-Nig=Nigeria
-On Eid festival they slaughter goats seriouly everywhere
-The traffic is unreal. Basically everyone has right of way no matter where you're coming from or where you're going. You just have to put your hand out to stop the car and point to where you want to go. Our driver tried it while merging onto a road but the car wouldn't give. They exchanged many aggressive words and our driver finished by screaming at him, "It's because you're with another man's wife! It's because you're with another man's wife!"
-I visited two churches today, each of them a kilometer long. YOu can't even believe it. They hold over a million people and Rex says it's full, sometimes over-full.
-They love the prosperity gospel. Basically to be rich is blessed and poverty is from some "ancestral demonic pollution". We are to inherit the riches of this world and so we must eagerly pray for them... this book I have even instructs us to put our right hand on our head and shout, "Let wealth change hands in my life, in the name of Jesus!" or "O Lord, make a hole in the roof for me for my prosperity!" or "In Jesus' name I command wealth to come to me now!" or "In Jesus' name, I command you devil to loose the wealth of this earth!" I'm ashamed that my Jesus is attached to that crap.
-Nigerian dance parties are sweet
-I realized I've been here only a few days and I'm going through major culture shock. I've been in South Africa for a year and have been dreading re-entry into Canada. It's going to be a huge struggle, but little did I know Nigeria would be like entering North America but much worse. Nigeria wants to be like America. Everything I hate about North America, Nigeria has amplified. Eish.
-It's so freaking hot here. I sweat like mad. My skin is always so shiny. I never thought that much water could come out of my pores. I drink so much water, like over 2L a day but pee very little. It all comes out my pores. It's kind of sweet actually. The other day I was laying on my bed and Lize asked if I was crying. I just told her my eyeballs were sweating. Pretty sure they are.
-The communities here all have completely different stories. Yesterday I wrote about Ilaje (the slum on and off water), Ago-Okoto (the community with 419, or fraudsters) and today I visited a community lined with brothels. Most of the children are children of prositutes. It was a very difficult place to be.
-The internet is very fast and accessible (hency all my blogs and facebooking these days) and CNN seems to always be playing. I feel very up-to-date on Obama's appearance at the Copenhagen Conference and the surprise guests breaching White House security at his fancy supper.
-Lynn discovered his favourite church title thus far: "The Everlasting Settled Down Gospel Ministries Incorporated"
-I'm preaching on Sunday. I have no idea what to preach on and am quite nervous. Lynn says all I have to do is shout "Blessings! Power! Breakthrough!" and I'll be okay.
Much love from Nig!
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Beware of 419
I got into Nigeria early ... man I don't even know what day it is. We got in early Wednesday morning. The first thing I noticed was the smell. That and everyone was wearing pajamas. The men's outfits are too sweet. They basically look like pajamas. One big pajama party. The smell is dependant on where you are. I've never smelled so many strange smells. It varies from rotten sewer to oil/stale toilet.
We visited Ilaje Wed afternoon. Ilaje means "Land of Witches". It's one of the biggest slums in Lagos. Lagos is a city of 13.5 million, the biggest city in Africa, and one of the biggest cities in the world. In fact, Nigeria populates 1/4 of Africa's population. Ilaje. I've never been in a slum before so I really had no idea what to expect. Walking through was difficult. It's basically walking on layers upon layers of garbage. The ground was very unsteady and almost squishy. And it was dry. Between the homes and "streets" are streams of human waste and just dirty dirty water. The water is black and it smells awful. Crossing over these streams one could almost vomit. I asked Lynn if he'd rather get hit by a car or fall into one of these streams. His answer wasn't easy. It depended on whether he got it in his mouth.. he chose the car. The most fascinating part of Ilaje is the separation of the community into off-shore and on-shore. Ilaje is right on the ocean and people actually live on the water. It's like venice, but a lot less glamorous. People travel through the streets with little boats. The biggest challenge is when the heavy rains come. The entire community floods, up to 3 feet in people's homes. Imagine what it means sanitation-wise for those little black streams and all that garbage when it floods. The entire community is extremely vulnerable. Children don't go to school and Malaria is very high.
There are a couple schools we've started up and I'm really looking forward to spending more time in these schools and working with the teachers.
I visited another community called Ago-Okota today. This. Place. Was. Fascinating. I walked in and couldn't imagine why we would even be working there. The houses were HUGE and the cars were very fancy. As we began walking the community I started learning about the 419. Section 419 in Nigerian law is dealing with fraud. Ago-Okota is entire community of these fraudsters. Everyone knows them as 419. They do major internet fraud all over the world. No giving out e-mail addresses I guess. But they make big money and build large houses in this area. They often watch a house and when the person goes out for the day, they'll take over the house. They will have already put ads in the paper and they'll show the house. Buyers will have to give down payments and then the 419ers take the money and go. All around Lagos and especially in Ago-Okota you'll see "House not for sale. Beware of 419" everywhere!
We began walking through to visit the children. I thought South Africa was a place of contrasts... this place is worse. There will be a big mansion with a tall secure wall. Against that wall will be a slummy shack with 4 or so rooms with 4 families. Often too there are big mansions the 419 start building but don't finish. Families squat in these unfinished buildings and pay rent. They're horrible conditions and definitely not safe.
