I will be leaving in around 12 hours to travel in Europe for three weeks. I confess I am nervous. I know very few specifics about European areas, so few real details that I'm sure I would surprise you. Moreover, having experienced the language barrier here, I can't help but wish I had spent more time learning languages growing up--sometimes I really wonder what I did with all of my time home schooling?
I know I will be going to England, France, Italy and Greece, though I'm not sure if those are the only countries I will go to or ,whats more, exactly where I will go in them. When I have told people the approach that I am taking to this trip, a sort of solo, unplanned, play-it-by-ear way of travel, I have almost entirely (with the exception of mothers) had it expressed to me that I am doing it "the best way to do it", with a sort of envy voiced or otherwise somewhere fit in. At the time I would simply smile and agree, that is after all why I planned it this way. But then, I hadn't been out of the country yet at that point; now I'm not so sure about it to be perfectly honest. I like the idea, but I still wish I knew more about the countries. It is much harder to act like you know what your doing in other countries than I think most people imagine. Still, I have great expectations for these next few weeks, not the least of which being to meet people in hostels and any context I happen upon. On the one hand I am fascinated in travelers, particularly when I am traveling and particularly in places that I am already very interested in--to that effect, I am probably equally as fascinated in people in places as I am with the place itself.
I'm sorry it has been so long since I have said anything. When I get back to the United States I will try to catch you up a little on additional thoughts I have been mulling over in this remaining gap of time I have been in Africa and offer some pictures.
I will say that while I have done a few things worth while, this leg of my trip as been over for at least a week I think, while I have continued simply to wait I think; wait for something to strike me, wait to feel Africa again, wait for Europe? To put my attitude and activities into words, I think it is best said as "uh-huh".
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
church planting
believe it or not I am just starting to really understand how certain people interpret evangelism--whether that be for better or worse-- and how it is or is not at times a necessary focus on a ministry.
Here, evangelism is certainly a necessary focus-- to which "the great commission" seems to be a central motivation. Yet I've commonly found among missionaries that, in observing their practice, an unknowing observer would more likely deduce that it is a call to "go make church plants of every nation" rather than make disciples. Discipleship seems to go about as far as delivering a set lesson series (often once a week), at the end asking if they want to be a church, then passing on the lesson plans and sending them "planting". A missionary team here has talked about an approach they have taken of sending out 72 native church leaders in pairs to plant churches, as Jesus sent out the 72. Granted Jesus himself did send out his disciples to spread "the good news", what they had seen, experienced, and what he had taught them. If I understand correctly though, there was so much more to the relationship that Jesus had in his discipling prior and in addition to sending them out. In my time observing missionaries, this initial planting routine hasn't even been the main goings on (if that had been the case we would have had more repeated visits to the same villages). What we have mostly been doing is what might be referred to as "making the rounds" which seems to consist mainly of taking care of "business" and "making an appearance". what this means is that from time to time, in between new planting jobs, the missionaries go visiting villages where they have already planted a church to sell bibles, give more made up lesson plans, schedule their next visit and any other leadership business leaders might want to discuss. As I understand from the missionaries these visits mainly result from insistence from church leaders that they come because no matter how much they might try to distance themselves and let the leaders of that church be the leaders, the church still wants to hear from the white "missionaries".
"The missionaries" (the white people at that) still carry a certain status with them. To begin with, western religion as a whole carries a status of being new and trendy--as do most things from the west with most people for that matter. Yet what's more, is that most the churches of western religion (the majority also being the longest present churches) have a rather set common order of doing things which over time has taken its foothold in modern African culture--how to do church, some sort of hierarchical leadership, church buildings, special outfits, etc. So while the Church of Christ missionaries have done something different than most in their church planting, which is their attempting to distance themselves and put as little of their own interpretation and western church customs into the Africans as possible and let them interpret for themselves how to be a church in their culture, they still struggle with the people wanting all the things of all the other churches to feel more official.
I think the CoC missionaries here have a good idea with this sort of hands off approach in realizing that following Christ isn't limited to the western way and letting the Africans discern from what they know of scripture on how to follow Christ in their culture. However, it seems as though even though they aren't telling them how to order their worship services they are missioning with a clear assumption that they do have to have an orderly worship service and meet on Sunday (even if they don't necessarily believe it must be Sunday themselves) and other subtle traditional doing church practices. I am not saying that any of this is right or wrong, I do wonder though at what being a church is really about when you take ALL of the cultural customs out of it, including those recorded in scripture?
what bothers me more though, Whether rooted in their hands-off attempt or from their church plant factory approach to ministry, the missionaries have formed a very detached relationship for themselves with the villagers (church members). While Planting churches with relatively brief select stories from the old testament and a little more in depth look into the look into the life of Jesus, they seem to have lost a grasp of the actual story they were telling and what they were suppose to be planting. At times I can't help but feel like I am an intern for a business. To which affect they have taken the business practices of Jesus (sending out 72 in pairs) but are missing his life aspects like making himself self nothing, feeding the poor, counting others better than himself, loving unconditionally to (at the time) a seemingly meaningless death. This sort of relationship is so much of what was different about Jesus (and for that matter the early church) and certainly the Kingdom of God as a whole. We are outright told that Love is the most important thing, Love is how people will recognize the people of God, God is Love. Jesus' life was an example of the extents that this love goes and the Church is to complete what is lacking in Jesus' death and resurrection which to be presently living out that Love in a community. So much of "the gospel"--the good news-- that we act like we are teaching of the kingdom of God is the church loving like this. That is good news. what is news about it, much less good or true if people's lives aren't really changed by being loved and seeing love like this?
I am certainly not saying that the missionaries here don't believe any and/or of this and rather purposely leave it out. Only that in their focus on producing churches it feels deeply that they have lost track of it. Mind you, I think at least some of them are at least beginning to realize it more and more.
I think this too, is a great issue in their attempt to let the Africans be their own leaders and in communicating why all of those other "doing church" customs and rules and rulers aren't important or what Church is about. I think it is a great issue because without this sort of Love and close friendship in discipleship they will rarely be able to show what is different about following Christ and what is truly important. How can the Africans be expected to see and understand if they haven't been shown it in their very teachers? I fear they have left hollow the stories and teachings, to which I think "the parable of the sorrow" speaks relevantly in a way I have never read it before. My fear is that in this fashion of evangelism we westerners, as we are bringing this story of the people of God and Jesus for the first time to many while they are very receptive--and thus to their descendants-- we are quibbling their faith for them to become much like the us, where "non-believers" want very little to do with Christian moralist-"church doers", and many "believers" treat Christianity as not really following Christ at all--not to say that this is necessarily acknowledged.
