It was so wonderful though. The countryside is much different than the city here. And you only have to get 20 minutes or so outside the city to see it. The scenery is beautiful. The people are beautiful and funny. They don't see many cars down the dirt roads we were on. While we were still a ways off they would hear the engine. The children would come running to the road to ask for gifts.
Since they don't have cars and never will, the road is a walkway to them. They walk down the middle caring water jugs or sticks. They heard their sheep, goats, cows, and/or donkeys right down the middle of the road. It is crazy.
Once we finally arrived the park was so peaceful. We found what was called a waterfall (disappointing) and took pictures and sat for a while. It was so relaxing, so refreshing. We had a great morning and early afternoon of just chilling far from the horns, and smog, and cell phone service.
I love these occasional days away.
We finished off her birthday with dinner at her favorite restaurant. It is Arabic. Everyone sits on the floor and gets food from communal plates. We had great fish and shish kabobs. She was also surprised with flowers and a cake. I think we were at least somewhat successful at making it a great day for her.
Okay lunchtime
We decided to drive out to a national forest. (Didn't do the mountain thing I mentioned.) We didnt exactly know where the place was. We just started out in the direction we had been told to go. We had been told it was just before a certain road, but when we didn't see it there we kept going. Eventually we stopped to ask for help.
After about six times of asking for help we ended up on the right road. The directions never completely made sense, until we found the right place. Then what they had said fit together. The crazy thing is that if they didn't know where we were trying to go, they would never have said, "I don't know." They would have made up something. I still believe some of them may have done that. They gave something so broad it couldn't have been wrong. We were going to test this if we stopped once more. I was going to ask the way to Super Wal-Mart, just to see if we could get a response from them. We didn't have to stop again so we never asked.
Come to find out the park was much farther out of town than we expected. We drove for quite a while down some pretty rough roads before finally arriving. It was so wonderful though. The countryside is much different than the city here. And you only have to get 20 minutes or so outside the city to see it. The scenery is beautiful. The people are beautiful and funny. They don't see many cars down the dirt roads we were on. While we were still a ways off they would hear the engine. The children would come running to the road to ask for gifts.
Since they don't have cars and never will, the road is a walkway to them. They walk down the middle caring water jugs or sticks. They heard their sheep, goats, cows, and/or donkeys right down the middle of the road. It is crazy.
Once we finally arrived the park was so peaceful. We found what was called a waterfall (disappointing) and took pictures and sat for a while. It was so relaxing, so refreshing. We had a great morning and early afternoon of just chilling far from the horns, and smog, and cell phone service.
I love these occasional days away.
We finished off her birthday with dinner at her favorite restaurant. It is Arabic. Everyone sits on the floor and gets food from communal plates. We had great fish and shish kabobs. She was also surprised with flowers and a cake. I think we were at least somewhat successful at making it a great day for her.
Okay lunchtime
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
entrepreneurs and beggars...
There are two different types of people that make walking frustrating many days. Some are entrepreneurs. I have more respect for these people. They are selling things. The most common things are “soft” (Kleenex packets), ink pens, sunglasses, movies, music, and, gum. It also isn’t uncommon to see socks and belts on the same guys with sunglasses.
The other people are beggars. These people offer you nothing. Well that isn’t always true sometimes the children offer a song (Usually “This is the day.” The language changes.), and they may also offer you a “Mother, Father dead. I love you.” Some beggars have no choice. They are homeless children or young mothers or they are old men or women. They beg because they have no option for work.
Now don’t hear me making fun of either of these groups. I respect the sellers desire to at least do something for money, and the beggars break my heart for the most part.
One of the most frustrating parts is they look like lions on the prowl. I imagine that on a long day the lion doesn’t want to grab the biggest prey which will put up the greatest fight. He/she just wants a bite to eat. So the lion watches for a weak dinner to pass by. When it sees it, it pounces. Americans are viewed in a similar manner…rich suckers. I watch as I pass a mother and she sends her baby to chase the white guy. I see sellers cross a busy street risking life and limb to catch the white guy walking on the other side. It can be so frustrating. Sometimes I ask them why they came to me out of all these people. They rarely answer.
Many days you get repeats. I see some beggars almost daily. I’ve adopted two. There is an old lady on a side of town I go to some who has a small child with her. I give small change or a birr to them. There is an old man who begs down the street where I often catch taxis. Every few days he returns to me. Most days he leaves me alone, because he knows when I can I’ll give him a bit.
Today I had a repeat child. The child usually works a busy intersection selling “soft.” The child is about eight or ten (guessing) with a shaved head. When you look into the child’s face there is usually a slight runny nose and slightly crossed eyes. Today was the first day I realized the child was a girl, and it was only an assumption based on the fact the child had on a dress.
I passed her and an older boy today on the way to a taxi. The older boy sent her back towards me. She walked with me about a block trying to sell me her “soft.” I told her I didn’t want any and she continued to convince me I needed some. The package must have been dirty. She cleaned it…both sides. She pulled it up to her face licked the package and then dried it on the chest of her dress.
I got in the taxi and she continued working to convince me. Four other children joined her…these were just beggars. What to do here is hard. Nationals would tell me to shut the door on them and ignore them. I usually let them continue as long as they will because it doesn’t really hurt me any. Sometimes they get violent with them if I allow them to stay. A couple days ago I watched a man hit a girl and another kick her as she was hanging on a taxi asking me for money.
Many here give to beggars. They know how to tell a thief from one in need. When they aren’t going to give…they ignore them. They stare away as if the person isn’t really a person. It breaks my heart, but there must be some purpose in it. Maybe I’ll learn.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
A Day Finding a Park...
Yesterday was a great adventure. It was a coworker’s birthday. She is here short term and still misses home sometimes so we wanted to make sure her birthday was incredible.
We decided to drive out to a national forest. (Didn’t do the mountain thing I mentioned.) We didn’t exactly know where the place was. We just started out in the direction we had been told to go. We had been told it was just before a certain road, but when we didn’t see it there we kept going. Eventually we stopped to ask for help.
After about six times of asking for help we ended up on the right road. The directions never completely made sense, until we found the right place. Then what they had said fit together. The crazy thing is that if they didn’t know where we were trying to go, they would never have said, “I don’t know.” They would have made up something. I still believe some of them may have done that. They gave something so broad it couldn’t have been wrong. We were going to test this if we stopped once more. I was going to ask the way to Super Wal-Mart, just to see if we could get a response from them. We didn’t have to stop again so we never asked.
Come to find out the park was much farther out of town than we expected. We drove for quite a while down some pretty rough roads before finally arriving. It was so wonderful though. The countryside is much different than the city here. And you only have to get 20 minutes or so outside the city to see it. The scenery is beautiful. The people are beautiful and funny. They don’t see many cars down the dirt roads we were on. While we were still a ways off they would hear the engine. The children would come running to the road to ask for gifts.
Since they don’t have cars and never will, the road is a walkway to them. They walk down the middle caring water jugs or sticks. They heard their sheep, goats, cows, and/or donkeys right down the middle of the road. It is crazy.
Once we finally arrived the park was so peaceful. We found what was called a waterfall (disappointing) and took pictures and sat for a while. It was so relaxing, so refreshing. We had a great morning and early afternoon of just chilling far from the horns, and smog, and cell phone service.
I love these occasional days away.
We finished off her birthday with dinner at her favorite restaurant. It is Arabic. Everyone sits on the floor and gets food from communal plates. We had great fish and shish kabobs. She was also surprised with flowers and a cake. I think we were at least somewhat successful at making it a great day for her.
Okay lunchtime!
Friday, March 11, 2005
What a Beautiful Place...
Twice in the last month or so I have tried to write a particular entry. Continuously I have failed to be satisfied with what came out. It was sparked by a couple things. First was an email from a friend Tammy. She asked what I missed from home, later she clarified her intention. She wanted to be able to notice things she overlooked. A while later I got another email. Roz and I were bragging on one of my coworkers. I realized part of what makes her so incredible is that she is always attentive to the positive. So now I'll try the entry from a different direction.
One of my coworkers puts me to shame. She has a love for this people and this place that I have yet to completely take hold of. She has wonderful relationships with nationals. They love her...not just because she is white (a.k.a. rich), but because she offers them herself completely. She has a way of seeing the positive in the midst of so many other things. I notice the frustrations, the difficulties; she notices the potential, the beauty.
I have to be honest and say I live in a beautifully ugly city. I'm not sure what else to call it. It is amazing and beautiful; it is desperate and ugly. I am working harder to notice the beauty more than the ugliness.
This afternoon I rode a minibus from one side of the city to the other. I broke a cultural rule and opened the window. The truth is the guy next to me asked me to open it more than the crack I had put in it. When he left, I left it open. I rested my elbow on the frame and my chin on my elbow. I listened and watched and smelled the city.
The money collector on the taxi thought he was funny. He knew enough English to be obnoxious. I laughed with him as he tried to tease me.
We drove through the gigantic Merkato (not sure how to transliterate). It is blocks and blocks of stuff. There are people selling spices; baskets; metal; wood; you name it, it is probably there...somewhere. I quickly noticed a smell. It smelt like kitfo, a national food. It is ground beef in lots of butter...they eat it raw. I had just had it for lunch. I smelt my hands to make sure it wasn't me. Then I smelt the national spice. It is a very hot red spice that smells similar to chilis. Texans would love it!
Around the next corner was a man sitting in front of his metal shop. He was trying to encourage me to come visit. I just sat and smiled and said, "I don't want." Shortly after, we passed a guy driving a taxi car (contract taxi). He yelled something as we drove past and I smiled.
There was a fruit stand. It is a green tent, like army duffle bags. Hanging everywhere was bananas. Oranges and maybe mangos were stacked in high piles. A young girl sat behind the pile hoping to make a profit.
Then came one of the highlights. These taxis run a particular route. When they lose people they stop and wait to fill up again. We were nearly empty; only three of us were left. I made a friend. He was outside the taxi. He was only about three feet tall and probably five or six years old. He wore a bright yellow v-neck sweater with a white shirt underneath. His pants were dark.
He saw me and noticed I saw him. He waved; I waved back and smiled. He stopped looking at me and was playing with his face. He was squeezing his cheeks together pooching his lips out. When he looked by make direction I made the same face towards him...he laughed so hard the young man he was with looked to find me. Then an old man standing near looked to find me too.
My friend and I continued to make faces. We squeezed our cheeks; we dropped our jaw and opened our eyes wide as if we were shocked; we pulled at our ears; we squinted our eyes and pooched out our lips. For several minutes we copied one another. He laughed hysterically...I laughed with him.
The taxi filled; we waved goodbye. At the top of the next hill I saw a park I had never seen before. It was so pretty. How do I miss those things? Why do the beggars tend to stand out more than the beautiful children do? Why do the stinks stand out more than the wonderful odors? Why does the decrepit building stand out more than the blooms on the trees or the beautiful park?
I'm tired of missing out on the joys of this place. I see some of them; I miss many of them. Tomorrow morning I am heading to a mountaintop just outside the city. I want to go and watch and admire the beauty of the country I live in. The most beautiful thing...despite the occasional difficulties, are the wonderful people. They are so incredible!
Not sure you care. Saw an Olympian today or maybe two. There is a movie about this place that gives you great insight into the culture. It is about a guy who grew up in the countryside and eventually became a gold medalist. I was working out today (three times this week...yuck) at the gym he owns. He was there talking to friends. I think another lady may have been an Olympic runner too. I know she was putting this fat white guy to shame. It was kind of neat. (The Olympians, not getting up to shame on the treadmill.)
One of my coworkers puts me to shame. She has a love for this people and this place that I have yet to completely take hold of. She has wonderful relationships with nationals. They love her...not just because she is white (a.k.a. rich), but because she offers them herself completely. She has a way of seeing the positive in the midst of so many other things. I notice the frustrations, the difficulties; she notices the potential, the beauty.
I have to be honest and say I live in a beautifully ugly city. I'm not sure what else to call it. It is amazing and beautiful; it is desperate and ugly. I am working harder to notice the beauty more than the ugliness.
This afternoon I rode a minibus from one side of the city to the other. I broke a cultural rule and opened the window. The truth is the guy next to me asked me to open it more than the crack I had put in it. When he left, I left it open. I rested my elbow on the frame and my chin on my elbow. I listened and watched and smelled the city.
The money collector on the taxi thought he was funny. He knew enough English to be obnoxious. I laughed with him as he tried to tease me.
We drove through the gigantic Merkato (not sure how to transliterate). It is blocks and blocks of stuff. There are people selling spices; baskets; metal; wood; you name it, it is probably there...somewhere. I quickly noticed a smell. It smelt like kitfo, a national food. It is ground beef in lots of butter...they eat it raw. I had just had it for lunch. I smelt my hands to make sure it wasn't me. Then I smelt the national spice. It is a very hot red spice that smells similar to chilis. Texans would love it!
Around the next corner was a man sitting in front of his metal shop. He was trying to encourage me to come visit. I just sat and smiled and said, "I don't want." Shortly after, we passed a guy driving a taxi car (contract taxi). He yelled something as we drove past and I smiled.
There was a fruit stand. It is a green tent, like army duffle bags. Hanging everywhere was bananas. Oranges and maybe mangos were stacked in high piles. A young girl sat behind the pile hoping to make a profit.
Then came one of the highlights. These taxis run a particular route. When they lose people they stop and wait to fill up again. We were nearly empty; only three of us were left. I made a friend. He was outside the taxi. He was only about three feet tall and probably five or six years old. He wore a bright yellow v-neck sweater with a white shirt underneath. His pants were dark.
He saw me and noticed I saw him. He waved; I waved back and smiled. He stopped looking at me and was playing with his face. He was squeezing his cheeks together pooching his lips out. When he looked by make direction I made the same face towards him...he laughed so hard the young man he was with looked to find me. Then an old man standing near looked to find me too.
My friend and I continued to make faces. We squeezed our cheeks; we dropped our jaw and opened our eyes wide as if we were shocked; we pulled at our ears; we squinted our eyes and pooched out our lips. For several minutes we copied one another. He laughed hysterically...I laughed with him.
The taxi filled; we waved goodbye. At the top of the next hill I saw a park I had never seen before. It was so pretty. How do I miss those things? Why do the beggars tend to stand out more than the beautiful children do? Why do the stinks stand out more than the wonderful odors? Why does the decrepit building stand out more than the blooms on the trees or the beautiful park?
I'm tired of missing out on the joys of this place. I see some of them; I miss many of them. Tomorrow morning I am heading to a mountaintop just outside the city. I want to go and watch and admire the beauty of the country I live in. The most beautiful thing...despite the occasional difficulties, are the wonderful people. They are so incredible!
Not sure you care. Saw an Olympian today or maybe two. There is a movie about this place that gives you great insight into the culture. It is about a guy who grew up in the countryside and eventually became a gold medalist. I was working out today (three times this week...yuck) at the gym he owns. He was there talking to friends. I think another lady may have been an Olympic runner too. I know she was putting this fat white guy to shame. It was kind of neat. (The Olympians, not getting up to shame on the treadmill.)
Monday, March 07, 2005
Update...