The children are extremely vulnerable. Phillip is an incredible man overseeing the CBO in Ago-Okota. He says that children are in danger of being recruited by the 419 at young ages. They take the children in, train them, and send them with big guns to houses to collect money. It's a brutal situation. And these kids aren't going to school, are living in desperate situations and are surrounded by mansions and high-class cars. It sounds like a good thing to get into.
We met a family of 5. The parents are Alex and Gladys. We met them in their room in an unfinished mansion. When I say unfinished, I mean it's just a concrete structure with no doors and no windows. They used to live in a small house but riots broke out in the area three years ago. The 419 were trying to overtake the area. People were shot and killed, people were thrown in the canal. They had to escape so fled to this structure in Ago-Okota. They are beautiful people and are trying their hardest to get by. It's a difficult area to live in.
Tomorrow we go to another community called Badia. It's another large slum.
One of the hardest parts about being here is seeing what the Church is doing. Nigeria is home of the mega-church. I've never seen churches to this magnitude. There are many and they are large. Prosperity gospel is everywhere. To be rich is to be blessed. I just can't believe that. When I walk these communities and see the beauty of these children, cursed is definitely not what they are. They are in a situation they cannot control, but can be changed.
Please pray for us as we try to interpret and process this all. It's entirely different from South Africa (and many other countries we work in).
Much love.
We visited Ilaje Wed afternoon. Ilaje means "Land of Witches". It's one of the biggest slums in Lagos. Lagos is a city of 13.5 million, the biggest city in Africa, and one of the biggest cities in the world. In fact, Nigeria populates 1/4 of Africa's population. Ilaje. I've never been in a slum before so I really had no idea what to expect. Walking through was difficult. It's basically walking on layers upon layers of garbage. The ground was very unsteady and almost squishy. And it was dry. Between the homes and "streets" are streams of human waste and just dirty dirty water. The water is black and it smells awful. Crossing over these streams one could almost vomit. I asked Lynn if he'd rather get hit by a car or fall into one of these streams. His answer wasn't easy. It depended on whether he got it in his mouth.. he chose the car. The most fascinating part of Ilaje is the separation of the community into off-shore and on-shore. Ilaje is right on the ocean and people actually live on the water. It's like venice, but a lot less glamorous. People travel through the streets with little boats. The biggest challenge is when the heavy rains come. The entire community floods, up to 3 feet in people's homes. Imagine what it means sanitation-wise for those little black streams and all that garbage when it floods. The entire community is extremely vulnerable. Children don't go to school and Malaria is very high.
There are a couple schools we've started up and I'm really looking forward to spending more time in these schools and working with the teachers.
I visited another community called Ago-Okota today. This. Place. Was. Fascinating. I walked in and couldn't imagine why we would even be working there. The houses were HUGE and the cars were very fancy. As we began walking the community I started learning about the 419. Section 419 in Nigerian law is dealing with fraud. Ago-Okota is entire community of these fraudsters. Everyone knows them as 419. They do major internet fraud all over the world. No giving out e-mail addresses I guess. But they make big money and build large houses in this area. They often watch a house and when the person goes out for the day, they'll take over the house. They will have already put ads in the paper and they'll show the house. Buyers will have to give down payments and then the 419ers take the money and go. All around Lagos and especially in Ago-Okota you'll see "House not for sale. Beware of 419" everywhere!
We began walking through to visit the children. I thought South Africa was a place of contrasts... this place is worse. There will be a big mansion with a tall secure wall. Against that wall will be a slummy shack with 4 or so rooms with 4 families. Often too there are big mansions the 419 start building but don't finish. Families squat in these unfinished buildings and pay rent. They're horrible conditions and definitely not safe.
The children are extremely vulnerable. Phillip is an incredible man overseeing the CBO in Ago-Okota. He says that children are in danger of being recruited by the 419 at young ages. They take the children in, train them, and send them with big guns to houses to collect money. It's a brutal situation. And these kids aren't going to school, are living in desperate situations and are surrounded by mansions and high-class cars. It sounds like a good thing to get into.
We met a family of 5. The parents are Alex and Gladys. We met them in their room in an unfinished mansion. When I say unfinished, I mean it's just a concrete structure with no doors and no windows. They used to live in a small house but riots broke out in the area three years ago. The 419 were trying to overtake the area. People were shot and killed, people were thrown in the canal. They had to escape so fled to this structure in Ago-Okota. They are beautiful people and are trying their hardest to get by. It's a difficult area to live in.
Tomorrow we go to another community called Badia. It's another large slum.
One of the hardest parts about being here is seeing what the Church is doing. Nigeria is home of the mega-church. I've never seen churches to this magnitude. There are many and they are large. Prosperity gospel is everywhere. To be rich is to be blessed. I just can't believe that. When I walk these communities and see the beauty of these children, cursed is definitely not what they are. They are in a situation they cannot control, but can be changed.
Please pray for us as we try to interpret and process this all. It's entirely different from South Africa (and many other countries we work in).
Much love.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
The Shoes.
So I have a pair of shoes, and they are my favourite shoes! I got them in the summer of 2007 on my way to Cornerstone Festival in Illinois. Some of my friends (shout out VJWC!) decorated them for me beautifully with a sharpee marker. They're my favourite shoes.