Here, evangelism is certainly a necessary focus-- to which "the great commission" seems to be a central motivation. Yet I've commonly found among missionaries that, in observing their practice, an unknowing observer would more likely deduce that it is a call to "go make church plants of every nation" rather than make disciples. Discipleship seems to go about as far as delivering a set lesson series (often once a week), at the end asking if they want to be a church, then passing on the lesson plans and sending them "planting". A missionary team here has talked about an approach they have taken of sending out 72 native church leaders in pairs to plant churches, as Jesus sent out the 72. Granted Jesus himself did send out his disciples to spread "the good news", what they had seen, experienced, and what he had taught them. If I understand correctly though, there was so much more to the relationship that Jesus had in his discipling prior and in addition to sending them out. In my time observing missionaries, this initial planting routine hasn't even been the main goings on (if that had been the case we would have had more repeated visits to the same villages). What we have mostly been doing is what might be referred to as "making the rounds" which seems to consist mainly of taking care of "business" and "making an appearance". what this means is that from time to time, in between new planting jobs, the missionaries go visiting villages where they have already planted a church to sell bibles, give more made up lesson plans, schedule their next visit and any other leadership business leaders might want to discuss. As I understand from the missionaries these visits mainly result from insistence from church leaders that they come because no matter how much they might try to distance themselves and let the leaders of that church be the leaders, the church still wants to hear from the white "missionaries".
"The missionaries" (the white people at that) still carry a certain status with them. To begin with, western religion as a whole carries a status of being new and trendy--as do most things from the west with most people for that matter. Yet what's more, is that most the churches of western religion (the majority also being the longest present churches) have a rather set common order of doing things which over time has taken its foothold in modern African culture--how to do church, some sort of hierarchical leadership, church buildings, special outfits, etc. So while the Church of Christ missionaries have done something different than most in their church planting, which is their attempting to distance themselves and put as little of their own interpretation and western church customs into the Africans as possible and let them interpret for themselves how to be a church in their culture, they still struggle with the people wanting all the things of all the other churches to feel more official.
I think the CoC missionaries here have a good idea with this sort of hands off approach in realizing that following Christ isn't limited to the western way and letting the Africans discern from what they know of scripture on how to follow Christ in their culture. However, it seems as though even though they aren't telling them how to order their worship services they are missioning with a clear assumption that they do have to have an orderly worship service and meet on Sunday (even if they don't necessarily believe it must be Sunday themselves) and other subtle traditional doing church practices. I am not saying that any of this is right or wrong, I do wonder though at what being a church is really about when you take ALL of the cultural customs out of it, including those recorded in scripture?
what bothers me more though, Whether rooted in their hands-off attempt or from their church plant factory approach to ministry, the missionaries have formed a very detached relationship for themselves with the villagers (church members). While Planting churches with relatively brief select stories from the old testament and a little more in depth look into the look into the life of Jesus, they seem to have lost a grasp of the actual story they were telling and what they were suppose to be planting. At times I can't help but feel like I am an intern for a business. To which affect they have taken the business practices of Jesus (sending out 72 in pairs) but are missing his life aspects like making himself self nothing, feeding the poor, counting others better than himself, loving unconditionally to (at the time) a seemingly meaningless death. This sort of relationship is so much of what was different about Jesus (and for that matter the early church) and certainly the Kingdom of God as a whole. We are outright told that Love is the most important thing, Love is how people will recognize the people of God, God is Love. Jesus' life was an example of the extents that this love goes and the Church is to complete what is lacking in Jesus' death and resurrection which to be presently living out that Love in a community. So much of "the gospel"--the good news-- that we act like we are teaching of the kingdom of God is the church loving like this. That is good news. what is news about it, much less good or true if people's lives aren't really changed by being loved and seeing love like this?
I am certainly not saying that the missionaries here don't believe any and/or of this and rather purposely leave it out. Only that in their focus on producing churches it feels deeply that they have lost track of it. Mind you, I think at least some of them are at least beginning to realize it more and more.
I think this too, is a great issue in their attempt to let the Africans be their own leaders and in communicating why all of those other "doing church" customs and rules and rulers aren't important or what Church is about. I think it is a great issue because without this sort of Love and close friendship in discipleship they will rarely be able to show what is different about following Christ and what is truly important. How can the Africans be expected to see and understand if they haven't been shown it in their very teachers? I fear they have left hollow the stories and teachings, to which I think "the parable of the sorrow" speaks relevantly in a way I have never read it before. My fear is that in this fashion of evangelism we westerners, as we are bringing this story of the people of God and Jesus for the first time to many while they are very receptive--and thus to their descendants-- we are quibbling their faith for them to become much like the us, where "non-believers" want very little to do with Christian moralist-"church doers", and many "believers" treat Christianity as not really following Christ at all--not to say that this is necessarily acknowledged.
Friday, July 13, 2007
for granted life...
There are moments, very different than any others, that I find my life suddenly calm, still, clearer-- even though I had not realized just moments before that it was not but comparably rather blurred, anxious and otherwise just the opposite. At times the moments come when I have gone about for sometime with white noise such as a fan or a car engine and then when they are turned off it changes my perspective entirely-- as this happened in the Serengeti when we had been driving through the for sometime and past hundreds of thousands of Zebra and Wildebeest to the point that all of us who had never seen either in the wild before were already disenchanted with them almost as though they were field grass and simply anxious to see more exciting spectacles. Yet when we stopped and turned the car engine off so I could hear the breeze and the grass rustling and animal's sounds and breathing; at the time it felt as though I was seeing them for the first time all over again only this time standing in the field in the middle of them, almost forgetting about the car and others completely-- I shudder at such a contrast in experiencing the lions who stared into my eyes only inches from the road. I could have sat there all day with those animals in the Serengeti, just watching and listening.
It is not only at the clearing of white noise that these moments come though. Sometimes they come with a light breeze or laughter or taste or some sight or sound in nature or a form of art; sometimes just with a deep breath I feel as though I could sit there all day and just breath as though I haven't in a long while. With the surprise value that comes with these moments also comes a feeling of wonder at how much has gone blurring by that I've missed? That I could have found so much life, beauty, love and wonder in if I wasn't so expeditiously on my way to the scheduled matters?
