In our last week of classes we reviewed African culture as a whole and the Tonga culture specifically. Nearly all aspects of African culture revolve around survival. Technology bridges the gap between survival and convenience in developed nations, eliminating the fixation on such basic needs. Here in Africa anything that is not fitting for some purpose is quickly fazed out. An illustration of this is in the bodies of the Zambians I’ve seen. They are cut and muscular but not bulky and have no excess fat. Villagers walk kilometers every day just to do more manual labor in their fields. The large muscles found in our workout crazy culture could not find the calories needed to be sustained in the villages. I once read a book about the US Marine Corps and the author said that Marines aren’t tough, they’re ‘hard’. I finally understand what he means. Tough means you can withstand discomfort for a certain period of time. Hard means that prolonged exposure to such harsh conditions makes your body and mind accept them as normal and they adapt accordingly. Many of our team members are these big guys but a wiry Zambian woman could carry a load of water or maize farther than all of us without complaining. It makes them able to withstand living apart from conveniences we deem necessary. My uncle once told me that the human race has starved its way into existence, and that is more or less the case I’ve seen in the villages. This knack for survival, for utility, is seen in many aspects of the culture.
A large part of this is the concept of power. Power is important above all else. Without power you are nothing, say our Zambian friends. Power is good, which leads to survival. Whatever means one takes to obtain power is more or less overlooked. At the risk of making a gross generalization about the continent, this is true in the political history of most African countries since the era of independence.
This pursuit of power and survival is reflected not just in the political history but in the spiritual climate as well. Everything in life is connected to the spiritual fabric that is unseen. When someone dies or gets sick or an object breaks the questions isn’t ‘how did it break?’ but ‘who did this? And why?’ Witch doctors aren’t just things from folk lore, they exist. In fact they are a registered part of the Zambian government. Witch craft is a common practice in the village. The predominant spiritual climate is one of fear: if you don’t appease the ancestors or if you fall on the bad side of a witch doctor bad things will happen to you. Rituals and legalism structures daily life. Control, and therefore power, is obtained through fear. Power comes when a person knows how to manipulate the spiritual powers around them. Again, these concepts are foreign to those of us who grew up in the West but they are everything in much of the developing world. They are definitely foreign to me, but the more time I spend here and as I begin to see the world in this spiritual context the more that the actions of Zambians and greater Africa make sense to me.
Early Observations and Unfinished Thoughts
Most of us in the West think we can come in and make a difference in the developing world, but the majority of people take little time to understand the local culture; how you’re message, whatever that may be, is internalized by the receiving culture depends entirely on their world view, not on the world view we want them to have or think they should have. Does that make sense?
The history of the West and the developing world is one of miscommunication. NGOs, governments, and missionaries have stumbled about Africa for a significant amount of time at this point in history and the fruits of their actions are telling. Just look at a news paper or take a two week trip to any country on the African continent. And I am not saying the end goal of every country should be to be as rich as the U.S., the earth couldn’t sustain it (nor am I saying that we are the saviors riding in on a white horse, Africa’s problems are going to be solved by Africans). I’m talking about attaining a certain level of sustainable independence; in governance; in health care, in education, as well as economic prosperity. Why have we messed up for so long?
Well, much brighter minds than mine have pondered that question for years and no clear answer has emerged. As stated, I think the underlying problem has been one of miscommunication. Plans are made oceans apart from realities on the ground by people who have never lived the experience they are trying to solve. This is compounded by the ineffectiveness in which the well intentioned plan or message is communicated to the recipient culture. Words and phrases mean drastically different things when translated into another language. I am no expert, and I mean that with all sincerity, but the underlying motivations and cultural paradigms for why people act the way they do need to be measured up against the potential plan and evaluated. Is this actually going to work? Do the people need this? Do they want it? I digress.
And with that said, there are many people and organizations who have gotten it right over the years and have made a positive difference in the world around them.
Less Serious Things
We started our diesel mechanics course this week and I flippin’ love it. I never really had an outlet to learn about such things while growing up but I am taking advantage of it while I can. Coming here I really only knew how to change a tire and check the oil on a car. Now I am learning the basic workings of an engine and how to trouble shoot when something goes wrong. In the past I would have used the terms “crank shaft” and “overhead cam” in some sort of crude joke. Now I can use them semi-intelligently. You learn the most just messing around and asking questions. People here on the base are more than happy to help you learn which has been a real blessing.