I've worn them out like crazy. Firstly, I'm not easy on my shoes. Secondly, Africa is not easy on shoes. I've included some pictures.
All year I've been hearing from numerous people in Hands, in the villages, everywhere, about my shoes. Community people say things like, "We may be poor, but we don't need to wear shoes like that" or Hands people say things like, "You look like a vulnerable child".
The problem is, I just don't care. I love my shoes and the trashier they get, the more I love them.
I decided, though, that it was time to buy new shoes. Not because I was planning on replacing my beloved shoes, but because in two days I'll be walking around slums in Nigeria and (please look at the pictures) bottomless shoes are not ideal.
I went to a store called Jet to find some cheeaaap shoes. I was looking for a pair of sandals (for Moz, which was incredible by the way) and a pair of shoes for Nigeria.
I took my beloved shoes off as I tried on different shoes. I walked around the store for about 20 minutes with different shoes on my feet. Finally, I found a pair of sandals (but no shoes) and began trying to locate my beloved shoes.
The aisles were clean.
I asked the lady working if she had seen my shoes. She gives me a strange look and says, "Oh.. those were your shoes." She began telling the rest of the ladies (in a language I do not fully understand) and they all had very surprised looks on their faces. They were shocked for two reasons: 1. A white girl had shoes like a vulnerable child; 2. The white girl with the vulnerable child shoes was looking for the vulnerable child shoes, as if she wanted them.
One lady began to leave the store and returned with my beloved shoes. She had thrown them in the garbage. Not the garbage in the store. The garbage outside the store. I proudly took them back as the entire store stared, mouths agape.
I'm really not sure what to do with my beloved shoes. I promised a few people I'd toss them, but every time I try, I hear the shoes cry a little and I swear I see a tear..
I've worn them out like crazy. Firstly, I'm not easy on my shoes. Secondly, Africa is not easy on shoes. I've included some pictures.
All year I've been hearing from numerous people in Hands, in the villages, everywhere, about my shoes. Community people say things like, "We may be poor, but we don't need to wear shoes like that" or Hands people say things like, "You look like a vulnerable child".
The problem is, I just don't care. I love my shoes and the trashier they get, the more I love them.
I decided, though, that it was time to buy new shoes. Not because I was planning on replacing my beloved shoes, but because in two days I'll be walking around slums in Nigeria and (please look at the pictures) bottomless shoes are not ideal.
I went to a store called Jet to find some cheeaaap shoes. I was looking for a pair of sandals (for Moz, which was incredible by the way) and a pair of shoes for Nigeria.
I took my beloved shoes off as I tried on different shoes. I walked around the store for about 20 minutes with different shoes on my feet. Finally, I found a pair of sandals (but no shoes) and began trying to locate my beloved shoes.
The aisles were clean.
I asked the lady working if she had seen my shoes. She gives me a strange look and says, "Oh.. those were your shoes." She began telling the rest of the ladies (in a language I do not fully understand) and they all had very surprised looks on their faces. They were shocked for two reasons: 1. A white girl had shoes like a vulnerable child; 2. The white girl with the vulnerable child shoes was looking for the vulnerable child shoes, as if she wanted them.
One lady began to leave the store and returned with my beloved shoes. She had thrown them in the garbage. Not the garbage in the store. The garbage outside the store. I proudly took them back as the entire store stared, mouths agape.
I'm really not sure what to do with my beloved shoes. I promised a few people I'd toss them, but every time I try, I hear the shoes cry a little and I swear I see a tear..
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Went to the chapel and we got ma-a-arried
Prag and Levy got married on Saturday and it was a great day! It was such an honour to be a bridesmaid and loads of fun too. I can't say that I got much work done the week before the wedding, but being a bridesmaid is Kingdom work too, you know. On Friday I got my nails done: toes and fingers. You should SEE my nails. Spiffy. And on the day of the wedding I got my make-up done. She wasn't too bad for an Afrikaans lady. If you've been to South Africa, you'll know what I mean when I hint that Afrikaans ladies make-up is not the most natural looking, so I was a bit scared. She did it nicely except I did have to wipe off the dark lip liner... it was sick. I did it when she left because I felt bad.
It was a very short wedding. (In comparison to my family weddings which the party starts around 4 and usually ends around 3am). The ceremony was at 10 (more like 10:30) and ended just after 11. Then the reception started around 2 until 4. The dance party was minimal but epic with a room full of Africans. It was a really nice wedding. Prag looked stunning, as usual. I'm sure pictures will be up soon.
On the beach, in the bar, on the beach in the bar
Here's my itinerary for the last month. Why am I writing it to you? I'm just excited.
Nov 9-13 Wrapping up Bushbuckridge, with a 2010 planning meeting on the Friday
Nov 16 Richard Brown is coming to see Bushbuckridge
Nov 17-20 Going to the BEACH in Mozambique. NOw this is exciting for me because I haven't been to a beach of ANY kind since Summer 2007 in Canada. I haven't even seen the ocean in South Africa yet, which is quite sad.
Nov 24-Dec 8 Going to Nigeria (Kano&Lagos) to visit the community schools and do workshops with the teachers. Most time will be spent in Lagos.
