Twice in one week is way too much for me. Friday will go down as another of my not so favorite days here. I’ve been working hard trying to replace all of the documents and things that were stolen when my bag was stolen. The driver’s license was about two days of work. The passport was about a half a day. The visa has been a bear. I spent all of last Wednesday working on it and at the end of the day I had made no progress.
Thursday was a holiday, so I returned Friday to finish the job. It again took all day. I went to one police department who had to write me a letter requesting that they right a letter to another police department. Strange I know. I drove across town to the second just in time for them to close for lunch.
After lunch I went back and we fought about the letter for a bit. I told them I needed one for immigration they told me I needed one for foreign affairs. They wrote one for the foreign affairs office. I had to pay for them to write the letter. Just finding the place to pay was an adventure. The man I had been working with told me to go pay. “Where do I pay?” I asked him. He gave a strange pointing sign and said up. Now this isn’t a multistory building. It is a large compound with several one and two story buildings on it. Up meant to head up a slight grade to another building. After searching for some time I ended up finding it. I had to weave through a couple buildings and then go behind one to find the door. Inside the building was dark with a few signs in their language and all the doors closed. It was strange indeed.
From here I went to foreign affairs where they wrote a letter to the embassy for a new passport. I told the girl I already had a passport and now needed a new visa. “Then why are you here?” she asked. “Because they sent me here.” “We have nothing to do with that, go back and tell them to write a letter to immigration.”
This time I bossed the police around a bit more and finally got the right letter. I went to immigration to jump through their hoops again. All was going well until I had to pay. They wanted 20 US dollars. I don’t carry dollars; I live here. Why don’t they take their own money? So I left quickly to go cash some birr for dollars. I pulled out onto the road and then something happened. I couldn’t figure out what it was.
I had pulled from a drive on the left to the far right side of traffic and stopped for a second or two at a stoplight. Now all of the sudden my car was rolling and I couldn’t get it to stop. After a second or two I realized I had been hit. I realized my foot slipped of the brake and I wasn’t stopping because I was on the gas pedal now. I had been rear ended by a taxi that is a small truck with a topper on the back.
Police came sort of. Actually once my friend came to help me we had to drive to the opposite side of town to pick up a police officer and bring him back. Somehow through 6 or 7 hours with police, clear lies by the taxi driver (He claimed I hit him because there were scratches down the side of my vehicle.), discussions with several officers, among other things, they decided it was my fault. I didn’t hit him they decided, didn’t matter that he lied about that. Instead I didn’t have enough time to pull out and should have left priority for the taxi.
It was a rough day. Looks like I’ll have to go to court soon as I am still unwilling to take blame for the accident. If I don’t take the blame we’ll be stuck in this for perhaps six months. If I do it’s over. Higher ups are deciding what we want to do in light of the big picture.
On the bright side, I got my visa finished. Went to pick it up yesterday but forgot my receipt. Will return today and can now legally be here for 30 days.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Thanks...
Thanks for lifting up yesterday. It wasn’t a great day, but it didn’t go as poorly as anticipated. I didn’t get in any trouble, but then again, I didn’t make any progress. After multiple offices in three different buildings in three locations of the city, I’ll start again tomorrow. Today was a holiday so everything was closed.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Fender Bender...
So I had my first car wreck. Wreck might be a bit of an overstatement though. I’m not sure there were enough broken bones for it to be an all out wreck. Bit of a joke there…chill Mom. No broken bones. I just got the front end of the van clipped by a taxi driver.
Let me explain the van. My work vehicle looks like it is about 6,000 years old. It has two rows of bench seats in the back. The last two have been removed and lost. It has dents and scratches and bits of blue paint left on it. It is nicknamed the Silver Bullet. It must be 20 feet long and James and I often claim it should be driven off a steep cliff.
I fixed the radio. I still don’t get stations. There are actually only two here, but the antenna has been broken off. I can however listen to my iPod with a tape adapter. It’s been a good car. Been hit a few times and it’s pretty ugly but I’m glad I have something.
So Saturday we are on the way to lunch. I’m driving through a busy section of the city (near Bone Hill for those who have been here). I notice a taxi driver to the right isn’t paying much attention. I think, “He might hit me.” He did. Never even looked. Put a huge dent in his front door, but only a small scratch on the Bullet. We both decided to let it go and drove on. But we stayed close. He kept looking out his window checking the damage to his car (he had no concern for mine). This didn’t help his driving might I add.
Eventually he looked to me and pointed at the door implying, “Look what you did to my car.” I pointed for him to pull over and quickly moved from the far left lane to the shoulder. He followed.
Now understand that in this culture if a disagreement happens the one that yells the loudest is most often right. He knows it, the other person knows it, and the onlookers know it. I chewed that driver for a few minutes. He wanted me to do something about his car. I told him I was sorry but he hit me. Therefore he should pay me (knew this would never happen).
One of his riders spoke English. She spoke up and I asked her in English, “Didn’t he hit me?” She agreed but didn’t respond when I said, “So he should have to pay me right?” The driver wanted money from me. If I had hit him, everyone would have demanded it. Since he hit me, I’m supposed to move on and let it happen. I did, but not without letting them know I could fight with them in their language and I didn’t like being treated this way.
I told the man we were finished and go away. He kept talking and I walked away. We went from there to have some pretty good burgers at a relatively new place called The Texas BBQ. Not quite the same, but pretty good eats.
Tomorrow is a big day. I have to go to a government office for some papers. We are scared it might go poorly. I’ve been told a fine is likely and arrest or being kicked out of the country isn’t out of the question. Remember me in the morning.
Let me explain the van. My work vehicle looks like it is about 6,000 years old. It has two rows of bench seats in the back. The last two have been removed and lost. It has dents and scratches and bits of blue paint left on it. It is nicknamed the Silver Bullet. It must be 20 feet long and James and I often claim it should be driven off a steep cliff.
I fixed the radio. I still don’t get stations. There are actually only two here, but the antenna has been broken off. I can however listen to my iPod with a tape adapter. It’s been a good car. Been hit a few times and it’s pretty ugly but I’m glad I have something.
So Saturday we are on the way to lunch. I’m driving through a busy section of the city (near Bone Hill for those who have been here). I notice a taxi driver to the right isn’t paying much attention. I think, “He might hit me.” He did. Never even looked. Put a huge dent in his front door, but only a small scratch on the Bullet. We both decided to let it go and drove on. But we stayed close. He kept looking out his window checking the damage to his car (he had no concern for mine). This didn’t help his driving might I add.
Eventually he looked to me and pointed at the door implying, “Look what you did to my car.” I pointed for him to pull over and quickly moved from the far left lane to the shoulder. He followed.
Now understand that in this culture if a disagreement happens the one that yells the loudest is most often right. He knows it, the other person knows it, and the onlookers know it. I chewed that driver for a few minutes. He wanted me to do something about his car. I told him I was sorry but he hit me. Therefore he should pay me (knew this would never happen).
One of his riders spoke English. She spoke up and I asked her in English, “Didn’t he hit me?” She agreed but didn’t respond when I said, “So he should have to pay me right?” The driver wanted money from me. If I had hit him, everyone would have demanded it. Since he hit me, I’m supposed to move on and let it happen. I did, but not without letting them know I could fight with them in their language and I didn’t like being treated this way.
I told the man we were finished and go away. He kept talking and I walked away. We went from there to have some pretty good burgers at a relatively new place called The Texas BBQ. Not quite the same, but pretty good eats.
Tomorrow is a big day. I have to go to a government office for some papers. We are scared it might go poorly. I’ve been told a fine is likely and arrest or being kicked out of the country isn’t out of the question. Remember me in the morning.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Returning...
I’m not sure what happened that I lost interest in writing. But it happened. I’m hoping to regain interest. I’m hoping to be able to watch with an eye that desires to retell the story. So much has gone on lately. But more and more the time here becomes less amazing and more normal. For your sake and mine I need to return to writing. I need to share stories. I need to watch life go by as I live it. I need to love every minute and seek to retell the story. I’m trying.
The prayer day was such a blessing. I have sent out some more emails to those of you who emailed about joining us. I want to hear your stories of the day. We want to share those with others you don’t know so that you can see the union that took place on that day. We started at my house. We spent several hours here before stepping out into the city and praying for people in the places we were praying for: an Orthodox church, mosques, the ERC, a mountain that overlooks the city. The day was moving. I’m not good at praying for extended periods like that. I’m really not a good at praying in any fashion. But that day was inspiring. It gave me a burning desire to spend more days doing nothing more than approaching the throne on behalf of the 5 million or so that live here.