Also, our PT sessions in the morning have been great. One day we learned how to play rugby from Mark who played semi-pro in England. Another day we wrestled and were taught by Derek who had an open door to wrestle at Purdue. Needless to say he wasted all of us. It was great!
We took a short trip to Victoria Falls. I have seen the falls four times now and this was the most impressive. The water was the highest its been in twenty years. The spray from the falls is like being under a high volume shower head. You literally can’t see 10 feet in front of you because the water pouring over you is so dense. We hiked across this narrow foot bridge and noticed that it was covered in a thin layer of algae. So we turned it into a massive slip and slide. We were running and sliding along the bridge, suspended over one of the seven wonders of the world. Of course the loud and boisterous Americans drew a crowd. And of course everyone else wanted to do it. It was sweet until we wore away the layer of algae and were sliding on straight metal. By the grace of God I still have nipples.
One of the more impressive experiences of my life came last September when I visited the falls in dry season. At that point there is little to no water flowing over the falls and you can hike your way across the rocks, just at the point where the water goes over the edge. The rocks form natural pools of water and we jumped in one that still have a mini water fall feeding the pool but did not reach over the walls of the rocks to go over the edge. So there we were, just climbing and swimming around the rocks and then peaking over the side and looking down the 400ft. drop. Unreal.
This next week we are finishing up our diesel mechanics course and starting our welding course. Also something that will be highly useful in Africa and fun to learn.
My current life goals: learn French, learn to ride a dirt bike (and possibly buy one for Burundi).
Send me your love!
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Smoke that Thunders
Word for word, the name for Victoria Falls in Tonga is ‘Smoke that Thunders’. During the wet season you can see the mist from the falls shoot into the air for miles around. The famous missionary and explorer David Livingstone (also one of my heros) discovered the falls by navigating a canoe towards the large rumbling sound that grew and grew. He landed on an island right above the falls, now named after him, and was the first European to see what is now one of the seven wonders of the natural world. This is where we call home. Our base is 8km down the Zambezi river from the falls. The sound of the river and distant rush of the falls hums quietly in the background.
Dirty Feet
We spent the last six days working with and living amongst the people of the Nyawa kingdom in Siachombo village. We pitched and yawed in the back of the large 4x4 for 6 hours into the bush. The women of the village greeted us with songs as we pulled in. This was the first time many of them had received any attention from the outside world and many of the children had never seen white people before and went running away screaming when we approached them.
Our efforts in Siachombo were meant to supplement the long term presence Overland Missions has in the Nyawa kingdom. An American couple, Jake and Jesse, have committed five years to start sustainable development projects and help train local pastors in Nyawa. One of the more interesting parts of the week for me was seeing how a Mukua, a white person such as myself, goes about establishing a positive presence in Africa. I am fortunate that I can spend three months learning from people with years of experience. Upon first observation: nothing is done without the consent of the village headman, rank and age frame all social interaction; never make a promise you can’t keep; everything starts with relationship, not need based but genuine relationship; of all the people I asked the two most important things they need are fertilizer and education.
Most people are genuinely interested in hearing what you have to say because they have never received positive attention from outside their village before. Many times the only attention they receive from outsiders is for some business venture that does not have their best interest in mind. So when we told them we were there to help them out for no cost they responded with unimaginable gratitude.
It is harvest season and we accompanied the villagers into their maize and ground nut fields. Nearly all the farms, even commercial farms, harvest corn by hand. There are some bigger farms that use machinery but more often than not villagers will harvest some of their maize for consumption and some for sale. Depending on the size of the field a farmer can live quite well. But the size of your field depends on where you rank in the village hierarchy, at least that is what I observed.
We were shepherded around by the deputy village headman who wore a neon green shirt that read “No money, No honey”. Amen brother. Myself and four others walked with a farmer named Richard to his field. As we walked the few kilometers to the field I heard a rattling sound. I looked up and a woman with a child on her back yelled “No brakes!” and swerved by us on one of the wrought iron, single gear bikes that are so common in Africa. Richard showed us an open wound on the bottom of his feet that hindered him from working in the fields. Even though we were not as fast as experienced farmers we still helped him out quite a bit harvesting the maize. His injured foot did not stop him from joining in as we taught the villagers how to toss a Frisbee and American Football.