Thank you for lifting up my friends Ben and Candi. They have returned from South Africa and he is doing well. I believe I shared that he had two stints put in to two vessels with 90% blockage. He spent time recovering there and now they are back here with friends and family.
Yesterday they headed back out to their home in the countryside.
I wanted you to know all is well.
Yesterday they headed back out to their home in the countryside.
I wanted you to know all is well.
A Visitor...
Wednesday was a holiday. I'm not sure what kind of holiday. They have lots of them here so sometimes it is hard to keep them all straight. Since it was a holiday I took a day off of language. It was a good day. I did a whole lot of nothing and I need those days once in a while.
I was watching a movie when someone knocked at the door. Who in the world is that I wondered? I went and changed out of my pajama pants so it didn't look like I had been sitting around all day.
A friend had come to visit me. He is in seventh grade. He doesn't speak much English; and as you know I don't speak much of his language.
I'm still not sure why he came. I know his family. I had lunch in his mothers house last week. This kid knows some of my coworkers better than he does me, but on this day he came to see me. I was shocked when I opened the door...I really didn't expect him. We stood and stared at each other for a few seconds. "What are you doing," I asked? "Nothing." "How are you?" "Good." (This exchange was in his language.) Still not sure what he was wanting I said, "Do you want to come in." "Yes!"
He walked in an immediately kicked off his shoes in the entryway. We went and sat on the couch together. We talked for a while in his language about what he was doing and school and his family. He misses my supervisors a lot and cant wait for them to return.
After talking for a while he asked if I had a movie. We finished Remember the Titans together. I don't think he liked it much. After it was over he asked for some water. I got him a glass and some water. He had a second glass. Then he offered to wash my dishes. They love to serve their friends here. I wouldn't let him though.
I told him I had to go I had another program. He said okay and moved towards the door. He looked at me after putting on his shoes. He said, "Taxi, give me money." How weird an interchange would this have been in the states? It was weird to me too, but becoming more normal. Besides it cost me about 12 cents to help him get home.
You never know what a day will hold here.
I was watching a movie when someone knocked at the door. Who in the world is that I wondered? I went and changed out of my pajama pants so it didn't look like I had been sitting around all day.
A friend had come to visit me. He is in seventh grade. He doesn't speak much English; and as you know I don't speak much of his language.
I'm still not sure why he came. I know his family. I had lunch in his mothers house last week. This kid knows some of my coworkers better than he does me, but on this day he came to see me. I was shocked when I opened the door...I really didn't expect him. We stood and stared at each other for a few seconds. "What are you doing," I asked? "Nothing." "How are you?" "Good." (This exchange was in his language.) Still not sure what he was wanting I said, "Do you want to come in." "Yes!"
He walked in an immediately kicked off his shoes in the entryway. We went and sat on the couch together. We talked for a while in his language about what he was doing and school and his family. He misses my supervisors a lot and cant wait for them to return.
After talking for a while he asked if I had a movie. We finished Remember the Titans together. I don't think he liked it much. After it was over he asked for some water. I got him a glass and some water. He had a second glass. Then he offered to wash my dishes. They love to serve their friends here. I wouldn't let him though.
I told him I had to go I had another program. He said okay and moved towards the door. He looked at me after putting on his shoes. He said, "Taxi, give me money." How weird an interchange would this have been in the states? It was weird to me too, but becoming more normal. Besides it cost me about 12 cents to help him get home.
You never know what a day will hold here.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
An Afternoon Helping a Friend Accomplish Nothing...
I spent the afternoon with A. (I have shared about him with some of you before. I'm not gonna use his name here.) He has his own business. He and his employees collect trash. Last Friday I was supposed to meet with him and T. (This is another friend most of you have heard of.) A. called to cancel. He said he had a problem with his business. Today he shared with me what it was.
First let me tell you why we were together and how the day went...it was so extremely typical. He called me because he had found a computer he wanted to buy. The problem was he didn't know what all they were telling him about it. I ended up with a second job once I got here; I do lots of computer work for friends and coworkers. I was to meet A. at 3.
I called at 3 to tell him I was running late but would be there shortly. When I got the meeting place, I couldn't find him. I called, and called, and called. Bad mobile week, none of them are working right. Finally I got him and found out he was down the road in an internet café. I met him there and when he finished we left and started down the road.
As we were walking he filled me in on the business stuff (be patient it's coming). We got down the road and he looked in a café and said, "We can get something to drink." They always tend to offer it as an option rather than saying, "hey I'm thirsty you want a drink." We hung out there for several minutes and chatted about the business (hold on) and the computers. Come to find out he has two options and wants me to check them out. One is near us and the other is in another part of the city and when that guy calls we will go see it.
We finish the drinks and leave for the first computer...the opposite direction we have been walking. For some reason I still don't understand we went the wrong way quite a ways and stopped to have a drink. Then we turned and went back the right way. When we got there I thought we were lost. We walked down this little alleyway to the back of a building. We climbed some stairs too skinny for fat guys and went in a little room. There was a business hidden back there, I asked how he ever found it. All I got in response was, "a friend."
We walked in to find the waiting room girl. I guess that was her job, she didn't do much else. The man we needed to see wasn't there. We waited. After about thirty minutes we got up and left. (The whole time I was singing a song stuck in my head. A few problems: 1. It is in their language. 2. I only knew two words. Actually I only remembered two words and I only knew what one of them meant. After asking I found out I was singing, "the girl is beautiful." 3. Many believers here believe secular music keeps one from the kingdom. Bad translation coming in Galatians. (I think I've mentioned this before.)) A. said the guy would call later when he got back.
Remember we are also still waiting on the other guy to call. Now it is almost 5. In two hours we have accomplished nothing we wanted to get done. While waiting for the calls we went for macchiatos. At 5:30 he told me he had to go to another meeting. Therefore we spent 2 hours getting nothing done. We'll try again tomorrow or the next day. This is exactly how this culture goes.
The good thing is, I got to spend great time with a friend I haven't seen in a couple weeks. It sure made it worth it for me.
Now about his work (You thought I forgot, didn't you?). Seems the government has decided to fight unemployment and poverty here. Great idea, since some 12-13 million live in starvation and I've heard unemployment is at around 70%.
Here is what they want to do. They have heard about A's. job and have decided it is a great thing for unemployed to get into. It takes little training and/or education. They gathered together the 60 people or so that have this type of business. They told them they are going to split their business into twelve parts. The current owner gets 1/12 of the business. The other 11/12 is going to be split and worked by these people who are without jobs.
In other words they want to steal almost all of A's. business for the sake of providing jobs. The owners are fighting to protect their business and are encouraging the government to start similar businesses if they want. They are okay with the competition, and they want to see jobs offered; they just don't want to lose their own livelihood.
There are elections in May. In A's. opinion, this is a ploy for votes. They are claiming 10,000 need work; that adds up to a lot of votes.
They think they have nearly solved the problem, but it isn't over yet. Lift him and his family and their business up if you don't mind.
It's almost 9. I gotta go eat. As long as the bread isn't green yet it will be another pb&j night.
First let me tell you why we were together and how the day went...it was so extremely typical. He called me because he had found a computer he wanted to buy. The problem was he didn't know what all they were telling him about it. I ended up with a second job once I got here; I do lots of computer work for friends and coworkers. I was to meet A. at 3.
I called at 3 to tell him I was running late but would be there shortly. When I got the meeting place, I couldn't find him. I called, and called, and called. Bad mobile week, none of them are working right. Finally I got him and found out he was down the road in an internet café. I met him there and when he finished we left and started down the road.
As we were walking he filled me in on the business stuff (be patient it's coming). We got down the road and he looked in a café and said, "We can get something to drink." They always tend to offer it as an option rather than saying, "hey I'm thirsty you want a drink." We hung out there for several minutes and chatted about the business (hold on) and the computers. Come to find out he has two options and wants me to check them out. One is near us and the other is in another part of the city and when that guy calls we will go see it.
We finish the drinks and leave for the first computer...the opposite direction we have been walking. For some reason I still don't understand we went the wrong way quite a ways and stopped to have a drink. Then we turned and went back the right way. When we got there I thought we were lost. We walked down this little alleyway to the back of a building. We climbed some stairs too skinny for fat guys and went in a little room. There was a business hidden back there, I asked how he ever found it. All I got in response was, "a friend."
We walked in to find the waiting room girl. I guess that was her job, she didn't do much else. The man we needed to see wasn't there. We waited. After about thirty minutes we got up and left. (The whole time I was singing a song stuck in my head. A few problems: 1. It is in their language. 2. I only knew two words. Actually I only remembered two words and I only knew what one of them meant. After asking I found out I was singing, "the girl is beautiful." 3. Many believers here believe secular music keeps one from the kingdom. Bad translation coming in Galatians. (I think I've mentioned this before.)) A. said the guy would call later when he got back.
Remember we are also still waiting on the other guy to call. Now it is almost 5. In two hours we have accomplished nothing we wanted to get done. While waiting for the calls we went for macchiatos. At 5:30 he told me he had to go to another meeting. Therefore we spent 2 hours getting nothing done. We'll try again tomorrow or the next day. This is exactly how this culture goes.
The good thing is, I got to spend great time with a friend I haven't seen in a couple weeks. It sure made it worth it for me.
Now about his work (You thought I forgot, didn't you?). Seems the government has decided to fight unemployment and poverty here. Great idea, since some 12-13 million live in starvation and I've heard unemployment is at around 70%.
Here is what they want to do. They have heard about A's. job and have decided it is a great thing for unemployed to get into. It takes little training and/or education. They gathered together the 60 people or so that have this type of business. They told them they are going to split their business into twelve parts. The current owner gets 1/12 of the business. The other 11/12 is going to be split and worked by these people who are without jobs.
In other words they want to steal almost all of A's. business for the sake of providing jobs. The owners are fighting to protect their business and are encouraging the government to start similar businesses if they want. They are okay with the competition, and they want to see jobs offered; they just don't want to lose their own livelihood.
There are elections in May. In A's. opinion, this is a ploy for votes. They are claiming 10,000 need work; that adds up to a lot of votes.
They think they have nearly solved the problem, but it isn't over yet. Lift him and his family and their business up if you don't mind.
It's almost 9. I gotta go eat. As long as the bread isn't green yet it will be another pb&j night.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
The Week in Review...
It has been a good week. I haven't been able to sleep and I have done tons of language but it has been good. Here are some highlights.
Saturday - Played basketball with some international friends. What the heck was I thinking? I live at 8,000 feet or so. I haven't exercised since coming here. (My body hated me for several days!)
Sunday - 1. Ate lunch at a national friend's house. She asked the others who were there, "what happened to Chad, he lost his body?" That meant I had lost some weight...she was quite disappointed. 2. Had house church with coworkers.
Monday - Lots of language. Got called one of the three fat guys in the back of the taxi. Guess I haven't lost that much after all.
Tuesday - Lots of language. Got called a liar by a taxi cab driver. Based on my language ability he didn't believe I had only been here 5 months. (Very encouraging!) Then he asked me if I wanted to have sex with a national woman...I politely refused the offer.
Wednesday - Lots of language. Blew up my sound card on my computer just as I was beginning to watch "On Golden Pond." (Great flick! The old people cuss a lot though.)
Thursday - Lots of language. Dell informed me that I was misinformed regarding computer repairs in this country...not an option. Went out to dinner alone and finished a good book.
Friday - Lots of language. 1. Got up early and ran a bit...very little bit. What am I doing to my body? 2. Bought a chicken. 3. Went to buy a map and look for resources for mapping project. 4. Saw "The Four Feathers" with friends.
Saturday - Today was a great day. 1. I took three teenagers out for the day. We drove to a small town about an hour outside the city. We ate lunch out, then went, and rode go-carts for a while. Been a long time since I have done that. It was a great get away. On the way home we stopped for milkshakes. 2. I went and played basketball again...I think I am getting dumber. 3. My sound card started working. (Not sure how or why, somebody must have been interceding on behalf of my computer.)
Saturday - Played basketball with some international friends. What the heck was I thinking? I live at 8,000 feet or so. I haven't exercised since coming here. (My body hated me for several days!)
Sunday - 1. Ate lunch at a national friend's house. She asked the others who were there, "what happened to Chad, he lost his body?" That meant I had lost some weight...she was quite disappointed. 2. Had house church with coworkers.
Monday - Lots of language. Got called one of the three fat guys in the back of the taxi. Guess I haven't lost that much after all.
Tuesday - Lots of language. Got called a liar by a taxi cab driver. Based on my language ability he didn't believe I had only been here 5 months. (Very encouraging!) Then he asked me if I wanted to have sex with a national woman...I politely refused the offer.
Wednesday - Lots of language. Blew up my sound card on my computer just as I was beginning to watch "On Golden Pond." (Great flick! The old people cuss a lot though.)
Thursday - Lots of language. Dell informed me that I was misinformed regarding computer repairs in this country...not an option. Went out to dinner alone and finished a good book.
Friday - Lots of language. 1. Got up early and ran a bit...very little bit. What am I doing to my body? 2. Bought a chicken. 3. Went to buy a map and look for resources for mapping project. 4. Saw "The Four Feathers" with friends.
Saturday - Today was a great day. 1. I took three teenagers out for the day. We drove to a small town about an hour outside the city. We ate lunch out, then went, and rode go-carts for a while. Been a long time since I have done that. It was a great get away. On the way home we stopped for milkshakes. 2. I went and played basketball again...I think I am getting dumber. 3. My sound card started working. (Not sure how or why, somebody must have been interceding on behalf of my computer.)
Monday, February 21, 2005
Personal Stuff...
Three or four times this week I have been sent on a journey of introspection. It has been difficult; I haven't come through with much insight yet.
This post is going to be very different than most. For the most part I want to be sharing the stories of others with you guys. I want you to remember friends who are growing or struggling. I want you to remember our efforts to work with them. I want them to be the focus of all that you lift up. Today I need something a bit different.
This week of seeking has been tough. I'm not doing well and I haven't learned much. I am not asking you to worry. Worry only makes my problems and your problems worse. I am just asking you to intercede on my behalf.
I am not sure what the funk I have entered into is. I have some guesses and I am trying to work through those things. I have lost the ability to sleep well. Some of you know I don't usually sleep well, but it has gotten worse than normal. I struggle with loneliness and lack of effectiveness. I have grown distant from probably every relationship I have including that with God and with myself.
The last month and a half has been very busy and I think it has contributed to the funk. We have sent one family to another country to work; we have sent one family for medical reasons; we have received four long-term volunteers; a family came back from the states; my language program has grown even more demanding, and I don't feel like I am making much progress, just to name a few things.
The funk isn't stress though. When I am stressed my tics go crazy.
I ask that you continue to do what you have been so faithful in. Lift up all that is happening here. But for this time especially lift up me. Ask that I will begin to see some clarity in this haze. Ask that I will continue to be passionate about what I am doing and what it will allow me to do in the future. Ask that people will come into my life that will offer me multiple kinds of community (I need play friends; I need friends that challenge me spiritually, etc.).