The house has changed a lot lately. In the last month I have gone from living alone, to living with six, to four, to six again. Two more will join us Friday, but we’ll also lose two on that day. It is stretching. Life looks so much different when the house is full of people. It demands I be more flexible. It demands I move past my own wants and desires. It is a great teacher.
One of my current roommates has stolen my heart. Her name is Olivia. That is actually her new name. She has only had it for about three days now. Before that her name was Ababa – flower. (A day or two before meeting her I had thought about naming a kid that. I think I like the name Samantha Ababa. But I would want to call her Sam. So maybe I should name another kid Ababa and call her Abby.) Olivia is about 2 ½. Her new daddy came to pick her up. He needed a place to stay and ended up with us. She is absolutely beautiful. Everyday I tell him, and her, that it is completely okay for him to leave her with me. He already has five kids does he really need another? She is beautiful. One day I will have a couple. I want to have some kids and adopt some kids. I want to give a home to those who don’t have that privilege.
Great progress being made on the maps, although we are at a bit of a standstill. It is important to have a vehicle while I map. I have to get into some pretty shady spots. Taxis would never go on these roads, and I’m to fat and old to walk the all. Continue to ask for progress.
No water since yesterday. It is starting to stink in this house. I’m hoping it will return today.
I don’t have a visa to be here at the moment. The stolen one has proven quite difficult to replace. Pray with me as we seek to resolve this issue.
I’ll try to get some stories out soon.
The prayer day was such a blessing. I have sent out some more emails to those of you who emailed about joining us. I want to hear your stories of the day. We want to share those with others you don’t know so that you can see the union that took place on that day. We started at my house. We spent several hours here before stepping out into the city and praying for people in the places we were praying for: an Orthodox church, mosques, the ERC, a mountain that overlooks the city. The day was moving. I’m not good at praying for extended periods like that. I’m really not a good at praying in any fashion. But that day was inspiring. It gave me a burning desire to spend more days doing nothing more than approaching the throne on behalf of the 5 million or so that live here.
The house has changed a lot lately. In the last month I have gone from living alone, to living with six, to four, to six again. Two more will join us Friday, but we’ll also lose two on that day. It is stretching. Life looks so much different when the house is full of people. It demands I be more flexible. It demands I move past my own wants and desires. It is a great teacher.
One of my current roommates has stolen my heart. Her name is Olivia. That is actually her new name. She has only had it for about three days now. Before that her name was Ababa – flower. (A day or two before meeting her I had thought about naming a kid that. I think I like the name Samantha Ababa. But I would want to call her Sam. So maybe I should name another kid Ababa and call her Abby.) Olivia is about 2 ½. Her new daddy came to pick her up. He needed a place to stay and ended up with us. She is absolutely beautiful. Everyday I tell him, and her, that it is completely okay for him to leave her with me. He already has five kids does he really need another? She is beautiful. One day I will have a couple. I want to have some kids and adopt some kids. I want to give a home to those who don’t have that privilege.
Great progress being made on the maps, although we are at a bit of a standstill. It is important to have a vehicle while I map. I have to get into some pretty shady spots. Taxis would never go on these roads, and I’m to fat and old to walk the all. Continue to ask for progress.
No water since yesterday. It is starting to stink in this house. I’m hoping it will return today.
I don’t have a visa to be here at the moment. The stolen one has proven quite difficult to replace. Pray with me as we seek to resolve this issue.
I’ll try to get some stories out soon.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Quick Note...
The prayer day was such a blessing. Sorry I haven’t shared any details. I have meant to all week but keep getting busy. I will try and share that with you and other info in a day or two. I will be out of the city for the night but back on Monday.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
February 3...
On February 3 we are having a special worldwide day of prayer for the city I live in. You should have received and email about this. If not, let me know. We are preparing a guide to help participants through the eight hours. Love to have you personally or your group join us.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Vacation and the Days Surrounding...
Sorry about another disappearing act. The days before, after, and during vacation have been quite busy.
In December I realized it was time for a break. I had reached what they call culture fatigue. I was tired and upset always. I wanted to bodyslam nationals. I new I had to get away. I looked at a few options and decided the best was to go and spend a week or so with some close friends living near Paris.
For ten days or so I saw tourist sites, went to movies, ate at American chains, and hung out. I only spoke the language of here when I couldn't communicate in French. That was actually more than would be expected. I had a great time. It was a good break. My prayer was answered...by the end of my time there I was ready to get home.
I returned to fall into full speed mode. I left two days after arriving for a two day drive north. I got there spent a day and flew home. On returning home again I dove into work. The first day mapping will go down as a least favorite day here. My van was broken into and about $1500 of stuff was taken. My camera was taken, my Palm Pilot, some money, and a few other things. My national coworker and I were so disappointed. He also had his coat taken.
We decided to go and report it to the police. It is sad that that might not have been the best choice. Once the police are involved the chance of it being returned by the taker's choice is unlikely. Often they will ransom back to you things they can't do anything with. Once the police join in, it won't happen. However the police seemed to believe they might find the thief. I tend to doubt it. I also have no assurance that if they found them they wouldn't just split the booty. Police aren't highly trusted here and with due cause.
The next two days were spent trying to get my passport and local driver's license replaced. The passport was relatively easy. It had its share of local bureaucracy tied in too. I got the needed forms online. Then I found out I had the wrong ones, plus they didn't print well. They gave me two new forms to fill out. One of those was wrong, so I started again. Eventually I paid and had everything filled out. They told me they needed a police report. I told them that I had filled one out but the police had told me I couldn't have a report without an official request from them. They looked confused and told me to get one. I pleaded my case again. They wouldn't give it to me yesterday; they won't today. It is an hour away from here. It is in a language that is no good to the US Consular. I eventually convinced them.
Then I began with the license. They did want the report and gave me the appropriate paper work to get it. Do you know your license number? Not the plate number, that one is shorter, the one in your pocket. Me either on either license. I had to get them to look my number up...easier than I expected. I took the form to the exact opposite side of the city...it was about a 45 minute drive around the "bypass." It took over an hour for them to fill out their part. Correction...it took about 30 minutes to find out who should fill it out in what office.
I started where I had been the day before. He led me to the second floor. Then we went back to the first. Then back to the second before we actually got started. From there I was in four different offices and two of those more than once. It was too late to return to the other side of the city so I waited until the next day.
The next morning I tried to go early to beat the rush...too late. I started the process. Office 1...office 2...office 1. I had an abrupt stop at this point. Apparently they had given me the wrong number the day before. She sent me to office 3. They said the number was actually correct and back to 2. She again disagreed and took me back to 3. After finding the computer must be wrong they looked in these massive books they keep. It was in fact wrong. The solution...take a new paper to the police. "You are joking," I told her. Nope! I started across town with the new one. This time we were friends. Many jumped to my defense. They cut me in line; they demanded I shouldn't have to pay again. In the end it took about 20 minutes and I did in fact have to pay again.
I returned to the other office. I got there about 11:15. At 11:40 they told me I could come back after lunch. I argued that I had already been there three times...two today. Sorry. I went and got lunch. I came back early and continued. Office 4...office 1...office 4...office 2...office 4...office 2...office 5...office 6. Finally I was done; new license in hand. What a way to live.
Now I'm trying to get back in the swing of normalcy. Except this is the season of volunteers. The first got here last week. We will go through many more before I finish here in August or so. I love having people here though.
I'll try to do better about writing in the days ahead. Thanks for continuing to come back even when there is nothing here.
In December I realized it was time for a break. I had reached what they call culture fatigue. I was tired and upset always. I wanted to bodyslam nationals. I new I had to get away. I looked at a few options and decided the best was to go and spend a week or so with some close friends living near Paris.
For ten days or so I saw tourist sites, went to movies, ate at American chains, and hung out. I only spoke the language of here when I couldn't communicate in French. That was actually more than would be expected. I had a great time. It was a good break. My prayer was answered...by the end of my time there I was ready to get home.