Richard took us back to his house and we sat under a tree and exchanged questions about life in Zambia and in America. Later on in the day he pulled me aside and showed me where he grew his marijuana patch. I politely declined, but realized the reason he had done so: I was wearing a floppy, full brimmed, tan hat and aviator sunglasses, and upon my own admition, I bore a striking resemblance to Johnny Depp’s portrayal of Hunter S. Thomson in ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’. Nice try Richard! He must be a huge Johnny Depp fan.
Our days were spent helping farmers in the morning and then having meetings or soccer games in the afternoon. The villagers are incredible soccer players. I played around with some of the younger kids and saw that they learn how to dribble with string balls that refine their foot skills acutely. Surprisingly, we held our own considering half our team never played soccer before. Our rag tag bunch of well fed former American football players, former rugby players, and former high school all star soccer players lumbered around the field. Occasionally a sinewy Zambian villager would go flying after a collision. We played two games and lost both 1-0. I consider my soccer skills one of the most valuable things that I learned in the States. You instantly have friends of any age if you start kicking around a ball. Of course everyone wants to see what the curious white man is made of, but they are quick to smile back if you smile at them and “You like Manchester United?”, “Christiano Ronaldo? Messi?” cross all language barriers.
Plus we got to slaughter six chickens and a goat before we ate them! Villagers have goat maybe once a year. We had two and a half during the course of the week and the headman tried to hand us a live one as we drove off. This just goes to show how insanely generous the villagers are.
Laying hands on the sick and casting out demons: crazy spiritual stuff most Westerners won’t believe.
The main reason Overland Missions operates in such remote locations is because we believe that Jesus Christ is the answer to the questions of life; why? For what purpose? I believe there is a spiritual realm and it manifests itself much more visibly in the developing world than in the first world. In the villages, churches exist but most of the time knowledge of the word of God is minimal and convoluted with false teachings. This past week was the first time that I prayed for a person to be released from demonic oppression. It was the first time I saw with my own eyes human bodies convulsing violently, heard with my own ears deep guttural languages not native to Africa come from the mouths of people claiming to have a demon inside of them. It breaks my heart. Even more than the physical poverty that exists is the oppression that dwells inside some of the people. I sat next to a woman on the ground. She had a look of sadness I cannot begin to describe. I placed my hand on her shoulder and began to ask God that he would release her, truly free her into His grace and love and peace. As she started to shake and scream and the people around us got into a frenzy I just whispered in her ear that Jesus has such love for her. That God gives peace beyond comprehension. One thing I learned that God’s voice does not scream. He is gentle and loving, he draws you near as your heart breaks inside of you; breaks the pretense that He is some distant force relegated to the pulpit or a mystery locked away in some thick book. No, He is a relationship that will never fail you. A voice that quiets all others that preach inadequacy or legalism or anxiety. I have met people here that know about God. That know they have nothing of their own merit to offer and give themselves totally to the Way Jesus preached, and they are the richest people I have ever met. In the midst of their physical lack they have a smile that will never dim. That is worth more than any pay check can deliver: Blessed are those who are poor in Spirit for theirs is the Kingdom of God (Matthew 5).
Dirty Feet
We spent the last six days working with and living amongst the people of the Nyawa kingdom in Siachombo village. We pitched and yawed in the back of the large 4x4 for 6 hours into the bush. The women of the village greeted us with songs as we pulled in. This was the first time many of them had received any attention from the outside world and many of the children had never seen white people before and went running away screaming when we approached them.
Our efforts in Siachombo were meant to supplement the long term presence Overland Missions has in the Nyawa kingdom. An American couple, Jake and Jesse, have committed five years to start sustainable development projects and help train local pastors in Nyawa. One of the more interesting parts of the week for me was seeing how a Mukua, a white person such as myself, goes about establishing a positive presence in Africa. I am fortunate that I can spend three months learning from people with years of experience. Upon first observation: nothing is done without the consent of the village headman, rank and age frame all social interaction; never make a promise you can’t keep; everything starts with relationship, not need based but genuine relationship; of all the people I asked the two most important things they need are fertilizer and education.
Most people are genuinely interested in hearing what you have to say because they have never received positive attention from outside their village before. Many times the only attention they receive from outsiders is for some business venture that does not have their best interest in mind. So when we told them we were there to help them out for no cost they responded with unimaginable gratitude.