Thank you! Again I beg you, don't begin to worry. I am doing fine. I am surviving and persevering in these struggles, in language, in relationships. I don't ask for your worries I ask for your prayers. I ask that you pray with faith that God is the great provider. If our prayers could move mountains with such a small amount of faith, imagine what they have the ability to do for a friend in a funk.
This post is going to be very different than most. For the most part I want to be sharing the stories of others with you guys. I want you to remember friends who are growing or struggling. I want you to remember our efforts to work with them. I want them to be the focus of all that you lift up. Today I need something a bit different.
This week of seeking has been tough. I'm not doing well and I haven't learned much. I am not asking you to worry. Worry only makes my problems and your problems worse. I am just asking you to intercede on my behalf.
I am not sure what the funk I have entered into is. I have some guesses and I am trying to work through those things. I have lost the ability to sleep well. Some of you know I don't usually sleep well, but it has gotten worse than normal. I struggle with loneliness and lack of effectiveness. I have grown distant from probably every relationship I have including that with God and with myself.
The last month and a half has been very busy and I think it has contributed to the funk. We have sent one family to another country to work; we have sent one family for medical reasons; we have received four long-term volunteers; a family came back from the states; my language program has grown even more demanding, and I don't feel like I am making much progress, just to name a few things.
The funk isn't stress though. When I am stressed my tics go crazy.
I ask that you continue to do what you have been so faithful in. Lift up all that is happening here. But for this time especially lift up me. Ask that I will begin to see some clarity in this haze. Ask that I will continue to be passionate about what I am doing and what it will allow me to do in the future. Ask that people will come into my life that will offer me multiple kinds of community (I need play friends; I need friends that challenge me spiritually, etc.).
Thank you! Again I beg you, don't begin to worry. I am doing fine. I am surviving and persevering in these struggles, in language, in relationships. I don't ask for your worries I ask for your prayers. I ask that you pray with faith that God is the great provider. If our prayers could move mountains with such a small amount of faith, imagine what they have the ability to do for a friend in a funk.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Five Boys and a Soccer Ball...
According to the counter, many of you are still showing up quite often. Thank you for caring what is happening to me over here. Again I apologize for being gone from writing for so long. The last couple weeks have been crazy.
As the last three posts mention my coworker Ben had a heart attack. Two vessels were 90% blocked. They added two stints and new medicine. He is in South Africa resting and testing the medicine. February 24th he will have another appointment and at that time know when he can return here.
They live about 2 hours into the countryside. They have three young ladies here working with them for a few months. We have had to move them into the city while Ben and Candi are away. It has taken a lot of time to help get them settled and in a routine here.
I have changed my language program. If you knew anything about me in my education days you know I hate to study. A roommate my sophomore year tried to tell people he never saw me study the year he lived with me. And while that isn't completely true it is sure more true than if he tried to say all I ever did was study. But I survived. Now I am here and again it is tough trying to put in the required hours of study. Therefore I now meet with my helpers everyday. I meet two hours in the morning to learn new stuff and two hours in the afternoon to practice. It is exhausting but will be of great help in my learning.
I told one of my helpers today about the difference between when I love the language and when I hate it. Let me tell the story that led to my telling him this.
He and I spent a couple hours this afternoon at the café I like so much (the one the boy eating dirt was at). On the way back I met five young boys playing on the street. They walked with us for nearly a mile and we talked the whole way. They wanted money...what else is new.
But often I like to play with them and I told them I wanted them to give me money. Of course they said they didn't have any. Then I saw some coins in one boy's hand, his name was Joseph. I told him I wanted him to give me his money. He refused. But one of the other boys, I forgot his name, came and held my hand as we began to walk away...the others followed closely.
We talked about their names and how old they were. I asked if they were brothers. The boy whose name I forgot said all five were brothers. I was clever enough to know their ages made that pretty unlikely. I questioned and Joseph told me that three were brothers and the other two were their friends.
So the five boys started telling me that they wanted to buy a ball. I asked them what it cost and where they wanted to buy it. They told me the price and where a souk was. I began to tease them about how their one birr wasn't going to do the trick. Then I told them that only one of them had one birr anyway, what could the others offer.
They pulled me along with them into the souk and asked the two ladies behind the counter if they had a ball. One pulled it down but clearly the other was the boss. The longer I am here the more I understand you almost never pay the asking price. I talked them down to 16, but the boss lady wasn't willing to break far from the original price. I told the boys I would pay 15 if they would give me the other one to pay the last part. Together we bought them a soccer ball. My guess is they are out in barren field or the street somewhere kicking around a rubber soccer ball. They won't remember in a week that the white guy whose hands they held bought it for them, but they'll have a blast and I'll remember them. More importantly so will my Dad.
In the five or ten minutes I walked and talked with these boys I loved their language. In the four hours I studied it I hated it. Chances like these make long hours of flipping cards and memorizing sentences well worth the effort though.
As the last three posts mention my coworker Ben had a heart attack. Two vessels were 90% blocked. They added two stints and new medicine. He is in South Africa resting and testing the medicine. February 24th he will have another appointment and at that time know when he can return here.
They live about 2 hours into the countryside. They have three young ladies here working with them for a few months. We have had to move them into the city while Ben and Candi are away. It has taken a lot of time to help get them settled and in a routine here.
I have changed my language program. If you knew anything about me in my education days you know I hate to study. A roommate my sophomore year tried to tell people he never saw me study the year he lived with me. And while that isn't completely true it is sure more true than if he tried to say all I ever did was study. But I survived. Now I am here and again it is tough trying to put in the required hours of study. Therefore I now meet with my helpers everyday. I meet two hours in the morning to learn new stuff and two hours in the afternoon to practice. It is exhausting but will be of great help in my learning.
I told one of my helpers today about the difference between when I love the language and when I hate it. Let me tell the story that led to my telling him this.
He and I spent a couple hours this afternoon at the café I like so much (the one the boy eating dirt was at). On the way back I met five young boys playing on the street. They walked with us for nearly a mile and we talked the whole way. They wanted money...what else is new.
But often I like to play with them and I told them I wanted them to give me money. Of course they said they didn't have any. Then I saw some coins in one boy's hand, his name was Joseph. I told him I wanted him to give me his money. He refused. But one of the other boys, I forgot his name, came and held my hand as we began to walk away...the others followed closely.
We talked about their names and how old they were. I asked if they were brothers. The boy whose name I forgot said all five were brothers. I was clever enough to know their ages made that pretty unlikely. I questioned and Joseph told me that three were brothers and the other two were their friends.
Related tangent: I have realized many of my stories are about the struggles of this place. I share those because they are real and they are forever poignant in ones memory. But I live here because I love this place. I love that the people here have the most beautiful smiles on the face of the earth. I love that although one of my friends is poor as dirt he always begs to pay when we go out. I love that although the majority of people here have next to nothing they live with a sense of comfort and joy. I love that they love me...some because they see me as a source of money, many because they see me as a friend. I love the passion that they have for their country and their people. I love their bravery. They aren't ashamed to ask for what they want or need. I both love and hate that they have a passion for our creator and have ever so slightly missed the point of the gospel. I love that they enjoy trying English (even when they butcher it). I love that they have decided I look like some soccer player in Europe that I look nothing like but tons of people yell the name on the street as I walk by. I love chances like today to visit with five little boys. They love to hold your hand. It is probably one reason why I get the squirts but it is worth the risk to show I care for them. (Let me go wash my hands...I'll be back.)
I have two great desires for my time here. I desire that we can come to a better understanding of the best way to present the good news to these people. I want to see the answers we find put into action and work. I also desire more than I can tell you that you come visit this place. It changes your life. It changes your world. It changes their world. I can't tell you how badly I want you to meet the people here, the girls that work at a favorite cafe, and my friends at the supermarket. I dream of the chance you'll have to talk with so many different friends. Consider it! Ask the Father what he would have you do and be faithful to it. Know from my end that the invitation is always open.
So the five boys started telling me that they wanted to buy a ball. I asked them what it cost and where they wanted to buy it. They told me the price and where a souk was. I began to tease them about how their one birr wasn't going to do the trick. Then I told them that only one of them had one birr anyway, what could the others offer.
They pulled me along with them into the souk and asked the two ladies behind the counter if they had a ball. One pulled it down but clearly the other was the boss. The longer I am here the more I understand you almost never pay the asking price. I talked them down to 16, but the boss lady wasn't willing to break far from the original price. I told the boys I would pay 15 if they would give me the other one to pay the last part. Together we bought them a soccer ball. My guess is they are out in barren field or the street somewhere kicking around a rubber soccer ball. They won't remember in a week that the white guy whose hands they held bought it for them, but they'll have a blast and I'll remember them. More importantly so will my Dad.
In the five or ten minutes I walked and talked with these boys I loved their language. In the four hours I studied it I hated it. Chances like these make long hours of flipping cards and memorizing sentences well worth the effort though.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Ben...
Ben is resting in South Africa. After performing tests today the doctors placed two stints in two different vessels that were 90% blocked. According to the doctors he is lucky to have survived. Thank you for continuing to go to the throne on behalf of him and his family.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Part II...
Late last night Ben and Candi were airlifted to South Africa. He has been doing well but they have been unable to get his chest pain to subside. Their two kids are staying here with friends. Continue to remember all of them as they deal with these struggles.
Friday, January 28, 2005
SPECIAL REQUEST...
A coworker was rushed to the hospital today. He and his family live about two hours outside the city. They are the family I have mentioned visiting before. My friend was struggling with chest pains.
He has since been brought by ambulance here to the capital city. The truth is the medical facilities aren't much to write home about. Remember he and his family over the next few hours and days as we find out what the problem is.
He has since been brought by ambulance here to the capital city. The truth is the medical facilities aren't much to write home about. Remember he and his family over the next few hours and days as we find out what the problem is.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
"The Poor Will Always be With You..."
I don't give out much money here. One could easily go broke and not even have begun to address the problem that exists. Another issue is trying to figure out what the problem is. I'm not sure the problem is money. Of course they have very little but there are problems much bigger than that. In the light of the little they have they are still a people full of life and joy. It is quite amazing. They have nothing yet they share all they have with their family and friends.
Today however my heart was broken. One of my favorite spots in town is a little café called Café Chocolata. It was started by an organization to help get prostitutes of the streets and give them a job. I like it cause it is close the house, good food, and super cheap.
Some days I get the chance to eat out front on the porch. It is a great place to watch the traffic and the people and they pass by. It is also a heavy begging spot though. Many come right up to the little black wrought iron fence that surrounds the porch and begin to ask for money. They have perfected the puppy dog look. Their eyes, their smile, the slight lean of their head all makes you feel like the dirt under their feet because you aren't willing to give them money. I haven't figured out how to say "no"...all they teach me is "I don't have any." Well imagine that slap in the face. A young mother, probably 30, has one baby strapped to her back with a three-year-old child at her feet. Both are asking for money or even bread. My response is "I don't have any." (I am sitting at a café, sipping on coffee or tea, eating a cinnamon roll or croissant saying, "I don't have any.")
A fear I have is what is called "rice bowl believers." The concept claims that anyone will commit to "the way" if you make food or some other need the reward. My friend I mentioned in the last update (I'll call him T.) shared with me yesterday that the minimum wage has been raised. To be honest I didn't know they had one. It has been raised to 200 something a month. That works out to about $25 USD per month. Why wouldn't they choose "the way" for some extra money or bread; I would in the same situation?
Lots of tangents in here, but back to the story. Today at Chocolata I heard two boys repeatedly saying "hello." I had seen out of the corner of my eye that they were about 20 feet away to my left. They were sitting on a stump beside a big ditch. I ignored them - not just because I am a jerk, but because I have learned that this is the response of nationals if they are not going to give anything.
The two got louder; I could tell they had cut their distance in half. I turned to acknowledge them and responded with my pat answer, "Yellum (I don't have any.)." They smiled at me and I could tell the one on the left was chewing on something red. He was a beautiful little boy with a big smile and bright eyes. His clothes were some shade of brown as is typical. I don't know if they start that way or turn that way over time. His shorts (only beggars wear shorts, usually) were torn and shredded at the edges. His shirt was ragged and clearly would continue to fit for a few more years. His friend didn't look much different. He might have been a year or two older and although he too had a beautiful smile it didn't compare to the one snacking on something.
I turned to my friend I was studying with and asked what he was chewing on. He looked his way and couldn't tell so he asked him. I caught the words "what" and "why" - I'm improving but slowly. I asked what it was. The boy was eating clods of dirt. When asked why his only response was because he had nothing else.
I don't know how to respond to this. I am back in my comfortable apartment typing away on my computer about to make some pb&j. This little eight or ten year old boy is sitting on the street a mile or so away eating dirt.
I did nothing mighty; my response was quite pitiful. I bought a couple croissants and handed them through the fence.
On the way home I was approached by six more people asking for money and bread. I shook my head no and smiled at them. I wonder if they read my smile as mocking. I pray they don't. I want to show them I care but I can't help them all. I hope they pass by blessed by the smile rather than spitting on the ground I walked on as I passed them by.
Just before reaching home, a mother passed with two or three kids. I noticed one specifically. She chased after me hands out, palm up. She was 3 or 4 maybe. Her hair was curly and her smile was infectious. She wore a dress that had faded. It likely began as some shade of brown or orange. I asked my friend what she was saying. As she pursued me less than a block from my house, she repeatedly said, "Daddy, Daddy."
I prayed to her father and I asked that he would give her lunch and a place to sleep tonight. I asked that he would continue to prick my heart so that I would hurt for those in need that surround me. I asked that he would remind me I am just as desperate and in need of his love. I asked that he would come to this young family and begin to meet their need for love and security. I asked that the day would come that I see her again. That day might be in this life or perhaps the one that continues but I pray we meet again as siblings following the same father.
Thanks for praying with me.
Today however my heart was broken. One of my favorite spots in town is a little café called Café Chocolata. It was started by an organization to help get prostitutes of the streets and give them a job. I like it cause it is close the house, good food, and super cheap.
Some days I get the chance to eat out front on the porch. It is a great place to watch the traffic and the people and they pass by. It is also a heavy begging spot though. Many come right up to the little black wrought iron fence that surrounds the porch and begin to ask for money. They have perfected the puppy dog look. Their eyes, their smile, the slight lean of their head all makes you feel like the dirt under their feet because you aren't willing to give them money. I haven't figured out how to say "no"...all they teach me is "I don't have any." Well imagine that slap in the face. A young mother, probably 30, has one baby strapped to her back with a three-year-old child at her feet. Both are asking for money or even bread. My response is "I don't have any." (I am sitting at a café, sipping on coffee or tea, eating a cinnamon roll or croissant saying, "I don't have any.")
A fear I have is what is called "rice bowl believers." The concept claims that anyone will commit to "the way" if you make food or some other need the reward. My friend I mentioned in the last update (I'll call him T.) shared with me yesterday that the minimum wage has been raised. To be honest I didn't know they had one. It has been raised to 200 something a month. That works out to about $25 USD per month. Why wouldn't they choose "the way" for some extra money or bread; I would in the same situation?