It is not only at the clearing of white noise that these moments come though. Sometimes they come with a light breeze or laughter or taste or some sight or sound in nature or a form of art; sometimes just with a deep breath I feel as though I could sit there all day and just breath as though I haven't in a long while. With the surprise value that comes with these moments also comes a feeling of wonder at how much has gone blurring by that I've missed? That I could have found so much life, beauty, love and wonder in if I wasn't so expeditiously on my way to the scheduled matters?
Thursday, July 12, 2007
On a lighter note, the circle of life...
Having just returned from Safari in the Serengeti, I thought now would be as good a time as any to give a brief up date on some unique things I have experienced up to now. On the off chance that you ever carried any noteworthy expectation for the quality of my writing, it might be better for us all if you just play this one by ear, because that's about the most that can be said about the effort that I put into writing it... whatever that means.
Going along with what I have previously mentioned, the comfortable living conditions of the missionaries has also included, at it's best borderline gourmet food, and all other times nothing less than what can commonly be found in American homes. However, outside the missionaries homes my stomach is a great reminder that I am still in Africa. In the villages the staple foods have been rice (this being the greatest because it was a really good year for rice) and ugali, a sort of thick cornmeal base dough (though much less of this and other corn products because it was a bad year for corn). with one or both of these staples accompaniments might include one or multiple selects from beans, boiled greens, cow chopped into small chunks (I describe it this way because they more or less skin the cow and then just start chopping, intestines, bones, traditional meats, fat) boiled in lots of oil and tomato, or the same might be done of a goat; at times we've received a whole fish to pick from (apparently the best meat is at the head by the way, which is saved for honored guest like ourselves); another item we often receive is a bowl of oil-boiled whole Daga, which most of you reading would probably know as minnows (tiny, bight size fish)-- and in case you were curious, as far as fishy smelling fish go, Daga are strong competition for first. With the tomato tainted oil base that almost all meats are prepared and served in, one either pours it over the big dish of rice, or with rice or ugali mold it in your hand to dip it the oil-- other than the rare occasion that we are given a spoon, everything is eaten with the Right hand, all things handed between people are also with the right hand (the left hand is for the butt)...yes, I am left handed.
Where drinks in the villages are concerned, there is usually some form of water around, but unless it is bottled there is always a questionable gamble about the safety of drinking it... most often the the gamble is stacked against you. Other than that we might receive some hot chi tea, but usually without milk.
As far as eating in restaurants go here, there is a strong Indian population here so I have had the opportunity to eat some great Indian food (great by my mouth's standards, however my bowels often beg to differ--as they do with the food in the villages).
On a related note, I have also killed (by way of decapitation) a rooster and a fat-tail sheep. the missionaries wanted the interns to have the experience of having to kill for food as is almost always the case with villages here, with few exceptions. However, when it came down to it I was the one that did the sawing. It sucks that we have to kill animals to give our body what it needs. some wouldn't understand this sentiment, but people attribute some sort of intelligent emotional system to their pets by observing how they react to the way we treat them, so why not animals that aren't pets? Moreover, I don't think it was part of God's original plan for creation, but that's another conversation.
Last but not least is my Safari to the Serengeti. For any who don't know, the Serengeti is a very large area in Africa where African wildlife still run free. It has been declared a sort of park with certain laws and guarded by rangers, such as no hunting, no getting out of the car accept in selected areas and no unlicensed entry, but there are no fences. So we drove through in a land cruiser with a roof that raises so we can stand and saw just about all the African animals one could as for, in their natural habitat. It is the time of season for migration so we saw maybe a million Wildebeest and hundreds of thousands of Zebras, and many of the animals had fairly recently had their babies as well so we were able to see young giraffe, Zebra, Wildebeests, lions, warthogs, crocodiles, antelope, elephants, baboons etc... We also saw hippo, cheetah and leopard, ostridges, love birds and some other really magnificent birds.
As a disclaimer, I feel really unable to here grasp in text (or even later in voice) my experience of being in the Serengeti, though for those of you for whom that just won't do, I will make a small attempt and hopefully throw in some pictures later.
I used the word magnificent ending with the birds because there were so many and I don't want to take the time to name them all nor am I able, though if I were to use one word to describe the experience as a whole, magnificent in its greatest weight of meaning would be it. At times I could forget that we were not in some sort of drive-thru zoo because the animals were so relaxed and just looking at us (they have grown use to cars to some degree), however the slightest thing would remind me that this was just life for them. Things like seeing wildebeest fight or cross the river; baby warthogs run behind their mom in a single file; a lioness hunting a herd of wildebeest; at sunrise coming across a few lions (males, cubs, and lioness included) right next to the road, relaxing and picking at the fresh kill they made earlier that morning and looking into the lion's eyes; listening to the near by sounds of wildebeest, zebra, hyena, and the deep roar of lions while resting in my tent at night; Even just seeing a colt giraffe running beside us for a few seconds as we drove past a whole family, seeing all of this was a magnificent, refreshing, reality check--sometimes frightening and sometimes borrowing--breath of life to me in ways I can't describe.
Going along with what I have previously mentioned, the comfortable living conditions of the missionaries has also included, at it's best borderline gourmet food, and all other times nothing less than what can commonly be found in American homes. However, outside the missionaries homes my stomach is a great reminder that I am still in Africa. In the villages the staple foods have been rice (this being the greatest because it was a really good year for rice) and ugali, a sort of thick cornmeal base dough (though much less of this and other corn products because it was a bad year for corn). with one or both of these staples accompaniments might include one or multiple selects from beans, boiled greens, cow chopped into small chunks (I describe it this way because they more or less skin the cow and then just start chopping, intestines, bones, traditional meats, fat) boiled in lots of oil and tomato, or the same might be done of a goat; at times we've received a whole fish to pick from (apparently the best meat is at the head by the way, which is saved for honored guest like ourselves); another item we often receive is a bowl of oil-boiled whole Daga, which most of you reading would probably know as minnows (tiny, bight size fish)-- and in case you were curious, as far as fishy smelling fish go, Daga are strong competition for first. With the tomato tainted oil base that almost all meats are prepared and served in, one either pours it over the big dish of rice, or with rice or ugali mold it in your hand to dip it the oil-- other than the rare occasion that we are given a spoon, everything is eaten with the Right hand, all things handed between people are also with the right hand (the left hand is for the butt)...yes, I am left handed.
