You are currently browsing the monthly archive for May 2006.
Today was a full day. Faye’s right when she says that life here is seems more extreme. The beautiful things are really beautiful. The ugly things are really hard to take in. Today’s events in a short list: Lighthouse in the morning (group games and celebrating bdays), Book (Missions and Money by Jonathan Bonk) discussion at lunch with the servant team and Faye , visited some of the Tailor’s shops (Alimamy / Michael, David, Sheku), went to Kroo Bay (Michelle took care of some of the kids’ wounds while I took a lot of pictures of the boys playing football), Dinner at the Aberdeen house, and then watched the movie Cry Freetown together.
The book we finished reading (and discussed today) was really challenging. It basically examined and critiqued Western Affluence in the context of Missions (lives of Missionaries). I don’t want to get too bogged down in “church talk” or “philosphical/theological discussion” because I don’t think I have enough brain power or time to think and write as I’d want. I do want to express how I feel, and the things that I am struggling with, the things I believe, and to be honest with you: the things I want to believe.
Though wealth, access, affluence and opportunity can be guaged relatively ( you can always be poorer than someone else or richer than another), I’d say that I am a very wealth person with access and opportunity to a lot of things that many other people may not have access to. Education is an easy example of that. There are a lot of things that I don’t always consider that make me a very wealth person. Still, I feel like I am a pretty simple person. I try to push towards making ends meet, and with being generous with my time as a rule with my life. If we really examine what the Bible says about wealth and the poor, it can be really disturbing. It is said that it is easier for a camel to go through an eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God. That image keeps coming up over and over in my head.
Bear with me, this is a bit disjointed. I struggle with my affluence. I hate the after-effects of being from the West: broken relationships ( due to envy ), and inablitity to relate to people, a false sense of God and the gospel, an inability to truly be relient on God and not ourselves, and this sense that the gospel is carried out only from the rich to the poor. I hate how my white ( or yella) skin automatically puts me in first place: in the minds of people, in the real order of the material world, in this place here. It is hard to consider how Western Affluence can be destructive to places that missionaries inhabit. It’s harder to know that I am part of that.
I’m not trying to beat myself up. I think I can be pretty self-critical and in turn be pretty judgemental to other people outside of myself (you!). It’s humbling to know that each of us has our own journey and that our own decisions surrounding what we have and give is ultimate a matter of the heart, and each person will have a different story about how they grip or let loose of all that they have. Here in Sierra Leone, I feel that my affluent background is always in question: poverty demands a response to the baggage that I carry. In America, I feel that I don’t need to give a rip about my affluence. It’s protected here: guarded, and treasured: this sense of one’s own security.
Another things that really stood out to me is this sense of what being a Christian means. I feel that salvation through Christ is very open and the call is easily accepted. Who wouldn’t turn down eternal life in heaven? However, I feel that the call to discipleship is really really difficult. If it is Jesus that we follow ( and not ourselves, or others, or the world ), then being a disciple is practicing a life that goes against the grain of society. Taking up the cross. Dying to oneself. Choosing Life through Sacrifice. Christ’s incarnation (the Word made Flesh), if truly examined is pretty disturbing. To follow isn’t an easy road. It’s very different from the American desire for comfort, control and self-reliance about all else.
I hope my words aren’t too preachy or too theological. I really treasure all of my friends and family who read this blog and I know that different people have different beliefs and faiths. Still, this is something that’s been really heavy on my heart. Jesus asks over and over for his disciples to follow him, and it isn’t an easy thing. I hope that we can all consider and be critical of our own lives, whatever we may believe. I often wonder if I really believe in Jesus’ love for me, in the depth of his death, and what that means to be a disciple.
I felt my soul move when we finished talking together at the lunch table. I still have a pretty tight grip on my own life, and I find it really humbling to admit that my hand gets tired from holding that grip. If we really believe in something, we won’t just talk about it, but we’ll do what we say: we’ll be who we are to be. Sometimes I feel like all of have is this desire to believe, and it’s as deep as my faith can be at the moment. So I want to fully believe in all that Jesus stands for, and my own commmitment to follow Him, I know that is true. It’s not easy for me to write about all of this, and to be frank, it feels a little weird to put all of these jumbled thoughts up. Still, it’s something I want to keep working out: considering the cost of discipleship, and really moving from a desire to believe, to a faith that grows into something beautiful.
(I’ll also write about Cry Freetown later (sigh: all of these promises…))
I’ve been feeling better, so thanks for your prayers, thoughts and emails. Taking ORS (Oral Rehydration Salts) helped me out a lot even thought it tastes nasty. I feel like my sickness was something physical as well as emotional/spiritual. Sometimes I get really stuck in life when I things get kind of stressful. The gears in my head and the wheels in my heart spin out of control and I feel like I can’t do anything about it.
Malaria was hard, but this sickness ( which I don’t know how to diagnose ) was harder. (This is probably because I caught my case of Malaria early: Malaria’s really hard on the body) It was real hard to get sick, and then feel better, feel bad again, and really not know if I’d get better soon. As much as I was glad that blood tests came back negative for Malara and Typhoid, not knowing what was wrong seemed worse than the worst possible outcome. I at least wanted to know what was wrong with me. Then self pity crept in, and doubt that tommorow would be better, then questioning community support, and all the while trying to sleep in my hot little bed.
