St. Pancras News
February
A Meeting with the Archbishop of York
Last week I recieved an email stating that I was nominated by the staff at Time for God to accompany them at a meeting with the John Sentamu, the Archbishop of York. After making sure the meeting would work into my own schedule, I gladly accepted the invitation. I didn't really know what to expect. The purpose of our meeting with the Archbishop was that of beginning a relationship. Jon Sentamu recently agreed to be a patron of the organization Time for God (the organization that I am a part of while volunteering here) and we were there to describe what the organization was all about and how he could help us. Archbishop Sentamu is an inspirational character who originally comes from Uganda. His passion for political stability on the African continent rings throughout his whole being and is best exampled by his refusal to wear a preist collar until there is peace within the currently politcal unstable country of Zimbabwe. He was extremely down to earth and welcomed us all with a wonderful spirit to the Archbishop's Palace in York. What was most intriguing about his character and presence was his "no fluff" tone of speech. Every word he said meant something and it turned out that he spoke relatively little throughout the entire meeting. It inspired me to see how such a well known leader could talk so little. After the meeting, Claire (the other volunteer who was invited to come and who ironically was also from Uganda) and I braved the conditions and made it to York Minster before our trains departed. After the noise and cold weather outside, it was nice again to come into a space of such peace and tranquility. I now am back in London again inspired by the Archbishop to be ever more of a listener. I think it is something all of us could learn.
Seeing the Conflict of Israel with New Eyes
The event that continues to be processed in the back of my mind is my journey to Israel (February 7-14) and the experiences of culture conflict. Words seem to fail in my effort to describe this experience. "Life changing" just doesn't seem to have the appropriate ring to it. However, that is probably the best term that I can use to describe what the whole geography, traditions, and culture of the Holy Land have done to my thinking. It was the three of us volunteers who decided to take this journey together. The other two were named Matt (who is up in Scotland) and Amanda (who is in a close by parish in London). Our first exposure to the "tense" atmosphere of Israel was experienced on the plane when flight attendants had to quell a fist fight between Orthodox Jews. Apparently one had been given a kosher meal and the other not. Quite scary indeed. Late that evening, we made it to the apartment of my friend Paul. Paul is a friend from college who works for the Lutheran World Federation; an organization that is really involved in education and healthcare for Palestinians. His home and work are located right on top of the Mount of Olives and overlooks the Old City of Jerusalem. Throughout the week, we became educated on the conflict between the Israeli's and the Palestinians. Israel as a country is very young- gaining it's independence in 1948. Because of the historical treatment of the Jews, it was agreed (by the UN) that this new nation would be Jewish in origin. This was not a large change as Jews have inhabited the land for centuries. With the fall of the Roman Empire, people of Arab and Islamic descent also settled in Jerusalem and in the areas of Palestine causing fuel for the crusades in the 13th and 14th centuries. This element also became the major problem of the present day Israel: How do you settle a land that has two peoples "claiming" it? Immediately, the new Israeli government started to push it's "pro Jewish" policies upon the area which resulted in more conflicts. Today, having control of the entire city of Jerusalem and most of the Palestinian territory, it still seeks to put pressure on the Palestinian people. Jerusalem is a city with two parts: the Palestinian side and the Israeli side. It is more like two cities, or perhaps a city that is trying to dominate it's other part. There are two taxi systems, two bus systems, two electric grids, and two peoples. For us living on the Palestinians side, it became very frustrating for transportation as a bus or taxi wouldn't take you somewhere, even though it was a mile away. Palestinian cars are not allowed in any part of Jerusalem. Period. In order to live in Jerusalem as a Palestinian, you have to have a special "city permit" issued by the Israeli government. Without it, you are banned from entering the city. Period. I saw this separation first hand as I talked with a Palestinian Christian taxi driver in Bethlehem. Even though Bethlehem is only 8 miles away from the Jerusalem city boundary, he has not been to Jerusalem in over 9 years. " I would really love to celebrate Easter at my church in Jerusalem", he said. "Without a city permit, that is impossible." The separation continues as Israel continues to build illegal (according to international law) settlements on Palestinian lands, claiming them as bargaining tools for international treaties to acquire more land for Israel. It becomes quite simple: if you already have citizens living in the area, you are more likely to acquire that area for your country in future delegations. Thus, "Israeli Citizen Only" roads connect the Jerusalem city proper to these various settlements in the West Bank. These roads bypass the check-points that Palestinians are required to go through. Finally, there is the Israeli "Security Wall", a wall that stretches hundreds of miles supposedly separating Israel from the "Palestinians Terrorists". Even with a city permit, Palestinian people stand in line for hours to get to work everyday because of the Israeli policy of letting only 2 people per minute walk through that gates. Thus, one Palestinian employee who lives in Ramallah told me he has to leave his house by 3.30am to get to work by 8am everyday. I can't imagine living a life like that. For many of us, it is hard to not get angry at a particular people. We either "hate" the Palestinians for sending suicide bombers to blow up things, or we "hate" the Jewish population for illegally settling in Palestinian lands. What I have come away with as the biggest culprit to the Israeli/Palestinian problem is not the deep rooted land conflict, but the ease of which our societies generalize a people. Through this, we find ourselves attacking and seeing the "people" as the problem, not the greed and politics. In our last day of the trip, Paul invited us to join him in an interview process where we drove up into Palestinian villages and talked with graduates of the Lutheran World Federation Vocational Training Center. These were people who had persevered and had graduated to start a vocation in auto mechanics, carpentry, or design. One of the young mechanics, who works on Israeli vehicles constantly and is used to seeing Israelis coming to his village, summed it all up by saying, "We live along side each other in peace every day. Why do we need to let our greedy leaders tell us otherwise?" That is the question I now continue to ask.
Gracious Lord, Grant me Serenity
The experiences of this month seem to have pounded into me the whole unpredictable qualities of life in a real way. I begin to wonder and ask, "Why God? Why are things seeming so much out of my control?" It feel like I can't do anything anymore without an unforeseeable consequence. This makes it hard when I am also trying to plan for my future. I then paid a visit to an 86 year old woman of St. Paul's Church named Chris. Chris has fallen into old age quite quickly this past year as her osteoporosis and arthritis have recently dictated that she no longer walk. Though stuck with a tired body, Chris's mind and spirit continue to be as sharp as a tack. As we talked in her flat by her chair that she sits in almost all day, she asked me "Young man, What is going on your life?" I immediately replied that things were going well and that I was having a good time being in London. A look of disapproval came over her face like I had told a big, fat, lie. Thus, I began to tell her how I have been struggling with the feeling of not having any control in my life and the unfairness of it all. She looked at me keenly for a minute. "You want to know something?", she said. "The last time I was in hospital they told me that I had cancer. And so I told all of my friends and family that this horrible disease was infecting my body. Three days later, I was told that my file had gotten switched with another person's file and that I actually had a bad case of arthritis which I knew all along! Is that unpredictability or what?!" "Let me show you something!", she exclaimed. She then began to dig around in her pile of books next to the chair and pulled out an old, tatty, black book. She opened it to reveal pictures, letters, and old newspaper clippings. "This is my scrap book", she explained. She furiously flipped through the pages until her face gleamed with a smile. "Ah! Here it is!" she said pointing to a ripped up piece of paper. I took the book and looked at the faded words. It said:Gracious Lord, Grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change,courage to change the things that I can change,and wisdom to know the difference.Amen"You gotta cling on to that faith", she said. I stared at the prayer for the longest time. It seemed to knock me over! Chris was right, life is incredibly unpredictable and can be very challenging at times. We can get so frustrated by this fear that we try to shut things out and just grunt through the time that we have left. Ironically, this is the time where it seems that we must be the most open and patient. We must be continuing to understand the things we can change, but "clinging to the faith and hope" with those things we can't change. May God grant us that courage and wisdom in this world of uncertainty and continue to love us through our struggles.
Please check out my BLOG if you haven't already at: http://godandqueen.blogspot.com/
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
January Newsletter - Jessica in Slovakia
Jessica’s January Newsletter
Updates from Slovakia
Midterm Seminar!
This past month I traveled with the other volunteers to Wisla, Poland for our midterm retreat. There were just over twenty volunteers all together, which included German and American volunteers serving in Slovakia, Czech Republic, Poland, and Germany. It was really nice to have a week off and spend time with the other volunteers. We spent time in seminars, discussion groups, and doing various activities covering many topics dealing with our year of service. We talked about our placements, successes, challenges, relationships being built, the culture, our values, and stereotypes. We also had free time when we were able to go hiking, see the town, and share lots of stories with one another. Overall it was a good time of reflection, very refreshing, and a lot of fun!
During the retreat my country coordinator and I decided it would be best for me to move to another placement in Slovakia, because of the problems with the center for the elderly opening. With the center not open and being in such a small village, it was difficult finding work to be involved in. After the retreat I returned to Horná Mičiná until the end of the month. It was difficult to leave, because I did build relationships there during those five months, but I am ready for this new experience. I spent a lot of time thinking about why I was in Horná Mičiná and why things worked out the way they did. I felt bad leaving and wanted things to somehow work there, but I came to the realization that I had done what I could, I learned a lot, and hopefully I made some type of a difference there. I am also sure that I will go back to visit some weekends.
Veľký Slavkov
Febuary 1st I moved to Veľký Slavkov, a village of about 1,000 people outside of Poprad. It is very different from Horná Mičiná, because it is near the High Tatras mountains, and is about double the size (there is even a post office in this village!) I am living with another American volunteer, Kristen, in a Christian center called Mlyn. Mlyn is a halfway house for Roma Gypsy guys from about 18 years old and up. They have grown up in children’s homes, but once they turn 18 they often have no place to go. They have been homeless, unemployed, and have various addictions. Many also have mental disabilities, or have had little education. Mlyn provides the guys with shelter, food, and services enabling them to overcome their pasts and get their lives on track. There are many prejudices about Gypsys in Slovakia, which I encountered before coming to Mlyn. In the past the government has given them housing and money to try to help them, but oftentimes this does not really help them, because they have not learned how to take care of things, use money wisely, or keep a job. Mlyn is committed to helping these guys cope with the problems they are encountering, break their addictions, and develop skills and discipline needed to keep a job. Many of them have had very rough lives and this center is a safe and loving place for them to be. The directors, Stano and his wife Eva started the center, and I am amazed at their love, dedication, and how they consider everyone here one big family. I have started here by helping Kristen with the activities she had already begun so that I can get to know the guys better. This includes helping in the kitchen, teaching English classes, teaching swimming, and doing Bible studies. They would like to have more activities planned for the guys to do during their free time, so I will be thinking of that as I get settled here.
A Life that Matters
The question to focus on for this past month was what it means to have a life that matters. Everyone wants to matter and to feel important in what they are doing. How do we get that and should we be concerned about this?
I know I have wrote about this before, but a lot of times here I realize how much meaning the small things have to me. There were people in Horná Mičiná who made me so happy and welcomed just by talking to me and listening to my conversation attempts in Slovak, or just by showing their concern and care for me. I’m not sure if they realized how something so small could matter so much to someone. Sometimes I wonder if I am needed here, or if I am making any difference at all, and I think about the small things people did to me that made an impact on me. I am constantly reminded of what Mother Teresa said: “It is not how much we do, but how much love we put in the doing. It is not how much we give, but how much love we put in the giving”. We don’t have to do extraordinary things in order to matter, because oftentimes it is the small things that end up making such an impact. Being introduced to Mlyn and the guys here I have been thinking more about how they matter. All their lives they have been receiving the message that they do not matter. Being abandoned by their families, growing up in children’s homes, and then being judged because of their darker skin and culture makes it difficult for these guys to feel as though they matter. However, it is very evident that each of them has unique gifts and matters very much. I am looking forward to getting to know them more and seeing the gifts they have been given.
Thank you for your prayers and support!
-Jessica
Updates from Slovakia
Midterm Seminar!
This past month I traveled with the other volunteers to Wisla, Poland for our midterm retreat. There were just over twenty volunteers all together, which included German and American volunteers serving in Slovakia, Czech Republic, Poland, and Germany. It was really nice to have a week off and spend time with the other volunteers. We spent time in seminars, discussion groups, and doing various activities covering many topics dealing with our year of service. We talked about our placements, successes, challenges, relationships being built, the culture, our values, and stereotypes. We also had free time when we were able to go hiking, see the town, and share lots of stories with one another. Overall it was a good time of reflection, very refreshing, and a lot of fun!
During the retreat my country coordinator and I decided it would be best for me to move to another placement in Slovakia, because of the problems with the center for the elderly opening. With the center not open and being in such a small village, it was difficult finding work to be involved in. After the retreat I returned to Horná Mičiná until the end of the month. It was difficult to leave, because I did build relationships there during those five months, but I am ready for this new experience. I spent a lot of time thinking about why I was in Horná Mičiná and why things worked out the way they did. I felt bad leaving and wanted things to somehow work there, but I came to the realization that I had done what I could, I learned a lot, and hopefully I made some type of a difference there. I am also sure that I will go back to visit some weekends.