Where drinks in the villages are concerned, there is usually some form of water around, but unless it is bottled there is always a questionable gamble about the safety of drinking it... most often the the gamble is stacked against you. Other than that we might receive some hot chi tea, but usually without milk.
As far as eating in restaurants go here, there is a strong Indian population here so I have had the opportunity to eat some great Indian food (great by my mouth's standards, however my bowels often beg to differ--as they do with the food in the villages).
On a related note, I have also killed (by way of decapitation) a rooster and a fat-tail sheep. the missionaries wanted the interns to have the experience of having to kill for food as is almost always the case with villages here, with few exceptions. However, when it came down to it I was the one that did the sawing. It sucks that we have to kill animals to give our body what it needs. some wouldn't understand this sentiment, but people attribute some sort of intelligent emotional system to their pets by observing how they react to the way we treat them, so why not animals that aren't pets? Moreover, I don't think it was part of God's original plan for creation, but that's another conversation.
Last but not least is my Safari to the Serengeti. For any who don't know, the Serengeti is a very large area in Africa where African wildlife still run free. It has been declared a sort of park with certain laws and guarded by rangers, such as no hunting, no getting out of the car accept in selected areas and no unlicensed entry, but there are no fences. So we drove through in a land cruiser with a roof that raises so we can stand and saw just about all the African animals one could as for, in their natural habitat. It is the time of season for migration so we saw maybe a million Wildebeest and hundreds of thousands of Zebras, and many of the animals had fairly recently had their babies as well so we were able to see young giraffe, Zebra, Wildebeests, lions, warthogs, crocodiles, antelope, elephants, baboons etc... We also saw hippo, cheetah and leopard, ostridges, love birds and some other really magnificent birds.
As a disclaimer, I feel really unable to here grasp in text (or even later in voice) my experience of being in the Serengeti, though for those of you for whom that just won't do, I will make a small attempt and hopefully throw in some pictures later.
I used the word magnificent ending with the birds because there were so many and I don't want to take the time to name them all nor am I able, though if I were to use one word to describe the experience as a whole, magnificent in its greatest weight of meaning would be it. At times I could forget that we were not in some sort of drive-thru zoo because the animals were so relaxed and just looking at us (they have grown use to cars to some degree), however the slightest thing would remind me that this was just life for them. Things like seeing wildebeest fight or cross the river; baby warthogs run behind their mom in a single file; a lioness hunting a herd of wildebeest; at sunrise coming across a few lions (males, cubs, and lioness included) right next to the road, relaxing and picking at the fresh kill they made earlier that morning and looking into the lion's eyes; listening to the near by sounds of wildebeest, zebra, hyena, and the deep roar of lions while resting in my tent at night; Even just seeing a colt giraffe running beside us for a few seconds as we drove past a whole family, seeing all of this was a magnificent, refreshing, reality check--sometimes frightening and sometimes borrowing--breath of life to me in ways I can't describe.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
deceiving myself
happy 07/07/07 everyone.
last week the other interns and I went on a four day survey trip to the towns Shinyanga and Kahama a few hours south of Mwanza. The purpose of the trip was three main parts: to see other towns in Tanzania, perhaps to see what sort of aid or mission work is being done other than Church of Christ, and to gather information oh these towns as possible locations for long term missions for whoever might consider.
As far as information gathered I don't feel the importance of recording it here at this time, however the trip did greatly effect me and it is to that affect that I wish to write.
While we were in the towns I began to be overwhelmed by all that was around me; by the conditions that all of these people live in day and night, the only condition that most of them have ever and perhaps will ever know, along with countless generations before them. I was overwhelmed by the contrast of their living conditions to my own that I have grown up with (and continued in as I drove through the towns in an air conditioned Land Cruiser) and so many others so excessively comfortable throughout the world, and that we have allowed this contrast for so long. The panic attack began to set in, deep inside as their lives became more and more real to me and less and less could I understand how us "superior" species can do this; I could only ask "why?!" Moreover I was not only feeling them more vividly than ever but it was as though I could feel my own comfortable and self preserving life battling against the feeling of their lives within me and I felt as though my spirit was being torn and broken. I became claustrophobic of the minimal conditions around me, both for it being all the people around me had and at the idea of myself in their place; I was able to image myself in their place in a more real way than I had ever before and I didn't know what to do with it.
I'm sure I am sounding redundant but that is because of my in ability to describe what I felt. A felt, vivid reality of the pain and evil in the world (and in myself) and the very real contrast of the Kingdom of God(love) and what a life accordingly means came weighing in on me like a rising ocean current,drowning me. It became hard to breath, hard not to run, hard not to cry and burst in anger all at once.
-----------------------------------
Yet, as I was reflecting on this in my journal I recalled all the ideas about Africa I have had before that time in the town and wondered at how much I talked (to others or myself) about going to Africa to live and changing my life style and giving up everything... and wondered at how much all of that was just to convince myself that I really cared more than the masses; to comfort myself with delusions of really doing something about_______.
"Do not be deceived, do not flatter them and their life and do not make a martyr of myself; our lives are different beyond the very meaning of the word."
I am actually not saying that I no longer think I could live in Africa or give up everything only that I have a clearer reality of what that would mean and how far my life is from that as is. I do not think I will be coming back to America talking about how miserable I was in the villages, in fact I think this makes really displacing myself more truly possible and better for the world around me than before.
last week the other interns and I went on a four day survey trip to the towns Shinyanga and Kahama a few hours south of Mwanza. The purpose of the trip was three main parts: to see other towns in Tanzania, perhaps to see what sort of aid or mission work is being done other than Church of Christ, and to gather information oh these towns as possible locations for long term missions for whoever might consider.
As far as information gathered I don't feel the importance of recording it here at this time, however the trip did greatly effect me and it is to that affect that I wish to write.