I think that’s just part of life here. I’m not sure if it’s the same throughout Africa, but I think getting sick is just part of life in Freetown. Stuff just happens: boils, infections, malaria, diarrhea, stomach aches, weakness. It’s really hard to get sick when you’ve got to take care of yourself along with your family. It’s really hard to be sick by yourself. It’s really hard to not know what’s wrong with your body. I’m really lucky to have community support, and access to some sort of health care. So I’m grateful to grow a greater empathy for this hard part of life. Being sick can be a really lonely experience, and I hope that I never forget how it feels to struggle with not knowing what tommorow will look like.
On a lighter note, Joe and Mindy came back from the USA on Monday night, and they brought back a bunch of stuff including new basketballs. I’m really happy that they’re back and I feel like their arrival’s a shot in the arm for all of us here in Freetown. Yesterday was a really encouraging day, and thought I shouldn’t have, I snuck in a couple games of basketball. Two wins and one loss. Not too shabby for a sick dude. I cramped up at the beginning of the last game. Good thing my teammate did all the scoring and I just fed him the ball inside the paint. It’s good though: I really miss playing basketball and ultimate ( for that matter ) and I love getting in my licks while I can. I’ll write more about hoops and stuff another time. In the mean time, watch some NBA playoffs or Oakland A’s small ball for me! See ya.
Today I went to the doctor to get tested for Malaria. Matt made a joke that if I’m tested positive, I win. Well, not really, but it was funny. Turns out that I tested negative for both Malaria and Typhoid. Wheew. I still don’t know whats wrong with me really. On Saturday I felt weak and sick and I ended up sleeping and resting for most of the day. Sunday I felt a bit better and I felt like I was turning the corner. Today I felt like someone ran over me with a tractor. Confused, I decided to follow the guys out the door to go to Lighthouse. I think the sense of boredom felt worse than my tired and dazed body. I made it through Lighthouse (thankfully), and now here I am drowning my sorrows with the World Wide Web.
Thankfully, I don’t have Malaria again, but I’m still tired and achey. Diarrhea, etc. I hope it goes away soon.
It’s been a struggle for me internally too. It’s hard to consider a lot of change all at once. I miss home, but I also know I’ll miss friends here. I want to make the most of relationships here, and try my best to be present here. This past week was really hard. I hadn’t really slept well for the whole week, and I ended up really withdrawing from everyone and everything here. I had a hard time looking some people in the face ( even my teammates! ) because I felt so torn inside. Crazy, huh?
I’m challenged to trust God with whatever happens. I’ve been really humbled by this thought.
Some of yall have commented that I look real skinny. My team mates look skinnier, but I can’t really vouch for myself. My arms look rail-thin but I still have my fanny-pack belly. My dad would be proud. He wears that thing all the time when we go on vacations.
It drives me nuts. But I guess that’s what dads do. One day I’ll inherit that trait.
I”ll write more soon about the going ons and such. Things are pretty packed from here until the end of our time here. Please keep praying, thinking and hoping for me. See ya. Miss ya.
So I’ve been back for about a week in Freetown. Our trip was good, and I’m really glad that we were able to get away. Getting there was hard on the rear ( think 6 adults crammed into a little Suzuki Sidekick type vehicle for about 9 hours (with about 3-4 hours of bumpy unpaved roads)) But the adventure was worth the sore booty. Have you seen the movie Mystery Men? Well, we each had different (super?)powers: Charles (our guide) had some Rally Car racing skills, Faye demonstrated her super-human powers of squeezing into a small ball in the back of a tiny vehicle, I tried not to whine (cheap mangos and some music helped a bit), Michelle went without a back rest the whole time, and Micah and Matt dealt with the burden of long legs and wide trunks.
Before coming here, I thought life would look more like the African village/bush. Freetown is definitely a bustling city: busy and full. The city has a way of dulling the senses: too much diesel into the brain, too many people in your way, too many hands to feed, too much to think about, and watch your back because someone might be watching your bag (if you know what i mean). It’s crowded here. Lots of people, but I think it’s also a crowding of the senses: I only have two eyes, two ears, a nose, one mouth, two hands, and one brain to take in all of it. It gets overwhelming sometimes.
Our campsite was beautiful. We stayed next to a river in a couple huts and a tent. The campsite had a lot of trees for shade, beautiful flowers in the trees, butterflies, birds, frogs and monkeys. The sunsets were amazing. One night, I had a nice romantic canoe ride with Matt (haha) and we talked in the middle of a river in Africa: under the stars. We saw thunder flashes too. At night, the mosquitos and flies were pretty ruthless: my elbows and legs are covered in bites (even with 100% deet repellant). A couple monkeys joined us. They were cute, but monkeys are monkeys and they got pretty bothersome to me. Sometimes meat comes with bones.