Veľký Slavkov
Febuary 1st I moved to Veľký Slavkov, a village of about 1,000 people outside of Poprad. It is very different from Horná Mičiná, because it is near the High Tatras mountains, and is about double the size (there is even a post office in this village!) I am living with another American volunteer, Kristen, in a Christian center called Mlyn. Mlyn is a halfway house for Roma Gypsy guys from about 18 years old and up. They have grown up in children’s homes, but once they turn 18 they often have no place to go. They have been homeless, unemployed, and have various addictions. Many also have mental disabilities, or have had little education. Mlyn provides the guys with shelter, food, and services enabling them to overcome their pasts and get their lives on track. There are many prejudices about Gypsys in Slovakia, which I encountered before coming to Mlyn. In the past the government has given them housing and money to try to help them, but oftentimes this does not really help them, because they have not learned how to take care of things, use money wisely, or keep a job. Mlyn is committed to helping these guys cope with the problems they are encountering, break their addictions, and develop skills and discipline needed to keep a job. Many of them have had very rough lives and this center is a safe and loving place for them to be. The directors, Stano and his wife Eva started the center, and I am amazed at their love, dedication, and how they consider everyone here one big family. I have started here by helping Kristen with the activities she had already begun so that I can get to know the guys better. This includes helping in the kitchen, teaching English classes, teaching swimming, and doing Bible studies. They would like to have more activities planned for the guys to do during their free time, so I will be thinking of that as I get settled here.
A Life that Matters
The question to focus on for this past month was what it means to have a life that matters. Everyone wants to matter and to feel important in what they are doing. How do we get that and should we be concerned about this?
I know I have wrote about this before, but a lot of times here I realize how much meaning the small things have to me. There were people in Horná Mičiná who made me so happy and welcomed just by talking to me and listening to my conversation attempts in Slovak, or just by showing their concern and care for me. I’m not sure if they realized how something so small could matter so much to someone. Sometimes I wonder if I am needed here, or if I am making any difference at all, and I think about the small things people did to me that made an impact on me. I am constantly reminded of what Mother Teresa said: “It is not how much we do, but how much love we put in the doing. It is not how much we give, but how much love we put in the giving”. We don’t have to do extraordinary things in order to matter, because oftentimes it is the small things that end up making such an impact. Being introduced to Mlyn and the guys here I have been thinking more about how they matter. All their lives they have been receiving the message that they do not matter. Being abandoned by their families, growing up in children’s homes, and then being judged because of their darker skin and culture makes it difficult for these guys to feel as though they matter. However, it is very evident that each of them has unique gifts and matters very much. I am looking forward to getting to know them more and seeing the gifts they have been given.
Thank you for your prayers and support!
-Jessica
Saturday, February 9, 2008
December/January Newsletter - Karin in Argentina
"Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing, there is a field. I'll meet you there." - Rumi
For the past two weeks, I have found Valentina´s shoe in the corner. It is dirty white, no larger than the palm of my hand, and there is always just one. I thought little of this at first, until it kept showing up: same spot, same foot. Later I saw standing in its place a plastic, purple and pink high-heal--the kind that Barbie wears, only made a couple of sizes larger to fit 3-year-old Valentina´s left foot perfectly.
So each day, for the past two weeks, Valentina has teeter-tottered around the room at the daycare, one heal two inches larger than the other. It throws her a little off balance, often causing her to stumble and, on occasion, fall down. Regardless, every morning there is a little white shoe in the corner, and it belongs to Valentina.
**** **** **** **** ****
Over five months have passed since my arrival in Comodoro. Holidays have been celebrated, loved ones have been born, spanish has improved, laughter has been shared, friends have died, friends have been made...it is no wonder they call it a roller coaster.
The new year marked a new beginning in my life here. I moved into an apartment connected to the pastor´s house (meaning that I have the greatest neighbors a gal could ask for), enjoyed the company of three dear friends from the states, and went backpacking in southern Chile. The time away spent surrounded by a close community of friends, endless mountains, clear lakes, and an occasional glacier, reminded me of the goodness and grace of God. It is indeed a powerful realization to know that the same hands that created all of this beauty, created you and I.
As a friend recently wrote in a letter, now is the time in my abroad experience where I have "stopped redefining what it means to live, and instead started living it." All of the expectations and ideas I entered into this with have fallen away, and I am instead focusing on just living. And I am loving it.
Valentina´s plastic and pink high-heal requires me to ask which shoe am I failing to put on because there is only one, or because I will walk a little crooked while wearing it, or because I will be more likely to fall as I walk? These past five months have taught me that our human brokenness and vulnerability can be the bridge between us if we allow it. It is a lesson I am still learning.
**** **** **** **** ****
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened.
Don´t open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
Rumi
For the past two weeks, I have found Valentina´s shoe in the corner. It is dirty white, no larger than the palm of my hand, and there is always just one. I thought little of this at first, until it kept showing up: same spot, same foot. Later I saw standing in its place a plastic, purple and pink high-heal--the kind that Barbie wears, only made a couple of sizes larger to fit 3-year-old Valentina´s left foot perfectly.
So each day, for the past two weeks, Valentina has teeter-tottered around the room at the daycare, one heal two inches larger than the other. It throws her a little off balance, often causing her to stumble and, on occasion, fall down. Regardless, every morning there is a little white shoe in the corner, and it belongs to Valentina.
**** **** **** **** ****
Over five months have passed since my arrival in Comodoro. Holidays have been celebrated, loved ones have been born, spanish has improved, laughter has been shared, friends have died, friends have been made...it is no wonder they call it a roller coaster.
The new year marked a new beginning in my life here. I moved into an apartment connected to the pastor´s house (meaning that I have the greatest neighbors a gal could ask for), enjoyed the company of three dear friends from the states, and went backpacking in southern Chile. The time away spent surrounded by a close community of friends, endless mountains, clear lakes, and an occasional glacier, reminded me of the goodness and grace of God. It is indeed a powerful realization to know that the same hands that created all of this beauty, created you and I.
As a friend recently wrote in a letter, now is the time in my abroad experience where I have "stopped redefining what it means to live, and instead started living it." All of the expectations and ideas I entered into this with have fallen away, and I am instead focusing on just living. And I am loving it.
Valentina´s plastic and pink high-heal requires me to ask which shoe am I failing to put on because there is only one, or because I will walk a little crooked while wearing it, or because I will be more likely to fall as I walk? These past five months have taught me that our human brokenness and vulnerability can be the bridge between us if we allow it. It is a lesson I am still learning.
**** **** **** **** ****
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened.
Don´t open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
Rumi
Friday, February 8, 2008
January Newsletter - James in Argentina
A month away from my adopted reality here. January was spent covering Argentina with distinct purposes but all so rewarding. My first stop was to the province of Missiones in the northeast. Missiones is a very different atmosphere than mine here in El Chaco. Missiones is a lush mountain paradise, verging on rainforest, but not quite there. I’ve always been so curious about how the terrain here changes from arid flatland to banana trees, but my transition always occurs during the night on a bus so it may forever remain my mystery. My first voyage to Missiones was to translate for a group from Pennsylvania who came for a mission trip. My favorite experience, or better said, the experience that brought on the most change in my mental process, was a talk that I had with another volunteer and the pastor of the Pennsylvania church. We got onto the subject of former mission trips and the pastor got to talking of a trip member, a youth, if I remember correctly. The youth after hearing that an argentine church only needed 11,000 US dollars to be able to build and maintain a brand new building, returned to his congregation and rallied support for the project. The youth rallied so much support that the church in Pennsylvania was able to give the argentine church 100% of the funds needed to build the building, with some left over for maintenance in the following years. The story sounded like a dream come true to me, a new church, friendships over-seas formed, but then my friend, who is infinitely wiser than I, began telling the side of the story that she had heard. You see, less than a year after the new church was built, the membership had almost completely died in the sparkling new building. This puts a very different dimension of the giver-recipient model that we are taught and witness to in so many aspects of our lives in the United States. The church in Argentina was surviving and growing on the challenge and struggle of building a church without walls first, and then working to put a roof over their heads. If one person had a brick, they would bring it, another with the ability to lay it, and soon you have a wall. In the struggle relationships are built, and a church becomes a church, in a much deeper sense than a building with a sign hung. When the church was just given to the people the struggle was gone, and so was the integral formation of the church. They had a perfectly laid cement foundation to stand on, but with no real foundation to the membership. We get so sucked into the power of money in the United States, with it you can solve and help any problem it seems. Real power though, comes from loving and stepping into the problem with the people. I am stuck many times in my thinking because there are so many dimensions to every problem and solution. I offer no answers here; I only offer experiences that I’ve seen.
A return to Resistencia to wash clothing and rest for a day and then back to Missiones, this time with our youth group from my church. What a wonderful time of relaxation and play to develop relationships with the youth. Brilliant talks in a colossal circle discussing the eternal questions of the human condition. Real faith vs. being gullible. I pondered all of this while floating down the river, Brazil on the left, Argentina on my right, learning from the silence and power of water.
My vacation started on my return from Missiones, and I left for Buenos Aires to pick up my friend that came to visit me the following day. A 26 hour bus ride later and we were in Patagonia, the south of Argentina. I spent my days traveling place to place with all my life in a backpack, and when I had become comfortable with that, our backpacks were stolen and I was left with less. It made walking easier, and we eventually acquired new ones to facilitate the trip. I have never felt freer as I did as I sat on top a mountain staring off for miles at perfect lakes and tree covered islands. Life stopped in those moments. I learned to cook over a fire and live so much more simply. It seems I am always placed next to people that offer so much to my thoughts on life, and this trip was no different, with my friend always offering beautiful new thoughts on a life I constantly feel I have figured out.
I am safe and home now in Resistencia, but not for long. In the coming month I have a kids camp and then I am back again in Buenos Aires for a retreat with the other volunteers. Embracing being lost-james
A return to Resistencia to wash clothing and rest for a day and then back to Missiones, this time with our youth group from my church. What a wonderful time of relaxation and play to develop relationships with the youth. Brilliant talks in a colossal circle discussing the eternal questions of the human condition. Real faith vs. being gullible. I pondered all of this while floating down the river, Brazil on the left, Argentina on my right, learning from the silence and power of water.
My vacation started on my return from Missiones, and I left for Buenos Aires to pick up my friend that came to visit me the following day. A 26 hour bus ride later and we were in Patagonia, the south of Argentina. I spent my days traveling place to place with all my life in a backpack, and when I had become comfortable with that, our backpacks were stolen and I was left with less. It made walking easier, and we eventually acquired new ones to facilitate the trip. I have never felt freer as I did as I sat on top a mountain staring off for miles at perfect lakes and tree covered islands. Life stopped in those moments. I learned to cook over a fire and live so much more simply. It seems I am always placed next to people that offer so much to my thoughts on life, and this trip was no different, with my friend always offering beautiful new thoughts on a life I constantly feel I have figured out.
I am safe and home now in Resistencia, but not for long. In the coming month I have a kids camp and then I am back again in Buenos Aires for a retreat with the other volunteers. Embracing being lost-james
Thursday, February 7, 2008
January Newsletter - Gretchen in the Philippines
The month of January was mostly spent outside of my base in Cebu, devoted to a reflection time with the six other interns and Becca proceeding personal time during which my parents visited. The beginning of this roughly three week break marked the end of Phase I of the program, of which there are three phases. The goals of Phase I were focused to establish familiarization in our placements, the people and organizations we interact with, and our communities and church settings in which we are placed. Even before Phase I began, we were encouraged to rely on patience in the two months of orienting ourselves to our new realities and the challenges that continually crop up. The expectation was that many of us would not be “doing” as much as simply “being.” Our ministry of presence was so that we would become knowledgeable about our communities and the struggles that are faced there through experience rather than simply being told by others. Quite contrary to the Western mindset of tangible productivity, sheer output, and what we call effective time management, presence required just what was asked—patience. For many of us, it was patience that came without ease in the past couple months.
During our reflection and sharing time, it was astounding how many of the same emotions I experienced and situations in which I struggled that nearly every other intern also experienced. There were feelings of being misunderstood, of constantly being asked who we are and what were doing here in sometimes an interrogative way, of finding ourselves wanting to be sympathetic to the negative role U.S. foreign policy and U.S. corporations have played here while still maintaining a love and pride of our homeland, of desiring to participate in cultural exchange when assumptions are made about American culture via media and pop culture, of wanting to feel we are contributing in some real, meaningful way when the results are not evident, of wanting to have all the available information, data, and analyses when we must make our own observations, and of wanting to understand how life here runs so abhorrently counter to how God’s children deserve to live when it seems all too unbelievable. When there were times I thought no one could possibly empathize with my feelings, with this tugging at my soul, the probability is that one of the other interns might have very well been feeling the same emotion at the very same time. I wrote before about my difficultly in stating I live in solidarity with the struggling masses in the Philippines because, despite how often I have heard this statement made, for me it accompanies a great deal of preemptive thought and inherent responsibility that should not be made light or inconsequential. But I can say without doubt—and even despite a running joke in using this next statement which involves two very embarrassing theatrical performances during which this phrase was concocted along with countless ridiculous allusions and even a midnight swim proclamation with hands raised—as a group, “we live in solidarity.”
In hearing the stories of the other interns, I also found points of diversion from my own experience. Unfortunately for many interns, the placements were either not prepared to host them or did not properly set them up with organizations or communities to be working with. In many respects, I can see how my feelings of uselessness paled in comparison to others who did not have a proper schedule which could even opened up the possibility of learning. While I do not want to be too critical of this intern program without knowing the entire history and process by which the program has come to this point, I see living in the Philippines as a great opportunity to learn a tremendous amount about the struggles of the developing world as well as to grow personally and spiritually, but this must be done with guidance and thoughtful dissemination of the details of our program to necessary personnel. It becomes an unfortunate situation when both parties are not learning and serving each other. I can say, on my part though, that despite some early bumps, the staff who I work with are very eager to help me in this process, to provide necessary programs and guidance but to also let me come to conclusions on my own.