Dec 9-14 Packing, visiting, chilling, relaxing all-cooling shooting some bball off the side of the school
Dec 15 Flying home
Dec 16 Arriving in Calgary laaaaate
Dec 20/21 Road trip with Alihaha to Lloydmonster
Please pray for me as I wrap up Bushbuckridge and move onto Nigeria. I'm excited for Nigeria but struggling to finish up Bushbuckridge. Pray for strength and perseverance. We're tired.
Note: "On the beach, in the bar" ... anytime I think of going to the beach, this little phrase pops in my mind and usually out of my mouth and further directly translating into the stomach action. My Father Part 1 (Tom) used to always sit us on his stomach and say over and over "On the beach, in the bar, on the beach, in the bar, on the beach, in the bar, ..." and would make his stomach flat when he said "beach" and push his belly out when he said "bar". It's sort of stuck with me.
It was a very short wedding. (In comparison to my family weddings which the party starts around 4 and usually ends around 3am). The ceremony was at 10 (more like 10:30) and ended just after 11. Then the reception started around 2 until 4. The dance party was minimal but epic with a room full of Africans. It was a really nice wedding. Prag looked stunning, as usual. I'm sure pictures will be up soon.
On the beach, in the bar, on the beach in the bar
Here's my itinerary for the last month. Why am I writing it to you? I'm just excited.
Nov 9-13 Wrapping up Bushbuckridge, with a 2010 planning meeting on the Friday
Nov 16 Richard Brown is coming to see Bushbuckridge
Nov 17-20 Going to the BEACH in Mozambique. NOw this is exciting for me because I haven't been to a beach of ANY kind since Summer 2007 in Canada. I haven't even seen the ocean in South Africa yet, which is quite sad.
Nov 24-Dec 8 Going to Nigeria (Kano&Lagos) to visit the community schools and do workshops with the teachers. Most time will be spent in Lagos.
Dec 9-14 Packing, visiting, chilling, relaxing all-cooling shooting some bball off the side of the school
Dec 15 Flying home
Dec 16 Arriving in Calgary laaaaate
Dec 20/21 Road trip with Alihaha to Lloydmonster
Please pray for me as I wrap up Bushbuckridge and move onto Nigeria. I'm excited for Nigeria but struggling to finish up Bushbuckridge. Pray for strength and perseverance. We're tired.
Note: "On the beach, in the bar" ... anytime I think of going to the beach, this little phrase pops in my mind and usually out of my mouth and further directly translating into the stomach action. My Father Part 1 (Tom) used to always sit us on his stomach and say over and over "On the beach, in the bar, on the beach, in the bar, on the beach, in the bar, ..." and would make his stomach flat when he said "beach" and push his belly out when he said "bar". It's sort of stuck with me.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Save the cheerleader, save the world!
It’s been far too long and I apoligize. It’s not easy to blog. Sometimes I don’t think what I write would be of any interest to anyone. But here’s an update.
Since Zambia I’ve found myself incredibly busy with the office in Bushbuckridge. We did a Pastor’s training, countless workshops, and much planning for 2010. We had a team from the UK for 10 days and it was a very positive experience. Right now I’m hosting a team from First Assembly Church in Calgary and praying it is positive as well. There are two people that began working with our Bushbuckridge team, Pontso from Lesotho and Kennedy from Zambia, and I’ve spent a lot of time helping them to understand Hands, involve them, and training them up to take on some roles of their own. It’s been incredibly exhausting but the fruit will be very impacting and probably really juicy and delicious.
It’s been confirmed! I’m going to Nigeria Nov 24-Dec 8. I’m so so excited! I’ll finally be doing community school work. There are three areas we work in: Lagos, Kano, Ibadan. There are multiple community schools that we’ve started up in each area within the slums. I’ll be assessing the schools and then doing a workshop for the teachers based on what I see. It’s really strange going through teacher training manuals and reading up on assessment & evaluation, teaching methods, learning profiles etc. It’s been a while since I’ve even thought about being a teacher, so this is really exciting. The other day I did a workshop with one of the communities and felt so much like a teacher and was SO excited and realized how much I LOVE teaching. Nigeria will be an interesting place though. Basically it holds ¼ of Africa’s entire population and they really want to be like America, so… it’ll be interesting.
On the note of teaching, I’ve reactivated my subbing contract with Holy Rosary and am already getting booked for dates upon my arrival home. I’m pretty excited about that too.
I organized Canadian Thanksgiving once again this year and it was a HUGE success. There were approximately 50 people there. We even found turkey this year, so that’s a plus. Will and I baked a butt-load of pumpkin pies (made out of carrots). They were delicious but it honestly took us until 10:30 pm, which was unfortunate. I also organized Halloween this year. We didn’t do it last year. We bought lots of candy, made popcorn balls, and rented movies. We rented this one movie called Trick’r’Treat. It was kind of scary, kind of awkward, and kind of a lot of things. But perfect for Halloween, I guess. I dressed as Peter Pan. Classic. But my tights were too itchy so I really only resided in Neverland for 30 minutes. Other people dressed as Simon Peter (not bad), Granny (pretty good), a recreational golfer (laaame Jed), a missionary (bruuuutal Brooke). There were a ton of people. [Insert Canadian sarcasm] Not the best party I’ve ever put together. Need to seriously take this one back to the PPC.