Lots of tangents in here, but back to the story. Today at Chocolata I heard two boys repeatedly saying "hello." I had seen out of the corner of my eye that they were about 20 feet away to my left. They were sitting on a stump beside a big ditch. I ignored them - not just because I am a jerk, but because I have learned that this is the response of nationals if they are not going to give anything.
The two got louder; I could tell they had cut their distance in half. I turned to acknowledge them and responded with my pat answer, "Yellum (I don't have any.)." They smiled at me and I could tell the one on the left was chewing on something red. He was a beautiful little boy with a big smile and bright eyes. His clothes were some shade of brown as is typical. I don't know if they start that way or turn that way over time. His shorts (only beggars wear shorts, usually) were torn and shredded at the edges. His shirt was ragged and clearly would continue to fit for a few more years. His friend didn't look much different. He might have been a year or two older and although he too had a beautiful smile it didn't compare to the one snacking on something.
I turned to my friend I was studying with and asked what he was chewing on. He looked his way and couldn't tell so he asked him. I caught the words "what" and "why" - I'm improving but slowly. I asked what it was. The boy was eating clods of dirt. When asked why his only response was because he had nothing else.
I don't know how to respond to this. I am back in my comfortable apartment typing away on my computer about to make some pb&j. This little eight or ten year old boy is sitting on the street a mile or so away eating dirt.
I did nothing mighty; my response was quite pitiful. I bought a couple croissants and handed them through the fence.
On the way home I was approached by six more people asking for money and bread. I shook my head no and smiled at them. I wonder if they read my smile as mocking. I pray they don't. I want to show them I care but I can't help them all. I hope they pass by blessed by the smile rather than spitting on the ground I walked on as I passed them by.
Just before reaching home, a mother passed with two or three kids. I noticed one specifically. She chased after me hands out, palm up. She was 3 or 4 maybe. Her hair was curly and her smile was infectious. She wore a dress that had faded. It likely began as some shade of brown or orange. I asked my friend what she was saying. As she pursued me less than a block from my house, she repeatedly said, "Daddy, Daddy."
I prayed to her father and I asked that he would give her lunch and a place to sleep tonight. I asked that he would continue to prick my heart so that I would hurt for those in need that surround me. I asked that he would remind me I am just as desperate and in need of his love. I asked that he would come to this young family and begin to meet their need for love and security. I asked that the day would come that I see her again. That day might be in this life or perhaps the one that continues but I pray we meet again as siblings following the same father.
Thanks for praying with me.
"When You Gotta Go..."
**WARNING: THIS STORY IS TRUE AND A BIT GRAPHIC, BUT IT SURE WAS FUNNY. JUST KNOW YOU WERE WARNED AND I DON'T MAKE YOU READ THESE THINGS!**
This country is hard on the intestines. I've shared that before. The truth is stomach problems are something I experienced in the states on more frequent than preferred occasions too. A big difference was I could be a bit choosier about where to take care of business in the states.
Most of the time here I have been pretty choosy. On sick days I stay home close to the comforts of my own baby blue porcelain throne and a good book. Yesterday, there was no choosing and there was definitely no waiting on better facilities. Many public bathrooms in the states are just gross...they smell bad, they dont flush, the five guys before you missed the whole and drenched the seat and the floor below. Not a pleasant picture. (Let me say that if this story is beginning as offensive to you: first I apologize, second I say you just go in those toilets at the local 7/11.)
Here it is a bit different. First, never ever go anywhere with out your own supply of paper. Small Kleenex packages are available about everywhere. There is no guarantee that even the nicest bathrooms will have paper. Also beware, only on occasion will you be lucky enough to find a toilet with a seat. And seat or no seat it will stink.
Now when I say no seat I don't mean that the part that we put up and down depending on the business to be done will be missing. I mean there is no seat! There is nothing to sit on. We lovingly refer the type of toilets used here as "squatty potties." Let me be honest with you. My knees can't handle squatting long when I'm not going to the bathroom. But yesterday, there was no option.
I'm squatted down over this porcelain hole in the ground with two places to put my feet. I got my pants around my ankles terrified I'm gonna leave what I gotta leave on my khaki's instead of in the hole. I'm also scared my legs are gonna give out and I'm gonna be sitting in the hole (trust me that would not be good at all). And to make matters worse my friend is finishing his lunch while I'm "experiencing culture," and it just plain stinks in there.
My friend gets worried and decides to call my mobile phone. Why do people do that? They do it in the states too. Who in the world is gonna answer their phone if they are in a public toilet not feeling well? The only possible way one might answer is if their stuck and then probably not...imagine the embarrassment. Not to mention if I needed help in the toilet, I'd call them.
So after wading through the difficulties and holding myself up with the wall behind me, I got business taken care of. I'd be all right if I don't have to use one of those again. The truth is I will. They are the most common here. And really it wasn't quite the nightmare I expected.
Excluding this event yesterday was all in all a great day. I'll tell more soon.
This country is hard on the intestines. I've shared that before. The truth is stomach problems are something I experienced in the states on more frequent than preferred occasions too. A big difference was I could be a bit choosier about where to take care of business in the states.
Most of the time here I have been pretty choosy. On sick days I stay home close to the comforts of my own baby blue porcelain throne and a good book. Yesterday, there was no choosing and there was definitely no waiting on better facilities. Many public bathrooms in the states are just gross...they smell bad, they dont flush, the five guys before you missed the whole and drenched the seat and the floor below. Not a pleasant picture. (Let me say that if this story is beginning as offensive to you: first I apologize, second I say you just go in those toilets at the local 7/11.)
Here it is a bit different. First, never ever go anywhere with out your own supply of paper. Small Kleenex packages are available about everywhere. There is no guarantee that even the nicest bathrooms will have paper. Also beware, only on occasion will you be lucky enough to find a toilet with a seat. And seat or no seat it will stink.
Now when I say no seat I don't mean that the part that we put up and down depending on the business to be done will be missing. I mean there is no seat! There is nothing to sit on. We lovingly refer the type of toilets used here as "squatty potties." Let me be honest with you. My knees can't handle squatting long when I'm not going to the bathroom. But yesterday, there was no option.
I'm squatted down over this porcelain hole in the ground with two places to put my feet. I got my pants around my ankles terrified I'm gonna leave what I gotta leave on my khaki's instead of in the hole. I'm also scared my legs are gonna give out and I'm gonna be sitting in the hole (trust me that would not be good at all). And to make matters worse my friend is finishing his lunch while I'm "experiencing culture," and it just plain stinks in there.
My friend gets worried and decides to call my mobile phone. Why do people do that? They do it in the states too. Who in the world is gonna answer their phone if they are in a public toilet not feeling well? The only possible way one might answer is if their stuck and then probably not...imagine the embarrassment. Not to mention if I needed help in the toilet, I'd call them.
So after wading through the difficulties and holding myself up with the wall behind me, I got business taken care of. I'd be all right if I don't have to use one of those again. The truth is I will. They are the most common here. And really it wasn't quite the nightmare I expected.
Excluding this event yesterday was all in all a great day. I'll tell more soon.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
A Holy Day...
Yesterday was a huge holiday here. It is called Timkit. They are celebrating the baptism of Jesus. We went to this huge field which is one of the primary places of celebration. There were tons of people there.
The event actually lasts about 24 hours. On Tuesday they took all of the arks out of the churches and paraded them to the nearest water source. For some this is quite a journey. They camp there overnight and wait for the next morning. On Wednesday the priest blesses the water, be it a creek or a pond, or wherever they are. At this point people go crazy to get to the water. Their belief is that this cleanses them of their sins.
I'm not sure what the source was, but where we were they were using everyday water hoses. They were spraying them in the air onto people who wanted desperately to get hit by the water. It made me think of being a kid. We loved to play water games. We had a basic yard sprinkler that just went back and forth. But for hours we could play in the water. These men and women fought to get wet just as we fought to get near the water. But to them this is religious tradition.
There is such confusion. The patriarch (like the pope) of their church spoke. He was educated in the states and speaks pretty clear English. He shared that this event was not re-baptizing but educating the people on what happened to Jesus. It made since and makes the event look more profitable. The problem is I don't think any of the people believe as he claimed. To them this day is huge...on this day they are forgiven for a years worth of sins. The water blessed by the priest saves them...they've lost sight of the blood of the lamb.
It was a good celebration. Great time with friends. And a huge window into the religious culture here.
The event actually lasts about 24 hours. On Tuesday they took all of the arks out of the churches and paraded them to the nearest water source. For some this is quite a journey. They camp there overnight and wait for the next morning. On Wednesday the priest blesses the water, be it a creek or a pond, or wherever they are. At this point people go crazy to get to the water. Their belief is that this cleanses them of their sins.
I'm not sure what the source was, but where we were they were using everyday water hoses. They were spraying them in the air onto people who wanted desperately to get hit by the water. It made me think of being a kid. We loved to play water games. We had a basic yard sprinkler that just went back and forth. But for hours we could play in the water. These men and women fought to get wet just as we fought to get near the water. But to them this is religious tradition.
There is such confusion. The patriarch (like the pope) of their church spoke. He was educated in the states and speaks pretty clear English. He shared that this event was not re-baptizing but educating the people on what happened to Jesus. It made since and makes the event look more profitable. The problem is I don't think any of the people believe as he claimed. To them this day is huge...on this day they are forgiven for a years worth of sins. The water blessed by the priest saves them...they've lost sight of the blood of the lamb.
It was a good celebration. Great time with friends. And a huge window into the religious culture here.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Possible Need Met...
In the recent update letter I mentioned a need for a digitized map of the city. The truth is many of the people that I work with didn't think one existed and if it did they didn't think we would ever get it. Well I have a new friend who told me I may be able to have it in a few days, but it might cost me...about $1.50. I told him that was "NO PROBLEM!"
Continue to lift this possibility up. This is a huge step in our efforts to map out the city.
Continue to lift this possibility up. This is a huge step in our efforts to map out the city.
Friday, January 14, 2005
A New Friend...
One night at the conference I met a new friend. His name is Caleb; he is seven. As we were singing together, I kept noticing he was watching me. It actually made me quite jealous of his dad that he was standing beside and hugging on. (I am ready to be singing to our Father with my son!)
After the service ended Caleb and I were sort of watching one another. He came over and said, "Whats your name?" I said, "My name is Chad. Come and tell me what your name is." He introduced himself and came and sat next to me. We talked for twenty minutes or so about a little bit of everything. He had a great laugh. He would tell a story about himself or his brothers and he would just laugh his head off. Eventually someone came and found him to tell him his parents were worried because they didnt know where he was.
Caleb and his parents are an inspiration to me. What I didn't tell him is that I knew who he was. We had actually met once although I only vaguely remember him and he clearly didn't remember me at all.
Just over two years ago Calebs dad was shot. He was working in a hospital in a Middle Eastern country. A man came in and killed three people; he also shot Caleb's dad. They spent some time back in the states recouping and then they returned to the country they had been in. To this day they live there. I met them the day they returned. I will never forget the words that Caleb's mom spoke. She was honest in sharing that she was scared to be there and some days all she would want to do is take her little boys home. But she continued and said that she was called to be in that country with those people and although it might be hard at times she was going to follow through with that call.
I'm not sure I'm that committed. Sure I live here now. But I'm single; I've never been attacked for what I believe; I don't have to be as concerned about protecting others as I am myself.
The night before I met Caleb I heard a recorded sermon. A black pastor tries to explain who God is. It is called My King. I had heard the sermon once before. I was at Covenant College on top of Lookout Mountain in Georgia. A young man recited the 5 or 6 minute sermon, complete with mimicking the pastor's voice. That night it became clear that I was called to spend my life serving. I never anticipated that call would include a stay here. At that point I had no idea what all answering yes would entail. I still don't know. My hope is that I am as faithful as Caleb and his parents. I hope that I love my Father that much. I hope that I trust him that much.
After the service ended Caleb and I were sort of watching one another. He came over and said, "Whats your name?" I said, "My name is Chad. Come and tell me what your name is." He introduced himself and came and sat next to me. We talked for twenty minutes or so about a little bit of everything. He had a great laugh. He would tell a story about himself or his brothers and he would just laugh his head off. Eventually someone came and found him to tell him his parents were worried because they didnt know where he was.
Caleb and his parents are an inspiration to me. What I didn't tell him is that I knew who he was. We had actually met once although I only vaguely remember him and he clearly didn't remember me at all.
Just over two years ago Calebs dad was shot. He was working in a hospital in a Middle Eastern country. A man came in and killed three people; he also shot Caleb's dad. They spent some time back in the states recouping and then they returned to the country they had been in. To this day they live there. I met them the day they returned. I will never forget the words that Caleb's mom spoke. She was honest in sharing that she was scared to be there and some days all she would want to do is take her little boys home. But she continued and said that she was called to be in that country with those people and although it might be hard at times she was going to follow through with that call.
I'm not sure I'm that committed. Sure I live here now. But I'm single; I've never been attacked for what I believe; I don't have to be as concerned about protecting others as I am myself.
The night before I met Caleb I heard a recorded sermon. A black pastor tries to explain who God is. It is called My King. I had heard the sermon once before. I was at Covenant College on top of Lookout Mountain in Georgia. A young man recited the 5 or 6 minute sermon, complete with mimicking the pastor's voice. That night it became clear that I was called to spend my life serving. I never anticipated that call would include a stay here. At that point I had no idea what all answering yes would entail. I still don't know. My hope is that I am as faithful as Caleb and his parents. I hope that I love my Father that much. I hope that I trust him that much.
My Travels...
I got back home Tuesday at about 4am. I returned from spending two weeks traveling outside of Africa. I went to Turkey. The country claims to be 98% Muslim; they are also very proud of the fact that they are a "secular country." It works out to be perhaps 25% - 30% are actually practicing Muslims.
We had a great visit. We got to see lots of cool places. In Istanbul we stayed inside the walls of the old city. We saw St. Sophia - a super old church that then became a mosque that is now a museum with aspects that represent Christian faith and others that are Muslim. We roamed all over the place and got to meet lots of interesting people.
It was quite different from being here. Poverty is still an issue there as I understand it, but it looks very different from the poverty that is here. The country is much more commercial and modern. I ate at TGI Fridays, Starbucks, Burger King, Arbys. (Wow those were good!) New Years Eve we had Burger King and then went into this place that was similar to a Super Wal-Mart. It was overwhelming. I had forgotten what it was like to be in a store with that much stuff.
The highlight of touring was visiting the 7 churches mentioned in the beginning of Revelation. Ephesus and Laodicea were my favorites as they are the most restored. Earthquakes have destroyed all of the cities we visited. It is hard to believe that these places were significant enough that they were being written to in scripture. Now they just look like a bunch of rocks...old rocks. It was really neat to visit them though.
After the tours I spent a week at a conference (this is really why I was traveling). All of the people that work in our region joined together for fellowship, refreshing, and training. It was good to spend time with coworkers especially my supervisors that I hadn't seen in a year and a half. They are still in the states until March, but it was good to spend time with them there. I have a better grasp now on what my work will look like over the next years.
It was a good trip but exhausting. By the time it was over I was ready to be home. Now it is time to jump back into the swing of things here.