The reflection time with the interns had the aim to give us the space to share openly, to relax in a beautiful setting at the beach, and to recharge for the next phase until we meet each other again in April. I think all those aims were met, but at times it was hard to justify why we should be at this gorgeous locale that few Filipinos visit themselves, though our accommodations were quite simple. I experience this feeling often. All of our housing, meals, and transportation are covered in program costs (thanks to many of you) and then we also receive a stipend for personal expenses. What seemed like a meager amount in August, still under the influence of American prices and the standard of living the requires those costs, the stipend now seems like an overly necessary amount, though I am happy to be saving a little with the prospect of returning to school and the dreaded student loans sooner rather than later (though not in the coming school year). But sometimes I can’t help but think how difficult it is to adjust to this culture when we can jet off every third month we are here. However, I understand why the reflections and personal stipends are necessary—simply put, they help us to keep our sanity. I hate that the difficultly of living as a misunderstood foreigner who often earns for home (and her favorite movies, music, food, cheese—yes it deserves its own distinction) can sometimes be alleviated with dollars. But it remains. It also points to the reality that we are here for a year which can feel like an eternity but in the whole thick of things will be (I hope) maybe 1/80th of my life. During that 80th, I would rather keep some semblance of familiarity than fully assimilate myself to Filipino culture, because honestly I’m not cut out for rice three times a day for a lifetime.
Following reflection time, I headed to Manila to meet up with my parents. Although they had been talking of visiting well before I had even left the U.S., the decision to come was made just weeks before they braved the 24+ hours of travel, the 13 hour time difference, and the completely different reality they had never encountered in their lives that I had the past five months to navigate through. Upon spotting them at the airport, it was strange how it felt like it had been mere weeks. As this is the longest I have been away from home—my mother reminds me incessantly—I was naively envisioning this monumental reunion. Our greeting was joyful but just as joyful as countless other shorter separations, and I realized though I love my parents immensely (and everyone knows why) perhaps this is all part of the “becoming an adult” process and feeling not as dependent on though no less connected to my parents.
Our somewhat whirlwind of a tour went something like this:
January 16: evening arrival after which I sent them straight to bed. Adjustment to the thirteen-hour time difference is no easy feat without lots of rest.
January 17: sightseeing in Manila; visiting historical landmarks, a museum containing the artworks of renowned Filipino artists, and experiencing the craziness of public transportation.
January 18: day trip outside Manila to breathtaking falls that we navigated in a boat pulled by small but surprisingly strong boatmen.
January 19: walked along the water by Manila Bay followed by our flight to Cebu.
January 20: we experienced Sinulog, the once-a-year festia celebrated by millions of Cebuanos city-wide to the patron saint of the city, Santo Niño.
January 21-24: spent at the beach to enjoy the unadulterated beauty of the islands (available only to the few however).
On the 24th we also visited the two communities of the outreach, Pakna-an and Punta Engaño during which Butch and Dr. Montes explained the situation, and I believe they were much more effective at relaying the struggles there than I could ever be.
January 25: my parents left tired no doubt, but with the hope they learned something.
During my parents’ visit, we all experienced moments of frustration. Trying to keep them relatively comfortable while not sacrificing my conviction to show them the real Philippines, not the adulterated version most tourist experience, was a difficult balancing act to attempt. And while my patience, my level of understanding, and my willingness to sympathize are intact for all persons, they always waver with family. Perhaps it’s the ability to be real or to know no matter what I say or do, they still love me. Either way, it’s not always the best in making a visit to a foreign country run smoothly. But as things would go, we were all quite content with each other in the last few days when my parents felt more comfortable and were able to understand what is now my life here. I thought that I would take advantage of their small exposure to this country and ask their impressions since during the craziness of my first month, my focus was less focused on even the obvious observations and more on the issues that I had been exposed to. The following is a slightly edited account of their reactions, directed towards me and written firsthand by my father but contributed to by my mother as well. Enjoy.
What was striking in Manila, Cebu, and even along the roadways in the countryside was the number of people. This began at the airport, from the baggage retrieval area to the crowd outside the terminal awaiting arriving passengers. People are everywhere. There is a sense of ordered disorder. Conversely, there is little privacy. As we live near a city, not in a city, we are not used to such crowds. Although the semi-rural area where we live is not diverse, the urbanized portions of Lorain County and Cleveland are fairly diverse. The lack of diversity in the Philippines is striking, with a high percentage of native people, a small percentage of other Asians (mainly Korean), and occasional Europeans, infrequent Americans, and a very small number of people of African descent. The relatively uniform stature of the people was noticeable to me, as I did not encounter any Filipinos close to 6 feet tall. Unlike the U.S., where anything goes, the dress attire was quite modest. Walking around, one couldn’t help but notice people looking at us. Most people would acknowledge a greeting. We experienced no physical aggression or hostility (except for a young boy in Logon, who turned around, and pointed his finger as if to shoot a gun. I’m not sure what to make of this, but he was glaring not smiling). The people we actually met were friendly, some quite so and some quite hospitable and generous. The beggars and hawkers were fairly omnipresent, with some persistent and annoying. At times, mainly in crowded streets or at night, the uncertainty of encountering so many people, unsure of their intentions, could be unsettling. However, the sense of security was greater than in some parts of American cities, which would be unsafe to venture into. Something that was unexpected was the public urination, with the most striking example, a man urinating against a palm tree in the promenade along Manila Bay in broad daylight. What one would not help to notice was the lack of obese people. A few people were overweight, but not morbidly obese. Most people were thin or normal weight. The smiling faces of most of the children were noticeable.
Smells that were striking included the sewage smell of Manila Bay, the stench of urine in places and an overall musty odor. Striking sights included the shacks or improvised shelters virtually everywhere, and made of whatever materials available, the presence of street merchants and small retains stores nearly everywhere, the lack of zoning by our standards, signs covering buildings along the roadways, the lack of landscaping, piles of trash and junk, and animals either around the homes or loose without restraint. Striking sounds were the roosters crowing, in the cities and in the country. The incessant beeps and honks of the horns of vehicles were noticeable. The traffic and manner in which drivers negotiate the chaos of the streets were unnerving and made us thankful and grateful for our Filipino drivers. Despite being despoiled by man, the underlying natural beauty of the land and seashore could not be denied.
The poverty in the Philippines is quite pervasive and in plain sight, in essence nearly everywhere, although undoubtedly there is evidence of wealth as well. The contrast of the omnipresent shacks and rundown buildings with the occasional nice home or commercial building or high rise was stark. The poverty is everywhere; we saw few residences that would not be considered substandard in the U.S. We interacted with few people that weren’t working poor. Presumably the “middle class” people we met were at the hospital.
Regarding the root causes of poverty and injustice, we can’t make such judgments from a short visit and without more knowledge of the history, politics, and economics. Our sources of information were you, Dr. Montes, and Butch. We have no reason not to believe, but as you undoubtedly learned in college, there usually are multiple points of view and perspective. Complex problems are usually just that, complex. Just as it is readily apparent that poverty is everywhere and overwhelmingly pervasive, it is also quite clear it has been present for a long time and isn’t going to change anytime soon. It seems clear that whether people farm fish, have a roadside stand or market or live in the cities, they are just getting by. Subsistence living off the land and sea only works if there is enough land to farm or access to the sea to sustain a given population. The population seems much too great for subsistence economy. Land reform/sea access would obviously help a lot of people but won’t help urbanites, the bulk of the population. The process of transitioning from an agrarian economy to an industrialized economy hasn’t been easy anywhere, let alone for a poor country to do this in today’s global economy. The dilemma is a 90,000,000 population can’t be sustained by traditional means even though industrialization runs counter to tradition. The trick is to industrialize/globalize in a manner that is fair to the workers. The global economy is not going to disappear and is a source of outside capital. Human rights need to be maintained not sold out.
The plight of the Philippine people is probably poorly understood in the U.S. Knowledge and dissemination of information are powerful. Getting the word out (facts, not presumptions or the viewpoints or a few activists) is a starting point. Foreigners can help, especially if influential with the Filipino powers to be. The word needs to get out (out of sight, out of mind). An unbiased documentary is a thought. But be smart and be safe.
In exemplifying the struggle, the juxtaposition of foreign and native lifestyles in Punta Engaño was striking. The high end foreign developments for the pleasure of the entitled few, the paved street ending at the Hilton with the rutted road beyond, the totally cleared land awaiting development versus the displaced people living in shacks just off these properties, the beautifully landscaped gated estates and resorts versus the hovels of the people, the walls topped with barbed wire, and the high rises are some examples.
[Many] blamed U.S./U.S. policies for the problems of Philippines. U.S. rule ended over 60 years ago. Undoubtedly, U.S. policies have influenced the Philippines government, but ultimately the Philippines government has the final say. The Filipinos need to be responsible for the destiny of their own people. The U.S. could certainly help, by insisting of fair treatment, fair wages, and equal justice as a condition for further assistance/investment. But this is primarily for the Filipinos to figure out. This probably won’t be easy. As I said to Butch, the Filipinos have a major advantage and that is a democracy (even if flawed) already in place. He responded if you are poor and are bribed, you vote for the people in power. That is a strong argument but will maintain the status quo. Change rarely comes without sacrifice and selfless courage. Nonviolent means (Gandhi in India, civil rights movement in U.S.) can work. Beware the lure of the far left as a cure-all for the people’s problems. Communist governments, without fail, have been totalitarian. China, for all its economic success (using capitalist techniques) is still a restricted society, with limited freedoms.
Listen, by sympathetic, keep your filter up, and be smart and safe.
During our reflection and sharing time, it was astounding how many of the same emotions I experienced and situations in which I struggled that nearly every other intern also experienced. There were feelings of being misunderstood, of constantly being asked who we are and what were doing here in sometimes an interrogative way, of finding ourselves wanting to be sympathetic to the negative role U.S. foreign policy and U.S. corporations have played here while still maintaining a love and pride of our homeland, of desiring to participate in cultural exchange when assumptions are made about American culture via media and pop culture, of wanting to feel we are contributing in some real, meaningful way when the results are not evident, of wanting to have all the available information, data, and analyses when we must make our own observations, and of wanting to understand how life here runs so abhorrently counter to how God’s children deserve to live when it seems all too unbelievable. When there were times I thought no one could possibly empathize with my feelings, with this tugging at my soul, the probability is that one of the other interns might have very well been feeling the same emotion at the very same time. I wrote before about my difficultly in stating I live in solidarity with the struggling masses in the Philippines because, despite how often I have heard this statement made, for me it accompanies a great deal of preemptive thought and inherent responsibility that should not be made light or inconsequential. But I can say without doubt—and even despite a running joke in using this next statement which involves two very embarrassing theatrical performances during which this phrase was concocted along with countless ridiculous allusions and even a midnight swim proclamation with hands raised—as a group, “we live in solidarity.”
In hearing the stories of the other interns, I also found points of diversion from my own experience. Unfortunately for many interns, the placements were either not prepared to host them or did not properly set them up with organizations or communities to be working with. In many respects, I can see how my feelings of uselessness paled in comparison to others who did not have a proper schedule which could even opened up the possibility of learning. While I do not want to be too critical of this intern program without knowing the entire history and process by which the program has come to this point, I see living in the Philippines as a great opportunity to learn a tremendous amount about the struggles of the developing world as well as to grow personally and spiritually, but this must be done with guidance and thoughtful dissemination of the details of our program to necessary personnel. It becomes an unfortunate situation when both parties are not learning and serving each other. I can say, on my part though, that despite some early bumps, the staff who I work with are very eager to help me in this process, to provide necessary programs and guidance but to also let me come to conclusions on my own.
The reflection time with the interns had the aim to give us the space to share openly, to relax in a beautiful setting at the beach, and to recharge for the next phase until we meet each other again in April. I think all those aims were met, but at times it was hard to justify why we should be at this gorgeous locale that few Filipinos visit themselves, though our accommodations were quite simple. I experience this feeling often. All of our housing, meals, and transportation are covered in program costs (thanks to many of you) and then we also receive a stipend for personal expenses. What seemed like a meager amount in August, still under the influence of American prices and the standard of living the requires those costs, the stipend now seems like an overly necessary amount, though I am happy to be saving a little with the prospect of returning to school and the dreaded student loans sooner rather than later (though not in the coming school year). But sometimes I can’t help but think how difficult it is to adjust to this culture when we can jet off every third month we are here. However, I understand why the reflections and personal stipends are necessary—simply put, they help us to keep our sanity. I hate that the difficultly of living as a misunderstood foreigner who often earns for home (and her favorite movies, music, food, cheese—yes it deserves its own distinction) can sometimes be alleviated with dollars. But it remains. It also points to the reality that we are here for a year which can feel like an eternity but in the whole thick of things will be (I hope) maybe 1/80th of my life. During that 80th, I would rather keep some semblance of familiarity than fully assimilate myself to Filipino culture, because honestly I’m not cut out for rice three times a day for a lifetime.
Following reflection time, I headed to Manila to meet up with my parents. Although they had been talking of visiting well before I had even left the U.S., the decision to come was made just weeks before they braved the 24+ hours of travel, the 13 hour time difference, and the completely different reality they had never encountered in their lives that I had the past five months to navigate through. Upon spotting them at the airport, it was strange how it felt like it had been mere weeks. As this is the longest I have been away from home—my mother reminds me incessantly—I was naively envisioning this monumental reunion. Our greeting was joyful but just as joyful as countless other shorter separations, and I realized though I love my parents immensely (and everyone knows why) perhaps this is all part of the “becoming an adult” process and feeling not as dependent on though no less connected to my parents.
Our somewhat whirlwind of a tour went something like this:
January 16: evening arrival after which I sent them straight to bed. Adjustment to the thirteen-hour time difference is no easy feat without lots of rest.
January 17: sightseeing in Manila; visiting historical landmarks, a museum containing the artworks of renowned Filipino artists, and experiencing the craziness of public transportation.