I returned to fall into full speed mode. I left two days after arriving for a two day drive north. I got there spent a day and flew home. On returning home again I dove into work. The first day mapping will go down as a least favorite day here. My van was broken into and about $1500 of stuff was taken. My camera was taken, my Palm Pilot, some money, and a few other things. My national coworker and I were so disappointed. He also had his coat taken.
We decided to go and report it to the police. It is sad that that might not have been the best choice. Once the police are involved the chance of it being returned by the taker's choice is unlikely. Often they will ransom back to you things they can't do anything with. Once the police join in, it won't happen. However the police seemed to believe they might find the thief. I tend to doubt it. I also have no assurance that if they found them they wouldn't just split the booty. Police aren't highly trusted here and with due cause.
The next two days were spent trying to get my passport and local driver's license replaced. The passport was relatively easy. It had its share of local bureaucracy tied in too. I got the needed forms online. Then I found out I had the wrong ones, plus they didn't print well. They gave me two new forms to fill out. One of those was wrong, so I started again. Eventually I paid and had everything filled out. They told me they needed a police report. I told them that I had filled one out but the police had told me I couldn't have a report without an official request from them. They looked confused and told me to get one. I pleaded my case again. They wouldn't give it to me yesterday; they won't today. It is an hour away from here. It is in a language that is no good to the US Consular. I eventually convinced them.
Then I began with the license. They did want the report and gave me the appropriate paper work to get it. Do you know your license number? Not the plate number, that one is shorter, the one in your pocket. Me either on either license. I had to get them to look my number up...easier than I expected. I took the form to the exact opposite side of the city...it was about a 45 minute drive around the "bypass." It took over an hour for them to fill out their part. Correction...it took about 30 minutes to find out who should fill it out in what office.
I started where I had been the day before. He led me to the second floor. Then we went back to the first. Then back to the second before we actually got started. From there I was in four different offices and two of those more than once. It was too late to return to the other side of the city so I waited until the next day.
The next morning I tried to go early to beat the rush...too late. I started the process. Office 1...office 2...office 1. I had an abrupt stop at this point. Apparently they had given me the wrong number the day before. She sent me to office 3. They said the number was actually correct and back to 2. She again disagreed and took me back to 3. After finding the computer must be wrong they looked in these massive books they keep. It was in fact wrong. The solution...take a new paper to the police. "You are joking," I told her. Nope! I started across town with the new one. This time we were friends. Many jumped to my defense. They cut me in line; they demanded I shouldn't have to pay again. In the end it took about 20 minutes and I did in fact have to pay again.
I returned to the other office. I got there about 11:15. At 11:40 they told me I could come back after lunch. I argued that I had already been there three times...two today. Sorry. I went and got lunch. I came back early and continued. Office 4...office 1...office 4...office 2...office 4...office 2...office 5...office 6. Finally I was done; new license in hand. What a way to live.
Now I'm trying to get back in the swing of normalcy. Except this is the season of volunteers. The first got here last week. We will go through many more before I finish here in August or so. I love having people here though.
I'll try to do better about writing in the days ahead. Thanks for continuing to come back even when there is nothing here.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Gathered Together...
When the day began I was 45 minutes from the closest paved road. However that afternoon we got in an SUV and drove 1 ½ hours beyond that. At times we drove on roads only barely worthy of being called that. We drove and drove through small towns past pastures and trees. We passed people and bridges and livestock. Finally at the top of a hill I saw a few houses. With a sharp left we headed back into a small village of maybe 10 houses. With another sharp left we pulled onto some green grass. I turned the car around and backed in between two hills.
We were early and people here always run late so we sat in the car and talked as we waited. Children began to gather. My guess is they see few cars and even fewer white people in them. For several minutes we sat and chatted about what was in store. I watched the children out of the corner of my eye.
My door was open so the cool air could breeze through. The children went from one to several. They began to inch closer and closer to the open door. At one point one little girl even reached her arm in to touch the two packs of AA batteries that sat in the pocket. When she did I jerked towards her quickly. They all took a step back and I smiled at them. They smiled back.
I went back to the conversation and noticed the children’s creeping in again. This time I jumped from the car making noises and waving my arms in the air. They all scattered. They turned back to see my laughing and joined in the laughter. Except for one little girl. I turned to see she was crying. I had scared her, but then I made her famous. I went and grabbed her and picked her up. I hugged her as I whispered in her ear. “I’m sorry. Be Strong. I’m sorry.” I held her close careful about the placement of my hands as I was fairly certain her ragged dress was all she was wearing.
When I put her down she scurried off to join the others who watched from a gate a few feet away. She looked back at me with tears in her eyes and I waved; she cried. She looked again and I waved again. After a few times she smiled and the tears went away. We were friends again. As we continued to wait I kept playing. I would jump out once in a while and they would all run.
Several minutes late we left the house and moved towards the house. I topped a hill to see the most beautiful round house just down the hill from me. The walls were made of wooden sticks that look similar to bamboo. The roof was grass. A pole stuck out of the middle that made the center support. The closed door was a half door like those in big church nurseries. I walked around back to look for a hidden spot. When you gotta go you gotta go.
I moved back towards the house and noticed gigantic clay coffee pots hanging on the back of the house. I stepped over a whole in the ground. Inside was trash. It must have been the burn pile. I circled back to the front of the house and entered the doorway. The room was dark and full of smoke. A fire burned near the back corner. To my right was a section where hay was on the ground. Two calves gnawed on lunch.
I walked towards a pile of mats which serves as a bed most nights. The fifteen or twenty of us where gathered around a large round rock. The rock was circular like a wheel with a hole in the middle like a donut. It is used to cook food. Fire burns in the whole dug below the house. The heat rises through the whole in the middle and warms pots suspended over it. We sat on mats and stools and benches. Three of us where white.
Although we were already behind schedule we waited as several had yet to show up. Two women prepared coffee over the fire. One was old and one much younger. Neither wore shoes. Both had their heads covered. As we discussed starting we had to debate whether we could start before drinking the coffee. The leader decided we would begin and take coffee throughout.
We began by discussing the week. How many times have you told the story? Who did you tell? How was it received? Several shared their story of who had heard and how it had gone. Others listened and nodded. The coffee was served.
As a guest I was served early. This region is known for their coffee, or rather for the strange way they take it. I took a sip and noticed it had no bitterness. It was a bit greasy though. The butter and salt were strong. I can’t believe they like it this way. After the first sip I though, “I can do this.” The more I drank the worse it got. But I drank. I drank slowly but I drank. I also had a nibble of the snack that was offered. It appeared to be barley soaked in water or some liquid which made it chewy. Not my favorite.
The story began. A national sitting next to me shared the story of Cain and his brother Abel. After finishing, he did it again. After that others began to repeat the story. After several hearings we finished. Each had had their chance to practice. Now the work begins. This week they will journey out among their peers and neighbors to share the story. They are walking them through stories of truth. They are working towards the ultimate story of death and sacrifice.
When we finished the old woman hugged my neck. We climbed back to the top of the hill. I waved goodbye to my young friends. We got in the truck and began the journey home.
This is the goal. The goal is to put the stories of truth in the hands of believers. We want to inspire them to spread the good news. We want to empower them to be the bearers of truth for those around them. We want to see a movement of houses and storytellers meeting all over the country and the world. We want to see the promise fulfilled – “…every tribe and language and people and nation…encircling the throne…”
We were early and people here always run late so we sat in the car and talked as we waited. Children began to gather. My guess is they see few cars and even fewer white people in them. For several minutes we sat and chatted about what was in store. I watched the children out of the corner of my eye.
My door was open so the cool air could breeze through. The children went from one to several. They began to inch closer and closer to the open door. At one point one little girl even reached her arm in to touch the two packs of AA batteries that sat in the pocket. When she did I jerked towards her quickly. They all took a step back and I smiled at them. They smiled back.
I went back to the conversation and noticed the children’s creeping in again. This time I jumped from the car making noises and waving my arms in the air. They all scattered. They turned back to see my laughing and joined in the laughter. Except for one little girl. I turned to see she was crying. I had scared her, but then I made her famous. I went and grabbed her and picked her up. I hugged her as I whispered in her ear. “I’m sorry. Be Strong. I’m sorry.” I held her close careful about the placement of my hands as I was fairly certain her ragged dress was all she was wearing.
When I put her down she scurried off to join the others who watched from a gate a few feet away. She looked back at me with tears in her eyes and I waved; she cried. She looked again and I waved again. After a few times she smiled and the tears went away. We were friends again. As we continued to wait I kept playing. I would jump out once in a while and they would all run.