It is harvest season and we accompanied the villagers into their maize and ground nut fields. Nearly all the farms, even commercial farms, harvest corn by hand. There are some bigger farms that use machinery but more often than not villagers will harvest some of their maize for consumption and some for sale. Depending on the size of the field a farmer can live quite well. But the size of your field depends on where you rank in the village hierarchy, at least that is what I observed.
We were shepherded around by the deputy village headman who wore a neon green shirt that read “No money, No honey”. Amen brother. Myself and four others walked with a farmer named Richard to his field. As we walked the few kilometers to the field I heard a rattling sound. I looked up and a woman with a child on her back yelled “No brakes!” and swerved by us on one of the wrought iron, single gear bikes that are so common in Africa. Richard showed us an open wound on the bottom of his feet that hindered him from working in the fields. Even though we were not as fast as experienced farmers we still helped him out quite a bit harvesting the maize. His injured foot did not stop him from joining in as we taught the villagers how to toss a Frisbee and American Football.
Richard took us back to his house and we sat under a tree and exchanged questions about life in Zambia and in America. Later on in the day he pulled me aside and showed me where he grew his marijuana patch. I politely declined, but realized the reason he had done so: I was wearing a floppy, full brimmed, tan hat and aviator sunglasses, and upon my own admition, I bore a striking resemblance to Johnny Depp’s portrayal of Hunter S. Thomson in ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’. Nice try Richard! He must be a huge Johnny Depp fan.
Our days were spent helping farmers in the morning and then having meetings or soccer games in the afternoon. The villagers are incredible soccer players. I played around with some of the younger kids and saw that they learn how to dribble with string balls that refine their foot skills acutely. Surprisingly, we held our own considering half our team never played soccer before. Our rag tag bunch of well fed former American football players, former rugby players, and former high school all star soccer players lumbered around the field. Occasionally a sinewy Zambian villager would go flying after a collision. We played two games and lost both 1-0. I consider my soccer skills one of the most valuable things that I learned in the States. You instantly have friends of any age if you start kicking around a ball. Of course everyone wants to see what the curious white man is made of, but they are quick to smile back if you smile at them and “You like Manchester United?”, “Christiano Ronaldo? Messi?” cross all language barriers.
Plus we got to slaughter six chickens and a goat before we ate them! Villagers have goat maybe once a year. We had two and a half during the course of the week and the headman tried to hand us a live one as we drove off. This just goes to show how insanely generous the villagers are.
Laying hands on the sick and casting out demons: crazy spiritual stuff most Westerners won’t believe.
The main reason Overland Missions operates in such remote locations is because we believe that Jesus Christ is the answer to the questions of life; why? For what purpose? I believe there is a spiritual realm and it manifests itself much more visibly in the developing world than in the first world. In the villages, churches exist but most of the time knowledge of the word of God is minimal and convoluted with false teachings. This past week was the first time that I prayed for a person to be released from demonic oppression. It was the first time I saw with my own eyes human bodies convulsing violently, heard with my own ears deep guttural languages not native to Africa come from the mouths of people claiming to have a demon inside of them. It breaks my heart. Even more than the physical poverty that exists is the oppression that dwells inside some of the people. I sat next to a woman on the ground. She had a look of sadness I cannot begin to describe. I placed my hand on her shoulder and began to ask God that he would release her, truly free her into His grace and love and peace. As she started to shake and scream and the people around us got into a frenzy I just whispered in her ear that Jesus has such love for her. That God gives peace beyond comprehension. One thing I learned that God’s voice does not scream. He is gentle and loving, he draws you near as your heart breaks inside of you; breaks the pretense that He is some distant force relegated to the pulpit or a mystery locked away in some thick book. No, He is a relationship that will never fail you. A voice that quiets all others that preach inadequacy or legalism or anxiety. I have met people here that know about God. That know they have nothing of their own merit to offer and give themselves totally to the Way Jesus preached, and they are the richest people I have ever met. In the midst of their physical lack they have a smile that will never dim. That is worth more than any pay check can deliver: Blessed are those who are poor in Spirit for theirs is the Kingdom of God (Matthew 5).