January 18: day trip outside Manila to breathtaking falls that we navigated in a boat pulled by small but surprisingly strong boatmen.
January 19: walked along the water by Manila Bay followed by our flight to Cebu.
January 20: we experienced Sinulog, the once-a-year festia celebrated by millions of Cebuanos city-wide to the patron saint of the city, Santo Niño.
January 21-24: spent at the beach to enjoy the unadulterated beauty of the islands (available only to the few however).
On the 24th we also visited the two communities of the outreach, Pakna-an and Punta Engaño during which Butch and Dr. Montes explained the situation, and I believe they were much more effective at relaying the struggles there than I could ever be.
January 25: my parents left tired no doubt, but with the hope they learned something.
During my parents’ visit, we all experienced moments of frustration. Trying to keep them relatively comfortable while not sacrificing my conviction to show them the real Philippines, not the adulterated version most tourist experience, was a difficult balancing act to attempt. And while my patience, my level of understanding, and my willingness to sympathize are intact for all persons, they always waver with family. Perhaps it’s the ability to be real or to know no matter what I say or do, they still love me. Either way, it’s not always the best in making a visit to a foreign country run smoothly. But as things would go, we were all quite content with each other in the last few days when my parents felt more comfortable and were able to understand what is now my life here. I thought that I would take advantage of their small exposure to this country and ask their impressions since during the craziness of my first month, my focus was less focused on even the obvious observations and more on the issues that I had been exposed to. The following is a slightly edited account of their reactions, directed towards me and written firsthand by my father but contributed to by my mother as well. Enjoy.
What was striking in Manila, Cebu, and even along the roadways in the countryside was the number of people. This began at the airport, from the baggage retrieval area to the crowd outside the terminal awaiting arriving passengers. People are everywhere. There is a sense of ordered disorder. Conversely, there is little privacy. As we live near a city, not in a city, we are not used to such crowds. Although the semi-rural area where we live is not diverse, the urbanized portions of Lorain County and Cleveland are fairly diverse. The lack of diversity in the Philippines is striking, with a high percentage of native people, a small percentage of other Asians (mainly Korean), and occasional Europeans, infrequent Americans, and a very small number of people of African descent. The relatively uniform stature of the people was noticeable to me, as I did not encounter any Filipinos close to 6 feet tall. Unlike the U.S., where anything goes, the dress attire was quite modest. Walking around, one couldn’t help but notice people looking at us. Most people would acknowledge a greeting. We experienced no physical aggression or hostility (except for a young boy in Logon, who turned around, and pointed his finger as if to shoot a gun. I’m not sure what to make of this, but he was glaring not smiling). The people we actually met were friendly, some quite so and some quite hospitable and generous. The beggars and hawkers were fairly omnipresent, with some persistent and annoying. At times, mainly in crowded streets or at night, the uncertainty of encountering so many people, unsure of their intentions, could be unsettling. However, the sense of security was greater than in some parts of American cities, which would be unsafe to venture into. Something that was unexpected was the public urination, with the most striking example, a man urinating against a palm tree in the promenade along Manila Bay in broad daylight. What one would not help to notice was the lack of obese people. A few people were overweight, but not morbidly obese. Most people were thin or normal weight. The smiling faces of most of the children were noticeable.
Smells that were striking included the sewage smell of Manila Bay, the stench of urine in places and an overall musty odor. Striking sights included the shacks or improvised shelters virtually everywhere, and made of whatever materials available, the presence of street merchants and small retains stores nearly everywhere, the lack of zoning by our standards, signs covering buildings along the roadways, the lack of landscaping, piles of trash and junk, and animals either around the homes or loose without restraint. Striking sounds were the roosters crowing, in the cities and in the country. The incessant beeps and honks of the horns of vehicles were noticeable. The traffic and manner in which drivers negotiate the chaos of the streets were unnerving and made us thankful and grateful for our Filipino drivers. Despite being despoiled by man, the underlying natural beauty of the land and seashore could not be denied.
The poverty in the Philippines is quite pervasive and in plain sight, in essence nearly everywhere, although undoubtedly there is evidence of wealth as well. The contrast of the omnipresent shacks and rundown buildings with the occasional nice home or commercial building or high rise was stark. The poverty is everywhere; we saw few residences that would not be considered substandard in the U.S. We interacted with few people that weren’t working poor. Presumably the “middle class” people we met were at the hospital.
Regarding the root causes of poverty and injustice, we can’t make such judgments from a short visit and without more knowledge of the history, politics, and economics. Our sources of information were you, Dr. Montes, and Butch. We have no reason not to believe, but as you undoubtedly learned in college, there usually are multiple points of view and perspective. Complex problems are usually just that, complex. Just as it is readily apparent that poverty is everywhere and overwhelmingly pervasive, it is also quite clear it has been present for a long time and isn’t going to change anytime soon. It seems clear that whether people farm fish, have a roadside stand or market or live in the cities, they are just getting by. Subsistence living off the land and sea only works if there is enough land to farm or access to the sea to sustain a given population. The population seems much too great for subsistence economy. Land reform/sea access would obviously help a lot of people but won’t help urbanites, the bulk of the population. The process of transitioning from an agrarian economy to an industrialized economy hasn’t been easy anywhere, let alone for a poor country to do this in today’s global economy. The dilemma is a 90,000,000 population can’t be sustained by traditional means even though industrialization runs counter to tradition. The trick is to industrialize/globalize in a manner that is fair to the workers. The global economy is not going to disappear and is a source of outside capital. Human rights need to be maintained not sold out.
The plight of the Philippine people is probably poorly understood in the U.S. Knowledge and dissemination of information are powerful. Getting the word out (facts, not presumptions or the viewpoints or a few activists) is a starting point. Foreigners can help, especially if influential with the Filipino powers to be. The word needs to get out (out of sight, out of mind). An unbiased documentary is a thought. But be smart and be safe.
In exemplifying the struggle, the juxtaposition of foreign and native lifestyles in Punta Engaño was striking. The high end foreign developments for the pleasure of the entitled few, the paved street ending at the Hilton with the rutted road beyond, the totally cleared land awaiting development versus the displaced people living in shacks just off these properties, the beautifully landscaped gated estates and resorts versus the hovels of the people, the walls topped with barbed wire, and the high rises are some examples.
[Many] blamed U.S./U.S. policies for the problems of Philippines. U.S. rule ended over 60 years ago. Undoubtedly, U.S. policies have influenced the Philippines government, but ultimately the Philippines government has the final say. The Filipinos need to be responsible for the destiny of their own people. The U.S. could certainly help, by insisting of fair treatment, fair wages, and equal justice as a condition for further assistance/investment. But this is primarily for the Filipinos to figure out. This probably won’t be easy. As I said to Butch, the Filipinos have a major advantage and that is a democracy (even if flawed) already in place. He responded if you are poor and are bribed, you vote for the people in power. That is a strong argument but will maintain the status quo. Change rarely comes without sacrifice and selfless courage. Nonviolent means (Gandhi in India, civil rights movement in U.S.) can work. Beware the lure of the far left as a cure-all for the people’s problems. Communist governments, without fail, have been totalitarian. China, for all its economic success (using capitalist techniques) is still a restricted society, with limited freedoms.
Listen, by sympathetic, keep your filter up, and be smart and safe.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
January Update from Vrbovce!!! - Mark in Slovakia
Ahoj and Greetings from Slovakia.
Can you Believe it's 2008? It is hard to believe I've been in Slovak for
almost 5 months a lot has
happened. This January has been rather busy.
And as usual I have been writing some other updates on my Blog for those
of you who are
Internet savvy.
The address is http://www.moltron.net/blog/
I also have
many more pictures
available at http://flickr.com/photos/themoltron
In my last newsletter I talked about my New Years experience in Geneva,
which was awesome. I
after I arrived in my Village I was there for only a week before I
headed of Wisla, Poland (a little
skiing town near the Czech Republic). In Wisla, I had the opportunity to
meet the other
volunteers in Slovakia and well as Volunteers from Poland and the Czech
Republic. We all got to
tell our stories of where we are living and the things we are doing.
Everyone has their own unique
experience and it is fun to hear about it. It has
also been great to share the many similar
experiences of culture. Even though we live
sometimes several hours away from each other
we can laugh about the way Slovak's do certain
things. One thing in Slovakia that is rather funny
is that families always ask what you think of
Slovak women or men and then proceed to
encourage to find and marry one immediately.
Being a Guy I don't get as often as some of the
girls. My trip to Wisla was fun and nice break to
reflect and laugh on this strange and interesting
culture I've been thrown into.
When I returned to my Village is was back to normal (or Slovak normal I
should say). Right
when I got back I started to feel a little homesick. At about 5 months
all the initial excitement is
starting to wear off and I just can't help but question what makes this
culture so alien to me
sometimes. Like when you drink coffee with the grounds in the cup. Why
is that no one knows
how to use a coffee machine with a filter? Is just one of many question
I have. And when
anything is rather out of place. I just say "Typical Slovakia". Even
when it might not be true. I
can only hope I don't become a total cynic.
The youth group or Mlady Skupina has been a struggle for me to get kids
to come and plan
activities that are fun but, also allow me to be involved in
conversation. So far Oli, Flo (the other
volunteers here) and I have a small group of kids who have been coming
regularly.
One very sad event occurred about 2 or 3 weeks ago when a young boy (16)
committed suicide in
the village near the beginning of the week. I didn't know the boy but it
effected me. It affected
everyone. While I was delivering lunches to the old ladies, instead the
usual smiles, I saw only
sad and somewhat shocked faces. I kept asking myself is there anything I
could have done. I
didn't attend the funeral but when the funeral procession was at the
church I stood, watched and
prayed has almost the whole village march up the street with flowers and
mournful faces. I talked
to the Pastor about it and he said the boy wrote a note to the effect
"No ones loves me, life is not
worth living". It makes me said that he lost all hope. It also gives me
a desire to see Christian live
and love the hope that Christ promises.
Later that week we tried to plan our youth group around the theme of
death so that the youth
could find comfort and peace from the situation. We chose 2 texts, Jesus
on the Road to Emmaus
(Luke 24:13-32) and Jesus and Lazarus (John 11). These to stories
reflect for me what it means to
follow Christ, that Christ fulfilled his promise and is alive and that
he cares for all those who die
or mourn. As much as we tried to have a discussion they were typical
kids and didn't say much. I
pray that they maybe heard a spark of hope during this difficult time.
Although there was this rather sad event, this month has
been full of many fun and exciting thing as well. We have
celebrated the birthdays of the triplets, Monika, Dominika,
and Veronika, who help us with Slovak once a week. We
made them an awesome card with some picture we drew of
all things we have done together.
We were also invited to attend a celebration at the
village school. It is has been 10 years since they moved
the school into the larger facility. They had dancing and
excellent food prepared by the most amazing lunch
ladies ever. They also had a raffle for door prizes. The
kids prepared some traditional dances. It was great
seeing the little kids in costume and dancing. We didn't
we anything but, celebration was nice and I felt like we
were appreciated for the teaching we do even if it is only
once a week.
That's all I really have for now. Before I go I would that you pray for
some of these specific
concerns.
- That the village would seek Christ in the midst of this suicide
- That The Lord would give me wisdom and strength for the rest of the year
- That I would not become a total cynic in regards to the culture I'm
living in
- That Christ's love and the church would grow in Eastern Europe
God's Blessings and Peace be with you,
Christ’s Servant in Slovakia
Mark
Can you Believe it's 2008? It is hard to believe I've been in Slovak for
almost 5 months a lot has
happened. This January has been rather busy.
And as usual I have been writing some other updates on my Blog for those
of you who are
Internet savvy.
The address is http://www.moltron.net/blog/
I also have
many more pictures
available at http://flickr.com/photos/themoltron
In my last newsletter I talked about my New Years experience in Geneva,
which was awesome. I
after I arrived in my Village I was there for only a week before I
headed of Wisla, Poland (a little
skiing town near the Czech Republic). In Wisla, I had the opportunity to
meet the other
volunteers in Slovakia and well as Volunteers from Poland and the Czech
Republic. We all got to
tell our stories of where we are living and the things we are doing.
Everyone has their own unique
experience and it is fun to hear about it. It has
also been great to share the many similar
experiences of culture. Even though we live
sometimes several hours away from each other
we can laugh about the way Slovak's do certain
things. One thing in Slovakia that is rather funny
is that families always ask what you think of
Slovak women or men and then proceed to
encourage to find and marry one immediately.
Being a Guy I don't get as often as some of the
girls. My trip to Wisla was fun and nice break to
reflect and laugh on this strange and interesting
culture I've been thrown into.
When I returned to my Village is was back to normal (or Slovak normal I
should say). Right
when I got back I started to feel a little homesick. At about 5 months
all the initial excitement is
starting to wear off and I just can't help but question what makes this
culture so alien to me
sometimes. Like when you drink coffee with the grounds in the cup. Why
is that no one knows
how to use a coffee machine with a filter? Is just one of many question
I have. And when
anything is rather out of place. I just say "Typical Slovakia". Even
when it might not be true. I
can only hope I don't become a total cynic.
The youth group or Mlady Skupina has been a struggle for me to get kids
to come and plan
activities that are fun but, also allow me to be involved in
conversation. So far Oli, Flo (the other
volunteers here) and I have a small group of kids who have been coming
regularly.
One very sad event occurred about 2 or 3 weeks ago when a young boy (16)
committed suicide in
the village near the beginning of the week. I didn't know the boy but it
effected me. It affected
everyone. While I was delivering lunches to the old ladies, instead the
usual smiles, I saw only
sad and somewhat shocked faces. I kept asking myself is there anything I
could have done. I
didn't attend the funeral but when the funeral procession was at the
church I stood, watched and
prayed has almost the whole village march up the street with flowers and
mournful faces. I talked
to the Pastor about it and he said the boy wrote a note to the effect
"No ones loves me, life is not
worth living". It makes me said that he lost all hope. It also gives me
a desire to see Christian live
and love the hope that Christ promises.