Several minutes late we left the house and moved towards the house. I topped a hill to see the most beautiful round house just down the hill from me. The walls were made of wooden sticks that look similar to bamboo. The roof was grass. A pole stuck out of the middle that made the center support. The closed door was a half door like those in big church nurseries. I walked around back to look for a hidden spot. When you gotta go you gotta go.
I moved back towards the house and noticed gigantic clay coffee pots hanging on the back of the house. I stepped over a whole in the ground. Inside was trash. It must have been the burn pile. I circled back to the front of the house and entered the doorway. The room was dark and full of smoke. A fire burned near the back corner. To my right was a section where hay was on the ground. Two calves gnawed on lunch.
I walked towards a pile of mats which serves as a bed most nights. The fifteen or twenty of us where gathered around a large round rock. The rock was circular like a wheel with a hole in the middle like a donut. It is used to cook food. Fire burns in the whole dug below the house. The heat rises through the whole in the middle and warms pots suspended over it. We sat on mats and stools and benches. Three of us where white.
Although we were already behind schedule we waited as several had yet to show up. Two women prepared coffee over the fire. One was old and one much younger. Neither wore shoes. Both had their heads covered. As we discussed starting we had to debate whether we could start before drinking the coffee. The leader decided we would begin and take coffee throughout.
We began by discussing the week. How many times have you told the story? Who did you tell? How was it received? Several shared their story of who had heard and how it had gone. Others listened and nodded. The coffee was served.
As a guest I was served early. This region is known for their coffee, or rather for the strange way they take it. I took a sip and noticed it had no bitterness. It was a bit greasy though. The butter and salt were strong. I can’t believe they like it this way. After the first sip I though, “I can do this.” The more I drank the worse it got. But I drank. I drank slowly but I drank. I also had a nibble of the snack that was offered. It appeared to be barley soaked in water or some liquid which made it chewy. Not my favorite.
The story began. A national sitting next to me shared the story of Cain and his brother Abel. After finishing, he did it again. After that others began to repeat the story. After several hearings we finished. Each had had their chance to practice. Now the work begins. This week they will journey out among their peers and neighbors to share the story. They are walking them through stories of truth. They are working towards the ultimate story of death and sacrifice.
When we finished the old woman hugged my neck. We climbed back to the top of the hill. I waved goodbye to my young friends. We got in the truck and began the journey home.
This is the goal. The goal is to put the stories of truth in the hands of believers. We want to inspire them to spread the good news. We want to empower them to be the bearers of truth for those around them. We want to see a movement of houses and storytellers meeting all over the country and the world. We want to see the promise fulfilled – “…every tribe and language and people and nation…encircling the throne…”
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Deer in Headlights...
I did a lot of driving this week. I meant to put in the story about my day trip something about the people here and the roadway. I forgot while I was writing it but was quickly reminded as soon as I was on the road again.
This information holds true everywhere I have been. It is true in the city it is especially true in the countryside where roads are newer.
Nationals here seem to be consistently surprised by cars on the road. If you get close to a man walking in the middle of the street and honk he will jump and look as if he has no idea what is behind him. He would clearly be much less shocked in a steer bumped him in the butt. A friend will often say when driving, “Excuse me for driving on your sidewalk.”
On my day trip I nearly killed two people. The first was a man with his heard of cows. Somehow he never realized I was coming up behind him as he filled my lane with cows and walked partially on the on coming lane. I moved towards the left so that I could go around him and suddenly he started running to the left. It is possible he suddenly realized I was coming. The problem is he ran directly in front of me. I laid on the horn and steered farther left. I nearly hit him. I took the walking stick in his hand. I clipped it with the front end of my van. My passenger and I were both dumbfounded. We got so close; it was awful.
A day later on the trip back there was a woman in my lane. I honked the horn. She saw me. She froze. I could go anywhere. She moved a step left and then two right. She moved back a step left and stopped. I slammed on the brakes; by the time I stopped we were looking eye to eye. She stood outside my window and I sat behind the wheel. She walked away and it was all over.
In the states you learn that two things can be done when an animal is in front of your car. You can’t predict what the animal will do. So you have to either slow down or hit it. People here work the same way, problem is you never want to hit them. You can’t predict their response. For some reason they are completely baffled by what to do when a car is coming towards them. I have literally watched a national be ¾ of the way across a road when they see a car coming. Instead of taking the two steps to finish their crossing and get out from in front of the car they turn back and risked getting smacked by the car coming the other way. It is both extremely frustrating and sometimes incredibly funny.
This information holds true everywhere I have been. It is true in the city it is especially true in the countryside where roads are newer.
Nationals here seem to be consistently surprised by cars on the road. If you get close to a man walking in the middle of the street and honk he will jump and look as if he has no idea what is behind him. He would clearly be much less shocked in a steer bumped him in the butt. A friend will often say when driving, “Excuse me for driving on your sidewalk.”
On my day trip I nearly killed two people. The first was a man with his heard of cows. Somehow he never realized I was coming up behind him as he filled my lane with cows and walked partially on the on coming lane. I moved towards the left so that I could go around him and suddenly he started running to the left. It is possible he suddenly realized I was coming. The problem is he ran directly in front of me. I laid on the horn and steered farther left. I nearly hit him. I took the walking stick in his hand. I clipped it with the front end of my van. My passenger and I were both dumbfounded. We got so close; it was awful.
A day later on the trip back there was a woman in my lane. I honked the horn. She saw me. She froze. I could go anywhere. She moved a step left and then two right. She moved back a step left and stopped. I slammed on the brakes; by the time I stopped we were looking eye to eye. She stood outside my window and I sat behind the wheel. She walked away and it was all over.
In the states you learn that two things can be done when an animal is in front of your car. You can’t predict what the animal will do. So you have to either slow down or hit it. People here work the same way, problem is you never want to hit them. You can’t predict their response. For some reason they are completely baffled by what to do when a car is coming towards them. I have literally watched a national be ¾ of the way across a road when they see a car coming. Instead of taking the two steps to finish their crossing and get out from in front of the car they turn back and risked getting smacked by the car coming the other way. It is both extremely frustrating and sometimes incredibly funny.
Driving, and Lots of It
The purpose of my recent trip was to visit a region where storying is going on. Storying is a method of teaching scripture that focuses on the stories rather than going through verse by verse. It is ideal in oral cultures especially where large numbers of people are illiterate.
Two girls live out in a region where they have seen great success. I came with others to see what it is looking like. The crazy thing is we took the long way to get here.
We decided to leave a day early and drive to another area to go to a game park. Now the animals here don’t look quite like most of Africa. We don’t have many of the typical animals you expect to find. This park is the only place I have ever even seen zebras.
We made a plan to go originally thinking it was on the way where we were going. Come to find out, it was way out of the way. We drove eight hours the first day to get down to the park. The next day we drove to the park which was just outside the city we stayed in.
Our plan was to leave at 7 and be back by lunch. It was 3 before we returned. I would love to say the reason is we were having so much fun we stayed longer and longer to hang out. The truth is we got lost…twice. We had been told there was only one road that we had to follow. It made a loop. Come to find out there are more roads. We took two of them. We had been told we would take a right at a fork to begin the loop. So we took a right. We ended up so deep in the woods we had to turn back.
After going left we found another fork. Again we went right. We drove for some time and then found a sign to see a hot spring. We followed the road and found a very unimpressive spring of hot water. I have seen two hot springs in my life. One was a beautiful spot in the middle of the desert with a spring big enough for several people to swim in. This one was big enough to wash one person’s hands in.
After seeing it we asked a guide the way out. He told us to keep going forward and stay right. We did…I think. Had we not kept going we might have never seen zebras. We finally had been driving so long we stopped to ask again. They told us to keep going, however it was 90 kilometers away (5 kilometers is a bit over 3 miles). At this point they told us it would take longer to turn back.
It got funnier and funnier as time went on. Many of the roads were barely roads. We would stop at forks to ask the way each time getting a new guess on the time it would take us. We heard everything from 1 hour to 12 hours. Sometimes we hit bumps so hard everyone in the car soared in the air. It was fun and frustrating at times. Finally we made it back.
Then we went out in a lake to see hippos and crocodiles.