Smoke that Thunders
Word for word, the name for Victoria Falls in Tonga is ‘Smoke that Thunders’. During the wet season you can see the mist from the falls shoot into the air for miles around. The famous missionary and explorer David Livingstone (also one of my heros) discovered the falls by navigating a canoe towards the large rumbling sound that grew and grew. He landed on an island right above the falls, now named after him, and was the first European to see what is now one of the seven wonders of the natural world. This is where we call home. Our base is 8km down the Zambezi river from the falls. The sound of the river and distant rush of the falls hums quietly in the background.
Dirty Feet
We spent the last six days working with and living amongst the people of the Nyawa kingdom in Siachombo village. We pitched and yawed in the back of the large 4x4 for 6 hours into the bush. The women of the village greeted us with songs as we pulled in. This was the first time many of them had received any attention from the outside world and many of the children had never seen white people before and went running away screaming when we approached them.
Our efforts in Siachombo were meant to supplement the long term presence Overland Missions has in the Nyawa kingdom. An American couple, Jake and Jesse, have committed five years to start sustainable development projects and help train local pastors in Nyawa. One of the more interesting parts of the week for me was seeing how a Mukua, a white person such as myself, goes about establishing a positive presence in Africa. I am fortunate that I can spend three months learning from people with years of experience. Upon first observation: nothing is done without the consent of the village headman, rank and age frame all social interaction; never make a promise you can’t keep; everything starts with relationship, not need based but genuine relationship; of all the people I asked the two most important things they need are fertilizer and education.
Most people are genuinely interested in hearing what you have to say because they have never received positive attention from outside their village before. Many times the only attention they receive from outsiders is for some business venture that does not have their best interest in mind. So when we told them we were there to help them out for no cost they responded with unimaginable gratitude.
It is harvest season and we accompanied the villagers into their maize and ground nut fields. Nearly all the farms, even commercial farms, harvest corn by hand. There are some bigger farms that use machinery but more often than not villagers will harvest some of their maize for consumption and some for sale. Depending on the size of the field a farmer can live quite well. But the size of your field depends on where you rank in the village hierarchy, at least that is what I observed.
We were shepherded around by the deputy village headman who wore a neon green shirt that read “No money, No honey”. Amen brother. Myself and four others walked with a farmer named Richard to his field. As we walked the few kilometers to the field I heard a rattling sound. I looked up and a woman with a child on her back yelled “No brakes!” and swerved by us on one of the wrought iron, single gear bikes that are so common in Africa. Richard showed us an open wound on the bottom of his feet that hindered him from working in the fields. Even though we were not as fast as experienced farmers we still helped him out quite a bit harvesting the maize. His injured foot did not stop him from joining in as we taught the villagers how to toss a Frisbee and American Football.
Richard took us back to his house and we sat under a tree and exchanged questions about life in Zambia and in America. Later on in the day he pulled me aside and showed me where he grew his marijuana patch. I politely declined, but realized the reason he had done so: I was wearing a floppy, full brimmed, tan hat and aviator sunglasses, and upon my own admition, I bore a striking resemblance to Johnny Depp’s portrayal of Hunter S. Thomson in ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’. Nice try Richard! He must be a huge Johnny Depp fan.
Our days were spent helping farmers in the morning and then having meetings or soccer games in the afternoon. The villagers are incredible soccer players. I played around with some of the younger kids and saw that they learn how to dribble with string balls that refine their foot skills acutely. Surprisingly, we held our own considering half our team never played soccer before. Our rag tag bunch of well fed former American football players, former rugby players, and former high school all star soccer players lumbered around the field. Occasionally a sinewy Zambian villager would go flying after a collision. We played two games and lost both 1-0. I consider my soccer skills one of the most valuable things that I learned in the States. You instantly have friends of any age if you start kicking around a ball. Of course everyone wants to see what the curious white man is made of, but they are quick to smile back if you smile at them and “You like Manchester United?”, “Christiano Ronaldo? Messi?” cross all language barriers.
Plus we got to slaughter six chickens and a goat before we ate them! Villagers have goat maybe once a year. We had two and a half during the course of the week and the headman tried to hand us a live one as we drove off. This just goes to show how insanely generous the villagers are.
Laying hands on the sick and casting out demons: crazy spiritual stuff most Westerners won’t believe.