Later that week we tried to plan our youth group around the theme of
death so that the youth
could find comfort and peace from the situation. We chose 2 texts, Jesus
on the Road to Emmaus
(Luke 24:13-32) and Jesus and Lazarus (John 11). These to stories
reflect for me what it means to
follow Christ, that Christ fulfilled his promise and is alive and that
he cares for all those who die
or mourn. As much as we tried to have a discussion they were typical
kids and didn't say much. I
pray that they maybe heard a spark of hope during this difficult time.
Although there was this rather sad event, this month has
been full of many fun and exciting thing as well. We have
celebrated the birthdays of the triplets, Monika, Dominika,
and Veronika, who help us with Slovak once a week. We
made them an awesome card with some picture we drew of
all things we have done together.
We were also invited to attend a celebration at the
village school. It is has been 10 years since they moved
the school into the larger facility. They had dancing and
excellent food prepared by the most amazing lunch
ladies ever. They also had a raffle for door prizes. The
kids prepared some traditional dances. It was great
seeing the little kids in costume and dancing. We didn't
we anything but, celebration was nice and I felt like we
were appreciated for the teaching we do even if it is only
once a week.
That's all I really have for now. Before I go I would that you pray for
some of these specific
concerns.
- That the village would seek Christ in the midst of this suicide
- That The Lord would give me wisdom and strength for the rest of the year
- That I would not become a total cynic in regards to the culture I'm
living in
- That Christ's love and the church would grow in Eastern Europe
God's Blessings and Peace be with you,
Christ’s Servant in Slovakia
Mark
January 2008 Newsletter from Gatundu, Kenya - Sarah
January 2008 Newsletter: Update from Gatundu, Kenya
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.
Matthew 5: 9
Love your neighbor as yourself.
Matthew 19:19
Happy New Year! I am writing this newsletter from my home in Gatundu where I have only been for two weeks since the post-election violence left me stranded in Nairobi. From the CNN broadcasts on the local morning television channels, violence and chaos in Kenya seem to be in the forefront everyday. Luckily, the community in which I live is in the central province and thus our school opened only one week late. Unfortunately, there are hundreds of schools (including Universities) that have yet to open because of the chaos in the country. I have a few transfer students in my classes that have been displaced and are unable to return to their homes and schools.
Apart from the endless discussions of politics, Icaciri Secondary School appears to be running as usual. I am currently teaching all of our Form 2 (10th gr) English classes and will most likely teach a Form 1 (9th gr) class once they begin in mid-February. This past week, we played Idiom Pictionary and held an official debate on whether it is better to live in the urban or rural areas. The students are progressing nicely and it's nice to have the same students that I had last term when they were Form 1s. The only downside to teaching English is that I am very much aware of my grammar in this newsletter and I am terrified that I will make a dumb mistake!
Since the controversial Presidential elections took place on December 27, 2007, over 800 people have been killed, most of whom by the neighbors they have lived peacefully with for generations. In a country that has been known to take care of refugees from neighboring warring countries, over 300,000 people have been displaced and have become refugees in their own country. It is heartbreaking to hear and see the violence inflicted upon people by their neighbors.
As I watched the international headlines race across the bottom of a nightly newscast, I was reminded of the privilege I used to have living in the U.S. Although there have always been violence and atrocities occurring across the world, I could turn off the television or change the channel to escape the chaos. Today I'm in the midst of it. I cannot simply ignore what is going on because it causes stress, anxiety or even anger. Even though I am physically safe in my community, I constantly hear of my friends and their families being stranded in several parts of the country, and even that a good friend of mine lost his cousin in post-election violence.
I continue to have privilege while I am here. I have plenty of food and the option to hire a private car if I am weary of public transit. I have the privilege to be evacuated if the country becomes too unstable. There are hundreds of thousands, possibly even millions, of Kenyans who do not have these luxuries. People continue to live in fear and I wonder what it will take to bring this historically peaceful country back together.
How many of you vote whenever you have the chance? Kenya is a democratic country with democratic processes, yet all sides of the political leaders have stated that the electoral process was flawed. How many of us in America take our right to vote for granted? How many people do not vote because they are too lazy to fill out voter registration cards, travel (most likely drive) to a polling station, and wait in an organized line for an hour? I spent Election Day in a rural Eastern town and witnessed the members of the community walk for miles to vote and then stand in the scorching sun for hours. It is our right and privilege as Americans to vote and it is something that we should take advantage of because many people around the world do not have that right.
I am humbled by the strength, conviction and faith of the Kenyan people. Even during this time of extreme heartache, people continue to fight for change. People continue to hope for a better future.
The Kiswahili lesson this month will be brief:
Tudumishe amani: Grant us peace
Prayer Requests: The volunteers and I are traveling to Tanzania tomorrow for a mid-term retreat. Please pray for a safe journey and relaxing week. Please continue to pray for the Kenyan people and for peace in this country.
Peace be with you,
Sarah
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
John 14: 27
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.
Matthew 5: 9
Love your neighbor as yourself.
Matthew 19:19
Happy New Year! I am writing this newsletter from my home in Gatundu where I have only been for two weeks since the post-election violence left me stranded in Nairobi. From the CNN broadcasts on the local morning television channels, violence and chaos in Kenya seem to be in the forefront everyday. Luckily, the community in which I live is in the central province and thus our school opened only one week late. Unfortunately, there are hundreds of schools (including Universities) that have yet to open because of the chaos in the country. I have a few transfer students in my classes that have been displaced and are unable to return to their homes and schools.
Apart from the endless discussions of politics, Icaciri Secondary School appears to be running as usual. I am currently teaching all of our Form 2 (10th gr) English classes and will most likely teach a Form 1 (9th gr) class once they begin in mid-February. This past week, we played Idiom Pictionary and held an official debate on whether it is better to live in the urban or rural areas. The students are progressing nicely and it's nice to have the same students that I had last term when they were Form 1s. The only downside to teaching English is that I am very much aware of my grammar in this newsletter and I am terrified that I will make a dumb mistake!
Since the controversial Presidential elections took place on December 27, 2007, over 800 people have been killed, most of whom by the neighbors they have lived peacefully with for generations. In a country that has been known to take care of refugees from neighboring warring countries, over 300,000 people have been displaced and have become refugees in their own country. It is heartbreaking to hear and see the violence inflicted upon people by their neighbors.
As I watched the international headlines race across the bottom of a nightly newscast, I was reminded of the privilege I used to have living in the U.S. Although there have always been violence and atrocities occurring across the world, I could turn off the television or change the channel to escape the chaos. Today I'm in the midst of it. I cannot simply ignore what is going on because it causes stress, anxiety or even anger. Even though I am physically safe in my community, I constantly hear of my friends and their families being stranded in several parts of the country, and even that a good friend of mine lost his cousin in post-election violence.
I continue to have privilege while I am here. I have plenty of food and the option to hire a private car if I am weary of public transit. I have the privilege to be evacuated if the country becomes too unstable. There are hundreds of thousands, possibly even millions, of Kenyans who do not have these luxuries. People continue to live in fear and I wonder what it will take to bring this historically peaceful country back together.
How many of you vote whenever you have the chance? Kenya is a democratic country with democratic processes, yet all sides of the political leaders have stated that the electoral process was flawed. How many of us in America take our right to vote for granted? How many people do not vote because they are too lazy to fill out voter registration cards, travel (most likely drive) to a polling station, and wait in an organized line for an hour? I spent Election Day in a rural Eastern town and witnessed the members of the community walk for miles to vote and then stand in the scorching sun for hours. It is our right and privilege as Americans to vote and it is something that we should take advantage of because many people around the world do not have that right.
I am humbled by the strength, conviction and faith of the Kenyan people. Even during this time of extreme heartache, people continue to fight for change. People continue to hope for a better future.
The Kiswahili lesson this month will be brief:
Tudumishe amani: Grant us peace
Prayer Requests: The volunteers and I are traveling to Tanzania tomorrow for a mid-term retreat. Please pray for a safe journey and relaxing week. Please continue to pray for the Kenyan people and for peace in this country.
Peace be with you,
Sarah
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
John 14: 27
Monday, February 4, 2008
January Newsletter - Kristen in Slovakia
January Newsletter
January Happenings in Velky Slavkov
In January we had our mid-term seminar in Wisla, Poland. The volunteers in Slovakia met together with other American and German volunteers in the Czech Republic, Poland, and Germany. There we were able to compare our experiences thus far. We examined both the challenges that we are still facing as well as the successes that we have had in our placements. I was able to look at the small successes in teaching the boys some English, Desko learning how to swim, learning how to cook some new Slovak foods, having one of my host sisters braid my hair, and being able to sing some Slovak worship songs. I also was able to reflect on the challenges that I still face and set some goals for myself for the remaining half of the year. I realized that the challenges mostly revolve around the language barrier and it is important that I work daily on trying to improve my Slovak and have conversations with the people here. I was aware of the desire to continue to get the boys better and to make sure that I am taking the initiative of asking them questions. Just the other day I noticed one of the boys dying a sweatshirt and the next day when I asked him how it turned out he took me and showed me and we then discussed for a little while how to fix the splotches that had appeared on it. I realized from talking to the other volunteers that most of our struggles are very similar and the best way to work through them is to not be afraid to take the initiative. And of course the retreat also consisted of some fun time in between the sessions where we were able to take a nice long hike through the mountains and enjoy the gorgeous scenery, explore the town and shops, take a horse drawn carriage ride (with wheels since all the snow melted right before we were there), and just hang out and get to tell stories about our placements and experiences.
During the month of January we had two new faces arrived to the staff here at Myln. The first to arrive was Pali, our new chef. He is twenty-four and just came back from spending a year working in Britain. He used to work as the chef for the center next door so he is familiar with Velky Slavkov and most of the people working at Myln. The second person to arrive was Jessica, one of the American volunteers who was working in a small village outside of Banska Bystrica. Her placement had fallen through and she was interested in the work done here, so she has also joined us here at the end of the month. She is twenty-two and from Pennsylvania. Both of them are an awesome addition to the work team and I am enjoying working with them.
January sixteenth was my name day here (Kristina)! In Slovakia every day of the year has been assigned one or two names. All of the calendars have the names written on them for each day and people keep close track of whose names are to be celebrated. When naming their children, the Slovaks choose from one of the preselected names that are used in the country. You might be wondering if the parents just name their child for the name that is on the day they are born, but no. That would take away the fun of having both a birthday and a name day. Unfortunately I was away at the seminar for my name day, but customarily the person whose name day it is receives small gifts or chocolates and people shake their hand or kiss their cheeks and wish them a happy name day.
Our question of the month for January was "Does everyone matter?" I am sure that you already know that my answer will be yes, of course everyone matters. And they do. But I think this question goes much deeper than we realize. Just because we acknowledge with our lips that everyone matters does not mean that we always remember this or treat everyone this way. With some people it is easier than with others. It is a challenge to welcome someone to sit down beside you when they smell like they haven't showered for weeks, or to take a walk and talk to the boys as they are smoking, or to smile and be friendly to someone who says something mean about you in Slovak, not realizing that you understand more than they think you do. But these things are important. The best way to help someone know that they matter in this world is to take time to be with them.
I am also learning through this experience here that I matter too. It is hard sometimes to be the outsider here but sometimes the best way to minister to people is to be on the receiving end of what they can offer. One of the ways here that I was shown that I matter was through one of the boys, Dusan, who has severe mental disabilities and has the mentality of about a five year old. I always make sure that I say hi to him, ask him how he is, listen to what he has to say, and give him an occasional candy. Well I had left for a few days and came back late that evening without seeing him. The next morning I was talking to someone in the hall upstairs and from below I hear Dusan as he hears my voice. "Kristy? Kristy! Kristy is back!!!" And Dusan ran out of his room and half-way up the steps, still putting on his shirt. He had dropped everything he was doing, including finishing getting dressed, in his excitement to see me.
We all matter. Everyone has a story to tell. The important thing is to remember this and to look for the opportunities in our lives to both tell our story and to listen to the stories of others. I hope that everything is well with all of you, and as always please keep in touch.
In the love and peace of Christ,
Kristen
January Happenings in Velky Slavkov
In January we had our mid-term seminar in Wisla, Poland. The volunteers in Slovakia met together with other American and German volunteers in the Czech Republic, Poland, and Germany. There we were able to compare our experiences thus far. We examined both the challenges that we are still facing as well as the successes that we have had in our placements. I was able to look at the small successes in teaching the boys some English, Desko learning how to swim, learning how to cook some new Slovak foods, having one of my host sisters braid my hair, and being able to sing some Slovak worship songs. I also was able to reflect on the challenges that I still face and set some goals for myself for the remaining half of the year. I realized that the challenges mostly revolve around the language barrier and it is important that I work daily on trying to improve my Slovak and have conversations with the people here. I was aware of the desire to continue to get the boys better and to make sure that I am taking the initiative of asking them questions. Just the other day I noticed one of the boys dying a sweatshirt and the next day when I asked him how it turned out he took me and showed me and we then discussed for a little while how to fix the splotches that had appeared on it. I realized from talking to the other volunteers that most of our struggles are very similar and the best way to work through them is to not be afraid to take the initiative. And of course the retreat also consisted of some fun time in between the sessions where we were able to take a nice long hike through the mountains and enjoy the gorgeous scenery, explore the town and shops, take a horse drawn carriage ride (with wheels since all the snow melted right before we were there), and just hang out and get to tell stories about our placements and experiences.