The next day we drove 8 or 10 hours to our original destination. It was hard roads and a long day. But we made it safely. Now we will see how the stories go.
Two girls live out in a region where they have seen great success. I came with others to see what it is looking like. The crazy thing is we took the long way to get here.
We decided to leave a day early and drive to another area to go to a game park. Now the animals here don’t look quite like most of Africa. We don’t have many of the typical animals you expect to find. This park is the only place I have ever even seen zebras.
We made a plan to go originally thinking it was on the way where we were going. Come to find out, it was way out of the way. We drove eight hours the first day to get down to the park. The next day we drove to the park which was just outside the city we stayed in.
Our plan was to leave at 7 and be back by lunch. It was 3 before we returned. I would love to say the reason is we were having so much fun we stayed longer and longer to hang out. The truth is we got lost…twice. We had been told there was only one road that we had to follow. It made a loop. Come to find out there are more roads. We took two of them. We had been told we would take a right at a fork to begin the loop. So we took a right. We ended up so deep in the woods we had to turn back.
After going left we found another fork. Again we went right. We drove for some time and then found a sign to see a hot spring. We followed the road and found a very unimpressive spring of hot water. I have seen two hot springs in my life. One was a beautiful spot in the middle of the desert with a spring big enough for several people to swim in. This one was big enough to wash one person’s hands in.
After seeing it we asked a guide the way out. He told us to keep going forward and stay right. We did…I think. Had we not kept going we might have never seen zebras. We finally had been driving so long we stopped to ask again. They told us to keep going, however it was 90 kilometers away (5 kilometers is a bit over 3 miles). At this point they told us it would take longer to turn back.
It got funnier and funnier as time went on. Many of the roads were barely roads. We would stop at forks to ask the way each time getting a new guess on the time it would take us. We heard everything from 1 hour to 12 hours. Sometimes we hit bumps so hard everyone in the car soared in the air. It was fun and frustrating at times. Finally we made it back.
Then we went out in a lake to see hippos and crocodiles.
The next day we drove 8 or 10 hours to our original destination. It was hard roads and a long day. But we made it safely. Now we will see how the stories go.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Day Trip...
When I got malaria I had been no where that I should be able to get it. However I sure caught it. After yesterday I have now been back to the two places. One is here in the city. The other is just under two hours out, where some friends live in a nice little town of 40,000 or so.
Friday morning I drove a visitor out there. We had to leave early because an adventure was in store. My friends out there have recently given a bunch of goats away. They gave three each to 30 some odd women. Each got two females and one male. The goal is that these women (All of which have children, little food, and no man in the house.) will be able to have 2 liters of milk a day for their family.
Friday we went to give 13 of them vaccinations. Now in the states a vet or the owner would probably do this. Friday a city boy from Houston did it with the help of four onlookers (I only count as helping if watching and sticking pills in the tool used to give it counts.). The town where we met these women is about an hour off the paved road. The women live outside the town.
It was wonderful to see the work happening out there and the joy of the women. We had a great lunch in one of the two hotel/restaurants there. We went to a market. This is a gigantic gathering of people in an open space. They all have a mat on the ground holding their items for sale.
It was a good short trip. There should be a new slideshow on the right. Tomorrow I go again. This time I head out to places I’ve never been. Be gone nearly a week. I’ll try and write while I’m out there, but likely won’t post them until I return.
Friday morning I drove a visitor out there. We had to leave early because an adventure was in store. My friends out there have recently given a bunch of goats away. They gave three each to 30 some odd women. Each got two females and one male. The goal is that these women (All of which have children, little food, and no man in the house.) will be able to have 2 liters of milk a day for their family.
Friday we went to give 13 of them vaccinations. Now in the states a vet or the owner would probably do this. Friday a city boy from Houston did it with the help of four onlookers (I only count as helping if watching and sticking pills in the tool used to give it counts.). The town where we met these women is about an hour off the paved road. The women live outside the town.
It was wonderful to see the work happening out there and the joy of the women. We had a great lunch in one of the two hotel/restaurants there. We went to a market. This is a gigantic gathering of people in an open space. They all have a mat on the ground holding their items for sale.
It was a good short trip. There should be a new slideshow on the right. Tomorrow I go again. This time I head out to places I’ve never been. Be gone nearly a week. I’ll try and write while I’m out there, but likely won’t post them until I return.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
A Saturday Morning like Those of my Childhood...
I have been given four different words for blister here. I’m not sure if that is because they don’t know what to call it or they don’t tell people when they get them. Maybe they don’t get them. Many run around barefooted; many were plastic shoes with no socks. There is absolutely no way they are comfortable. Perhaps their feet have grown so tough blisters are a thing of the past.
I haven’t been asking out of my typical randomness that can be talking about a movie one minute to a blister the next to a Colt game the next to theology the next. I don’t even know how I run all these things together. Perhaps it is because I don’t know enough about any of them to complete a conversation.
Sorry back to the point. I have three big blisters on my feet. Actually one is nearly gone and the other was more of a wrinkle in the skin. However the third is still going strong. I got to play football (soccer) last Saturday. It had been a long time. It was my first time to play since I’ve been here and I hadn’t played for a while in the States because of ankle issues.
A friend (white guy) and I went to play for a couple hours with a couple nationals. We split into three teams of five. That was good for me, it meant I would get to rest once in a while. It didn’t work that way. Although I didn’t have the best player on my team, we somehow ended up the best team. We didn’t lose a game until it was after time for me to go. We played straight for an hour and a half or two hours. I was whooped by the end.
The blisters on my feet hurt. My legs were sore (gotta remember to stretch in the future). And I was flat exhausted. But I had so much fun.
Every couple weeks I’ll play basketball with some crackers. We get together at a high school gym for internationals and play for a couple hours. I play basketball just for the chance to play some and for the community opportunities. But when I walked on the soccer field I felt something in my bones. It just felt good to slip on a pair of spikes and step onto the dirt (no grass on the field). Soon after beginning I was reminded I’m a lot older and fatter than I was when I played ball, but I love that game. I love the exercise for my body and my mind as I piece together runs and passes like pieces of a puzzle.
What a game? I had memories of the old days on the field; I created new memories as I tripped a few times, stole the ball a few times, and almost scored a time or two. It all ended with a challenge to return as I let the ball slip through my legs playing keeper to let an opponent touch in the final goal. Maybe next time we’ll win them all. Hopefully at least I won’t blow the final goal.
I haven’t been asking out of my typical randomness that can be talking about a movie one minute to a blister the next to a Colt game the next to theology the next. I don’t even know how I run all these things together. Perhaps it is because I don’t know enough about any of them to complete a conversation.
Sorry back to the point. I have three big blisters on my feet. Actually one is nearly gone and the other was more of a wrinkle in the skin. However the third is still going strong. I got to play football (soccer) last Saturday. It had been a long time. It was my first time to play since I’ve been here and I hadn’t played for a while in the States because of ankle issues.
A friend (white guy) and I went to play for a couple hours with a couple nationals. We split into three teams of five. That was good for me, it meant I would get to rest once in a while. It didn’t work that way. Although I didn’t have the best player on my team, we somehow ended up the best team. We didn’t lose a game until it was after time for me to go. We played straight for an hour and a half or two hours. I was whooped by the end.
The blisters on my feet hurt. My legs were sore (gotta remember to stretch in the future). And I was flat exhausted. But I had so much fun.
Every couple weeks I’ll play basketball with some crackers. We get together at a high school gym for internationals and play for a couple hours. I play basketball just for the chance to play some and for the community opportunities. But when I walked on the soccer field I felt something in my bones. It just felt good to slip on a pair of spikes and step onto the dirt (no grass on the field). Soon after beginning I was reminded I’m a lot older and fatter than I was when I played ball, but I love that game. I love the exercise for my body and my mind as I piece together runs and passes like pieces of a puzzle.
What a game? I had memories of the old days on the field; I created new memories as I tripped a few times, stole the ball a few times, and almost scored a time or two. It all ended with a challenge to return as I let the ball slip through my legs playing keeper to let an opponent touch in the final goal. Maybe next time we’ll win them all. Hopefully at least I won’t blow the final goal.
The Journey Home...