While we were in the towns I began to be overwhelmed by all that was around me; by the conditions that all of these people live in day and night, the only condition that most of them have ever and perhaps will ever know, along with countless generations before them. I was overwhelmed by the contrast of their living conditions to my own that I have grown up with (and continued in as I drove through the towns in an air conditioned Land Cruiser) and so many others so excessively comfortable throughout the world, and that we have allowed this contrast for so long. The panic attack began to set in, deep inside as their lives became more and more real to me and less and less could I understand how us "superior" species can do this; I could only ask "why?!" Moreover I was not only feeling them more vividly than ever but it was as though I could feel my own comfortable and self preserving life battling against the feeling of their lives within me and I felt as though my spirit was being torn and broken. I became claustrophobic of the minimal conditions around me, both for it being all the people around me had and at the idea of myself in their place; I was able to image myself in their place in a more real way than I had ever before and I didn't know what to do with it.
I'm sure I am sounding redundant but that is because of my in ability to describe what I felt. A felt, vivid reality of the pain and evil in the world (and in myself) and the very real contrast of the Kingdom of God(love) and what a life accordingly means came weighing in on me like a rising ocean current,drowning me. It became hard to breath, hard not to run, hard not to cry and burst in anger all at once.
-----------------------------------
Yet, as I was reflecting on this in my journal I recalled all the ideas about Africa I have had before that time in the town and wondered at how much I talked (to others or myself) about going to Africa to live and changing my life style and giving up everything... and wondered at how much all of that was just to convince myself that I really cared more than the masses; to comfort myself with delusions of really doing something about_______.
"Do not be deceived, do not flatter them and their life and do not make a martyr of myself; our lives are different beyond the very meaning of the word."
I am actually not saying that I no longer think I could live in Africa or give up everything only that I have a clearer reality of what that would mean and how far my life is from that as is. I do not think I will be coming back to America talking about how miserable I was in the villages, in fact I think this makes really displacing myself more truly possible and better for the world around me than before.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
frustration and a new love.
Since I last wrote, culture shock has began to set in and I have just been trying to figure out what is actually going on around me and how to approach it (the culture here, the economic conditions, and the missionaries in their approach), to which I have not only been constantly busy but have felt very illiquid to make a post about.
I have come to realize that this internship isn't set up to be like I had hoped and expected it to be (even though I keep telling myself I didn't have any expectation coming in). I came hoping simply to live among the people here and see and be part of their daily lives; to learn who they are and let them know who I am; to build relationship. I wanted to see something different, to see a different culture and maybe a different Christianity. I wanted to get outside myself.
For the most part this hasn't happened. I have been wrestling with a lot of frustrations and I fear I will sound very disgruntled and even harsh when I tell about them, but I feel I need to in order to give reality to where I am now.
One of these factors that I didn't expect is that the missionary families all live in a sort of suburb of the city of Mwanza--which is 1 million people-- and in generally nice houses, even by American standards. They work mostly with people in villages and have to drive one to 5 hours just to get to most of these villages. Bwiru, the suburbish area in which they live and I am staying isn't without difficulty I assure you (after all, This Is Africa), but generally speaking, I feel removed. when I am in their homes I feel no different than if I was in an American home (other than the power frequently and unexpectedly going off). I didn't expect that the missionaries would live in mud brick huts as those in the villages, but I didn't expect to be so guarded.
The far away villages that we drive to everyday are always new as well, so it has been hard to build relationship from repeated visits. Moreover, when we are in the villages I can't speak much of the language other than greetings, so I mostly just sit quietly listening to sermons or conversations that I can't understand and usually go completely untranslated. I also feel the American way of "doing" church and the mission "field" terminology around me and working its way into the village churches here and it keeps me up at night. That's another conversation though.
I wrote in my journal that my time in the villages has been the greatest feeling of a formal environment that I think I have ever felt. This is in part due to the language barrier so which makes me feeling unable to speak-- I am good at not making the effort to have conversation with people and keeping to myself, but I don't want that anymore. But the formal feeling has more do to with cultural customs that are much more prominent here.
The first of these which has really tended to frustrate me at times is that everywhere we go we are received as very formally honored guests. In the Sukuma language the word for "guest" comes from the same word as that of "gift", of which a guest is one of the greatest, along with the honor of being able to show hospitality to one's guest. This includes them insisting we sit in the only chairs while they are on the ground; sit in these chairs in front of everyone during worship service, and eat the choice food, while the amount and quality of food lessens the younger the family member (children just above animals in some ways). This has really been frustrating to me at times when all I want to do is talk to them and play with the kids or football with anyone, and learn about what there lives are like on a daily basis. I can't explain my frustration at times toward this formal feeling in the context of the missionaries coming on church business are honored. I was looking at the wrong way though.
I have also been frustrated in how I feel removed from everyone else (other than missionaries) who live here in Mwanza as a whole. I particularly feel this on Friday nights when I can here the party going on at the near by pub and think about who the people were that Jesus spent time with, while I am safely gated in the christian home. Or how I drive hours everyday to go to villages, when I might be playing with kids from the mud huts right behind our house. So much of the world goes through things everyday that I hardly know anything about, much less can I say I know how they feel; I don't want to feel removed anymore.
But as I have begun to get past my own frustrations and expectations for this trip (many are still there, I have just learned to get past them), I have began to really appreciate their hospitality greater than any I have experienced. They see us as a great gift and the opportunity to give the best of themselves and what they have as a gift just moreover, and I can't get my mind around that when they have so little to give and the adults, and especially their children, are severely malnourished. they farm for their food they eat and for any money it might get them to sell it, and here we are eating so much of it. I have no place to reject their gift though, I realize I am not above allowing them to love in a way I have never emptied myself to, and they don't even think twice about it. I think part of my resistance to this all (and Satan battling against me) is that I am trying to avoid thinking about this difference but rather can comfort myself in thinking about 'how selfish I wasn't' in not taking the starving people's food and gifts right then. Trying to avoid thinking about all that I'm not doing and what of my life and things I'm not really giving, but rather we think to ourselves "keep it, we don't need your gifts, we've got ourselves covered...".
I am realizing how much I do need their gifts. I am humbled beyond words in their honoring me. I have been thinking even further about my own comfort and realizing how much more I still have that I will have to give before I have "emptied" myself as Jesus did.
This hospitality and kindness isn't even so much a Christian custom either, as it is just the way they are. In fact, everywhere I go people treat me with great kindness simply because it is good. almost everyone I have spent any time with are like those one or two people in Sunday school, or social club, or work, or where ever that everyone knows and who is the most out going and good at making new comers feel welcome.
This may be really long and not written well at all, but it has helped me to reflect on all that has been going on and I pray that anyone who takes the time to read it will be as blessed as I have been with what I am learning... Those of you who have skipped through don't get the prayers or the blessing; there's a lesson for you to learn. lol...
