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!
Friday, December 24, 2004
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.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Missing the Point...
Today is the day to worship the saint Gabriel. I know this because there is a church built for Gabriel on the way to a restaurant I have become quite a regular at. Typically there are not many people at late at night (Note that late is not too long after dark.). On this night the street was packed. There was lots of traffic and numerous people just standing beside and in the roadway.
I asked the man in front of me on the taxi what was happening. He affirmed my guess. This place is so deceived. I believe fully that we can follow the same Master and do it in different ways. The problem is that the people here have completely abandoned the pursuit of following the Master. Instead they follow good deeds and saints and luck that can bless their lives. Their pursuit of religion is all about the benefits for self.
According to the book, Notes from the Hyena's Belly the orthodox here have, "263 saints' days, 52 Sundays, 9 other Christian holidays, 13 abdar days [They worship the traditional sacred tree of the family.], 36 Wukabi days [They worship spirits.], and 12 days to worship ancestor's spirits." On these days they are supposed to worship all day and do no work. Do the math! It comes up to about 368 days. Now they do use a different calendar here, but there are still 365 days in the year.
They spend all of their time earning the respect and "grace" of their God.
On another front. I hooked up with some old friends from last summer. I got to visit their university today and watch one of the guys play football (soccer). I was amazed; most of them were terrible. I guess I had some pretty high expectations. Perhaps if ever become able to make it up my 5 flights of stairs without sounding like I ran a marathon, I might try to play some ball. At the current rate, I will guess the possibility will never become reality…these stairs are gonna be the death of me.
I asked the man in front of me on the taxi what was happening. He affirmed my guess. This place is so deceived. I believe fully that we can follow the same Master and do it in different ways. The problem is that the people here have completely abandoned the pursuit of following the Master. Instead they follow good deeds and saints and luck that can bless their lives. Their pursuit of religion is all about the benefits for self.
According to the book, Notes from the Hyena's Belly the orthodox here have, "263 saints' days, 52 Sundays, 9 other Christian holidays, 13 abdar days [They worship the traditional sacred tree of the family.], 36 Wukabi days [They worship spirits.], and 12 days to worship ancestor's spirits." On these days they are supposed to worship all day and do no work. Do the math! It comes up to about 368 days. Now they do use a different calendar here, but there are still 365 days in the year.
They spend all of their time earning the respect and "grace" of their God.
On another front. I hooked up with some old friends from last summer. I got to visit their university today and watch one of the guys play football (soccer). I was amazed; most of them were terrible. I guess I had some pretty high expectations. Perhaps if ever become able to make it up my 5 flights of stairs without sounding like I ran a marathon, I might try to play some ball. At the current rate, I will guess the possibility will never become reality…these stairs are gonna be the death of me.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Where to begin...
[Listening to: Jesus To These - Ryan Richardson - Delve]
Lord I want to be…
To be your hands and your feet.
To walk where you walk,
See what you see.
To feed a hungry soul,
To love a world so poor.
I want to be Jesus to these.
- Ryan Richardson - Jesus to These on Delve
I have never felt quite the way I do here. The pages of the gospel seem to come to life. I have greater mental images of what it looked like to walk out of the temple and be surrounded by beggars. I see them everyday…everywhere…but especially just outside the churches and mosques. Those who worship there move closer to God by giving to the poor.
I hurt for them (the poor and the deceived worshipers), but I also struggle with becoming cold. Poverty is so rampant; it is hard to know who is poor and who has found a good gig to cover for the lack of work in the city. Even the nationals distinguish between three kinds of beggars. Some are truly homeless and have no option, some are using it as a scheme, and some are merely troublemakers. This last group is looking for a quick way to get money. They aren't opposed to lying to you and/or stealing it from you.