(When I began to write this entry in my head, the first word was “yesterday.” Nonetheless…) Almost two weeks ago I drove the eight hours back to the city from the small town I spent a few days in with the fellas. The town they live in is beautiful as I have shared with you. But the drive back is amazing. It began with a descent of nearly a mile. We stopped for breakfast at this small café. Two of us had driven eight hours out, but only two of us where headed back to the city. For breakfast we each had a croissant and a cup of wetet be buna (coffee with milk). The café sits on a second story of a building. Were it not for the satellite dish in my eye line we would have been able to see the valley below that we were about to weave through.
The driving surface constantly changes. Parts are paved but poorly, others are paved as well as any new road in the States. And yet others are merely dirt or rock. Mountains continuously decorate the horizon. Just beyond the valley we drove through we were towering mountains of brown and green stretching to the thin clouds above. The sun shone brightly. The day couldn’t have been more beautiful.
The roadways in this country are decorated by smiling faces, herds of cows, whatever a group of donkeys is called, and on these roads were the occasional camel or several. The day was cool as the winds blew in the windows of the SUV we drove in. Most of the time I kept the gas pedal on the floor. But on occasion I would slow for a donkey unwilling to move or a crossing of goats. Every now and then we would pass through a small town or village. It would stretch somewhere between 100 yards and a couple miles down the roadway. Buildings are usually built only a few feet from the road and people crowd the area between the buildings and part of my side of the road.
The typical countryside taxis are a common site. They are a small two wheeled cart with a seat able to hold two or three people. A horse pulls the cart as it wobbles behind with at least one crooked wheel.
My friend David dosed in and out next to me as my greatest hits playlist spun in the iPod sitting in between us. I heard the sounds of Billy, and Phil, and Michael, and Sheryl, and Rod, and Hootie, and others as we passed the faces and the houses and the livestock and the mountains. I may be a bit impartial but I truly believe I live in the most beautiful country on the face of the earth.
The driving surface constantly changes. Parts are paved but poorly, others are paved as well as any new road in the States. And yet others are merely dirt or rock. Mountains continuously decorate the horizon. Just beyond the valley we drove through we were towering mountains of brown and green stretching to the thin clouds above. The sun shone brightly. The day couldn’t have been more beautiful.
The roadways in this country are decorated by smiling faces, herds of cows, whatever a group of donkeys is called, and on these roads were the occasional camel or several. The day was cool as the winds blew in the windows of the SUV we drove in. Most of the time I kept the gas pedal on the floor. But on occasion I would slow for a donkey unwilling to move or a crossing of goats. Every now and then we would pass through a small town or village. It would stretch somewhere between 100 yards and a couple miles down the roadway. Buildings are usually built only a few feet from the road and people crowd the area between the buildings and part of my side of the road.
The typical countryside taxis are a common site. They are a small two wheeled cart with a seat able to hold two or three people. A horse pulls the cart as it wobbles behind with at least one crooked wheel.
My friend David dosed in and out next to me as my greatest hits playlist spun in the iPod sitting in between us. I heard the sounds of Billy, and Phil, and Michael, and Sheryl, and Rod, and Hootie, and others as we passed the faces and the houses and the livestock and the mountains. I may be a bit impartial but I truly believe I live in the most beautiful country on the face of the earth.
Monday, November 21, 2005
On the Road Again...
As I write this my house is empty. I live in a nice four bedroom house. Some of the time I live there alone. Other times I live with other guys. Some roommates move in and out as they are only here for a few days or weeks or months. However my primary roommates have now been here several months with several to go. The difference between the two of them and me is that while my work is in Addis theirs isn’t.
A couple months ago they moved to a small town 400 kilometers from where I live. They were there about a month and a half to learn language better. When they left to go I think all parties involved were relieved.
Most of you know I have lived by myself for a long time. Now here I have had two roommates some of the time. It is a stretch at times, for all of us. We are still learning what it looks like to be community. What does it look like for three guys who are very different to learn to live together? Not sure yet, but trying hard to learn.
As I said by the time they left we were at each others throats. Then they returned. I had been told they would be with me about a week. I was so relieved at the short time we would be together. However, things looked different this time. One of the guys returned pretty sick…amoeba in his gut. The three of us not only got along this time, we enjoyed our time together.
Right now I’m sitting in the town they have moved back to. They will be here about a month and I brought them out. I decided this would be a good time to come and spend some time with them here. It isn’t near as big as the city I live in but it is very nice.
We are over 10,000 feet high. The majority of the town life exists down one paved strip of road. Many of the other roads are only dirt. They live in a house with a family. We had dinner with the family tonight. Currently the house is a mess though. They are adding a ceiling and painting all the walls. The work is still in progress. So at the moment the guys are staying at the same hotel I am. The time here has been great. The time together has been such a blessing.
My favorite part of the last two days is to see their excitement for this place and this people. They have a sense of pride and ownership of this place and these people. It is wonderful. They feel about this small town the way I do about my large city. They were so ready to get back out here. We walk the streets and they take turns pointing to landmarks and telling me what it is. They share stories of people and places they have come in contact with. It is exciting to watch the joy the fills their faces when they share.
This is beautiful country and a neat town. But my call isn’t to this place theirs is. How amazing! Each of us is blessed with a passion for a place or a people or a task. Then we have the chance to follow the tug or run from the call. Jonah ran…didn’t go well. These guys have chosen not to run. I hope you are choosing not to run. Follow the master. It is worth the sacrifice.
Join me in lifting up Jacob and John. Lift up others who are faithful in following the call.
A couple months ago they moved to a small town 400 kilometers from where I live. They were there about a month and a half to learn language better. When they left to go I think all parties involved were relieved.
Most of you know I have lived by myself for a long time. Now here I have had two roommates some of the time. It is a stretch at times, for all of us. We are still learning what it looks like to be community. What does it look like for three guys who are very different to learn to live together? Not sure yet, but trying hard to learn.
As I said by the time they left we were at each others throats. Then they returned. I had been told they would be with me about a week. I was so relieved at the short time we would be together. However, things looked different this time. One of the guys returned pretty sick…amoeba in his gut. The three of us not only got along this time, we enjoyed our time together.
Right now I’m sitting in the town they have moved back to. They will be here about a month and I brought them out. I decided this would be a good time to come and spend some time with them here. It isn’t near as big as the city I live in but it is very nice.
We are over 10,000 feet high. The majority of the town life exists down one paved strip of road. Many of the other roads are only dirt. They live in a house with a family. We had dinner with the family tonight. Currently the house is a mess though. They are adding a ceiling and painting all the walls. The work is still in progress. So at the moment the guys are staying at the same hotel I am. The time here has been great. The time together has been such a blessing.
My favorite part of the last two days is to see their excitement for this place and this people. They have a sense of pride and ownership of this place and these people. It is wonderful. They feel about this small town the way I do about my large city. They were so ready to get back out here. We walk the streets and they take turns pointing to landmarks and telling me what it is. They share stories of people and places they have come in contact with. It is exciting to watch the joy the fills their faces when they share.
This is beautiful country and a neat town. But my call isn’t to this place theirs is. How amazing! Each of us is blessed with a passion for a place or a people or a task. Then we have the chance to follow the tug or run from the call. Jonah ran…didn’t go well. These guys have chosen not to run. I hope you are choosing not to run. Follow the master. It is worth the sacrifice.
Join me in lifting up Jacob and John. Lift up others who are faithful in following the call.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Mapping Begins...Again...
Continuously over the last several months mapping has continued to be put on hold. It is my fault more than anyone else’s. I struggle with feelings of inadequacy and overwhelment (Is that a word?) regarding the mapping issue. The program we are using is massive, and I have had no real training on how to use it. The goals and the city we are working with are huge. It would be a large amount of work for a trained anthropologist to dive into and I am neither trained nor an anthropologist.
However there is now a plan in the works for diving into mapping. I will spend two days a week out with a national helper doing nothing but looking for the information we want on a map. Another day or two a week will be spent transferring this information into the computer program. The other days of the week will be used to balance all of the other plates I am attempting to keep spinning in the air.
This week only one day was spent out. Tuesday I went driving in a very small section of the city. I picked it as a start because I assumed it would only take a couple hours and we would call it a short day. I was wrong. Six hours after starting we called it a day. It amazing how closely packed people are in this country. It is hard to believe that the things they are willing to call a house we would barely consider livable. (I will try to include a picture of a house I saw in this post.)