During the month of January we had two new faces arrived to the staff here at Myln. The first to arrive was Pali, our new chef. He is twenty-four and just came back from spending a year working in Britain. He used to work as the chef for the center next door so he is familiar with Velky Slavkov and most of the people working at Myln. The second person to arrive was Jessica, one of the American volunteers who was working in a small village outside of Banska Bystrica. Her placement had fallen through and she was interested in the work done here, so she has also joined us here at the end of the month. She is twenty-two and from Pennsylvania. Both of them are an awesome addition to the work team and I am enjoying working with them.
January sixteenth was my name day here (Kristina)! In Slovakia every day of the year has been assigned one or two names. All of the calendars have the names written on them for each day and people keep close track of whose names are to be celebrated. When naming their children, the Slovaks choose from one of the preselected names that are used in the country. You might be wondering if the parents just name their child for the name that is on the day they are born, but no. That would take away the fun of having both a birthday and a name day. Unfortunately I was away at the seminar for my name day, but customarily the person whose name day it is receives small gifts or chocolates and people shake their hand or kiss their cheeks and wish them a happy name day.
Our question of the month for January was "Does everyone matter?" I am sure that you already know that my answer will be yes, of course everyone matters. And they do. But I think this question goes much deeper than we realize. Just because we acknowledge with our lips that everyone matters does not mean that we always remember this or treat everyone this way. With some people it is easier than with others. It is a challenge to welcome someone to sit down beside you when they smell like they haven't showered for weeks, or to take a walk and talk to the boys as they are smoking, or to smile and be friendly to someone who says something mean about you in Slovak, not realizing that you understand more than they think you do. But these things are important. The best way to help someone know that they matter in this world is to take time to be with them.
I am also learning through this experience here that I matter too. It is hard sometimes to be the outsider here but sometimes the best way to minister to people is to be on the receiving end of what they can offer. One of the ways here that I was shown that I matter was through one of the boys, Dusan, who has severe mental disabilities and has the mentality of about a five year old. I always make sure that I say hi to him, ask him how he is, listen to what he has to say, and give him an occasional candy. Well I had left for a few days and came back late that evening without seeing him. The next morning I was talking to someone in the hall upstairs and from below I hear Dusan as he hears my voice. "Kristy? Kristy! Kristy is back!!!" And Dusan ran out of his room and half-way up the steps, still putting on his shirt. He had dropped everything he was doing, including finishing getting dressed, in his excitement to see me.
We all matter. Everyone has a story to tell. The important thing is to remember this and to look for the opportunities in our lives to both tell our story and to listen to the stories of others. I hope that everything is well with all of you, and as always please keep in touch.
In the love and peace of Christ,
Kristen
Sunday, February 3, 2008
January Newsletter! - Eric in the UK
St. Pancras News
January
Dashing Through the Snow
For the whole five months that I have worked in London, I have not had yet a serious amout of time off. This all changed when my friend Maren (another ELCA volunteer) and me went to Austria for a skiing holiday. Our first three nights were spent in the town of Feldkirch, just a little ways from the German-Austrian border. We stayed in a hostel that was originally built in the 1200's and was used as the primary hostel for people with disease and the Black Plague (in the 14th century). Although the history of the building is not one of roses and rainbows, it was a wonderful place to stay with a lot of character that one should expect from a building of such age. It was also filled with some very interesting people whom Maren and I both had the chance to meet.
One person in particular whom we met the first night we were in Feldkirch was named Mike. Mike was about our age and was originally from Vienna, Austria. He described himself as originally an atheist, but had an "enlightenment" (as he said) a couple years ago with faith. He was in the midst of a pilgrimage from Vienna to Portugal and was very interested in both Maren and my work in England. Due to his relatively broken English, it was hard to communicate fully with him and I wasn't able to ask him more questions on his own faith journey. However, we still were able to exchange a wonderful assortment of laughs and stories of our experiences thus far. Mike remained with us for much of the next day as we explored together the sites and sounds of Feldkirch. After our wonderful day exploring, Mike wished us well and hopped on a train heading west not knowing exactly where he was going to end up that night. I admired his "off-the-cuff" spirit and openness to new things. His friendly smile and choice of living his faith through travel and adventure really struck me and warmed my heart. I wish Mike well and God's love in the rest of his travels.
After our few days in Feldkirch, we headed up into the mountains by train to the ski village of St. Anton. The village was something from a movie with spectacular Austrian architecture, incredible mountains, and 4ft of snow! We met James, the cousin to Maren's Host Father, who showed us around and made sure that we were settled in with everything. James is a chef who works at one of the restaurants at the top of Galzig Peak (one of the many in the resort). He is originally from Belfast, Northern Ireland and came to St. Anton four years ago knowing almost no German. In that time, he not only has made a home here with his girlfriend, but has really become accepted by the local people.
Like a true Irishman, James started a tradition of having drinks with anyone who wanted to join after his long day of work. Thus, almost every day after the restaurant closes up, all the employees ride the cable car down to the village. They then all gather together at one local bar (or "lokal" as the Austrians call it) for a time of drinks and laughs. I was invited to a couple of these events and was amazed at the spirit of the place. I met many new people who all greeted me whether they spoke English or not. It was truly a community that was proud of their surroundings and welcomed anyone to participate in this sense of spirit.
Death of a True and Faithful Servant
A little while ago, I was doing some work in my room when an emotional Owen (the other pastoral assistant) knocked on the door. He told me that Francis, an 84 year old man who had dedicated his life to various functions in our church died at his home. Owen, in fact, was the first one to hear the news as the police who discovered the body finally came to the church because they could find no reference to any other family member. "That just explains how much the church was actually the only family left for him", Owen explained. Owen and I both remember fondly the first time we met Francis- an old, bent over man with a cane, a thick Cockney accent, and an incredible spirit. He came up to both of us new pastoral assistants, gave us both a huge hug and kiss on the top of our heads and exclaimed, " The Fathers told me that you were coming and to take care of you! So that is what I am going to do!" Throughout this time, Francis has taken care of both of us in many ways. The loss of Francis will reverberate throughout all of our four churches this week. We all will miss him greatly.
Conference in Wales
I went to a Time For God Conference (the organization that the Lutheran Church in the United States works with to place us in the UK) in Wales two weeks ago with 120 other volunteers placed all over the British Isles. It was a wonderful experience to feel the diversity of culture and expression within the group of people. We had a lot of time to sit and talk with one another and about our placements. We shared stories of struggle and stories of hope. Perhaps the highlight of the conferences was the talent show where it became quickly apparent on how many cultures and traditions were represented. We saw American Swing Dancing, Swedish Folktales, Hungarian and German traditional dances, Korean worship practices, and a Scottish diction lesson. I felt extremely blessed to be a part of this amazing group of people from all over the world.
In all the unpredictability that is happening in this world right now, this group reinforced for me the hope that cultures can come together and associate with one another. Not only can this be seen as a hope for the future, but also as a passion of mine. We all need more experiences like this to break out of our cultural boxes and realize that there is a larger world out there. By the grace of God, I truly hope and pray that our generation can see one another not as people of different cultures and race, but as human beings- all created by our Lord and maker.
Please check out my BLOG if you haven't already at: http://godandqueen.blogspot.com/
January
Dashing Through the Snow
For the whole five months that I have worked in London, I have not had yet a serious amout of time off. This all changed when my friend Maren (another ELCA volunteer) and me went to Austria for a skiing holiday. Our first three nights were spent in the town of Feldkirch, just a little ways from the German-Austrian border. We stayed in a hostel that was originally built in the 1200's and was used as the primary hostel for people with disease and the Black Plague (in the 14th century). Although the history of the building is not one of roses and rainbows, it was a wonderful place to stay with a lot of character that one should expect from a building of such age. It was also filled with some very interesting people whom Maren and I both had the chance to meet.
One person in particular whom we met the first night we were in Feldkirch was named Mike. Mike was about our age and was originally from Vienna, Austria. He described himself as originally an atheist, but had an "enlightenment" (as he said) a couple years ago with faith. He was in the midst of a pilgrimage from Vienna to Portugal and was very interested in both Maren and my work in England. Due to his relatively broken English, it was hard to communicate fully with him and I wasn't able to ask him more questions on his own faith journey. However, we still were able to exchange a wonderful assortment of laughs and stories of our experiences thus far. Mike remained with us for much of the next day as we explored together the sites and sounds of Feldkirch. After our wonderful day exploring, Mike wished us well and hopped on a train heading west not knowing exactly where he was going to end up that night. I admired his "off-the-cuff" spirit and openness to new things. His friendly smile and choice of living his faith through travel and adventure really struck me and warmed my heart. I wish Mike well and God's love in the rest of his travels.
After our few days in Feldkirch, we headed up into the mountains by train to the ski village of St. Anton. The village was something from a movie with spectacular Austrian architecture, incredible mountains, and 4ft of snow! We met James, the cousin to Maren's Host Father, who showed us around and made sure that we were settled in with everything. James is a chef who works at one of the restaurants at the top of Galzig Peak (one of the many in the resort). He is originally from Belfast, Northern Ireland and came to St. Anton four years ago knowing almost no German. In that time, he not only has made a home here with his girlfriend, but has really become accepted by the local people.
Like a true Irishman, James started a tradition of having drinks with anyone who wanted to join after his long day of work. Thus, almost every day after the restaurant closes up, all the employees ride the cable car down to the village. They then all gather together at one local bar (or "lokal" as the Austrians call it) for a time of drinks and laughs. I was invited to a couple of these events and was amazed at the spirit of the place. I met many new people who all greeted me whether they spoke English or not. It was truly a community that was proud of their surroundings and welcomed anyone to participate in this sense of spirit.
Death of a True and Faithful Servant
A little while ago, I was doing some work in my room when an emotional Owen (the other pastoral assistant) knocked on the door. He told me that Francis, an 84 year old man who had dedicated his life to various functions in our church died at his home. Owen, in fact, was the first one to hear the news as the police who discovered the body finally came to the church because they could find no reference to any other family member. "That just explains how much the church was actually the only family left for him", Owen explained. Owen and I both remember fondly the first time we met Francis- an old, bent over man with a cane, a thick Cockney accent, and an incredible spirit. He came up to both of us new pastoral assistants, gave us both a huge hug and kiss on the top of our heads and exclaimed, " The Fathers told me that you were coming and to take care of you! So that is what I am going to do!" Throughout this time, Francis has taken care of both of us in many ways. The loss of Francis will reverberate throughout all of our four churches this week. We all will miss him greatly.
Conference in Wales
I went to a Time For God Conference (the organization that the Lutheran Church in the United States works with to place us in the UK) in Wales two weeks ago with 120 other volunteers placed all over the British Isles. It was a wonderful experience to feel the diversity of culture and expression within the group of people. We had a lot of time to sit and talk with one another and about our placements. We shared stories of struggle and stories of hope. Perhaps the highlight of the conferences was the talent show where it became quickly apparent on how many cultures and traditions were represented. We saw American Swing Dancing, Swedish Folktales, Hungarian and German traditional dances, Korean worship practices, and a Scottish diction lesson. I felt extremely blessed to be a part of this amazing group of people from all over the world.
In all the unpredictability that is happening in this world right now, this group reinforced for me the hope that cultures can come together and associate with one another. Not only can this be seen as a hope for the future, but also as a passion of mine. We all need more experiences like this to break out of our cultural boxes and realize that there is a larger world out there. By the grace of God, I truly hope and pray that our generation can see one another not as people of different cultures and race, but as human beings- all created by our Lord and maker.
Please check out my BLOG if you haven't already at: http://godandqueen.blogspot.com/
Friday, February 1, 2008
Enero part 1...January part1... - Kristina in Argentina
Bueno como prometido aquí esta enero espero hacerle justicia y lamento todo lo que no alcanzare decir,
La ultima vez habíamos quedado en que llegaba el grupo, pero creo que antes de continuar es importante mencionar cual era mi rol en este encuentro. A mi se me invito para participar como traductora a través de la semana tuve la oportunidad de hacer otras cosas como enseñar juegos cocinar pero primordialmente estaba ahí para ayudar a que la gente se entendiera. Para algunos puede que esto suene como tarea sencilla, escucho, entiendo, repito. Lo que muchos no entienden y para el que no es hispano parlante es a menudo difícil de explicar el hecho de que en América Latina y España si todos hablamos español pero eso no significa que siempre tener la mas mínima idea de lo que habla el otro. Muchas veces las expresiones, los dichos, incluso las palabras necesitan explicación, así que mientras traducía entre del ingles al español y del español al ingles
también en mi mente traducía de un entendimiento puertorriqueño a uno argentino.
Es interesante este grupo de 10 jóvenes 3 jóvenes adultos y 2 adultos vino con una misión. La misión de arreglar y hacer el bien por una comunidad en Argentina. Rasparon las paredes, pintaron, limpiaron y arreglaron parte de la iglesia y aun así se fueron queriendo haber hecho mas. Se fueron sin darse cuenta de que habían hecho mucho mas de lo que pensaban. Una de las noches creo que fue la de Año viejo o sino la noche anterior a esa que cayo domingo los miembros del consejo de la iglesia y otros miembros se quedaron luego del culto a compartir con los chicos. Un señor creo que era el presidente pero la memoria me falla se puso de pie y compartió el hecho de que se sentían muy alagados de que este grupo hubiese escogido durante una época tan especial venir a estar con ellos. Habían pensado que el grupo estaría de paso, pinto, arreglo me voy a ver otra iglesia sin embargo no fue así el grupo se quedo con ellos.