I enjoyed the peace and quiet. I enjoyed seeing all of the beautiful creation: flowers, birds, trees, hippos in the water, birds in the jungle, elephant tracks, buffalo tracks, and the feathers from the Guinea fowl. I had a blast floating down the river in canoes, sitting in the rapid waters with my wmf friends, and swimming from a vine with Micah ( I dare you to ask him to show some of the leaf pictures (haha)). My mind was able to rest and just enjoy the place put in front of me.
I’ve mentioned that I’ve struggled to think and contemplate out here. It’s still true, but I think I’m understanding it better. I think it’s partly spiritual, and partly just the nature of my life here. We (the guys) share a room, and there’s no private space in our whole house. We can escape to the veranda, but that’s still not quiet: the kids will wander in to play, or the generator across the way will be blaring, or someone below will holler up for some attention. I’ve learned that it’s something to fight for: quietness, stillness and a bit of peace. I find God in all places here: work, on the street, in relationships, but I have to fight to find stillness and quietness.
I struggled really hard the morning before we left to come back to Freetown. I was obviously tired and apprehensive about heading back to the city. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but over time, it seemed to become more clear. When I actually find time and space to be with myself, it can be pretty scary. Have you tried it before? Sit in an empty room where it’s totally silent, and just be still and think a little. It’s scary for me because I actually begin to think about my own life: about how I feel and what might heart and soul are wrestling with. I had that space that morning.
I’ve been learning more and more that I’m a selfish person. Granted, we all are selfish and sinful, but I really began to realize that my motivations for a lot of my actions stemmed from this desire to receive something back. I want people to like me, I want to be praised, I want to recieive. I want, I want, I want. I wondered if I’d be OK with realizing that God loves me for who I am. And that he loves so deeply that it’s better and more satisfying than any response I can get from any person, place or thing. There’s something broken inside of me that came out of this. I felt like I was wrestling with this truth that morning. I am loved. I don’t need to try so hard to find it.
The more I’m here, the more I believe that our well being is something very complex. We need to be loved, we need to have our fire, water, and shelter, we need our daily bread. Often I think that I’m here to help, and I’m here to offer what other people don’t have access to, and that I can help to solve life problems in Sierra Leone. I’m realizing that I desire the same things that any other person desires for their life: to be live a full life: to have all my needs met: fire, water, shelter, daily bread, to have hope, to be purposeful (vocation), to be known, and to be loved.
A couple weeks back ( I think… As I backtrack some of these beautiful.elephants), I went with Michelle to visit Joseph M.’s family up in the hills ( I think called Smyleville ) above Freetown. We walked past the prison and through a new market area and headed up the hill to his family’s home. Up up up we went until finally we arrived at his family’s home. We met his mother, his grandmother, and a whole bunch of family that I couldn’t really keep track of.
I sensed Joseph was up to something, because I asked him if I could visit earlier, but he changed the date to Saturday. It turned out that Joseph told his mother about it, and she ended up cooking Casava Leaf and rice for us to eat. It was really good ( I like Casava Leaf … it’s one of my favorite plasas (soup/sauces in Krio) ). Joseph was really happy to have us at his home to meet his family.
Joseph has a certain sense to him that I really appreciate. He’s the kind of guy who wears his feelings on his sleeve. When he’s happy an joyful, you know it full well: he’ll be singing, dancing, and joking around. When he’s down and troubled, it’s also easiy known. It doesn’t happen that happen, but I distinctly remember one Saturday at Kroo Bay when he was late and Abubakar ended up calling him out because Joseph is in charge of leading praise and worship. Joseph was visibly quiet and upset: to be called out and also to be late for his own responsibility. He loves to sing and dance, and when he prays, it’s amazing to hear his passion for God and for other people.
I’ve gotta confess that it’s not always easy for me to hang out with Joseph (or any of the guys for that matter). When up for it, I love to talk, to listen, to dance and sing with my brother. But there are times when my I my introverted self gets really tired from his extroverted personality. Still, I think that’s more about me learning about myself, more than anything. I’ve been learning that it takes a lot of energy to spend time with people, and there are times when I hit my limit and I just need to leave. I joked a bit one night to the guys saying: “I’m no saint, but today I felt like Jesus. People were crowding in, everybody seemed to want attention, and I just had to get away.” I ended up bolting out of Kroo Bay that day, leaving Michelle, Matt, Joseph and Ibrihim to go visit one of the boys who was in jail.
*sorry, that was kind of tangent … back to the story…
I really like meeting Joseph’s family, and it was really fun to see that really like to have fun together. When Michelle and I took out our cameras, Mom, Grandma, and all the kids had a blast posing and hamming it up for the camera. They showed me that their family loved each other by the way they played together. Grandma grabbed a big old plate and put it on her head. The kids pushed in to fit into the frame, making funny faces and smiling big.
The sun cast beautiful light down on their faces. I smiled deep inside at their beautiful brown skin that glowed in front of the yellow house. Freetown’s ugliness faded and the colors screamed of life and hope and love within this home. I wish you could have been there: I felt like there was hope: for Joseph, for his family, for Freetown. Sometimes there are moments when the colors overwhelm my senses in a good way. The beautiful light reminds me that there is hope. Without light, beautiful colors don’t exist. Without light there is no color, there is no life.