We were able to find some great things but more importantly we were able to meet a few people. I met a young Muslim woman and her child on the dirt road. We were driving with our windows open and she stopped us and asked why we would take their picture but not give them food. We talked for a minute about her and her family and her faith and her child. It was a good day.
We also had the chance to share some food with a bunch of deacons from an Orthodox church. I found something I have never seen before. It is a location where holy water comes from. They come there because they believe the water there can heal them of any disease. On the day we were there a family had brought them food. Apparently a family member had died and the tradition holds that if they would bring food to the church leaders the deceased would then be ushered into the kingdom of heaven. The traditions and rituals that surround the faith are far more than I can count or understand.
It was a great day of mapping. More will happen in the near future. I will keep you in the loop. In the next post I’ll explain why only one day was used for mapping this week.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Quick Update...
Sorry it has been so long since posting. I am still hoping to do the bits on personality characteristics of nationals here. I haven’t had time to write like I wish.
However I did want to update about the turmoil here. Things have been back to normal or busier in the last few days. Shops are reopening, taxis are running, and everyone and their brother are on the streets because they haven’t been in so long.
There have been some rumors that things could get ugly again Monday. The majority of people don’t seem to agree with the possibility. But continue to remember the situation here.
Stay on the look out for a Day of Prayer. We want to join together – all of us here with all of our partners around the world – to lift up this country. Our goal is to find a time where people all over the world can be joined together for the benefit of the people here. I’ll give you more when I know it. Also look for a new update letter soon.
Thanks for everything!
However I did want to update about the turmoil here. Things have been back to normal or busier in the last few days. Shops are reopening, taxis are running, and everyone and their brother are on the streets because they haven’t been in so long.
There have been some rumors that things could get ugly again Monday. The majority of people don’t seem to agree with the possibility. But continue to remember the situation here.
Stay on the look out for a Day of Prayer. We want to join together – all of us here with all of our partners around the world – to lift up this country. Our goal is to find a time where people all over the world can be joined together for the benefit of the people here. I’ll give you more when I know it. Also look for a new update letter soon.
Thanks for everything!
Saturday, November 05, 2005
"So Long, Farewell..."
They tell me the hardest thing about this job is having to say goodbye so many times. People flow in and out of here frequently. Volunteers come in and become a part of your life. They fall in love with the people you know and work with and then they are gone. It hurts when they go.
However they are usually only here a short time. Some stay for weeks some stay for months. Tonight I’ll watch another friend leave. She isn’t a volunteer and she hasn’t been here a couple months. Steph has spent almost two years of her life here and it isn’t hard to see she has fallen in love. It is a struggle for her to leave and a struggle for us to see her go.
We met just over two years ago. I was headed here for the summer and she was looking to spend two years in Africa. She wasn’t sure where and we only knew each other through mutual friends. I put a two week team together and our friends connected us. She joined the team and spent two weeks here touching lives as hers too was changed. Nearly two years ago she returned and her impact on this world is evident.
I have never seen a person so committed to living her life completely for the people she is called to reach. She pours out all that she has and then some. She is an example to all followers of living ones life solely committed to the purpose we are called to. She is passionate about following the master and committed to pursuing his call.
Now she is headed home. For a time she will rest and spend time with loved ones. Then without fail she will be gone again. I don’t know where the call will lead her but I know the call will come and I know that she will follow. I can’t wait to hear the stories.
I’ll miss her soon after we drop her at the airport tonight. I’ll miss her smile. I’ll miss her patience. I’ll miss her commitment. I’ll miss her never failing perseverance. I pray before hand for those she will meet on the journey ahead. I pray they are prepared because wherever she goes the truth goes with her. It is impossible to come into her presence and not recognize you have just collided with the master reincarnate.
He awaits the day he will greet her with a, “Well done my good and faithful servant!”
However they are usually only here a short time. Some stay for weeks some stay for months. Tonight I’ll watch another friend leave. She isn’t a volunteer and she hasn’t been here a couple months. Steph has spent almost two years of her life here and it isn’t hard to see she has fallen in love. It is a struggle for her to leave and a struggle for us to see her go.
We met just over two years ago. I was headed here for the summer and she was looking to spend two years in Africa. She wasn’t sure where and we only knew each other through mutual friends. I put a two week team together and our friends connected us. She joined the team and spent two weeks here touching lives as hers too was changed. Nearly two years ago she returned and her impact on this world is evident.
I have never seen a person so committed to living her life completely for the people she is called to reach. She pours out all that she has and then some. She is an example to all followers of living ones life solely committed to the purpose we are called to. She is passionate about following the master and committed to pursuing his call.
Now she is headed home. For a time she will rest and spend time with loved ones. Then without fail she will be gone again. I don’t know where the call will lead her but I know the call will come and I know that she will follow. I can’t wait to hear the stories.
I’ll miss her soon after we drop her at the airport tonight. I’ll miss her smile. I’ll miss her patience. I’ll miss her commitment. I’ll miss her never failing perseverance. I pray before hand for those she will meet on the journey ahead. I pray they are prepared because wherever she goes the truth goes with her. It is impossible to come into her presence and not recognize you have just collided with the master reincarnate.
He awaits the day he will greet her with a, “Well done my good and faithful servant!”
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
A Bit Depressed...
I’ve been down the last couple days. Some tough stuff has been going on.
Monday morning I got word that a pastor I know died. I didn’t know Kyle well. We had met a couple of times. I wasn’t involved at UBC, but my friend Mark was and some other friends. When it happened my mind went to Craig. Craig and I aren’t the best of friends either. We know each other. We were in Jason’s wedding together. Craig was great friends with Kyle. Craig often kept Kyle’s three children. Craig loves those kids. Craig loves UBC. Craig loved Kyle. I’ve been depressed the last day or two thinking about Craig and Kyle’s family, and UBC.
From what I understand, Kyle was about to baptize in his church of probably over 90% Baylor students. It was Baylor’s homecoming so the numbers were greater. Apparently a microphone shocked him somehow and electrocuted him to death as he stood in the water.
How do things like this happen? How does a 31 year old guy die? How does a man who is passionate about reaching college students die in the midst of a worship service? The questions are more prevalent that the answers. It hurts. I trust God, but I don’t quite understand this and probably never will.
Monday night I lost another friend. She didn’t pass away but she left. She is a national here. She is 22 or 23 and a beautiful girl. Most the women here are beautiful by the way. Yemi left for Dubai. She continuously ran into road blocks here with school and work. She saw no way to improve her life here so she left. She has a responsibility to provide for her family. She has gone to Dubai to be a house worker for a man there. He is 29 and single. He is pretty demanding as I understand. Typically the people that step into these situations have a few guarantees: they will be paid little. They will likely be abused…physically, emotionally, verbally, and probably sexually.
The thoughts of this girl being abused devastate me. She is moving towards faith. She isn’t quite there, but she is asking great questions. She is even getting some persecution from her family because of her questions. Now she is headed to the Muslim world.
The hope is that miracles will happen. The hope is that she will be safe. The hope is that she will meet the master in that place. Join with me in lifting her up.
To add to troubles, today is psycho. Riots have started again. They began yesterday. According to CNN.com 8 were killed yesterday 40 or more were injured. There was more shooting today. The American Embassy is telling us to stay away from some areas of town (one is actually my neighborhood). We are all safe and holed up in our homes, but it is crushing.
The city is in an uproar. We long for peace. We hope for wisdom as compromises are reached among different parties. We don’t have the news sources that most of you are used to. Therefore we don’t know much. We don’t know where trouble is. We don’t see video clips of what is going on. We don’t have newspapers to read about the problems. We merely sit and wait for things to return to normal.
Approach the throne with me.
Monday morning I got word that a pastor I know died. I didn’t know Kyle well. We had met a couple of times. I wasn’t involved at UBC, but my friend Mark was and some other friends. When it happened my mind went to Craig. Craig and I aren’t the best of friends either. We know each other. We were in Jason’s wedding together. Craig was great friends with Kyle. Craig often kept Kyle’s three children. Craig loves those kids. Craig loves UBC. Craig loved Kyle. I’ve been depressed the last day or two thinking about Craig and Kyle’s family, and UBC.
From what I understand, Kyle was about to baptize in his church of probably over 90% Baylor students. It was Baylor’s homecoming so the numbers were greater. Apparently a microphone shocked him somehow and electrocuted him to death as he stood in the water.