Este grupo de jóvenes se tomo su tiempo para conocer a los jóvenes de la congregación en un lugar donde muchas veces se siente que son muy pocos, en una iglesia que esta luchando por mantener a su juventud.
A veces pensamos en como dar solamente pensamos en lo material aquello físico que puedo entregar y nos olvidamos de una de las cosas mas importantes que tenemos para dar y eso es nuestro tiempo y nuestros oídos. Entonces el impacto de nuestro estar en aquel lugar se empieza ver aunque nos vayamos sin darnos cuenta.
Un dato interesante de la vida de un traductor es que en algún momento la gente te vuelve una maquina invisible que escupe información y observa desde un costado con la esperanza de que aquellas cosas importantes se puedan hablar ya que después de un tiempo no tienes la energía o el tiempo y a veces no en este caso el poder de decirlas.
Había tanto que yo quería compartir con estos chicos por ejemplo la historia de porque hay tantos pinos en Misiones y Argentina si no son nativos, y el impacto ecológico que tendrá eso sobre el mundo en unos cuantos años. Quería hablarles sobre lo importante que son las decisiones que toman en su vida cotidiana, desde los productos que compran hasta el gobierno que un día elegirán. Quería decirles que todas estas cosas estas decisiones afectan al mundo. Una madre de uno de los chicos del Eldorado resumió mi frustración cuando dijo: “Vienen y se van tan rápidamente, quisiera haber estado mas presente, uno los empieza a querer y ya se van no hay mas tiempo…”
Sus últimos dos días en Argentina la pasaron en Buenos Aires y parte de lo que yo quería compartir al fin se hablo. Fuimos a dar un paseo por Plaza de Mayo la plaza donde las madres de los desaparecidos dan marcha por justicia. Recordaba la primera vez que estuve en la plaza con los otros voluntarios y la charla que tuvimos con las madres y las abuelas de la plaza. Vi como cayeron sus caras mientras hablábamos sobre la Escuela de las ameritas en Georgia y como entrenaron a personas para poder establecer dictaduras a través de Latinoamérica en los 70 y 80.
“No entiendo, ¡Que gana los Estados Unidos de algo así?” pregunto uno de los chicos y el pastor que los acompañaba les contesto. “Las ganancias son monetarias nuestro país es uno de los fabricantes de armas mas grande del mundo. Nuestra economía se beneficia cuando hay guerra.”
No se me ocurre lo que podría haber pasado por sus mentes, pero todo gobierno en toda parte del mundo le esconde a su pueblo aquellas cosas de lo cual no se enorgullece.
Argentina no es la excepciona he oído hablar de campañas para esconder las maldades de los lideres del país como lo fue con lo de las Islas Malvinas y los desaparecidos. Hasta el día de hoy hay gente que no cree que fue como lo cuentan las madres. Lamentablemente si eso fuera así capaz que Jorge Julio López un hombre que surgió para ser testigo en contra de uno crímenes de la dictadura todavía estaría aquí y no desaparecido poco antes de yo llegar a la Argentina…
Supongo que la pregunta a hacerse es: ¿Como es que pueden suceder estas cosas?
Surgen en mi memoria dos cosas una que la oí hablar otra que viví. La primera fue en un sermón volviendo a la historia de Cristo a dos años después de su nacimiento cuando los reyes magos estaban de camino a verlo o apenas regresaban después de haberlo visto. Si se que Herodes había tomado acción en contra de Jesús mandando a matar a todo niño de dos años o menos en su territorio. Perdona que no me recuerde bien la historia no digo conocer de memoria las historias en la Biblia pero a lo que quiero llegar es que Herodes era el líder de aquel pueblo y como líder tenia una responsabilidad ante su gente y su gente igualmente tenia una responsabilidad de hacerle conciente y responsable de sus acciones. Herodes no podría haber respondido ante la polémica de Jesús de manera diferente si la respuesta de su pueblo hubiese sido diferente. Jesús entro a un mundo en el cual realmente no encajaba ya que había venido para cambiar pensamientos y cultura.
De lo Segundo que recuerdo es algo tan recién como la primera semana de enero de este año2008. Para ser más exacta del 5 al 9 de enero un día después de despedirme del grupo de Pensilvania salí para el campamento distrital de verano en un lugar llamado Baradero a penas unas tres horas de la capital. El tema del campamento era la violencia dentro de los medios, los juegos y las escuelas. Durante la semana hablamos sobre como estas diferentes partes de nuestras vidas tienen un impacto sobre nosotros y ¿como nos encontramos expuestos ante la violencia a través de los mismos? Mas aya de no haber sido lider de un campamento en ay no se 6, 7 años puedo decir que la pase muy bien. Fue interesante pude apreciar la diferencia entre jóvenes del interior versus jóvenes de buenos aires es muy parecido a como son las cosas en Puerto Rico entre los jóvenes del Toa y los de Bayamón y Metro pero mas que las diferencias me intereso machismo lo que tuvieron que decir acerca de la violencia y las alternativas que se les ocurrieron. Seria muy difícil tratar de resumir una semana de conversaciones y discursos pero si me permiten quiero levantar unas frases y pensamientos que he podido rescatar de mi memoria.
- Más aya del poder de la violencia esta el poder de la decisión.
- Supongo que cuando dicen dar el otro cachete no quieren decir que tengo que permitir que me vuelvan a hacer mal. Significa dejar al otro sin saber que hacer al reaccionar de una manera diferente. Con la no violencia…
- ¿Cómo vendemos la compasión en un mundo que vive vendiendo violencia?
- Si alguien me quisiera caer encima capaz que lo dejo y cuando terminara le miraría en la cara y le preguntaría: ¿Ya fue? ¿Y ahora que ganaste con eso, nada ha cambiado? Para que piense entonces me iría.
La violencia lo veo en todas partes no solamente en Argentina aunque creo que me he dado mas cuenta estando acá por que ando más pendiente. Aun así no ando tirando piedras porque se que en los que he vivido y hasta en mi isla querida somos igualmente culpables. Alguien me pregunto no hace mucho si había experimentado el racismo de Argentina y alguien mas también me pregunto como es que acompañas a la gente acá cuales son aquellas cosas que haces. La respuesta a estas dos preguntas están interrelacionadas. He encontrado que acompaño a los que me rodean al caminar con ellos y ellas al hacerles preguntas. Al estar mas pendiente presto atención a las cosas que dicen los demás y las cosas que yo digo también señalando dichos expresiones y humor que no siempre me da gracia y hasta a veces me hiere. Hasta el momento nunca ha sido dirigido directamente a mi persona aun así me afecta. Cuando pregunto porque se dicen ciertas cosas veo como hacen una pausa mental y dicen Si tenes razón, que feo suena che pero todo el mundo lo dice no deberían pero así es. Entonces les traigo el argumento si todo el mundo lo dice pero si tu dejas de decirle ya hay una persona mas que no lo dice. Y esta discusión lo tienen también entre ellos mismos y me enorgullece llamarles mis amigos aquellos que igualmente optan por hacer algo diferente. No pretendo cambiar la realidad cultural de Argentina es mas en Puerto Rico tenemos frases igual de feas y no pensadas con raíces en la opresión y odio pero la gente las dice igual sin pensar en lo que han dicho. No, no me creo tan audaz de pensar que puedo cambiar una realidad cultural eso se lo dejo a Jesús pero espero que al hacer mis preguntas y prestar atención a lo que digo y dicen otros algo cambiara. Espero que cuando me vaya de este lugar el conjunto de mis logros no se pueda medir en números o objetos concretos sino más bien en las historias que podré contar. Así que en respuesta a esas preguntas si estoy rodeada del racismo y la violencia pero también lo están todos los que me rodean es nuestro común denominador. ¿Como es que les acompaño? Estoy presente y me tomo el tiempo de conocer quienes son y mediante eso me vuelvo una influencia dentro de sus vidas y ellos en la mía.
Yo estoy aquí , no invisible…
Bueno ya no se que mas decir así que les dejo con unas palabras de un señor que se parece mucho a mi abuelo negroJ
“ Se el cambio que quisieras ver en el mundo…”
“ Ojo por ojo solamente deja al mundo ciego" - Gandhi
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hello every one as promised here’s January, I only hope I can do it justice and am sorry for all the other parts that I won’t manage to include.
We left off where the group had arrived. I think that before I continue it is important to mention what my role was for this encounter. I was brought in to work as translator for this event along the way I also got to do some fun things like cook and teach games but mostly I was there to help people understand each other. To some this might sound easy you listen, you understand you repeat. What a lot of people don’t know is that in Latin America and Spain yes we all speak Spanish but it doesn’t mean we will all ways understand each other. Often terms expressions and words will need explaining, so while I was translating between English and Spanish and Spanish to English I was also translating from Argentine in to Puerto Rican in my head.
Its funny this group of ten youth three young adults and two adults came with a mission. The mission of helping fix up and do good for a community in Argentina. They scrapped and painted and cleaned and fixed and when they left wish they could have done more. What I think they don’t realize is that they did so much more. One of the nights I think it was New Years Eve or more likely the night before it was a Sunday I think the members of the church counsel came down to say hello. One of the members stood up and said that they felt so honored that this group had come to be with them. They had expected that the group would just pass through, paint spackle and go but instead they had stayed. This group spent time and got to know their kids in a place where it feels like they are so few in a church that is trying to hold on to its youth.
Sometimes when we think about giving we only think about what material things we can hand out and forget that the most important thing we can give is our time and our ears. Then the impact of our being there comes into focus even if we leave unaware.
An interesting thing about being a translator is that at some point you become invisible a machine that spouts out information and watches from the side hoping that all the important things are said but never really having the time to say them your self.
There was so much I wanted to share with them about the forestation of the pine trees and its ecological impact and how the choices they make at home, the things they buy, and the government they will one day choose affect the world. One of the mother’s from Eldorado said it best when she said, “ They come and go so fast, I wish I could have been more present, you can’t help but care about them and now there is no more time!”
Their last two days were spent in Buenos Aires and the words that I had been wanting to say were finally said. We gathered at Plaza de Mayo where the Mother’s and grandmothers of the disappeared march. I remembered my first time in the Plaza with the other volunteers and the conversations we had with the mothers. I watched as their faces fell when we talked about the school of the Americas in Georgia and how they trained people to be able to enforce the dictatorships across Latin America in the 70’s and 80’s. “I don’t understand? What does the U.S. gain from something like this?” asked one of the youth their pastor had the answer for them: “It’s a monetary gain the U.S. is one of the top sellers in arms and weapons in the world. Our economy gains from wars. “I can only imagine what must have been going on in their minds, but governments all over the world try to hide from their people the things that are done wrong. Even here in Argentina there were campaigns to hide the fact that people were being disappeared. To this day there are people that don’t believe it’s as people say it was. Sadly if that were true then maybe Jorge Julio Lopez a man who came out to testify against criminals of the dictatorship would still be around instead of disappeared shortly before my arrival in Argentina…
I guess the question is how do these things happen? I’m reminded of two things the first is looking back at the Christmas story it must have been 2 years after Jesus was born and the three kings were well on there way either to see him or from having seen him. All I know is that Herod had taken an action and that action was to put to death all male children two years old or younger. Forgive me if I’m getting my story wrong I don’t claim to know all the biblical stories well but my point is Herod was the leader of his people and as leader he had a responsibility to them as much as they had a responsibility to hold him accountable. Herod, could not have done what he did with out support and his response to the whole Jesus situation might have been different if the response of the people was different. Jesus came into a world he didn’t really fit into in the sense that he came to change things.
The second thing I am reminded of is something as recent as the first week of January this year. On the 5th to be more exact I headed out for the regional summer camp in a suburb of Buenos Aires called Baradero. The theme of the week was violence in Games, media and in schools. Through out the week we discussed how these different parts of our lives impact us and how are we exposed to violence by them? Aside from not having been a camp counselor in oh I don’t know 6, 7 years it was fun and interesting to see what these young Argentines had to say about violence. More importantly what alternatives they came up with. It would be hard to try and sum up a week of conversations and discussions but allow me to quote certain phrases and thoughts I’ve managed to pluck from my memory.
- Beyond the power of violence we have the power of decision.
- I guess that when we turn the other cheek it doesn’t mean that I am setting myself up to get hurt again. It means disarming the people that would hurt me by acting out in a different way.
- How do we sell compassion in a world that thrives on selling violence?
- If someone was going to beat down on me I might think to let him and when he was done I’d ask: Are you happy? What was the point of that huh? What have you gained? Then I would leave him to his thoughts.
Violence is every where not only here in Argentina all though I think I’ve been made more aware of it here because I pay more attention. I cannot cast any stones because I know that at home we are just as guilty. Someone asked me have you experienced racism in Argentina and then someone else asked me how do you accompany the people you are with? The answer to both questions is interrelated. I find myself accompanying the people that surround me by walking with them and asking questions. I’ll hear something and bring it into the light pointing out phrases sayings, expressions and humor that I find hard to swallow. It isn’t ever directed towards me but it affects me none the less. When I ask why they pause and think about it saying yeah your right it is an awful thing to say but every one dose they shouldn’t but they do. Then I go on to argue that’s true but maybe you could stop and there would be one more person less saying it. I don’t expect to change the cultural reality of Argentina heck in Puerto Rico we have similar sayings that are tied in to oppression and hate but people say them any way with out really thinking about what they’ve said. No I don’t expect to change a cultural reality but I hope that by my asking questions and paying attention to what others say and what I say as well something will change. I hope that when I leave here I won’t be able to measure the totality of my accomplishments in what was done but in the stories that I am able to tell. So in answer to those questions yes I am surrounded by racism and violence but so is everyone I am in contact with that is our common denominator. How do I accompany them? By being present and getting to know who they are by being an influence in their lives as they are in mine.