Yesterday Daniel walked up to me on the road. He began to walk and talk English with me. (A travel guide about this country tells of the newest scam. Young people, apparently students, invite you to a "cultural event" that is only there on that day. Once they convince you to go with them, they take you somewhere to run up a very large bill and have you pay for it. It is no joke…happened to me last summer…before I read the book.) Daniel tried to pull the scam. I didn't bite. He then began to tell me numerous stories about not being able to work and having to pay for school and his family living in the country. All of his stories may have been true; I have no idea. I chose not to give him money or buy him lunch which he asked for several times.
I'm not sure how to deal with the poor. We are told to care for them; we are told they will always be with us. For that matter I don't know how to be Jesus to anyone. This week I have had a long talk with a national friend. There is a mistranslation in their Bible. It defines secular music (listening to, singing, creating) as removing one from God. It is in the same list with jealousy, envy, orgies, impurity.
I have my own thoughts on music, that isn't the important thing. What matters is how I be Jesus to him and how I encourage him to do the same with others here. Are his beliefs on music important? Do I just leave them be and worry about other things. Or is this a slippery slope down a dangerous hill. My fear is legalism. My desire is love and grace. I desire it for him; I desire it for me; I desire it for the church.
Ryan's song is my desire. Where do I even begin?
Life Together...and the time that follows...
Last semester at school I had the chance to read Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Life Together. It was pretty good. Today as I was walking home a piece of it came to mind.
My struggle the last several days has been loneliness. Honestly this isn't something I expected to deal with. I know many of the Americans here. I even spend quite a bit of time with them. I also have several national friends.
Bonhoeffer's book talked about community. Today I wanted to read part two of the book (I don't know of one.) In LIfe Together he encourages the reader to embrace community. He makes the claim that it will be short lived because our call is to go out alone into a world where believers are not. At that point we lose the community we have had the chance to live in the midst of.
Last Saturday I wanted so badly to call up the old gang for a game of football at Cameron Park. When I wanted to call they were probably all in bed, not to mention the fact I don't live in Waco anymore and neither do some of them. I had amazing community there. I miss the gang.
I want to read what Bonhoeffer claims is to follow the time with community. My guess is it is written about throughout the book The Cost of Discipleship. One day I will get to "reading" that one. (In school I skimmed it…twice.)
My greatest hope today is one I have mentioned before. I desire true community. I desire to find national "persons of peace" to walk the journey with. I hope relationships with the other Americans here increase so that we may be community.
My struggle the last several days has been loneliness. Honestly this isn't something I expected to deal with. I know many of the Americans here. I even spend quite a bit of time with them. I also have several national friends.
Bonhoeffer's book talked about community. Today I wanted to read part two of the book (I don't know of one.) In LIfe Together he encourages the reader to embrace community. He makes the claim that it will be short lived because our call is to go out alone into a world where believers are not. At that point we lose the community we have had the chance to live in the midst of.
Last Saturday I wanted so badly to call up the old gang for a game of football at Cameron Park. When I wanted to call they were probably all in bed, not to mention the fact I don't live in Waco anymore and neither do some of them. I had amazing community there. I miss the gang.
I want to read what Bonhoeffer claims is to follow the time with community. My guess is it is written about throughout the book The Cost of Discipleship. One day I will get to "reading" that one. (In school I skimmed it…twice.)
My greatest hope today is one I have mentioned before. I desire true community. I desire to find national "persons of peace" to walk the journey with. I hope relationships with the other Americans here increase so that we may be community.
Monday, October 18, 2004
The Third World...
Let me be honest. I live fairly comfortably. My apartment is bigger than anyplace I have ever lived (by myself). It is much bigger than my Baylor apartment or my Georgetown dorm room. I live on top of one of the nicest grocery stores in the city. I have made several new friends and had the chance to meet up with old friends who live here.
That being said…living in the capital city of a third world country is just weird. There are somewhere between 3-5 million people in this city. (There must be as many livestock here also.) The other day I was in a taxi riding down a main thoroughfare. The taxi had to stop…there was a herd of donkeys coming the opposite way on this six lane road (3 were headed the way I was, but on this day there were four or five lanes moving in these three).