We had a great visit. We got to see lots of cool places. In Istanbul we stayed inside the walls of the old city. We saw St. Sophia - a super old church that then became a mosque that is now a museum with aspects that represent Christian faith and others that are Muslim. We roamed all over the place and got to meet lots of interesting people.
It was quite different from being here. Poverty is still an issue there as I understand it, but it looks very different from the poverty that is here. The country is much more commercial and modern. I ate at TGI Fridays, Starbucks, Burger King, Arbys. (Wow those were good!) New Years Eve we had Burger King and then went into this place that was similar to a Super Wal-Mart. It was overwhelming. I had forgotten what it was like to be in a store with that much stuff.
The highlight of touring was visiting the 7 churches mentioned in the beginning of Revelation. Ephesus and Laodicea were my favorites as they are the most restored. Earthquakes have destroyed all of the cities we visited. It is hard to believe that these places were significant enough that they were being written to in scripture. Now they just look like a bunch of rocks...old rocks. It was really neat to visit them though.
After the tours I spent a week at a conference (this is really why I was traveling). All of the people that work in our region joined together for fellowship, refreshing, and training. It was good to spend time with coworkers especially my supervisors that I hadn't seen in a year and a half. They are still in the states until March, but it was good to spend time with them there. I have a better grasp now on what my work will look like over the next years.
It was a good trip but exhausting. By the time it was over I was ready to be home. Now it is time to jump back into the swing of things here.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Back @ Home...
I am back in Africa safe and sound. More coming soon I promise! Sorry for the brief hiatus.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Christmas Retold...
It is Christmas Eve. In an hour and a half I catch my ride to the airport. I am headed to Europe for a couple weeks. It will no doubt be quite an amazing trip. But it is so odd.
As I packed I played Christmas music. I stopped to open a few presents. I left one unopened. I know what it is and know I want to take it with me. I'll open it tomorrow. My mom sent me some stuff. I should see it around January 2.
Had a bad stomach day again today. A true African Christmas!
Wanted to give you this link. This guy writes some pretty cool stuff. Be warned it is not as sweet as we might hope. A couple cuss words slip in...but it seems pretty true to tale. I've only read part of it...I'll finish tomorrow in my personal Christmas celebration.
Real Live Preacher - Christmas Story
I'm a bit worried Santa may not know where to find me.
Special thanks to Jason and Christy and the gangs at First Waco and S. Russell. It was such a blessing to open your mail tonight. Glitter is everywhere! Love you guys! Thanks! Also got some great gifts from Dad's side of the family. I am blessed!
Merry Christmas!
As I packed I played Christmas music. I stopped to open a few presents. I left one unopened. I know what it is and know I want to take it with me. I'll open it tomorrow. My mom sent me some stuff. I should see it around January 2.
Had a bad stomach day again today. A true African Christmas!
Wanted to give you this link. This guy writes some pretty cool stuff. Be warned it is not as sweet as we might hope. A couple cuss words slip in...but it seems pretty true to tale. I've only read part of it...I'll finish tomorrow in my personal Christmas celebration.
Real Live Preacher - Christmas Story
I'm a bit worried Santa may not know where to find me.
Special thanks to Jason and Christy and the gangs at First Waco and S. Russell. It was such a blessing to open your mail tonight. Glitter is everywhere! Love you guys! Thanks! Also got some great gifts from Dad's side of the family. I am blessed!
Merry Christmas!
Thursday, December 23, 2004
The Phone Call...
I just got of the phone with the family. It was so good to talk to all of them. No really I think I talked to all of them. Sure enough breakfast had just finished. They were about to start the morning presents. T. told me she got in trouble last night. She was waiting on me to take my turn. I missed out.
They shared with me it snowed. Almost all of them told me it snowed. Dub, my granddad loved it. They got 14 inches or 12 depending on who was talking. I guess some people talk about snow the way they do their golf score or the fish they caught.
It was a tough call. I miss them. I love them. It is neat how being away can do some fun things for bonding. The phone call was tough because the connection was bad. Somedays it is great. Tonight it was awful...big delay...lots of static. I felt like I was six talking on those old walkie talkies that had more static than voices.
It was so good to talk to them. It ushered in Christmas for me. We tried to do so here. We put up decorations at a house. We watched Home Alone last night. But my Christmas was ushered in with the phone call from my family. Dad's side will get together soon. I am blessed.
I am blessed to have family that loves me. I am blessed to be making new family in Africa. I am blessed.
They shared with me it snowed. Almost all of them told me it snowed. Dub, my granddad loved it. They got 14 inches or 12 depending on who was talking. I guess some people talk about snow the way they do their golf score or the fish they caught.
It was a tough call. I miss them. I love them. It is neat how being away can do some fun things for bonding. The phone call was tough because the connection was bad. Somedays it is great. Tonight it was awful...big delay...lots of static. I felt like I was six talking on those old walkie talkies that had more static than voices.
It was so good to talk to them. It ushered in Christmas for me. We tried to do so here. We put up decorations at a house. We watched Home Alone last night. But my Christmas was ushered in with the phone call from my family. Dad's side will get together soon. I am blessed.
I am blessed to have family that loves me. I am blessed to be making new family in Africa. I am blessed.
Almost Christmas...
Christmas Eve is in about 5 hours. That seems so strange. I am sitting in my apartment waiting for the phone to ring. I think my parents plan to call in the next few minutes. It has been a while since I have talked to them.
Today has not been fun. This is the first time I have really sat for a break. I ate once today...no twice. The first time I had three cookies at an appointment. The second time I had a cinnamon roll at another appointment. I guess to be honest I should add that I had another bite of food. My friend Christy visited here with me a year and a half ago. She lived in Mali for two years before that. While here she told me she thought she could eat anything...until she came here. Well, the food isn't that bad, but it isn't great either. Those who know me know I am what you might call a "meatarian" (okay so that isn't really a word). But I dont eat veggies. Well actually I eat lots of potatoes but somebody keeps trying to tell me they aren't a vegetable. I don't think he knows what he is talking about.
So they have this strange tradition here. They like to force feed you. They call it a gorsha (bad spelling) and claim it is to show friendship. Honestly I think it is because they either don't like the food themselves or are full. So tonight my friend, a priest, gave me a gorsha. Yuck! I have no idea what all I ate, but sure enough I ate it. I also quickly moved for a Pepsi. There wasn't a bit of meat in it though. i'm still burping peppers or something of the sort. So if you count that I guess I have eaten three times none worthy of being called a meal. All that to say; it has been a busy day.
This is a tough time. Christmas is in two days. Tomorrow I leave for Europe. Tomorrow fellow Americans and I are having a Christmas dinner. I miss my family. It seems I should be home at my grandmother's. This morning (night here) they likely had a big breakfast complete with sausage, bacon, biscuits, eggs, gravy, maybe even country ham. After breakfast they will gather in the den. All...I can't count anymore...will gather around the room and rip into gifts. As always my grandparents spent too much money. Afterwards everyone will try on clothes and play with any items not to be worn. They are possibly all wearing matching pajamas since that is what we all get the night before. If it is a good year, several cars will head towards the movie theater and they will fight over what will be the movie to watch. They skipped lunch so they'll get sick on a giant tub of buttery popcorn.
I miss my family.
But I have a wonderful opportunity. If in the midst of traveling I don't forget to recognize it is Christmas I will have a chance to celebrate the holiday like never before. Thus far I have four unopened presents. I was already told what one of them was but nonetheless I am saving it. Usually Christmas is spent with far more presents than are necessary. Even four sounds like too many living here. I am not with my family I rarely see; I am not gorged with food. I am here alone. Sure I have made great friends, but at this time my Christmas is between me and the birthday boy. If I slow down and pay attention I will have the chance to celebrate the birth like never before this year.
I will miss the traditional Communion at LOFBC. I will miss the hugs and the gifts. I miss my family and my friends immensely. But I am here in the midst of living into the Kingdom. I am in the midst of a call that is bigger than gifts and family and food. It can only be described as a call to eternity.
Merry Christmas!
Today has not been fun. This is the first time I have really sat for a break. I ate once today...no twice. The first time I had three cookies at an appointment. The second time I had a cinnamon roll at another appointment. I guess to be honest I should add that I had another bite of food. My friend Christy visited here with me a year and a half ago. She lived in Mali for two years before that. While here she told me she thought she could eat anything...until she came here. Well, the food isn't that bad, but it isn't great either. Those who know me know I am what you might call a "meatarian" (okay so that isn't really a word). But I dont eat veggies. Well actually I eat lots of potatoes but somebody keeps trying to tell me they aren't a vegetable. I don't think he knows what he is talking about.
So they have this strange tradition here. They like to force feed you. They call it a gorsha (bad spelling) and claim it is to show friendship. Honestly I think it is because they either don't like the food themselves or are full. So tonight my friend, a priest, gave me a gorsha. Yuck! I have no idea what all I ate, but sure enough I ate it. I also quickly moved for a Pepsi. There wasn't a bit of meat in it though. i'm still burping peppers or something of the sort. So if you count that I guess I have eaten three times none worthy of being called a meal. All that to say; it has been a busy day.
This is a tough time. Christmas is in two days. Tomorrow I leave for Europe. Tomorrow fellow Americans and I are having a Christmas dinner. I miss my family. It seems I should be home at my grandmother's. This morning (night here) they likely had a big breakfast complete with sausage, bacon, biscuits, eggs, gravy, maybe even country ham. After breakfast they will gather in the den. All...I can't count anymore...will gather around the room and rip into gifts. As always my grandparents spent too much money. Afterwards everyone will try on clothes and play with any items not to be worn. They are possibly all wearing matching pajamas since that is what we all get the night before. If it is a good year, several cars will head towards the movie theater and they will fight over what will be the movie to watch. They skipped lunch so they'll get sick on a giant tub of buttery popcorn.
I miss my family.
But I have a wonderful opportunity. If in the midst of traveling I don't forget to recognize it is Christmas I will have a chance to celebrate the holiday like never before. Thus far I have four unopened presents. I was already told what one of them was but nonetheless I am saving it. Usually Christmas is spent with far more presents than are necessary. Even four sounds like too many living here. I am not with my family I rarely see; I am not gorged with food. I am here alone. Sure I have made great friends, but at this time my Christmas is between me and the birthday boy. If I slow down and pay attention I will have the chance to celebrate the birth like never before this year.
I will miss the traditional Communion at LOFBC. I will miss the hugs and the gifts. I miss my family and my friends immensely. But I am here in the midst of living into the Kingdom. I am in the midst of a call that is bigger than gifts and family and food. It can only be described as a call to eternity.
Merry Christmas!
Saturday, December 18, 2004
The Countryside...
Tuesday I returned from a trip. It was my first trip to the countryside since I have been here. The town is about two hours from the city. Thankfully the pavement goes all the way to this town in which my friends live. Just beyond this town the pavement stops. However the only paved road in the town is the main road. All the others are dusty dirt roads.
I don't know the best way to explain the vast difference that exists between my city and the countryside. It is almost like living in two different worlds. My friend Mark moved from Baltimore to Texas to go to school. He talked as if the transition was pretty tough. It was hard for him to adjust to a knew way of life, new assumptions, new traditions. The countryside here is even more extreme. There are more languages in this country than I can count. And there are numerous different tribes or people groups spread across the land. On the two-hour trip we took I was in the midst of four different peoples. That means they would each have different traditions and ways of living. There is some overlap but also great distinction.
Life in the countryside is peaceful. The pace of life is slower. In the city it is easy to go back into an American fast-paced lifestyle, with of course some differences caused by the third-world. Most of the time I was out there the electricity was out. I was in one of the last towns were electricity stretches in that direction.
It was a good visit. It was peaceful. It was refreshing. It was needed. I wish I could have stayed longer than the couple of days I was there.
I rode out in a car with my friends. I came back on the bus. I was terrified. I had heard only nightmare stories about the buses. My adventure on the bus revealed so much about the people here.
The buses don't leave on an exact schedule; they leave when they are full. We got to the station a little before nine. I had been made aware some buses are much better than others are. We tried to scout a decent looking one that was yelling the name of my city. I bought a ticket; it costs just under $2 USD. It looked like it might be a while so we told them we were going to go across the street to a café and wait. My friend Ben told me they would come get me when they were ready to leave.
We sat for a while and talked about what it looked like for people there to join our family. There are so many difficulties. We saw the bus start to pull out. It came around to a gas station where they loaded some large burlap sacks on top. The bus still didn't look full though. We waited a few more minutes and decided to go ahead and go wait at the bus.
When I bought my ticket the seller promised to reserve me a front seat. This isn't because I didn't want to sit near people. It is because typically the only open window in the bus is the driver's. All of the other people are terrified the wind will make them sick. Actually many of them vomit riding this way. We got on the bus and waited...and waited...and waited. We watched two other buses to the city pull in front of us, fill up, and leave. It wasn't looking like my bus was in much of a hurry. We chatted with nationals for a while, played with kids, bought a bottle of water. Actually we sent a kid to buy the water for me.
Eventually the waiting got to be too much. Ben went to see if they would put me on a bus that was actually leaving. He came back quickly and said, "Get your bags, hurry." We ran up to a bus that was literally pulling out. But they had one more seat. After a brief argument between six people of whether I could get on the bus, I climbed up the stairs and away we went.
That whole front seat thing...didn't happen on the new bus. I was in the very last seat. It was a bench stretching from side to side of the bus. It was five or six feet long and six of us were crammed in it. Buses here aren't made for Americans. We are typically both fatter and taller than they are. The seat in front of me sat so close that even sitting exactly upright my knees were up tight against the metal backing.
As we pulled out I had to buy another ticket. Somehow the transfer wasn't completely successful. As we pulled out there were about three windows open. One was right in front of me. Everyone started yelling at them and the windows were closed. Interestingly one man then turned to me and I think asked me if I wanted it open. Of course I did, but I also wanted to suit their culture. I said it was no problem. Just after that they chose to let the man in front of me open it again. It was a Godsend. I even got cold on one piece of the trip.
The man who wanted his window open seemed to be a bit more educated then most. He was in a blue oxford shirt and dress pants. He had brought a newspaper with him. He was pretty friendly. I assume he spoke some English but I never heard it. The two guys to my left were pretty quiet. I never heard a word. One slept. The other gnawed on sugar cane. It looks like a small piece of firewood. It is about 2 inches in diameter and about a foot long. He would peal the outside off and chew on the innards. Then he spit them into the floor after all the flavor was gone.
To the right sat a guy who was actually with about four or five who sat in front of me. At least two of them were Muslim, I could tell by their attire. They were all clearly together because they shared the local narcotic with one another. It is a leaf that they chew on. The numbers that partake in it here are overwhelming. It takes a lot of it to get a buzz so many spend all the money they make and then some trying to suffice their habit.
On the far right were two guys that I think must have been brothers. They looked a lot alike and shared a bag of traditional snacks together. They even shared some with me.
I tried to speak with them a bit. But my ignorance limited the conversation. I tried to sleep a bit. At one point I even pulled out my iPod. Imagine, not only are they staring at me because I am the only white guy. Now the white guy has a little white box with earphones in his hand.