I have come to realize that this internship isn't set up to be like I had hoped and expected it to be (even though I keep telling myself I didn't have any expectation coming in). I came hoping simply to live among the people here and see and be part of their daily lives; to learn who they are and let them know who I am; to build relationship. I wanted to see something different, to see a different culture and maybe a different Christianity. I wanted to get outside myself.
For the most part this hasn't happened. I have been wrestling with a lot of frustrations and I fear I will sound very disgruntled and even harsh when I tell about them, but I feel I need to in order to give reality to where I am now.
One of these factors that I didn't expect is that the missionary families all live in a sort of suburb of the city of Mwanza--which is 1 million people-- and in generally nice houses, even by American standards. They work mostly with people in villages and have to drive one to 5 hours just to get to most of these villages. Bwiru, the suburbish area in which they live and I am staying isn't without difficulty I assure you (after all, This Is Africa), but generally speaking, I feel removed. when I am in their homes I feel no different than if I was in an American home (other than the power frequently and unexpectedly going off). I didn't expect that the missionaries would live in mud brick huts as those in the villages, but I didn't expect to be so guarded.
The far away villages that we drive to everyday are always new as well, so it has been hard to build relationship from repeated visits. Moreover, when we are in the villages I can't speak much of the language other than greetings, so I mostly just sit quietly listening to sermons or conversations that I can't understand and usually go completely untranslated. I also feel the American way of "doing" church and the mission "field" terminology around me and working its way into the village churches here and it keeps me up at night. That's another conversation though.
I wrote in my journal that my time in the villages has been the greatest feeling of a formal environment that I think I have ever felt. This is in part due to the language barrier so which makes me feeling unable to speak-- I am good at not making the effort to have conversation with people and keeping to myself, but I don't want that anymore. But the formal feeling has more do to with cultural customs that are much more prominent here.
The first of these which has really tended to frustrate me at times is that everywhere we go we are received as very formally honored guests. In the Sukuma language the word for "guest" comes from the same word as that of "gift", of which a guest is one of the greatest, along with the honor of being able to show hospitality to one's guest. This includes them insisting we sit in the only chairs while they are on the ground; sit in these chairs in front of everyone during worship service, and eat the choice food, while the amount and quality of food lessens the younger the family member (children just above animals in some ways). This has really been frustrating to me at times when all I want to do is talk to them and play with the kids or football with anyone, and learn about what there lives are like on a daily basis. I can't explain my frustration at times toward this formal feeling in the context of the missionaries coming on church business are honored. I was looking at the wrong way though.
I have also been frustrated in how I feel removed from everyone else (other than missionaries) who live here in Mwanza as a whole. I particularly feel this on Friday nights when I can here the party going on at the near by pub and think about who the people were that Jesus spent time with, while I am safely gated in the christian home. Or how I drive hours everyday to go to villages, when I might be playing with kids from the mud huts right behind our house. So much of the world goes through things everyday that I hardly know anything about, much less can I say I know how they feel; I don't want to feel removed anymore.
But as I have begun to get past my own frustrations and expectations for this trip (many are still there, I have just learned to get past them), I have began to really appreciate their hospitality greater than any I have experienced. They see us as a great gift and the opportunity to give the best of themselves and what they have as a gift just moreover, and I can't get my mind around that when they have so little to give and the adults, and especially their children, are severely malnourished. they farm for their food they eat and for any money it might get them to sell it, and here we are eating so much of it. I have no place to reject their gift though, I realize I am not above allowing them to love in a way I have never emptied myself to, and they don't even think twice about it. I think part of my resistance to this all (and Satan battling against me) is that I am trying to avoid thinking about this difference but rather can comfort myself in thinking about 'how selfish I wasn't' in not taking the starving people's food and gifts right then. Trying to avoid thinking about all that I'm not doing and what of my life and things I'm not really giving, but rather we think to ourselves "keep it, we don't need your gifts, we've got ourselves covered...".
I am realizing how much I do need their gifts. I am humbled beyond words in their honoring me. I have been thinking even further about my own comfort and realizing how much more I still have that I will have to give before I have "emptied" myself as Jesus did.
This hospitality and kindness isn't even so much a Christian custom either, as it is just the way they are. In fact, everywhere I go people treat me with great kindness simply because it is good. almost everyone I have spent any time with are like those one or two people in Sunday school, or social club, or work, or where ever that everyone knows and who is the most out going and good at making new comers feel welcome.
This may be really long and not written well at all, but it has helped me to reflect on all that has been going on and I pray that anyone who takes the time to read it will be as blessed as I have been with what I am learning... Those of you who have skipped through don't get the prayers or the blessing; there's a lesson for you to learn. lol...
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
the above line...
Since I created this blog and the name of it, "IN TRANS[IT]LATION", I have gone throughout and ended everyday with the undeveloped concept that produced that title which goes something like this:
That everything is a translation of and in translation by the things around it and, in the same fashion, are always in transit within it's translators and in its translation of other things. To explain how I see this to apply to humans I will speak in reference to myself. I am something of a compilation, unique in original design perhaps, to begin an ever constant translating process. I am constantly translating, refering less to conscious thought but rather my very design or existence. in regards to conscious translating this might also be described as my perception, but again, this doesn't quite satisfactorially grasp my thinking; of every relationship, sound, sight, touch, taste, smell, emotion around me, my very being is a translating process. I am a sort of version of everything around me.
This then brings me to myself as a translation. As I am constantly translating so also I am an ever changing translation, in appearance, word, interests and action. In all these can be seen and are themselves the translated compilation of everything around me. Even now, the words that I write are a translation of all that has shaped me to this point, and in your reading of them you are translating me.
Consequently, As there is often gaps of thought and seemingly inexpressable concepts between different laguages, so also is the case with me. I am an incomplete translation of that around me, there are certainly gaps, but always refining, hopefully toward clearer translation which materializes in my personality, word, deed and emotion.
Naturally I am always In Transit --"naturally" meaning day-to-day physical activity. To elaborate though, this also has to do with me finding an importance in travel and exploring new translations different than my own, that I might improve my own.
Moreover, this idea of being "in transit" comes from my inability to find a rational or otherwise justifiable argument on which to build a case for any given object, territory or accomplishment as my own and thus my right. It seems to me that for everything we make use or pleasure of, there are others that have come before us in some fashion that might at least stake equal, or to be more realistic more claim, and to which the privilege or credit of such is due.