It wouldn't be uncommon to look just off the side of the road and see a man standing openly on the side of the road peeing. This is a strange but wonderful place.
Tomorrow I am going to pay my phone bill. Well let me tell you the whole story. When you dial 97 on the phone you get an operator. She is supposed to tell you when your phone bill is due. They don't send out bills here. She told me that I was supposed to have paid my bills several days prior to my phone call. She told me how much I owed and what the late fee was. I asked her if I had to wait until it was due again to come pay (they give me 7 days) or if I could come the next day. She said, "Yes." "I can come tomorrow?" "Yes." "Or do I have to wait until it is my turn again?" "Yes." "No, come tomorrow?" "Yes." "Or wait?" "Yes." I said "okay" and hung up.
A day or two later I went to check on my phone bill. When I got there, they told me that my bill wasn't even due for another week. I told them about my previous phone call, and he said he didn't know what she was talking about. I asked him how much my bill was. He said he didn't know I could find out when I came to pay it.
So as I began…tomorrow I go to pay my phone bill. I will see what is in store tomorrow.
That being said…living in the capital city of a third world country is just weird. There are somewhere between 3-5 million people in this city. (There must be as many livestock here also.) The other day I was in a taxi riding down a main thoroughfare. The taxi had to stop…there was a herd of donkeys coming the opposite way on this six lane road (3 were headed the way I was, but on this day there were four or five lanes moving in these three).
It wouldn't be uncommon to look just off the side of the road and see a man standing openly on the side of the road peeing. This is a strange but wonderful place.
Tomorrow I am going to pay my phone bill. Well let me tell you the whole story. When you dial 97 on the phone you get an operator. She is supposed to tell you when your phone bill is due. They don't send out bills here. She told me that I was supposed to have paid my bills several days prior to my phone call. She told me how much I owed and what the late fee was. I asked her if I had to wait until it was due again to come pay (they give me 7 days) or if I could come the next day. She said, "Yes." "I can come tomorrow?" "Yes." "Or do I have to wait until it is my turn again?" "Yes." "No, come tomorrow?" "Yes." "Or wait?" "Yes." I said "okay" and hung up.
A day or two later I went to check on my phone bill. When I got there, they told me that my bill wasn't even due for another week. I told them about my previous phone call, and he said he didn't know what she was talking about. I asked him how much my bill was. He said he didn't know I could find out when I came to pay it.
So as I began…tomorrow I go to pay my phone bill. I will see what is in store tomorrow.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Rainy Days and Mondays...
It is a rainy day in the city. It is still hard to believe I am here. I have been here a week now. Almost daily I have to remind myself I am here to stay. The rains are supposed to be over soon. A lady on the plane told me it might be another couple weeks. Several days have been bright and sunny but today it pours. I am glad I haven't had to be out as much today.
I have had a great opportunity to meet coworkers here. Today I am going to lunch with a lady and her son. It should be fun we are going to a place I haven't been before. My apartment is much bigger than I expected. It's nice.
In the next few days I will dive into language study full time. I watched a DVD about it last night and it predicted that in order for me to reach a conversational level it will take 1½ years studying about 30 hours a week. That sounds crazy. How in the world will I ever find that much time?
I'm not sleeping well. Not sure why yet. Still getting adjusted. Plus the bed is a bit uncomfortable and squeaks a lot!
I'm glad to be here
I have had a great opportunity to meet coworkers here. Today I am going to lunch with a lady and her son. It should be fun we are going to a place I haven't been before. My apartment is much bigger than I expected. It's nice.
In the next few days I will dive into language study full time. I watched a DVD about it last night and it predicted that in order for me to reach a conversational level it will take 1½ years studying about 30 hours a week. That sounds crazy. How in the world will I ever find that much time?
I'm not sleeping well. Not sure why yet. Still getting adjusted. Plus the bed is a bit uncomfortable and squeaks a lot!
I'm glad to be here