The guess was that the two-hour trip would take about three and a half by bus. Luckily it was uneventful; I made it home in two and a half. It was a fun journey. I think I'll go somewhere by bus again sometime soon. This time I might take a friend though.
I love this place. I love these people.
I don't know the best way to explain the vast difference that exists between my city and the countryside. It is almost like living in two different worlds. My friend Mark moved from Baltimore to Texas to go to school. He talked as if the transition was pretty tough. It was hard for him to adjust to a knew way of life, new assumptions, new traditions. The countryside here is even more extreme. There are more languages in this country than I can count. And there are numerous different tribes or people groups spread across the land. On the two-hour trip we took I was in the midst of four different peoples. That means they would each have different traditions and ways of living. There is some overlap but also great distinction.
Life in the countryside is peaceful. The pace of life is slower. In the city it is easy to go back into an American fast-paced lifestyle, with of course some differences caused by the third-world. Most of the time I was out there the electricity was out. I was in one of the last towns were electricity stretches in that direction.
It was a good visit. It was peaceful. It was refreshing. It was needed. I wish I could have stayed longer than the couple of days I was there.
I rode out in a car with my friends. I came back on the bus. I was terrified. I had heard only nightmare stories about the buses. My adventure on the bus revealed so much about the people here.
The buses don't leave on an exact schedule; they leave when they are full. We got to the station a little before nine. I had been made aware some buses are much better than others are. We tried to scout a decent looking one that was yelling the name of my city. I bought a ticket; it costs just under $2 USD. It looked like it might be a while so we told them we were going to go across the street to a café and wait. My friend Ben told me they would come get me when they were ready to leave.
We sat for a while and talked about what it looked like for people there to join our family. There are so many difficulties. We saw the bus start to pull out. It came around to a gas station where they loaded some large burlap sacks on top. The bus still didn't look full though. We waited a few more minutes and decided to go ahead and go wait at the bus.
When I bought my ticket the seller promised to reserve me a front seat. This isn't because I didn't want to sit near people. It is because typically the only open window in the bus is the driver's. All of the other people are terrified the wind will make them sick. Actually many of them vomit riding this way. We got on the bus and waited...and waited...and waited. We watched two other buses to the city pull in front of us, fill up, and leave. It wasn't looking like my bus was in much of a hurry. We chatted with nationals for a while, played with kids, bought a bottle of water. Actually we sent a kid to buy the water for me.
Eventually the waiting got to be too much. Ben went to see if they would put me on a bus that was actually leaving. He came back quickly and said, "Get your bags, hurry." We ran up to a bus that was literally pulling out. But they had one more seat. After a brief argument between six people of whether I could get on the bus, I climbed up the stairs and away we went.
That whole front seat thing...didn't happen on the new bus. I was in the very last seat. It was a bench stretching from side to side of the bus. It was five or six feet long and six of us were crammed in it. Buses here aren't made for Americans. We are typically both fatter and taller than they are. The seat in front of me sat so close that even sitting exactly upright my knees were up tight against the metal backing.
As we pulled out I had to buy another ticket. Somehow the transfer wasn't completely successful. As we pulled out there were about three windows open. One was right in front of me. Everyone started yelling at them and the windows were closed. Interestingly one man then turned to me and I think asked me if I wanted it open. Of course I did, but I also wanted to suit their culture. I said it was no problem. Just after that they chose to let the man in front of me open it again. It was a Godsend. I even got cold on one piece of the trip.
The man who wanted his window open seemed to be a bit more educated then most. He was in a blue oxford shirt and dress pants. He had brought a newspaper with him. He was pretty friendly. I assume he spoke some English but I never heard it. The two guys to my left were pretty quiet. I never heard a word. One slept. The other gnawed on sugar cane. It looks like a small piece of firewood. It is about 2 inches in diameter and about a foot long. He would peal the outside off and chew on the innards. Then he spit them into the floor after all the flavor was gone.
To the right sat a guy who was actually with about four or five who sat in front of me. At least two of them were Muslim, I could tell by their attire. They were all clearly together because they shared the local narcotic with one another. It is a leaf that they chew on. The numbers that partake in it here are overwhelming. It takes a lot of it to get a buzz so many spend all the money they make and then some trying to suffice their habit.
On the far right were two guys that I think must have been brothers. They looked a lot alike and shared a bag of traditional snacks together. They even shared some with me.
I tried to speak with them a bit. But my ignorance limited the conversation. I tried to sleep a bit. At one point I even pulled out my iPod. Imagine, not only are they staring at me because I am the only white guy. Now the white guy has a little white box with earphones in his hand.
The guess was that the two-hour trip would take about three and a half by bus. Luckily it was uneventful; I made it home in two and a half. It was a fun journey. I think I'll go somewhere by bus again sometime soon. This time I might take a friend though.
I love this place. I love these people.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Sacrifice...
[Listening to: She Must and Shall Go Free - Derek Webb - The House Show (3:16)]
Tuesday I was with a national friend. He is an amazing man. He started his own business, led almost all his employees to the family. Now he has a piece of the body meeting each week in his house. He does incredible things.
They just finished Acts and John. Now he wants to lead them towards the OT. I have been pondering on his words since he mentioned them. I asked what books. He mentioned two different ones based on their call to sacrifice. He said that no believers here are willing to sacrifice anything. They are all taught that joining the family is about blessings you receive.
This land is desperate. I wonder if we (Westerners) did that blessing thing to them. I don't remember many sermons on sacrifice. I didn't preach any either, I don't think, it is a good way to not get invited back. All of our favorite books in the Bible and at the bookstore deal with all the great things we get by believing. Not many tell us that God might decide to kill off our family (Job). We aren't often told we might get so frustrated with how different God is than what we expect him to be we might kill ourselves (Judas). We aren't told that we have a good chance of being hated by everyone and eventually killed (most of the disciples). We aren't told God might ask us to kill our son, only to change his mind at the last minute (Abraham). We aren't told that we may get run out of our own home and have to live in the desert for a while (Moses). We aren't told that it may mean we have to wander in the wilderness our whole lives (Israelites).
Instead we read that we will have peace in all things. We read that our inheritance will be multiplied. We focus on jewels in crowns and blessings from above. Now I am not making the claim that there aren't wonderful blessings for us in the kingdom. My claim is that they don't look the way we expect them to. My claim is that it seems clear in the Bible that believers get more sacrifice than blessing. In the annals of our tradition it seems that a mark of faithfulness was persecution. Many of the great bearers of truth sacrificed their life, their family's lives, their freedom, their respect, their power, their authority, their wealth, etc. for the kingdom.
My friend is upset because no one here sacrifices anything to be called a child of God. It hurt me to think of how much more they sacrifice here than I ever sacrifice...here or at home.
After all of that, is it bad to say I got a new refrigerator this week? I was pretty excited about it. It has a freezer. I can actually fit Cokes and leftovers in it!
Monday, December 06, 2004
Good Intentions and Dinner Guests...
I have been meaning to write for a long time. Last week was a great week, for so many reasons. First the runs were gone...nough said! Second I have had some great conversations with old friends and new ones. Great things are happening here. I continue to say that, because I don't know the words to explain the wonderful things that are happening in the hearts of people. Great questions are being asked by me and by the nationals I get to spend time with.
But tonight I decided I had to write. Let me apologize, this isn't a story original to the country, it is just kinda neat.
Just before leaving the states I met a girl who was headed here. We had a chance to share together and encourage each other in the states. Now here we hang out every now and then. She lives with some people doing some great work here in the city. They have been great to welcome me into their home.
So tonight I am headed to one of my regulars for dinner. It is close to the house and reasonably priced and good food. As I was walking down the street I thought, "I need to call Jess and see how her trip was." Before I did so I saw Linda (the lady she lives with) at the restaurant. Since I was alone Linda invited me to come join them at their house for pizza, they had guests. Come to find out two of them are a bit famous. They were on this fairly popular TV show...The Bachelor 5. One of them won.
Jessica won and Jenny was the spy. They became friends. Now they are spending a couple weeks over here. Now is that strange or what?
I'll write some more original stories soon. Thanks for you faithfulness!
But tonight I decided I had to write. Let me apologize, this isn't a story original to the country, it is just kinda neat.
Just before leaving the states I met a girl who was headed here. We had a chance to share together and encourage each other in the states. Now here we hang out every now and then. She lives with some people doing some great work here in the city. They have been great to welcome me into their home.
So tonight I am headed to one of my regulars for dinner. It is close to the house and reasonably priced and good food. As I was walking down the street I thought, "I need to call Jess and see how her trip was." Before I did so I saw Linda (the lady she lives with) at the restaurant. Since I was alone Linda invited me to come join them at their house for pizza, they had guests. Come to find out two of them are a bit famous. They were on this fairly popular TV show...The Bachelor 5. One of them won.
Jessica won and Jenny was the spy. They became friends. Now they are spending a couple weeks over here. Now is that strange or what?
I'll write some more original stories soon. Thanks for you faithfulness!
Sunday, November 28, 2004
Thanksgiving...
Thanksgiving has always been a pretty major holiday in my family. All of the family comes in and we get to have two big feasts, one on each side of the family. it is not quite the fun Christmas is because rather than gathering in the living room to open gifts together we just eat (well we do that at Christmas too) and watch TV (okay we do that too) and fall asleep watching TV (well we do that too). So more is different than just the gifts, I just don't know how to explain it. There are sort of gifts at Thanksgiving too, but only for my grandfather Earl. He loves presents so much I think he starts opening Christmas presents in early November!
Back to Thanksgiving. This year it almost came and went without me noticing. I got to talk to Mom and Dad and Ryan and Whit which was good; it had been a while. And all of my coworkers and I had a big dinner on Friday (the day after). Had it not been for the get together on Friday I would have missed the entire holiday.
I think maybe I still missed it. I'm not really sure who started the holiday. I know we go back to the pilgrim and Indian thing, but what made it stick? Whose idea was it that we should gather together once a year and celebrate all of the things we are thankful for? I think that is the part I missed of Thanksgiving...not just this year, but probably for a while.
Sure I missed being with family! And I have a great family! But usually I let the trip I've made home and the chance to get fatter and all the hugs overshadow the chance to truly celebrate having all of those things. I ate this year...we even flew in a Turkey from Dubai. I even watched part of a prerecorded football game. But I missed my family and I missed giving thanks.
Perhaps I need to have Thanksgiving again this week. This time I will skip the game and the Turkey (it completely counteracts the diets I have been on: 1. The stairs diet; 2. The running to the toilet diet). I think I need to take a day and celebrate the things I am truly thankful for.
I am thankful for an amazingly loving family. I am thankful to serve a mighty Creator. I am thankful to have so many people committed to that same Creator and me that they often remember me and the work I am invested in. I am thankful I have a job. I am thankful I can afford clothes. I am thankful I have food on the table. I am thankful the sun is shinning. I am thankful for the chance to spend the next month celebrating the upcoming holiday. I am thankful...
Back to Thanksgiving. This year it almost came and went without me noticing. I got to talk to Mom and Dad and Ryan and Whit which was good; it had been a while. And all of my coworkers and I had a big dinner on Friday (the day after). Had it not been for the get together on Friday I would have missed the entire holiday.
I think maybe I still missed it. I'm not really sure who started the holiday. I know we go back to the pilgrim and Indian thing, but what made it stick? Whose idea was it that we should gather together once a year and celebrate all of the things we are thankful for? I think that is the part I missed of Thanksgiving...not just this year, but probably for a while.
Sure I missed being with family! And I have a great family! But usually I let the trip I've made home and the chance to get fatter and all the hugs overshadow the chance to truly celebrate having all of those things. I ate this year...we even flew in a Turkey from Dubai. I even watched part of a prerecorded football game. But I missed my family and I missed giving thanks.
Perhaps I need to have Thanksgiving again this week. This time I will skip the game and the Turkey (it completely counteracts the diets I have been on: 1. The stairs diet; 2. The running to the toilet diet). I think I need to take a day and celebrate the things I am truly thankful for.
I am thankful for an amazingly loving family. I am thankful to serve a mighty Creator. I am thankful to have so many people committed to that same Creator and me that they often remember me and the work I am invested in. I am thankful I have a job. I am thankful I can afford clothes. I am thankful I have food on the table. I am thankful the sun is shinning. I am thankful for the chance to spend the next month celebrating the upcoming holiday. I am thankful...
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
The Electric Bill...
I started getting sick Sunday night. I couldn't sleep much that night and Monday morning began the ritual of numerous uncomfortable stops in the bathroom. (Potty talk is not as prohibited here as it is in the states; it is just part of life here.)
I had hoped it would pass quickly so I continued with my normal Monday schedule. Now as you may be assuming the story could get gross from here...don't worry. I'm not headed that direction.
I spent two hours or so studying language with one of my helpers. He is a funny guy. I think I have thus far convinced him I am a heretic. He swears I haven't but he takes issue with some of the questions I ask him sometimes. I've tried to tell him not to assume my opinion based on my questions, but I'm not sure he gets that yet. (That's okay neither does my dad. He thinks I'm a heretic too. Love ya Dad!)
I knew I wasn't feeling very well by the end of my study, so I was going to run by and pay my electric bill before going home to go to bed. Boy was I mistaken. I've been to pay the bill before and there has never been a line. Monday it looked more as I expected the first time. What was weird is others who entered after me seemed shocked by the number of people there too. There was a line of some sort...come to find out there were actually three. I was pointed to where I should stand and began to wait.
Processes here work differently than in the states. Although standing in line to pay a bill does remind me of trying to pay a bill at Baylor. One big difference is the line part. They just don't get it. Lines are more like a stretched out glob. And once you get to the front it doesn't matter who was behind who, it becomes all about who has the longest arms. He/she gets to stick his papers closer to the attendant's nose and therefore gets taken care of first.
There had been a man in an interesting ensemble roaming around working the crowd the whole time. He was balding, and wore thick glasses. His blue shirt hadn't been ironed (It looked worse than I usually do.). His pants almost matched the color of his tie; they were sort of a reddish orange...I think. The tie was one of the thin kind from the eighties and was a bit too short. Now I am not making fun of his clothes, he was dressed fairly nice. I am trying to give you the mental picture. I assumed he was in charged based on a few things. First he seemed to have some idea what was going on. Second he seemed to be telling others that were working what to do. Third, he watched others work a lot...pretty common. Fourth, he disappeared for a few minutes and reappeared munching on something.
I had been in line for about 30 minutes and hadn't made much progress. The tummy was rumbling a bit and I probably didn't look super friendly. I kept thinking, "I should smile more," but it was quickly followed by, "If I hadn't already stood in line this long I would go home and go to bed."
I was doing a lot of watching people. It is pretty fun. One cool thing about lines here is they save places well. Multiple times I would see someone look to the person in front or behind him or her and say something. Then they would disappear; some would go sit for a while, some would go pay another bill. When they returned the person they had spoken too let them right back into line.
I noticed an older man a couple times. He was just behind me in line. They are really kind to elderly here (traditionally) and I kept wondering if I should let him in front of me. He had gone to the side to sit in a chair and wait. I noticed that he flagged down the guy I mentioned above. Both the older man and the working guy had both looked at me at separate times and made some attempt to apologize. I guess they felt bad I was waiting. I'm not sure why they felt bad about me and not others though.