The main reason Overland Missions operates in such remote locations is because we believe that Jesus Christ is the answer to the questions of life; why? For what purpose? I believe there is a spiritual realm and it manifests itself much more visibly in the developing world than in the first world. In the villages, churches exist but most of the time knowledge of the word of God is minimal and convoluted with false teachings. This past week was the first time that I prayed for a person to be released from demonic oppression. It was the first time I saw with my own eyes human bodies convulsing violently, heard with my own ears deep guttural languages not native to Africa come from the mouths of people claiming to have a demon inside of them. It breaks my heart. Even more than the physical poverty that exists is the oppression that dwells inside some of the people. I sat next to a woman on the ground. She had a look of sadness I cannot begin to describe. I placed my hand on her shoulder and began to ask God that he would release her, truly free her into His grace and love and peace. As she started to shake and scream and the people around us got into a frenzy I just whispered in her ear that Jesus has such love for her. That God gives peace beyond comprehension. One thing I learned that God’s voice does not scream. He is gentle and loving, he draws you near as your heart breaks inside of you; breaks the pretense that He is some distant force relegated to the pulpit or a mystery locked away in some thick book. No, He is a relationship that will never fail you. A voice that quiets all others that preach inadequacy or legalism or anxiety. I have met people here that know about God. That know they have nothing of their own merit to offer and give themselves totally to the Way Jesus preached, and they are the richest people I have ever met. In the midst of their physical lack they have a smile that will never dim. That is worth more than any pay check can deliver: Blessed are those who are poor in Spirit for theirs is the Kingdom of God (Matthew 5).
Dirty Feet
We spent the last six days working with and living amongst the people of the Nyawa kingdom in Siachombo village. We pitched and yawed in the back of the large 4x4 for 6 hours into the bush. The women of the village greeted us with songs as we pulled in. This was the first time many of them had received any attention from the outside world and many of the children had never seen white people before and went running away screaming when we approached them.
Our efforts in Siachombo were meant to supplement the long term presence Overland Missions has in the Nyawa kingdom. An American couple, Jake and Jesse, have committed five years to start sustainable development projects and help train local pastors in Nyawa. One of the more interesting parts of the week for me was seeing how a Mukua, a white person such as myself, goes about establishing a positive presence in Africa. I am fortunate that I can spend three months learning from people with years of experience. Upon first observation: nothing is done without the consent of the village headman, rank and age frame all social interaction; never make a promise you can’t keep; everything starts with relationship, not need based but genuine relationship; of all the people I asked the two most important things they need are fertilizer and education.
Most people are genuinely interested in hearing what you have to say because they have never received positive attention from outside their village before. Many times the only attention they receive from outsiders is for some business venture that does not have their best interest in mind. So when we told them we were there to help them out for no cost they responded with unimaginable gratitude.
It is harvest season and we accompanied the villagers into their maize and ground nut fields. Nearly all the farms, even commercial farms, harvest corn by hand. There are some bigger farms that use machinery but more often than not villagers will harvest some of their maize for consumption and some for sale. Depending on the size of the field a farmer can live quite well. But the size of your field depends on where you rank in the village hierarchy, at least that is what I observed.
We were shepherded around by the deputy village headman who wore a neon green shirt that read “No money, No honey”. Amen brother. Myself and four others walked with a farmer named Richard to his field. As we walked the few kilometers to the field I heard a rattling sound. I looked up and a woman with a child on her back yelled “No brakes!” and swerved by us on one of the wrought iron, single gear bikes that are so common in Africa. Richard showed us an open wound on the bottom of his feet that hindered him from working in the fields. Even though we were not as fast as experienced farmers we still helped him out quite a bit harvesting the maize. His injured foot did not stop him from joining in as we taught the villagers how to toss a Frisbee and American Football.
Richard took us back to his house and we sat under a tree and exchanged questions about life in Zambia and in America. Later on in the day he pulled me aside and showed me where he grew his marijuana patch. I politely declined, but realized the reason he had done so: I was wearing a floppy, full brimmed, tan hat and aviator sunglasses, and upon my own admition, I bore a striking resemblance to Johnny Depp’s portrayal of Hunter S. Thomson in ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’. Nice try Richard! He must be a huge Johnny Depp fan.