Thus I am simply a constant guest or borrower of resources and time, and therefore accept these with thanks and by grace (for the time that I can). Freely and gladly willing to share to the last, that another might find it a gift likewise when I am finished and gone.
It is only necessary at this point to make a brief mention that I also mean "in transit" in regards to my ever changing mental capacity and processes.
Finally, "In Transit" speaks of the encompassing context that I view this life in, which is a story; more specifically a narrative. I have come to view all of history and existence as a story with an advancing plot and the life that I lead as a small intrical (not sure about this spelling) role within. The constant translating and translation that I am determine how I read the story, both in finding my personal role, and who the narrator is whom I believe is telling it--whom which all of my translations have given voice to the One God of Israel.
That said, I am apt to believe that perhaps the unique design as which I might have began is a translation of the narrator himself.
As this applies to this blog, it represents a sort of front page of the most current translating efforts and translations within me throughout my travels. It takes on its title to remind both myself and the reader that I am just a rough draft, as is everything I write here, of my own efforts to understand and grasp the wiser persons and more magnificant concepts, sights and other experiences that I am the vague compilation of and may my acknowledgement always go as I try also to understand the person that I am with each new translation.
That everything is a translation of and in translation by the things around it and, in the same fashion, are always in transit within it's translators and in its translation of other things. To explain how I see this to apply to humans I will speak in reference to myself. I am something of a compilation, unique in original design perhaps, to begin an ever constant translating process. I am constantly translating, refering less to conscious thought but rather my very design or existence. in regards to conscious translating this might also be described as my perception, but again, this doesn't quite satisfactorially grasp my thinking; of every relationship, sound, sight, touch, taste, smell, emotion around me, my very being is a translating process. I am a sort of version of everything around me.
This then brings me to myself as a translation. As I am constantly translating so also I am an ever changing translation, in appearance, word, interests and action. In all these can be seen and are themselves the translated compilation of everything around me. Even now, the words that I write are a translation of all that has shaped me to this point, and in your reading of them you are translating me.
Consequently, As there is often gaps of thought and seemingly inexpressable concepts between different laguages, so also is the case with me. I am an incomplete translation of that around me, there are certainly gaps, but always refining, hopefully toward clearer translation which materializes in my personality, word, deed and emotion.
Naturally I am always In Transit --"naturally" meaning day-to-day physical activity. To elaborate though, this also has to do with me finding an importance in travel and exploring new translations different than my own, that I might improve my own.
Moreover, this idea of being "in transit" comes from my inability to find a rational or otherwise justifiable argument on which to build a case for any given object, territory or accomplishment as my own and thus my right. It seems to me that for everything we make use or pleasure of, there are others that have come before us in some fashion that might at least stake equal, or to be more realistic more claim, and to which the privilege or credit of such is due.
Thus I am simply a constant guest or borrower of resources and time, and therefore accept these with thanks and by grace (for the time that I can). Freely and gladly willing to share to the last, that another might find it a gift likewise when I am finished and gone.
It is only necessary at this point to make a brief mention that I also mean "in transit" in regards to my ever changing mental capacity and processes.
Finally, "In Transit" speaks of the encompassing context that I view this life in, which is a story; more specifically a narrative. I have come to view all of history and existence as a story with an advancing plot and the life that I lead as a small intrical (not sure about this spelling) role within. The constant translating and translation that I am determine how I read the story, both in finding my personal role, and who the narrator is whom I believe is telling it--whom which all of my translations have given voice to the One God of Israel.
That said, I am apt to believe that perhaps the unique design as which I might have began is a translation of the narrator himself.
As this applies to this blog, it represents a sort of front page of the most current translating efforts and translations within me throughout my travels. It takes on its title to remind both myself and the reader that I am just a rough draft, as is everything I write here, of my own efforts to understand and grasp the wiser persons and more magnificant concepts, sights and other experiences that I am the vague compilation of and may my acknowledgement always go as I try also to understand the person that I am with each new translation.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
out of the country... a few times over.
This is my first opportunity to write and it is really long and I am still jet lagged so you may want to skip down, to where there is a line gap and says "Tanzania:"
I've just finished my second full day here in Mwanza Tanzania, but let me back track a little first, to my first out of the country/Europe experience.
I will worn you now that I am likely to romanticize these stories a little, but that is part of the hearing about my experience aye? That it is through my eyes and my words.
I had one day in London so I took the train from the airport to Peddington station--honestly, I didn't know where I was going and it was probably obvious to most but I think I fooled some that I belonged though. I walked out the nearest way I could find and found myself in Westminster Little Venice for the day, which is exactly what it sounds like. I think my favorite part of it though was where a little alley led between apartment buildings to a little square that was made into a green house and organic market of sorts. There were beautiful plants everywhere, a very classy indoor/outdoor organic cafe' and a quaint little wood shed with a grass roof with fresh bread, jams, spices, cheeses, and wines. It was terrific to say the least, and right in the middle of the city. I fell in love with that quaint little piece of town and thought about how great it would have been to live in one of those apartments over looking the garden on one side and town and the little Venice river on the other, then I remembered that this was just a very little piece of London, much less Europe, and I need to keep my whits about me.
Honestly this wasn't my first memorable London experience though, that would have been when the flight attendant offered me wine on the jet and i declined it thinking she didn't realize I wasn't 21... I shouldn't flatter myself. that only happened once though...
my first memorable land experience was losing my ipod on the bus that shuttled us from the jet to the airport. quick huh? I am open to the idea that maybe that was God didn't want me to be distracted as I can be and to experience things in Europe and Tanzania in full thought and able to hear him around me.
Tanzania:
When I arrived in Dar es Salaam, I found that my flight to Mwanza wasn't changed from the original date I was suppose to leave, on the 27th. I arrive at 7am and the soonest flight I could catch was 6pm. A guy at the airport that helps tourist out with planning trips and showing them around also helped me realize my problem and took me into down town Dar to a market. In short it was a good experience to see the city but mostly to have that time with David (which is what he told me his name is, but I think his Tanzanian name is something like Duidu). We talked about family and American business vs. Tanzanian business and I even had a conversation with our Muslim taxi driver through him, apparently about why we don't live 900 years and such anymore like early Old Testament stories. From what I understand, he said it was because everything we eat and drink and breath is so processed now that our bodies aren't as healthy; I think he also connected it with sin at some point, but the translation was hazy. At any rate, I agreed with the general principle, but I wasn't so sure if that was quite why we don't live 900 years anymore. I don't know why though.