After their conversation I saw the working man glance at me and then head to the front of the line. He started talking to a few people. And I thought, "oh no!" Then he looked at me and waved me up to him. I politely refused and again he said to come. The others around me gave me a slight nudge so I went that way.
The two of them moved me to the very front of the line. My stomach was thankful, but I was embarrassed. I felt dirty. I didn't want to be treated special. I wanted to be the same as all of the others. I wondered if the others I was cutting in front of were in agreement or angry with me. I wanted to crawl under the desk.
I paid my bill and specifically thanked the old man. I also tried to give a general thanks to all of those still in line. I ducked my head not really wanting to look in their eyes in fear it might look like I felt superior. I went and thanked the man who was working there. He smiled and wished me farewell.
Then I went home and began three days of sleeping, watching movies, and running to the toilet. You read that right...three days...not over it yet.
Happy Thanksgiving!
I had hoped it would pass quickly so I continued with my normal Monday schedule. Now as you may be assuming the story could get gross from here...don't worry. I'm not headed that direction.
I spent two hours or so studying language with one of my helpers. He is a funny guy. I think I have thus far convinced him I am a heretic. He swears I haven't but he takes issue with some of the questions I ask him sometimes. I've tried to tell him not to assume my opinion based on my questions, but I'm not sure he gets that yet. (That's okay neither does my dad. He thinks I'm a heretic too. Love ya Dad!)
I knew I wasn't feeling very well by the end of my study, so I was going to run by and pay my electric bill before going home to go to bed. Boy was I mistaken. I've been to pay the bill before and there has never been a line. Monday it looked more as I expected the first time. What was weird is others who entered after me seemed shocked by the number of people there too. There was a line of some sort...come to find out there were actually three. I was pointed to where I should stand and began to wait.
Processes here work differently than in the states. Although standing in line to pay a bill does remind me of trying to pay a bill at Baylor. One big difference is the line part. They just don't get it. Lines are more like a stretched out glob. And once you get to the front it doesn't matter who was behind who, it becomes all about who has the longest arms. He/she gets to stick his papers closer to the attendant's nose and therefore gets taken care of first.
There had been a man in an interesting ensemble roaming around working the crowd the whole time. He was balding, and wore thick glasses. His blue shirt hadn't been ironed (It looked worse than I usually do.). His pants almost matched the color of his tie; they were sort of a reddish orange...I think. The tie was one of the thin kind from the eighties and was a bit too short. Now I am not making fun of his clothes, he was dressed fairly nice. I am trying to give you the mental picture. I assumed he was in charged based on a few things. First he seemed to have some idea what was going on. Second he seemed to be telling others that were working what to do. Third, he watched others work a lot...pretty common. Fourth, he disappeared for a few minutes and reappeared munching on something.
I had been in line for about 30 minutes and hadn't made much progress. The tummy was rumbling a bit and I probably didn't look super friendly. I kept thinking, "I should smile more," but it was quickly followed by, "If I hadn't already stood in line this long I would go home and go to bed."
I was doing a lot of watching people. It is pretty fun. One cool thing about lines here is they save places well. Multiple times I would see someone look to the person in front or behind him or her and say something. Then they would disappear; some would go sit for a while, some would go pay another bill. When they returned the person they had spoken too let them right back into line.
I noticed an older man a couple times. He was just behind me in line. They are really kind to elderly here (traditionally) and I kept wondering if I should let him in front of me. He had gone to the side to sit in a chair and wait. I noticed that he flagged down the guy I mentioned above. Both the older man and the working guy had both looked at me at separate times and made some attempt to apologize. I guess they felt bad I was waiting. I'm not sure why they felt bad about me and not others though.
After their conversation I saw the working man glance at me and then head to the front of the line. He started talking to a few people. And I thought, "oh no!" Then he looked at me and waved me up to him. I politely refused and again he said to come. The others around me gave me a slight nudge so I went that way.
The two of them moved me to the very front of the line. My stomach was thankful, but I was embarrassed. I felt dirty. I didn't want to be treated special. I wanted to be the same as all of the others. I wondered if the others I was cutting in front of were in agreement or angry with me. I wanted to crawl under the desk.
I paid my bill and specifically thanked the old man. I also tried to give a general thanks to all of those still in line. I ducked my head not really wanting to look in their eyes in fear it might look like I felt superior. I went and thanked the man who was working there. He smiled and wished me farewell.
Then I went home and began three days of sleeping, watching movies, and running to the toilet. You read that right...three days...not over it yet.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Some ramblings...
A wonderful thing is happening. It does however mean that stories might become less interesting. The odd of the country is becoming much less shocking.
I am still quite fascinated by the sight of a herd (is that what you call it) of donkeys running down the road the wrong way with no apparent shepherd (What do you call a person who tends donkeys?). I keep hoping to get a picture while I am in the traffic jam caused by the donkeys, or sheep, or cows, or goats, or whatever the animal of the day might be.
It is still surprising to be standing inside a fancy coffee shop and look out the window. Just behind the shop are the slums. Houses are very close together. All of the roofs are tin. There are large rocks on top of the roofs. It appears as if one day a rainstorm dropped rocks instead of rain. The truth is the rocks are very intentionally placed where they are so that the roof stays on top of the house. Drying laundry hangs all over the small yard as half-naked children play underneath the clotheslines.
Today I had a first. I was on a minibus taxi (see modes of transportation entry) with some American friends. We were talking when I heard what sounded like an animal. We made a curious look towards one another. A few moments later I heard it again. It really sounded like a chicken. I was a few rows back and kept seeing the woman two seats in front of me looking down. I didn't hear the sound again so assumed maybe it was the brakes or rattling whatever (Everything rattles on the minibus!). Down the road a bit farther the woman got out of the taxi. Under her arm a brightly colored chicken. She walked out as if it was nothing.
It was nothing to her. We see it as crazy that a chicken is in a taxi or a goat is on top of a bus or donkeys use the same road as cars (it would be helpful if they would use the right lane though). To the people here it is normal. In one region I have visited they have no paved roads. I got so frustrated at the livestock all over the roadway. "Why won't they get the animals out of the way?" It took me a while to remember…they don't have cars either. Of course the road is for pedestrians and animals. What else would they use it for? I am borrowing their road; it isn't the other way around.
The great thing about loosing the shock element is that although some things may remain strange, they seem normal. I expect them. It means I am growing to love and understand the people for who they are not who I think they should be. All of this is normal to them.
Poverty is normal to them. It is not a rare site to see someone give beggar money. It is also not rare to see the giver wait for change. He/she had no intention of giving the beggar a full bill, they just didn't have coins. The one with nothing gives back change. Can you imagine that in downtown DC…"Oh here is a dollar, but all I have is a ten; you got change?"
The other day we were talking. The talk was about cultures. Is our goal to put on lenses that allow us to see their perspective and give up our own? Is the goal to keep our perspective and never adopt there's? Or is it that our goal is to allow one lens to be from their perspective and one from mine? Does this keep me safe or does it keep me honest? Not sure. I do believe however that the more I understand them the more I will grow to love them and the more I can do to help them and be helped by them.
I am still quite fascinated by the sight of a herd (is that what you call it) of donkeys running down the road the wrong way with no apparent shepherd (What do you call a person who tends donkeys?). I keep hoping to get a picture while I am in the traffic jam caused by the donkeys, or sheep, or cows, or goats, or whatever the animal of the day might be.
It is still surprising to be standing inside a fancy coffee shop and look out the window. Just behind the shop are the slums. Houses are very close together. All of the roofs are tin. There are large rocks on top of the roofs. It appears as if one day a rainstorm dropped rocks instead of rain. The truth is the rocks are very intentionally placed where they are so that the roof stays on top of the house. Drying laundry hangs all over the small yard as half-naked children play underneath the clotheslines.
Today I had a first. I was on a minibus taxi (see modes of transportation entry) with some American friends. We were talking when I heard what sounded like an animal. We made a curious look towards one another. A few moments later I heard it again. It really sounded like a chicken. I was a few rows back and kept seeing the woman two seats in front of me looking down. I didn't hear the sound again so assumed maybe it was the brakes or rattling whatever (Everything rattles on the minibus!). Down the road a bit farther the woman got out of the taxi. Under her arm a brightly colored chicken. She walked out as if it was nothing.
It was nothing to her. We see it as crazy that a chicken is in a taxi or a goat is on top of a bus or donkeys use the same road as cars (it would be helpful if they would use the right lane though). To the people here it is normal. In one region I have visited they have no paved roads. I got so frustrated at the livestock all over the roadway. "Why won't they get the animals out of the way?" It took me a while to remember…they don't have cars either. Of course the road is for pedestrians and animals. What else would they use it for? I am borrowing their road; it isn't the other way around.
The great thing about loosing the shock element is that although some things may remain strange, they seem normal. I expect them. It means I am growing to love and understand the people for who they are not who I think they should be. All of this is normal to them.
Poverty is normal to them. It is not a rare site to see someone give beggar money. It is also not rare to see the giver wait for change. He/she had no intention of giving the beggar a full bill, they just didn't have coins. The one with nothing gives back change. Can you imagine that in downtown DC…"Oh here is a dollar, but all I have is a ten; you got change?"
The other day we were talking. The talk was about cultures. Is our goal to put on lenses that allow us to see their perspective and give up our own? Is the goal to keep our perspective and never adopt there's? Or is it that our goal is to allow one lens to be from their perspective and one from mine? Does this keep me safe or does it keep me honest? Not sure. I do believe however that the more I understand them the more I will grow to love them and the more I can do to help them and be helped by them.
Sunday, November 14, 2004
A New Phone...
What a week! It has been the busiest since I have been here. Mostly this was due to a new phone. I had Mom send me my cordless phone from home with a couple ladies who had come to visit and work with us for a week. Well, the phone got stopped in customs.
Tuesday I got a taxi to the airport to go get it. The airport is literally on the opposite side of the city from where I live. I took a contract taxi and it still took me quite a while to get over there. I got in the airport and finally found the right office. Once I arrived they asked where my letter was from the telephone company. What letter I asked. I had to have a letter of permission from the phone company to have my phone…still not sure why. I asked where the phone company was. They told me which hotel it was in, but know one actually knew where it was. They new it wasn't far from one of the craziest intersections in the city…they told me to go to the intersection and ask for directions.
The next day I found the hotel and a big sign saying the telephone company office was there…on the second, fifth, and sixth floors. I started on the second after being directed there by a security guard. I entered the office to see numerous doors to other offices and no receptionist. I stood there for a minute hoping someone would ask to help me. Nope! I tapped on the first door and went in. I showed the papers to a man behind a desk who told me where to go, but first told me I would have to leave the building to go photocopy my papers. I went to the new office…again no greeting.
I walked to the only man helping no one. He took my papers, flipped through them, and grabbed some other paper work. He handed me a form to fill out. It was all in their language. I just looked at it funny, then looked back at him, and told him I didn't speak his language well. He filled out all of the work for me (Might I add all of the paper work was in the woman's name that brought me the phone. I kept telling them it wasn't me; they just kept making it Mr. Sandra.
Finally he finished and directed me to the sixth floor. I entered again to find no receptionist. I went in the first door and the man took my papers. He started asking me questions. "Do you have the owner's manual?" "I don't know I don't even have the phone back yet." "You need to bring me that." "Customs won't let me have the phone, not to mention the manual might not be here." "How much did it cost?" "I don't know it is old." "We'll have to find it on the internet." That took quite sometime. Thankfully the guy was nice enough to let me practice some of his language I had learned with him.
He sent me to a fourth office. She wrote me a letter, and then sent me back to the last office. He handed me a print out of my phone and said, "Is this it?" "I think so." "The model number is the same." "Must be it then." He left with my papers and said he'd be back. He disappeared for several minutes as I sat in his office. He came back begging my pardon; in his language I said no problem. He told me there actually was a problem. Apparently he couldn't find his boss and the boss had to sign the paper work. He told me to come back Thursday.
After two hours, five offices, and two different floors, I left. And he kept my paperwork. Let me tell you leaving the papers with him made me pretty nervous.
Thursday morning I got a taxi back to the hotel. I went to the sixth floor (Should have told you earlier, although it was numbered six it was the eighth floor.) Popped in the man's office from Wednesday, he sent me back to the office where the lady wrote the letter. I got my letter and they sent me back to the second floor to pay. I finally found the right office and sat down with a man and a woman as they figured out what I owed them. Again I practiced my language with them, and I think made a new friend. He invited me to come again…just to visit he said. I paid them and they sent me to another office for some type of stamp. I got the stamp I the office I had started in Wednesday. As they finished I thanked them in their language and said goodbye. All of the nationals in the room laughed when I spoke their language…quite common, yet still uncomfortable.
Finally I returned to the airport. I stood in line a while and then handed someone my papers. He kept them for about 30 minutes then called me again. I got a paper, and he sent me to the next window to pay. I paid the girl. Then she told me to wait, she left for about 20 minutes then reappeared. I owed more money. "For what?" I asked. Storage. I paid her again and asked where to go. She sort of bobbed her heard towards the left and said, "Where else?" I guessed and moved to the next crowd of people. Finally after waiting again they brought the phone.
They flipped through a book for several minutes looking for record of my phone. Not sure what took so long as they appeared to be in numerical order, but he had some trouble. Sign your name here the man said. "My name," I asked. "Yes." So I did. That isn't the name on the papers the two replied. "Oh you want that name, well here, I'll put it." "No you can't do that!" I thought I was going to have to start the process all over again. Thankfully they asked if the phone was mine and I said it was. They let me have it.
After 3 days, 6 taxis, 2 buildings (both two times), more flights of stairs than I care to count, multiple offices, some money, and lots of paper work, I have a new cordless phone, with an answering machine. More than anything the machine is for calls from people like mom and dad. However I think it could become quite comedic. I assume there will be multiple messages consisting of, "Hello, Hello, Hello…well you get the picture."
To be honest, I know this sounds like quite a fiasco, and don't get me wrong…it was. But it was really a relatively light process in comparison to others.
Tuesday I got a taxi to the airport to go get it. The airport is literally on the opposite side of the city from where I live. I took a contract taxi and it still took me quite a while to get over there. I got in the airport and finally found the right office. Once I arrived they asked where my letter was from the telephone company. What letter I asked. I had to have a letter of permission from the phone company to have my phone…still not sure why. I asked where the phone company was. They told me which hotel it was in, but know one actually knew where it was. They new it wasn't far from one of the craziest intersections in the city…they told me to go to the intersection and ask for directions.
The next day I found the hotel and a big sign saying the telephone company office was there…on the second, fifth, and sixth floors. I started on the second after being directed there by a security guard. I entered the office to see numerous doors to other offices and no receptionist. I stood there for a minute hoping someone would ask to help me. Nope! I tapped on the first door and went in. I showed the papers to a man behind a desk who told me where to go, but first told me I would have to leave the building to go photocopy my papers. I went to the new office…again no greeting.