I stayed in BBR all last week and it was great! But I somehow came down with something. I haven’t had a voice since Friday. Greasy.
I LOVE HEROES! I just discovered how awesome the show is. I crushed season 1 and 2 recently. It’s the kind of show that you feel like you’re in and even though you stop watching it, you look around and wonder what kind of powers everyone has and feel like you could just start flying or stopping time.
Speaking of shows, I just finished Season 5 of the Office. Congrats Jim & Pam!!!
On Saturday is Levy and Prag’s wedding. I’m pretty excited. I’m a bridesmaid and if you know anything about African weddings, it’s not an easy task. We’ve been rehearsing for over a month now. You don’t just walk up the aisle, you dance, so we’ve been learning all the steps. We got Zambian outfits made and it’s going to be the party of the year. But Prag is making me grow my nails out, straighten my hair, wax my legs and wear make-up. Barf.
Lastly I’d like to give a shout out to my brother, Rob, for running for mayor of Lloydmonster. I heard you did well and spoke well and I was rooting for you! I’m sorry to hear you didn’t make the cut.
Love and miss you all! Only 6 weeks!
Kristal Dawn
Since Zambia I’ve found myself incredibly busy with the office in Bushbuckridge. We did a Pastor’s training, countless workshops, and much planning for 2010. We had a team from the UK for 10 days and it was a very positive experience. Right now I’m hosting a team from First Assembly Church in Calgary and praying it is positive as well. There are two people that began working with our Bushbuckridge team, Pontso from Lesotho and Kennedy from Zambia, and I’ve spent a lot of time helping them to understand Hands, involve them, and training them up to take on some roles of their own. It’s been incredibly exhausting but the fruit will be very impacting and probably really juicy and delicious.
It’s been confirmed! I’m going to Nigeria Nov 24-Dec 8. I’m so so excited! I’ll finally be doing community school work. There are three areas we work in: Lagos, Kano, Ibadan. There are multiple community schools that we’ve started up in each area within the slums. I’ll be assessing the schools and then doing a workshop for the teachers based on what I see. It’s really strange going through teacher training manuals and reading up on assessment & evaluation, teaching methods, learning profiles etc. It’s been a while since I’ve even thought about being a teacher, so this is really exciting. The other day I did a workshop with one of the communities and felt so much like a teacher and was SO excited and realized how much I LOVE teaching. Nigeria will be an interesting place though. Basically it holds ¼ of Africa’s entire population and they really want to be like America, so… it’ll be interesting.
On the note of teaching, I’ve reactivated my subbing contract with Holy Rosary and am already getting booked for dates upon my arrival home. I’m pretty excited about that too.
I organized Canadian Thanksgiving once again this year and it was a HUGE success. There were approximately 50 people there. We even found turkey this year, so that’s a plus. Will and I baked a butt-load of pumpkin pies (made out of carrots). They were delicious but it honestly took us until 10:30 pm, which was unfortunate. I also organized Halloween this year. We didn’t do it last year. We bought lots of candy, made popcorn balls, and rented movies. We rented this one movie called Trick’r’Treat. It was kind of scary, kind of awkward, and kind of a lot of things. But perfect for Halloween, I guess. I dressed as Peter Pan. Classic. But my tights were too itchy so I really only resided in Neverland for 30 minutes. Other people dressed as Simon Peter (not bad), Granny (pretty good), a recreational golfer (laaame Jed), a missionary (bruuuutal Brooke). There were a ton of people. [Insert Canadian sarcasm] Not the best party I’ve ever put together. Need to seriously take this one back to the PPC.
I stayed in BBR all last week and it was great! But I somehow came down with something. I haven’t had a voice since Friday. Greasy.
I LOVE HEROES! I just discovered how awesome the show is. I crushed season 1 and 2 recently. It’s the kind of show that you feel like you’re in and even though you stop watching it, you look around and wonder what kind of powers everyone has and feel like you could just start flying or stopping time.
Speaking of shows, I just finished Season 5 of the Office. Congrats Jim & Pam!!!
On Saturday is Levy and Prag’s wedding. I’m pretty excited. I’m a bridesmaid and if you know anything about African weddings, it’s not an easy task. We’ve been rehearsing for over a month now. You don’t just walk up the aisle, you dance, so we’ve been learning all the steps. We got Zambian outfits made and it’s going to be the party of the year. But Prag is making me grow my nails out, straighten my hair, wax my legs and wear make-up. Barf.
Lastly I’d like to give a shout out to my brother, Rob, for running for mayor of Lloydmonster. I heard you did well and spoke well and I was rooting for you! I’m sorry to hear you didn’t make the cut.
Love and miss you all! Only 6 weeks!
Kristal Dawn
Monday, September 14, 2009
just pick one
I have so many stories to tell. Spending a month in Zambia makes it inevitable. I don’t even know where to begin. Which kind would you like?
Maybe a story of a girl named Elizabeth who destroyed me while I stared into her big, sad eyes then, days later, gave me hope as she smiled into mine.
Maybe a story of surviving in a grass hut deep in the wild African bush, dodging hippos and following lions on foot.