How do things like this happen? How does a 31 year old guy die? How does a man who is passionate about reaching college students die in the midst of a worship service? The questions are more prevalent that the answers. It hurts. I trust God, but I don’t quite understand this and probably never will.
Monday night I lost another friend. She didn’t pass away but she left. She is a national here. She is 22 or 23 and a beautiful girl. Most the women here are beautiful by the way. Yemi left for Dubai. She continuously ran into road blocks here with school and work. She saw no way to improve her life here so she left. She has a responsibility to provide for her family. She has gone to Dubai to be a house worker for a man there. He is 29 and single. He is pretty demanding as I understand. Typically the people that step into these situations have a few guarantees: they will be paid little. They will likely be abused…physically, emotionally, verbally, and probably sexually.
The thoughts of this girl being abused devastate me. She is moving towards faith. She isn’t quite there, but she is asking great questions. She is even getting some persecution from her family because of her questions. Now she is headed to the Muslim world.
The hope is that miracles will happen. The hope is that she will be safe. The hope is that she will meet the master in that place. Join with me in lifting her up.
To add to troubles, today is psycho. Riots have started again. They began yesterday. According to CNN.com 8 were killed yesterday 40 or more were injured. There was more shooting today. The American Embassy is telling us to stay away from some areas of town (one is actually my neighborhood). We are all safe and holed up in our homes, but it is crushing.
The city is in an uproar. We long for peace. We hope for wisdom as compromises are reached among different parties. We don’t have the news sources that most of you are used to. Therefore we don’t know much. We don’t know where trouble is. We don’t see video clips of what is going on. We don’t have newspapers to read about the problems. We merely sit and wait for things to return to normal.
Approach the throne with me.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Conservationists...
The nationals here are kings at using things until they can’t be used anymore. I guess it comes from knowing the reality of having little. They say people in the states who lived through the depression have a similar mindset. But I’ve never known anyone quite like this; especially an entire culture that gets the most out of everything. Let me give some examples.
What you and I would consider trash in the states often doesn’t count as trash here. It is never littering to throw an empty plastic bottle or Pringles can out the car window. It is actually quite fun for us. The children look as if Christmas has come early when they see one skidding down the road or bouncing across the grass having just come from a moving car. Bottles are good for multiple things after you and I finish our filtered water. They are toys for children. They carry water for laundry, drinking, washing, etc. They make good storage containers. One in my own cabinets stores tea or something my house worker uses.
Speaking of trash and my worker, my trash is never safe from scouting. It is probably gone through multiple times after leaving my hands to go into the trash. My house worker goes through it first. I have found jars, jugs, Ziploc’s (I don’t even bother throwing these away now as I know they will be washed and reused), and Pringles cans to name a few things in the room she works in. After her my guard checks the trash. Then he gives it to the collection ladies who surely check it again. They take it to a collection point where it is surely checked again. Then it is hauled to a dump where I have often seen scavengers perusing.
Today as I was driving down the road I saw a young boy playing with a toy. I was never very good at flying a kite. I could figure out the hold the string and put the kite in the air thing, but I could never get it to fly unless I was running with it trailing a few feet behind me. The boy I saw was doing something similar. He had tied a piece of brown cord to a plastic bag. He ran down the street with his blue bag floating in the air just behind him. Plastic grocery sacks have multiple uses here too. My favorite is to see them used as rain hoods.
This shows a bit of how well they reuse, but let me share with you a couple illustrations of how they use things well the first time. It is typical in the states to go to a restaurant and find a ketchup bottle on the table. If it isn’t there originally it at least makes its way out once it is needed. Here it is rare to see the bottle. The nationals eat every bit of food on their plate and use every bit of any condiment available. Ketchup is usually put on the plate with fries. If you ask for more it is often brought in a dish. I go once in a while with a friend to have a burger; he loves them. I watch as he eats every bit of ketchup on his plate. He even licks up what he doesn’t finish with his fries. Now my sister is weird about ketchup, but this isn’t a ketchup thing it is a using all that is available thing. I am told that if the entire bottle were brought out, it would finish the meal empty no matter how much was in it at the beginning.
I could go on and on with stories of how well things are used and reused here. However my desire isn’t to bore you here, it is just to give you a taste of the culture.
What you and I would consider trash in the states often doesn’t count as trash here. It is never littering to throw an empty plastic bottle or Pringles can out the car window. It is actually quite fun for us. The children look as if Christmas has come early when they see one skidding down the road or bouncing across the grass having just come from a moving car. Bottles are good for multiple things after you and I finish our filtered water. They are toys for children. They carry water for laundry, drinking, washing, etc. They make good storage containers. One in my own cabinets stores tea or something my house worker uses.
Speaking of trash and my worker, my trash is never safe from scouting. It is probably gone through multiple times after leaving my hands to go into the trash. My house worker goes through it first. I have found jars, jugs, Ziploc’s (I don’t even bother throwing these away now as I know they will be washed and reused), and Pringles cans to name a few things in the room she works in. After her my guard checks the trash. Then he gives it to the collection ladies who surely check it again. They take it to a collection point where it is surely checked again. Then it is hauled to a dump where I have often seen scavengers perusing.
Today as I was driving down the road I saw a young boy playing with a toy. I was never very good at flying a kite. I could figure out the hold the string and put the kite in the air thing, but I could never get it to fly unless I was running with it trailing a few feet behind me. The boy I saw was doing something similar. He had tied a piece of brown cord to a plastic bag. He ran down the street with his blue bag floating in the air just behind him. Plastic grocery sacks have multiple uses here too. My favorite is to see them used as rain hoods.
This shows a bit of how well they reuse, but let me share with you a couple illustrations of how they use things well the first time. It is typical in the states to go to a restaurant and find a ketchup bottle on the table. If it isn’t there originally it at least makes its way out once it is needed. Here it is rare to see the bottle. The nationals eat every bit of food on their plate and use every bit of any condiment available. Ketchup is usually put on the plate with fries. If you ask for more it is often brought in a dish. I go once in a while with a friend to have a burger; he loves them. I watch as he eats every bit of ketchup on his plate. He even licks up what he doesn’t finish with his fries. Now my sister is weird about ketchup, but this isn’t a ketchup thing it is a using all that is available thing. I am told that if the entire bottle were brought out, it would finish the meal empty no matter how much was in it at the beginning.
I could go on and on with stories of how well things are used and reused here. However my desire isn’t to bore you here, it is just to give you a taste of the culture.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Catching Up...
I want to share a few things with you to catch you up on what is happening and what will be happening.
Thanks for everything. Thank you for staying faithful in lifting up me, the nationals, and the work here. Know that you are thought of and remembered often.
- I am recovering from malaria nicely. Saturday I was even able to play some basketball. Still have some issues with some pain in my ears. In the near future, when I get off my butt, I will go see a specialist about them.
- The time down with illness bored me to death. But interestingly, now I am having a tough time jumping back into society. I’m not sure what it is that has me hesitant, but I’m having to force myself to get out in the streets these days. Remember this with me as being with people is the core of my responsibility here.
- The next week and a half or so I am really diving into the discipleship material I have mentioned to you. We would like to have something to test in the next couple of weeks so I will be trying to get that together.
- After wrapping some of the material stuff up I will be getting more involved with my mapping project. I am going to hire a helper and commit several days a week to nothing but mapping.
- The guys that lived with me and have been gone for the last month will return today. They will be here a couple weeks or so. Ask that relationships flourish while they are here with me. Ask for patience and flexibility as we deal with new living situations…again.
- Some of you have asked about pictures. You likely see six to the right of this entry. If you click on any one of them they will take you to one of six slide shows of several pictures. Many are labeled and have descriptions of what is going on or where it was taken. I think you even have the ability to go to a specific picture and print it or download it to your computer. If you have problems let me know.
- I want to write a series of entries for this page. Each entry will describe a generalized characteristic of the people here. My hope is to give you a better glimpse into what the people here look and act like. My hope is to write/post one a day. We’ll see how that goes. Let me give a warning I will give again later. Some of the characteristics will be negatives based on my perception. It might even sound like I am complaining about or slamming the people. Remember I am in love with the people of this culture. I am going to be honest with my feelings and opinions as I analyze and critique. That doesn’t change that I love the people and the culture here and love the chance to live in the midst of it.
Thanks for everything. Thank you for staying faithful in lifting up me, the nationals, and the work here. Know that you are thought of and remembered often.