Yesterday in Mwanza I was able to begin studying language, Swahili and Sukuma, Swahili more for in Mwanza and Sukuma is more what most of the villages use. I really like the languages, but it has definitely been difficult to keep up, especially without and note book so far. I was was able to play soccer with a bunch of guys here which which was brilliant! they welcomed pretty easily and asked me to come back every night; yeah! they play every night. lots of'em! I'm stoked! I also heard I missed the Africa qualifying match for the world championship or some other between Tanzania and another country which was held in Mwanza (and nothing like that ever comes to Mwanza), so...
A few things off the bat that have been new experiences for me are that there are people everywhere! Everywhere people because people walk everywhere and thus, with all of that foot traffic there are markets and things set of outside everywhere. I don't have anything profound to say about that just yet really; we've almost hit a few in the land cruiser, but I've really enjoyed always having someone to wave at while driving by, especially around the villages, and I am already feeling that I will be very lonely in my car back in America.
Today we went to the village Edonda though, which was surreal and so very real. on the way we stopped by the home of a man named Charles showed us the grave of his 4 month old girl and then hosted a meal of sweet potatoes. Charles has 17 kids I think, by two wives, one of which he took to care for after his brother died. Unfortunately, even though Charles is a leader in the Church by his way of life, it won't officially acknowledge him since he has two wives.
from there we continued to the village where they also insisted on us eating with them a meal of beans and rice with Chi and milk (we actually ate right before we left town). Then we watched and listened to many of the kids sing and dance for us, both before and after A missionary, Calvin gave a lesson. being there to listen and watch those kids, and see how 10s of them chased our car and were so excited about us being there, it was an experience I didn't know what to do with but to smile and express any return thanks and excitement that I knew how.
Sorry it's so long, but I felt the need to catch everyone up, and also just to get it all out of my system. Hopefully they will be shorter from this point... mostly.
I've just finished my second full day here in Mwanza Tanzania, but let me back track a little first, to my first out of the country/Europe experience.
I will worn you now that I am likely to romanticize these stories a little, but that is part of the hearing about my experience aye? That it is through my eyes and my words.
I had one day in London so I took the train from the airport to Peddington station--honestly, I didn't know where I was going and it was probably obvious to most but I think I fooled some that I belonged though. I walked out the nearest way I could find and found myself in Westminster Little Venice for the day, which is exactly what it sounds like. I think my favorite part of it though was where a little alley led between apartment buildings to a little square that was made into a green house and organic market of sorts. There were beautiful plants everywhere, a very classy indoor/outdoor organic cafe' and a quaint little wood shed with a grass roof with fresh bread, jams, spices, cheeses, and wines. It was terrific to say the least, and right in the middle of the city. I fell in love with that quaint little piece of town and thought about how great it would have been to live in one of those apartments over looking the garden on one side and town and the little Venice river on the other, then I remembered that this was just a very little piece of London, much less Europe, and I need to keep my whits about me.
Honestly this wasn't my first memorable London experience though, that would have been when the flight attendant offered me wine on the jet and i declined it thinking she didn't realize I wasn't 21... I shouldn't flatter myself. that only happened once though...
my first memorable land experience was losing my ipod on the bus that shuttled us from the jet to the airport. quick huh? I am open to the idea that maybe that was God didn't want me to be distracted as I can be and to experience things in Europe and Tanzania in full thought and able to hear him around me.
Tanzania:
When I arrived in Dar es Salaam, I found that my flight to Mwanza wasn't changed from the original date I was suppose to leave, on the 27th. I arrive at 7am and the soonest flight I could catch was 6pm. A guy at the airport that helps tourist out with planning trips and showing them around also helped me realize my problem and took me into down town Dar to a market. In short it was a good experience to see the city but mostly to have that time with David (which is what he told me his name is, but I think his Tanzanian name is something like Duidu). We talked about family and American business vs. Tanzanian business and I even had a conversation with our Muslim taxi driver through him, apparently about why we don't live 900 years and such anymore like early Old Testament stories. From what I understand, he said it was because everything we eat and drink and breath is so processed now that our bodies aren't as healthy; I think he also connected it with sin at some point, but the translation was hazy. At any rate, I agreed with the general principle, but I wasn't so sure if that was quite why we don't live 900 years anymore. I don't know why though.
Yesterday in Mwanza I was able to begin studying language, Swahili and Sukuma, Swahili more for in Mwanza and Sukuma is more what most of the villages use. I really like the languages, but it has definitely been difficult to keep up, especially without and note book so far. I was was able to play soccer with a bunch of guys here which which was brilliant! they welcomed pretty easily and asked me to come back every night; yeah! they play every night. lots of'em! I'm stoked! I also heard I missed the Africa qualifying match for the world championship or some other between Tanzania and another country which was held in Mwanza (and nothing like that ever comes to Mwanza), so...
A few things off the bat that have been new experiences for me are that there are people everywhere! Everywhere people because people walk everywhere and thus, with all of that foot traffic there are markets and things set of outside everywhere. I don't have anything profound to say about that just yet really; we've almost hit a few in the land cruiser, but I've really enjoyed always having someone to wave at while driving by, especially around the villages, and I am already feeling that I will be very lonely in my car back in America.
Today we went to the village Edonda though, which was surreal and so very real. on the way we stopped by the home of a man named Charles showed us the grave of his 4 month old girl and then hosted a meal of sweet potatoes. Charles has 17 kids I think, by two wives, one of which he took to care for after his brother died. Unfortunately, even though Charles is a leader in the Church by his way of life, it won't officially acknowledge him since he has two wives.
from there we continued to the village where they also insisted on us eating with them a meal of beans and rice with Chi and milk (we actually ate right before we left town). Then we watched and listened to many of the kids sing and dance for us, both before and after A missionary, Calvin gave a lesson. being there to listen and watch those kids, and see how 10s of them chased our car and were so excited about us being there, it was an experience I didn't know what to do with but to smile and express any return thanks and excitement that I knew how.
Sorry it's so long, but I felt the need to catch everyone up, and also just to get it all out of my system. Hopefully they will be shorter from this point... mostly.
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