Maybe a story about a shunned man who sacrificed his own. Or perhaps I need to add onto that story the way I ignored God’s prompt for me to talk to him and the way I denied this man the opportunity to receive something big from God. But then I’d also have to add that it eats me inside weeks later.
But maybe I could tell a story about two of the most inspirational people I’ve ever met.
Or I could tell a story that one just doesn’t tell home about. Oh right, forget about it.
But then I could tell a story of the way God is revealing so much to me about the power of His Son and the way my heart just leaps when I think of this hope that anchors my soul.
Or I could tell a story of a humbling moment when a widow named Beauty wrapped her shawl around me, looked into my eyes and called me a Mother of this Nation.
Did I mention the story about the wild African bush and the hippo staring at me, his big eyes going “BLINK BLINK?” I think so.
Maybe a story about saying good-bye to 80 weeping and wailing children, getting on the bus only to find something is wrong with the bus and sitting staring for 20 minutes longer at these, let me emphasize, weeping and wailing children.
Or the story about the day I received a big fat bag of Hint of Lime chips. Sigh.
Or a story about my miracle phone. The story is something along the lines of driving deep into the bush, peeing on the side of the road, losing my phone, and then finding it again two days later.
Oh, don’t forget to let me tell you the story about how God is the greatest romance of my life. It’s a good one.
PS - It’s late at night and I find myself missing home terribly but strangely content. Lying on my bed, listening to a Vinyl Café story talk about jock straps, hockey, and Canadian Tire, eating Nerds, looking at a beautifully written letter typed on a sheet ripped out of a magazine, I can’t help but be so thankful for incredible friends.
Thank you.
Maybe a story of a girl named Elizabeth who destroyed me while I stared into her big, sad eyes then, days later, gave me hope as she smiled into mine.
Maybe a story of surviving in a grass hut deep in the wild African bush, dodging hippos and following lions on foot.
Maybe a story about a shunned man who sacrificed his own. Or perhaps I need to add onto that story the way I ignored God’s prompt for me to talk to him and the way I denied this man the opportunity to receive something big from God. But then I’d also have to add that it eats me inside weeks later.
But maybe I could tell a story about two of the most inspirational people I’ve ever met.
Or I could tell a story that one just doesn’t tell home about. Oh right, forget about it.
But then I could tell a story of the way God is revealing so much to me about the power of His Son and the way my heart just leaps when I think of this hope that anchors my soul.
Or I could tell a story of a humbling moment when a widow named Beauty wrapped her shawl around me, looked into my eyes and called me a Mother of this Nation.
Did I mention the story about the wild African bush and the hippo staring at me, his big eyes going “BLINK BLINK?” I think so.
Maybe a story about saying good-bye to 80 weeping and wailing children, getting on the bus only to find something is wrong with the bus and sitting staring for 20 minutes longer at these, let me emphasize, weeping and wailing children.
Or the story about the day I received a big fat bag of Hint of Lime chips. Sigh.
Or a story about my miracle phone. The story is something along the lines of driving deep into the bush, peeing on the side of the road, losing my phone, and then finding it again two days later.
Oh, don’t forget to let me tell you the story about how God is the greatest romance of my life. It’s a good one.
PS - It’s late at night and I find myself missing home terribly but strangely content. Lying on my bed, listening to a Vinyl Café story talk about jock straps, hockey, and Canadian Tire, eating Nerds, looking at a beautifully written letter typed on a sheet ripped out of a magazine, I can’t help but be so thankful for incredible friends.
Thank you.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
The Real Africa
Mulishani from Zambia!
Before I get into it, my phone number while I’m in Zambia is +260 96 858 3910. I’m pretty sure it’s dialed the same as my South Africa number, so from Canada, dial: 011 260 96 858 3910. If that doesn’t work, e-mail and let me know so I can figure it out. Or perhaps you can just google it.
I arrived here finally on Sunday. Let me tell you, it was hectic.
I spent the entire week before coming to Zambia in Bushbuckridge with a woman named Grace in the village of Delani. I wrote about her earlier. It was such an incredible and inspiring time. I’m trying to decide how much include on this blog. Brace yourselves, I think it’s going to be long. She is a widow; her husband died a couple years ago from Aids and as she tells me the stories, she brings me to tears and I can tell it is still so fresh and so painful. She lives with her three children (Memory, Mordeca, and the second born which I can’t remember the name) and her husband’s youngest brother (I’m awful at this name game today). The second born was not around the entire time I was there, as he ran off to the initiation school without his mother’s permission. The initiation school is another topic of discussion, but basically they spend 3 months in the bush learning how to be a man. They miss 3 months of school and most can never catch up. Every day I walked from Delani to Hluvukani to catch the taxi with a man named Petrus. It is about a 4 km walk each way. He is an inspiring man as well. Sometimes I feel so discouraged in South Africa with the behaviour of men. I always thought it was not a stereotype if there were no exceptions. But Petrus is an exception. He works at the clinic with disabled people and also pastors a church. But unlike all other pastors who insist on not having a name, but rather “Pastor”, he ensures he is referred to as “Brother”. One thing that really stood out to me when we walked together is his love for children. I also found this rare. He would greet children as they passed. Greet children. This is a concept also foreign to me with South African men. But Petrus, he is different. I found a new love for South Africa and the work I’m doing. When people like these exist in the communities, I know why I am here.