Our days were spent helping farmers in the morning and then having meetings or soccer games in the afternoon. The villagers are incredible soccer players. I played around with some of the younger kids and saw that they learn how to dribble with string balls that refine their foot skills acutely. Surprisingly, we held our own considering half our team never played soccer before. Our rag tag bunch of well fed former American football players, former rugby players, and former high school all star soccer players lumbered around the field. Occasionally a sinewy Zambian villager would go flying after a collision. We played two games and lost both 1-0. I consider my soccer skills one of the most valuable things that I learned in the States. You instantly have friends of any age if you start kicking around a ball. Of course everyone wants to see what the curious white man is made of, but they are quick to smile back if you smile at them and “You like Manchester United?”, “Christiano Ronaldo? Messi?” cross all language barriers.
Plus we got to slaughter six chickens and a goat before we ate them! Villagers have goat maybe once a year. We had two and a half during the course of the week and the headman tried to hand us a live one as we drove off. This just goes to show how insanely generous the villagers are.
Laying hands on the sick and casting out demons: crazy spiritual stuff most Westerners won’t believe.
The main reason Overland Missions operates in such remote locations is because we believe that Jesus Christ is the answer to the questions of life; why? For what purpose? I believe there is a spiritual realm and it manifests itself much more visibly in the developing world than in the first world. In the villages, churches exist but most of the time knowledge of the word of God is minimal and convoluted with false teachings. This past week was the first time that I prayed for a person to be released from demonic oppression. It was the first time I saw with my own eyes human bodies convulsing violently, heard with my own ears deep guttural languages not native to Africa come from the mouths of people claiming to have a demon inside of them. It breaks my heart. Even more than the physical poverty that exists is the oppression that dwells inside some of the people. I sat next to a woman on the ground. She had a look of sadness I cannot begin to describe. I placed my hand on her shoulder and began to ask God that he would release her, truly free her into His grace and love and peace. As she started to shake and scream and the people around us got into a frenzy I just whispered in her ear that Jesus has such love for her. That God gives peace beyond comprehension. One thing I learned that God’s voice does not scream. He is gentle and loving, he draws you near as your heart breaks inside of you; breaks the pretense that He is some distant force relegated to the pulpit or a mystery locked away in some thick book. No, He is a relationship that will never fail you. A voice that quiets all others that preach inadequacy or legalism or anxiety. I have met people here that know about God. That know they have nothing of their own merit to offer and give themselves totally to the Way Jesus preached, and they are the richest people I have ever met. In the midst of their physical lack they have a smile that will never dim. That is worth more than any pay check can deliver: Blessed are those who are poor in Spirit for theirs is the Kingdom of God (Matthew 5).
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Made it!!
After months of planning, support raising, and 20 hours in a planes, I am sitting on the edge of the Victoria Falls gorge. As I type I am watching my first sunset in Africa. The sun sets quicker here but the sun is bigger in the sky near the equator.
I want to thank everyone who helped me get to this point, as my mom put it " the next step in the rest of my life".
We are starting our training in the next few days by heading out into a set of villages about 5 hours drive into the bush. We will help them with sustainable agricultural projects, building living structures. All this in attempts to build relationships with them. These villages are part of the SAM project, which is a long term effort to kickstart education programs, crops, and church planting. Part of our job will be to preach and to pray for the sick in the village. I really don't know what to expect, it will be interesting.
I will spend three months in Livingstone, Zambia training with Overland Missions before I head to Burundi. This will be vital to prepare me for the challenges that await. It makes it easier that I am with my brother Dan, who is teaching the course, and my friend JJ and another friend Pete who will be joining us in a few weeks.
I will do my best to keep everyone updated on happenings in Zambia. Please send me updates on your life as well.
I want to thank everyone who helped me get to this point, as my mom put it " the next step in the rest of my life".
We are starting our training in the next few days by heading out into a set of villages about 5 hours drive into the bush. We will help them with sustainable agricultural projects, building living structures. All this in attempts to build relationships with them. These villages are part of the SAM project, which is a long term effort to kickstart education programs, crops, and church planting. Part of our job will be to preach and to pray for the sick in the village. I really don't know what to expect, it will be interesting.
I will spend three months in Livingstone, Zambia training with Overland Missions before I head to Burundi. This will be vital to prepare me for the challenges that await. It makes it easier that I am with my brother Dan, who is teaching the course, and my friend JJ and another friend Pete who will be joining us in a few weeks.
I will do my best to keep everyone updated on happenings in Zambia. Please send me updates on your life as well.
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