I walked to the only man helping no one. He took my papers, flipped through them, and grabbed some other paper work. He handed me a form to fill out. It was all in their language. I just looked at it funny, then looked back at him, and told him I didn't speak his language well. He filled out all of the work for me (Might I add all of the paper work was in the woman's name that brought me the phone. I kept telling them it wasn't me; they just kept making it Mr. Sandra.
Finally he finished and directed me to the sixth floor. I entered again to find no receptionist. I went in the first door and the man took my papers. He started asking me questions. "Do you have the owner's manual?" "I don't know I don't even have the phone back yet." "You need to bring me that." "Customs won't let me have the phone, not to mention the manual might not be here." "How much did it cost?" "I don't know it is old." "We'll have to find it on the internet." That took quite sometime. Thankfully the guy was nice enough to let me practice some of his language I had learned with him.
He sent me to a fourth office. She wrote me a letter, and then sent me back to the last office. He handed me a print out of my phone and said, "Is this it?" "I think so." "The model number is the same." "Must be it then." He left with my papers and said he'd be back. He disappeared for several minutes as I sat in his office. He came back begging my pardon; in his language I said no problem. He told me there actually was a problem. Apparently he couldn't find his boss and the boss had to sign the paper work. He told me to come back Thursday.
After two hours, five offices, and two different floors, I left. And he kept my paperwork. Let me tell you leaving the papers with him made me pretty nervous.
Thursday morning I got a taxi back to the hotel. I went to the sixth floor (Should have told you earlier, although it was numbered six it was the eighth floor.) Popped in the man's office from Wednesday, he sent me back to the office where the lady wrote the letter. I got my letter and they sent me back to the second floor to pay. I finally found the right office and sat down with a man and a woman as they figured out what I owed them. Again I practiced my language with them, and I think made a new friend. He invited me to come again…just to visit he said. I paid them and they sent me to another office for some type of stamp. I got the stamp I the office I had started in Wednesday. As they finished I thanked them in their language and said goodbye. All of the nationals in the room laughed when I spoke their language…quite common, yet still uncomfortable.
Finally I returned to the airport. I stood in line a while and then handed someone my papers. He kept them for about 30 minutes then called me again. I got a paper, and he sent me to the next window to pay. I paid the girl. Then she told me to wait, she left for about 20 minutes then reappeared. I owed more money. "For what?" I asked. Storage. I paid her again and asked where to go. She sort of bobbed her heard towards the left and said, "Where else?" I guessed and moved to the next crowd of people. Finally after waiting again they brought the phone.
They flipped through a book for several minutes looking for record of my phone. Not sure what took so long as they appeared to be in numerical order, but he had some trouble. Sign your name here the man said. "My name," I asked. "Yes." So I did. That isn't the name on the papers the two replied. "Oh you want that name, well here, I'll put it." "No you can't do that!" I thought I was going to have to start the process all over again. Thankfully they asked if the phone was mine and I said it was. They let me have it.
After 3 days, 6 taxis, 2 buildings (both two times), more flights of stairs than I care to count, multiple offices, some money, and lots of paper work, I have a new cordless phone, with an answering machine. More than anything the machine is for calls from people like mom and dad. However I think it could become quite comedic. I assume there will be multiple messages consisting of, "Hello, Hello, Hello…well you get the picture."
To be honest, I know this sounds like quite a fiasco, and don't get me wrong…it was. But it was really a relatively light process in comparison to others.
Monday, November 08, 2004
Clowns at the Circus, and Monkeys at the Zoo...
So far I have discovered five primary means of transportation in the city:
1. Personal Vehicle - I clearly don't fall in this category; although there are friends who have loaned me vehicles on occasion. There are several pluses to driving yourself. The first is that it is like being in a real live video game. The other day a guy and I were talking about how much it is like a real live Need for Speed. Another plus is speed. There is clearly no quicker way to get anywhere in the city. The greatest drawback is not being able to be with the nationals while you travel.
2. Contract Taxi - These are small, old, rickety, sedans. You pay the driver an agreed upon amount to get anywhere you need to get. This has the plus of speed listed above, but is not as quick as driving yourself. There are a few drawbacks. It is more expensive than any other form of public transit. There is little consistency in pricing. You can have a guess on what it "should" cost, but it will definitely cost more for "the white guy" and who knows the current mood of the driver. Another down fall is that it is also similar to a game. It reminds me of Fear Factor; sometimes I feel like Jason or my parents riding with me in my car. (They tend to get a bit freaked out!) I've learned that sometimes the best remedy is just close your eyes and hold on. At least that way you don't have to go through all the "I am about to die stuff."
3. Minibus Taxi - This is what all the nationals would call a taxi. Approximately 11 plus the two workers fit in this vehicle. (Plus they often add a few more just to make some money.) The clear pluses are the chance to be with nationals and the price. Today I got all the way across the city for the equivalency of about 50 cents. It would have cost 4 or 5 bucks in a contract. (I know that doesn't sound like much, but trust me it is!) The largest downfalls are time, heat, and smell. They rarely go anywhere unless the vehicle is through. People get out all along the laid out route. If four or five get out, the rest of us sit and wait for it to fill back up. It can easily turn a 15-minute contract ride into an hour affair. The people are a bit scared of wind. They think it will make them sick. Therefore all the windows are closed which makes the ride both hot and stinky. Another flaw has to do with the routes; because they only run direct routes if you want to get somewhere that isn't on one you get close then walk. (This is good for me obviously…it helps with the stairs!) All that said, if I have the time this is one of my favorite ways to get around.
4. Bus - I have never been on one. Remember the VW Bug at a circus? About 25 clowns come out. Well the bus hold 50ish give/forget take about 50. When these things unload it is almost funny. They are standing in the aisle, riding in laps, you name it. Outside of the city some people and animals are even on top of the buses. The pluses are this mode of transport is extremely cheap. When a bus stops and unloads others run to board it. For me the negatives still outweigh the positives. The time/heat/smell thing; multiply that by about 100, literally.
5. Bus 11 - I am a pretty big fan of this one. Hills make it a bit tough so I don't go overboard, but I love to walk in the city. Get it, bus 11? (Look down at your feet…11.) The pluses: lots of people, see all the city has to offer, get exercise, among others. The downfalls: clearly it takes longer, exercise, and the people. The people can be tough sometimes. I love them, dearly. They are typically so friendly and fun and hospitable. But sometimes the poverty begins to become too much. It tugs at the heart and frustrates you all at the same time. Another issue is the monkey at the zoo issue. Today I sat on a wall by the street waiting for a friend (Come to find out I actually wasn't supposed to be sitting there which may have added to the stares.) And I seriously felt like a zoo exhibit. They would just stare at me. Some would throw out the English they know. It always sounds something like: "You, you!" or "You, how are you!" or "You, where are you go!" I got to the point I wanted to start making monkey faces at them. It is interesting what we do to help make others feel uncomfortable when we feel that way. Yesterday I told a friend I was going to start laughing at nationals speaking English. They laugh at me speaking their language…even when I don't screw it up (which I must admit is rare.)
It's fun! It's tough sometimes! I love it! Come visit! We'll try all but the bus!
1. Personal Vehicle - I clearly don't fall in this category; although there are friends who have loaned me vehicles on occasion. There are several pluses to driving yourself. The first is that it is like being in a real live video game. The other day a guy and I were talking about how much it is like a real live Need for Speed. Another plus is speed. There is clearly no quicker way to get anywhere in the city. The greatest drawback is not being able to be with the nationals while you travel.
2. Contract Taxi - These are small, old, rickety, sedans. You pay the driver an agreed upon amount to get anywhere you need to get. This has the plus of speed listed above, but is not as quick as driving yourself. There are a few drawbacks. It is more expensive than any other form of public transit. There is little consistency in pricing. You can have a guess on what it "should" cost, but it will definitely cost more for "the white guy" and who knows the current mood of the driver. Another down fall is that it is also similar to a game. It reminds me of Fear Factor; sometimes I feel like Jason or my parents riding with me in my car. (They tend to get a bit freaked out!) I've learned that sometimes the best remedy is just close your eyes and hold on. At least that way you don't have to go through all the "I am about to die stuff."
3. Minibus Taxi - This is what all the nationals would call a taxi. Approximately 11 plus the two workers fit in this vehicle. (Plus they often add a few more just to make some money.) The clear pluses are the chance to be with nationals and the price. Today I got all the way across the city for the equivalency of about 50 cents. It would have cost 4 or 5 bucks in a contract. (I know that doesn't sound like much, but trust me it is!) The largest downfalls are time, heat, and smell. They rarely go anywhere unless the vehicle is through. People get out all along the laid out route. If four or five get out, the rest of us sit and wait for it to fill back up. It can easily turn a 15-minute contract ride into an hour affair. The people are a bit scared of wind. They think it will make them sick. Therefore all the windows are closed which makes the ride both hot and stinky. Another flaw has to do with the routes; because they only run direct routes if you want to get somewhere that isn't on one you get close then walk. (This is good for me obviously…it helps with the stairs!) All that said, if I have the time this is one of my favorite ways to get around.
4. Bus - I have never been on one. Remember the VW Bug at a circus? About 25 clowns come out. Well the bus hold 50ish give/forget take about 50. When these things unload it is almost funny. They are standing in the aisle, riding in laps, you name it. Outside of the city some people and animals are even on top of the buses. The pluses are this mode of transport is extremely cheap. When a bus stops and unloads others run to board it. For me the negatives still outweigh the positives. The time/heat/smell thing; multiply that by about 100, literally.
5. Bus 11 - I am a pretty big fan of this one. Hills make it a bit tough so I don't go overboard, but I love to walk in the city. Get it, bus 11? (Look down at your feet…11.) The pluses: lots of people, see all the city has to offer, get exercise, among others. The downfalls: clearly it takes longer, exercise, and the people. The people can be tough sometimes. I love them, dearly. They are typically so friendly and fun and hospitable. But sometimes the poverty begins to become too much. It tugs at the heart and frustrates you all at the same time. Another issue is the monkey at the zoo issue. Today I sat on a wall by the street waiting for a friend (Come to find out I actually wasn't supposed to be sitting there which may have added to the stares.) And I seriously felt like a zoo exhibit. They would just stare at me. Some would throw out the English they know. It always sounds something like: "You, you!" or "You, how are you!" or "You, where are you go!" I got to the point I wanted to start making monkey faces at them. It is interesting what we do to help make others feel uncomfortable when we feel that way. Yesterday I told a friend I was going to start laughing at nationals speaking English. They laugh at me speaking their language…even when I don't screw it up (which I must admit is rare.)
It's fun! It's tough sometimes! I love it! Come visit! We'll try all but the bus!
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Sabbath...
I was in two completely different styles of churches on the Sunday. My morning started with about 3 hours in a church full of nationals. There were about 3000 of us there, they tell me. About half were in the building with me where the actual pastor, choir, instruments, etc. were. The other half were in a second building where the service is seen on screens. Yes they use video cameras and screens.
Aside from the rather bland metal building, the smell, the heat, and the wedding at the end it was pretty similar to a service in the states. There was a choir with robes, pastors with suits and ties, a keyboard, two saxophones, and some other instruments I couldn't see. The whole thing was in the local language. However I understood most of it (you are thinking I am really smart to have mastered the language this fast:). Actually they had a small wireless device I used to hear the service translated. Yup!!
I had to prepare myself; I had to remember that although I had some issues with what was happening, people were being reached (about 20 made professions that day). My friend who took me asked for my thoughts afterwards. I tried to be careful; as I did not want to insult him, I am so glad he goes somewhere. But I did share with him some struggles.
They are telling me now 10% -15% are "followers." I am concerned about the reproducibility of the place I attended. Especially in the countryside. The countryside is vastly different from the city. If three Americans were to tell what the US was like, which area would they choose to talk about? My perspective differs from Mark's in Baltimore, and Bethany's in California, and Cori's in Colorado. It is even more extreme here. Once my grandfather told me I was in three countries in 1 hour. I had been in the US, Canada, and Detroit. If I were to drive only a few minutes outside of this city, it looks like a different world. Even different parts of the city look this way.
The countryside could never afford: robes, suits, microphones, electricity, TV's, buildings, etc. If we estimate high there are about 5 million in the city; that leaves 65 million or so out in the country. How will they be reached? He was struck by my question, which I was glad to see. Other issues were relatively minor in comparison to this one. Sure there are questions of why were we singing worship songs to a newly married couple, how much of the funding for this comes from outside the country, where are all of the poor people, why did the translator not translate some words I understood in the local language, whose culture does this look like, his or mine? I could continue.
That night I met as the body. Eight of us sat together in a living room. We told a story from the book, sang together, had a meal together, and shared specific requests. There were still parts that are not reproducible, and parts that still need adjusting, but perhaps we are getting closer.
Is one right and one wrong? Are they just different? Which meets the needs of this place? There are so many questions! I hope some answers surface soon too!
By the way, not a single person said hi to me in the first event, unless my friend introduced them to me. Three thousand people, no friendly greetings…I really felt like I was in some places I had been in the states.
Aside from the rather bland metal building, the smell, the heat, and the wedding at the end it was pretty similar to a service in the states. There was a choir with robes, pastors with suits and ties, a keyboard, two saxophones, and some other instruments I couldn't see. The whole thing was in the local language. However I understood most of it (you are thinking I am really smart to have mastered the language this fast:). Actually they had a small wireless device I used to hear the service translated. Yup!!
I had to prepare myself; I had to remember that although I had some issues with what was happening, people were being reached (about 20 made professions that day). My friend who took me asked for my thoughts afterwards. I tried to be careful; as I did not want to insult him, I am so glad he goes somewhere. But I did share with him some struggles.
They are telling me now 10% -15% are "followers." I am concerned about the reproducibility of the place I attended. Especially in the countryside. The countryside is vastly different from the city. If three Americans were to tell what the US was like, which area would they choose to talk about? My perspective differs from Mark's in Baltimore, and Bethany's in California, and Cori's in Colorado. It is even more extreme here. Once my grandfather told me I was in three countries in 1 hour. I had been in the US, Canada, and Detroit. If I were to drive only a few minutes outside of this city, it looks like a different world. Even different parts of the city look this way.
The countryside could never afford: robes, suits, microphones, electricity, TV's, buildings, etc. If we estimate high there are about 5 million in the city; that leaves 65 million or so out in the country. How will they be reached? He was struck by my question, which I was glad to see. Other issues were relatively minor in comparison to this one. Sure there are questions of why were we singing worship songs to a newly married couple, how much of the funding for this comes from outside the country, where are all of the poor people, why did the translator not translate some words I understood in the local language, whose culture does this look like, his or mine? I could continue.
That night I met as the body. Eight of us sat together in a living room. We told a story from the book, sang together, had a meal together, and shared specific requests. There were still parts that are not reproducible, and parts that still need adjusting, but perhaps we are getting closer.
Is one right and one wrong? Are they just different? Which meets the needs of this place? There are so many questions! I hope some answers surface soon too!
By the way, not a single person said hi to me in the first event, unless my friend introduced them to me. Three thousand people, no friendly greetings…I really felt like I was in some places I had been in the states.