I left Bushbuckridge on Friday and returned home by 4:00 pm. I busied my butt in the office getting everything settled before I left, hung out with some dear friends, and then packed until 2:00 am. I woke at 4:30 am to head off to Nelspruit to catch the bus to Johannesburg, not knowing that I was heading towards a very frustrating and (now) comical day.
My bus arrived a little late to the airport. I was scheduled to leave at 12:20 pm and arrived only at 10:00 am. The gates close an hour before the flight. The airport in Jo’burg is chaos and big and, I think, poorly organized. So I struggled to find where the heck I was going. I got to the check-in finally and they couldn’t bring up my ticket. I was at the wrong check-in and wasn’t flying with South Africa Airways, but South Africa Airways Airlink. I got to the right check-in and the woman couldn’t find my booking. She asked another woman and she couldn’t find my booking as well. They sent me to the ticket counter and told me to get my … e-something or other. So I went and the woman found my booking but said it was cancelled. (Okay, please let me reiterate I arrived at 10:00 and the gate closes at 11:20 for my flight). The woman said the booking was cancelled because it never got paid. When I booked the ticket I told the travel agent to charge it to Hands’ account, but I guess Hands never paid it. She re-booked it and said I can still have it but will have to pay. I gave her my card. Declined. I could feel a knot in my throat forming, the kind when tears are preparing to come. I searched around for a FNB (my bank in South Africa) to check how much money I had. I went to the ATM – Out of Order – so I had to stand in the line to get to the teller. The ticket cost R4,500. I had R4,000. The day before I had spent R900 on a coordinators meeting that Pepfar is to reimburse me for and a week before I had lent out R3,000. Pity. Oh, I also had no airtime for my phone, so that made things difficult too. I called Lynn and asked him to quickly drive to a FNB and deposit R500. That way it is instantly in my account. Now it was about 30 minutes before the gate closed. Lynn finally deposited the money, but it is too late. It was 11:20. I asked the woman about the next flight. It left the next morning. I asked to book that flight but now it cost R4,900. LUCKILY, Lynn deposited R1,200 so I could pay for the ticket and have R300 leftover. Now I have to figure out where to stay in Jo’burg until tomorrow. Again, luckily (for me but not for them) Lynn and Jayme were spending the weekend in Jo’burg to celebrate Jayme’s birthday and their 6th anniversary. They said I can join them on their anniversary celebrations and stay with them, but I needed to get a shuttle to Pretoria. I went to the shuttle place and the shuttle cost R480. I only had R300. I could feel the knot all day, now my eyes began feeling a little moist. I asked another lady and she tried to help. She brought me in her little office and grabbed a man. The man said he could take me. I said I now just need to go to Sandton (an area in Jo’burg). The lady said she will get her driver since I don’t need to go to Pretoria anymore. This made the man mad because he really wanted to take me. They argued over me a little bit and the man sounded desperate to take me. He said he can take me for R300. I’m feeling a little sketched out at this point, a little stressed out, and ready for a break down. They both stared at me awaiting my decision. I asked the man what he is driving (I just got a sketchy feeling from him). He said it was a shuttle, but I assumed it was a taxi. Jo’burg is dangerous and taking taxi’s also dangerous. I asked him if I was the only one going or if he had other passengers. He said I was the only one. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable going with him alone. He gave me a look like I was crazy. Jayme called and I tried to explain the situation to her, in code, while the two stared at me. She said her and Lynn will just pick me up. The man left the room and then I just broke down and cried in front of the shuttle lady. I was a sad case.
But I spent the evening with Lynn and Jayme, watched some live music (a Nigerian guy who had a sound similar to Ben Harper), and ate great food. I feel bad I joined them on their Anniversary night, but very appreciative of their generous and hospitable character.
I finally arrived to Zambia and it’s beautiful. It’s safe! I can walk around alone! I don’t live in a prison! I spent some time with Jessie before she left, visited some communities, and began preparations for my church team to arrive. I also got to visit Ben and Alicia, my old youth pastors from Lloyd. They are currently in Luanshya (where I am) with an organization called FCE. It was awesome! SO good to catch up and so crazy to catch up in Africa together. Very random. But I’ll be seeing them again on Saturday before they head off.
I’ll stop here. Sorry it was long, but there was a lot to tell.
I’ll be in Zambia until September 3, so feel free to call.
Love you all.
Before I get into it, my phone number while I’m in Zambia is +260 96 858 3910. I’m pretty sure it’s dialed the same as my South Africa number, so from Canada, dial: 011 260 96 858 3910. If that doesn’t work, e-mail and let me know so I can figure it out. Or perhaps you can just google it.
I arrived here finally on Sunday. Let me tell you, it was hectic.
I spent the entire week before coming to Zambia in Bushbuckridge with a woman named Grace in the village of Delani. I wrote about her earlier. It was such an incredible and inspiring time. I’m trying to decide how much include on this blog. Brace yourselves, I think it’s going to be long. She is a widow; her husband died a couple years ago from Aids and as she tells me the stories, she brings me to tears and I can tell it is still so fresh and so painful. She lives with her three children (Memory, Mordeca, and the second born which I can’t remember the name) and her husband’s youngest brother (I’m awful at this name game today). The second born was not around the entire time I was there, as he ran off to the initiation school without his mother’s permission. The initiation school is another topic of discussion, but basically they spend 3 months in the bush learning how to be a man. They miss 3 months of school and most can never catch up. Every day I walked from Delani to Hluvukani to catch the taxi with a man named Petrus. It is about a 4 km walk each way. He is an inspiring man as well. Sometimes I feel so discouraged in South Africa with the behaviour of men. I always thought it was not a stereotype if there were no exceptions. But Petrus is an exception. He works at the clinic with disabled people and also pastors a church. But unlike all other pastors who insist on not having a name, but rather “Pastor”, he ensures he is referred to as “Brother”. One thing that really stood out to me when we walked together is his love for children. I also found this rare. He would greet children as they passed. Greet children. This is a concept also foreign to me with South African men. But Petrus, he is different. I found a new love for South Africa and the work I’m doing. When people like these exist in the communities, I know why I am here.
I left Bushbuckridge on Friday and returned home by 4:00 pm. I busied my butt in the office getting everything settled before I left, hung out with some dear friends, and then packed until 2:00 am. I woke at 4:30 am to head off to Nelspruit to catch the bus to Johannesburg, not knowing that I was heading towards a very frustrating and (now) comical day.
My bus arrived a little late to the airport. I was scheduled to leave at 12:20 pm and arrived only at 10:00 am. The gates close an hour before the flight. The airport in Jo’burg is chaos and big and, I think, poorly organized. So I struggled to find where the heck I was going. I got to the check-in finally and they couldn’t bring up my ticket. I was at the wrong check-in and wasn’t flying with South Africa Airways, but South Africa Airways Airlink. I got to the right check-in and the woman couldn’t find my booking. She asked another woman and she couldn’t find my booking as well. They sent me to the ticket counter and told me to get my … e-something or other. So I went and the woman found my booking but said it was cancelled. (Okay, please let me reiterate I arrived at 10:00 and the gate closes at 11:20 for my flight). The woman said the booking was cancelled because it never got paid. When I booked the ticket I told the travel agent to charge it to Hands’ account, but I guess Hands never paid it. She re-booked it and said I can still have it but will have to pay. I gave her my card. Declined. I could feel a knot in my throat forming, the kind when tears are preparing to come. I searched around for a FNB (my bank in South Africa) to check how much money I had. I went to the ATM – Out of Order – so I had to stand in the line to get to the teller. The ticket cost R4,500. I had R4,000. The day before I had spent R900 on a coordinators meeting that Pepfar is to reimburse me for and a week before I had lent out R3,000. Pity. Oh, I also had no airtime for my phone, so that made things difficult too. I called Lynn and asked him to quickly drive to a FNB and deposit R500. That way it is instantly in my account. Now it was about 30 minutes before the gate closed. Lynn finally deposited the money, but it is too late. It was 11:20. I asked the woman about the next flight. It left the next morning. I asked to book that flight but now it cost R4,900. LUCKILY, Lynn deposited R1,200 so I could pay for the ticket and have R300 leftover. Now I have to figure out where to stay in Jo’burg until tomorrow. Again, luckily (for me but not for them) Lynn and Jayme were spending the weekend in Jo’burg to celebrate Jayme’s birthday and their 6th anniversary. They said I can join them on their anniversary celebrations and stay with them, but I needed to get a shuttle to Pretoria. I went to the shuttle place and the shuttle cost R480. I only had R300. I could feel the knot all day, now my eyes began feeling a little moist. I asked another lady and she tried to help. She brought me in her little office and grabbed a man. The man said he could take me. I said I now just need to go to Sandton (an area in Jo’burg). The lady said she will get her driver since I don’t need to go to Pretoria anymore. This made the man mad because he really wanted to take me. They argued over me a little bit and the man sounded desperate to take me. He said he can take me for R300. I’m feeling a little sketched out at this point, a little stressed out, and ready for a break down. They both stared at me awaiting my decision. I asked the man what he is driving (I just got a sketchy feeling from him). He said it was a shuttle, but I assumed it was a taxi. Jo’burg is dangerous and taking taxi’s also dangerous. I asked him if I was the only one going or if he had other passengers. He said I was the only one. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable going with him alone. He gave me a look like I was crazy. Jayme called and I tried to explain the situation to her, in code, while the two stared at me. She said her and Lynn will just pick me up. The man left the room and then I just broke down and cried in front of the shuttle lady. I was a sad case.
But I spent the evening with Lynn and Jayme, watched some live music (a Nigerian guy who had a sound similar to Ben Harper), and ate great food. I feel bad I joined them on their Anniversary night, but very appreciative of their generous and hospitable character.
I finally arrived to Zambia and it’s beautiful. It’s safe! I can walk around alone! I don’t live in a prison! I spent some time with Jessie before she left, visited some communities, and began preparations for my church team to arrive. I also got to visit Ben and Alicia, my old youth pastors from Lloyd. They are currently in Luanshya (where I am) with an organization called FCE. It was awesome! SO good to catch up and so crazy to catch up in Africa together. Very random. But I’ll be seeing them again on Saturday before they head off.
I’ll stop here. Sorry it was long, but there was a lot to tell.
I’ll be in Zambia until September 3, so feel free to call.
Love you all.
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