I am here I am not invisible…
Not knowing what else to say I leave you these words from a guy that looks a lot like my grandpaJ
“ Be the change you wish to see in the world…”
"An eye for an eye only makes the whole world blind" - Gandhi
La ultima vez habíamos quedado en que llegaba el grupo, pero creo que antes de continuar es importante mencionar cual era mi rol en este encuentro. A mi se me invito para participar como traductora a través de la semana tuve la oportunidad de hacer otras cosas como enseñar juegos cocinar pero primordialmente estaba ahí para ayudar a que la gente se entendiera. Para algunos puede que esto suene como tarea sencilla, escucho, entiendo, repito. Lo que muchos no entienden y para el que no es hispano parlante es a menudo difícil de explicar el hecho de que en América Latina y España si todos hablamos español pero eso no significa que siempre tener la mas mínima idea de lo que habla el otro. Muchas veces las expresiones, los dichos, incluso las palabras necesitan explicación, así que mientras traducía entre del ingles al español y del español al ingles
también en mi mente traducía de un entendimiento puertorriqueño a uno argentino.
Es interesante este grupo de 10 jóvenes 3 jóvenes adultos y 2 adultos vino con una misión. La misión de arreglar y hacer el bien por una comunidad en Argentina. Rasparon las paredes, pintaron, limpiaron y arreglaron parte de la iglesia y aun así se fueron queriendo haber hecho mas. Se fueron sin darse cuenta de que habían hecho mucho mas de lo que pensaban. Una de las noches creo que fue la de Año viejo o sino la noche anterior a esa que cayo domingo los miembros del consejo de la iglesia y otros miembros se quedaron luego del culto a compartir con los chicos. Un señor creo que era el presidente pero la memoria me falla se puso de pie y compartió el hecho de que se sentían muy alagados de que este grupo hubiese escogido durante una época tan especial venir a estar con ellos. Habían pensado que el grupo estaría de paso, pinto, arreglo me voy a ver otra iglesia sin embargo no fue así el grupo se quedo con ellos.
Este grupo de jóvenes se tomo su tiempo para conocer a los jóvenes de la congregación en un lugar donde muchas veces se siente que son muy pocos, en una iglesia que esta luchando por mantener a su juventud.
A veces pensamos en como dar solamente pensamos en lo material aquello físico que puedo entregar y nos olvidamos de una de las cosas mas importantes que tenemos para dar y eso es nuestro tiempo y nuestros oídos. Entonces el impacto de nuestro estar en aquel lugar se empieza ver aunque nos vayamos sin darnos cuenta.
Un dato interesante de la vida de un traductor es que en algún momento la gente te vuelve una maquina invisible que escupe información y observa desde un costado con la esperanza de que aquellas cosas importantes se puedan hablar ya que después de un tiempo no tienes la energía o el tiempo y a veces no en este caso el poder de decirlas.
Había tanto que yo quería compartir con estos chicos por ejemplo la historia de porque hay tantos pinos en Misiones y Argentina si no son nativos, y el impacto ecológico que tendrá eso sobre el mundo en unos cuantos años. Quería hablarles sobre lo importante que son las decisiones que toman en su vida cotidiana, desde los productos que compran hasta el gobierno que un día elegirán. Quería decirles que todas estas cosas estas decisiones afectan al mundo. Una madre de uno de los chicos del Eldorado resumió mi frustración cuando dijo: “Vienen y se van tan rápidamente, quisiera haber estado mas presente, uno los empieza a querer y ya se van no hay mas tiempo…”
Sus últimos dos días en Argentina la pasaron en Buenos Aires y parte de lo que yo quería compartir al fin se hablo. Fuimos a dar un paseo por Plaza de Mayo la plaza donde las madres de los desaparecidos dan marcha por justicia. Recordaba la primera vez que estuve en la plaza con los otros voluntarios y la charla que tuvimos con las madres y las abuelas de la plaza. Vi como cayeron sus caras mientras hablábamos sobre la Escuela de las ameritas en Georgia y como entrenaron a personas para poder establecer dictaduras a través de Latinoamérica en los 70 y 80.
“No entiendo, ¡Que gana los Estados Unidos de algo así?” pregunto uno de los chicos y el pastor que los acompañaba les contesto. “Las ganancias son monetarias nuestro país es uno de los fabricantes de armas mas grande del mundo. Nuestra economía se beneficia cuando hay guerra.”
No se me ocurre lo que podría haber pasado por sus mentes, pero todo gobierno en toda parte del mundo le esconde a su pueblo aquellas cosas de lo cual no se enorgullece.
Argentina no es la excepciona he oído hablar de campañas para esconder las maldades de los lideres del país como lo fue con lo de las Islas Malvinas y los desaparecidos. Hasta el día de hoy hay gente que no cree que fue como lo cuentan las madres. Lamentablemente si eso fuera así capaz que Jorge Julio López un hombre que surgió para ser testigo en contra de uno crímenes de la dictadura todavía estaría aquí y no desaparecido poco antes de yo llegar a la Argentina…
Supongo que la pregunta a hacerse es: ¿Como es que pueden suceder estas cosas?
Surgen en mi memoria dos cosas una que la oí hablar otra que viví. La primera fue en un sermón volviendo a la historia de Cristo a dos años después de su nacimiento cuando los reyes magos estaban de camino a verlo o apenas regresaban después de haberlo visto. Si se que Herodes había tomado acción en contra de Jesús mandando a matar a todo niño de dos años o menos en su territorio. Perdona que no me recuerde bien la historia no digo conocer de memoria las historias en la Biblia pero a lo que quiero llegar es que Herodes era el líder de aquel pueblo y como líder tenia una responsabilidad ante su gente y su gente igualmente tenia una responsabilidad de hacerle conciente y responsable de sus acciones. Herodes no podría haber respondido ante la polémica de Jesús de manera diferente si la respuesta de su pueblo hubiese sido diferente. Jesús entro a un mundo en el cual realmente no encajaba ya que había venido para cambiar pensamientos y cultura.
De lo Segundo que recuerdo es algo tan recién como la primera semana de enero de este año2008. Para ser más exacta del 5 al 9 de enero un día después de despedirme del grupo de Pensilvania salí para el campamento distrital de verano en un lugar llamado Baradero a penas unas tres horas de la capital. El tema del campamento era la violencia dentro de los medios, los juegos y las escuelas. Durante la semana hablamos sobre como estas diferentes partes de nuestras vidas tienen un impacto sobre nosotros y ¿como nos encontramos expuestos ante la violencia a través de los mismos? Mas aya de no haber sido lider de un campamento en ay no se 6, 7 años puedo decir que la pase muy bien. Fue interesante pude apreciar la diferencia entre jóvenes del interior versus jóvenes de buenos aires es muy parecido a como son las cosas en Puerto Rico entre los jóvenes del Toa y los de Bayamón y Metro pero mas que las diferencias me intereso machismo lo que tuvieron que decir acerca de la violencia y las alternativas que se les ocurrieron. Seria muy difícil tratar de resumir una semana de conversaciones y discursos pero si me permiten quiero levantar unas frases y pensamientos que he podido rescatar de mi memoria.
- Más aya del poder de la violencia esta el poder de la decisión.
- Supongo que cuando dicen dar el otro cachete no quieren decir que tengo que permitir que me vuelvan a hacer mal. Significa dejar al otro sin saber que hacer al reaccionar de una manera diferente. Con la no violencia…
- ¿Cómo vendemos la compasión en un mundo que vive vendiendo violencia?
- Si alguien me quisiera caer encima capaz que lo dejo y cuando terminara le miraría en la cara y le preguntaría: ¿Ya fue? ¿Y ahora que ganaste con eso, nada ha cambiado? Para que piense entonces me iría.
La violencia lo veo en todas partes no solamente en Argentina aunque creo que me he dado mas cuenta estando acá por que ando más pendiente. Aun así no ando tirando piedras porque se que en los que he vivido y hasta en mi isla querida somos igualmente culpables. Alguien me pregunto no hace mucho si había experimentado el racismo de Argentina y alguien mas también me pregunto como es que acompañas a la gente acá cuales son aquellas cosas que haces. La respuesta a estas dos preguntas están interrelacionadas. He encontrado que acompaño a los que me rodean al caminar con ellos y ellas al hacerles preguntas. Al estar mas pendiente presto atención a las cosas que dicen los demás y las cosas que yo digo también señalando dichos expresiones y humor que no siempre me da gracia y hasta a veces me hiere. Hasta el momento nunca ha sido dirigido directamente a mi persona aun así me afecta. Cuando pregunto porque se dicen ciertas cosas veo como hacen una pausa mental y dicen Si tenes razón, que feo suena che pero todo el mundo lo dice no deberían pero así es. Entonces les traigo el argumento si todo el mundo lo dice pero si tu dejas de decirle ya hay una persona mas que no lo dice. Y esta discusión lo tienen también entre ellos mismos y me enorgullece llamarles mis amigos aquellos que igualmente optan por hacer algo diferente. No pretendo cambiar la realidad cultural de Argentina es mas en Puerto Rico tenemos frases igual de feas y no pensadas con raíces en la opresión y odio pero la gente las dice igual sin pensar en lo que han dicho. No, no me creo tan audaz de pensar que puedo cambiar una realidad cultural eso se lo dejo a Jesús pero espero que al hacer mis preguntas y prestar atención a lo que digo y dicen otros algo cambiara. Espero que cuando me vaya de este lugar el conjunto de mis logros no se pueda medir en números o objetos concretos sino más bien en las historias que podré contar. Así que en respuesta a esas preguntas si estoy rodeada del racismo y la violencia pero también lo están todos los que me rodean es nuestro común denominador. ¿Como es que les acompaño? Estoy presente y me tomo el tiempo de conocer quienes son y mediante eso me vuelvo una influencia dentro de sus vidas y ellos en la mía.
Yo estoy aquí , no invisible…
Bueno ya no se que mas decir así que les dejo con unas palabras de un señor que se parece mucho a mi abuelo negroJ
“ Se el cambio que quisieras ver en el mundo…”
“ Ojo por ojo solamente deja al mundo ciego" - Gandhi
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hello every one as promised here’s January, I only hope I can do it justice and am sorry for all the other parts that I won’t manage to include.
We left off where the group had arrived. I think that before I continue it is important to mention what my role was for this encounter. I was brought in to work as translator for this event along the way I also got to do some fun things like cook and teach games but mostly I was there to help people understand each other. To some this might sound easy you listen, you understand you repeat. What a lot of people don’t know is that in Latin America and Spain yes we all speak Spanish but it doesn’t mean we will all ways understand each other. Often terms expressions and words will need explaining, so while I was translating between English and Spanish and Spanish to English I was also translating from Argentine in to Puerto Rican in my head.
Its funny this group of ten youth three young adults and two adults came with a mission. The mission of helping fix up and do good for a community in Argentina. They scrapped and painted and cleaned and fixed and when they left wish they could have done more. What I think they don’t realize is that they did so much more. One of the nights I think it was New Years Eve or more likely the night before it was a Sunday I think the members of the church counsel came down to say hello. One of the members stood up and said that they felt so honored that this group had come to be with them. They had expected that the group would just pass through, paint spackle and go but instead they had stayed. This group spent time and got to know their kids in a place where it feels like they are so few in a church that is trying to hold on to its youth.
Sometimes when we think about giving we only think about what material things we can hand out and forget that the most important thing we can give is our time and our ears. Then the impact of our being there comes into focus even if we leave unaware.
An interesting thing about being a translator is that at some point you become invisible a machine that spouts out information and watches from the side hoping that all the important things are said but never really having the time to say them your self.
There was so much I wanted to share with them about the forestation of the pine trees and its ecological impact and how the choices they make at home, the things they buy, and the government they will one day choose affect the world. One of the mother’s from Eldorado said it best when she said, “ They come and go so fast, I wish I could have been more present, you can’t help but care about them and now there is no more time!”
Their last two days were spent in Buenos Aires and the words that I had been wanting to say were finally said. We gathered at Plaza de Mayo where the Mother’s and grandmothers of the disappeared march. I remembered my first time in the Plaza with the other volunteers and the conversations we had with the mothers. I watched as their faces fell when we talked about the school of the Americas in Georgia and how they trained people to be able to enforce the dictatorships across Latin America in the 70’s and 80’s. “I don’t understand? What does the U.S. gain from something like this?” asked one of the youth their pastor had the answer for them: “It’s a monetary gain the U.S. is one of the top sellers in arms and weapons in the world. Our economy gains from wars. “I can only imagine what must have been going on in their minds, but governments all over the world try to hide from their people the things that are done wrong. Even here in Argentina there were campaigns to hide the fact that people were being disappeared. To this day there are people that don’t believe it’s as people say it was. Sadly if that were true then maybe Jorge Julio Lopez a man who came out to testify against criminals of the dictatorship would still be around instead of disappeared shortly before my arrival in Argentina…
I guess the question is how do these things happen? I’m reminded of two things the first is looking back at the Christmas story it must have been 2 years after Jesus was born and the three kings were well on there way either to see him or from having seen him. All I know is that Herod had taken an action and that action was to put to death all male children two years old or younger. Forgive me if I’m getting my story wrong I don’t claim to know all the biblical stories well but my point is Herod was the leader of his people and as leader he had a responsibility to them as much as they had a responsibility to hold him accountable. Herod, could not have done what he did with out support and his response to the whole Jesus situation might have been different if the response of the people was different. Jesus came into a world he didn’t really fit into in the sense that he came to change things.
The second thing I am reminded of is something as recent as the first week of January this year. On the 5th to be more exact I headed out for the regional summer camp in a suburb of Buenos Aires called Baradero. The theme of the week was violence in Games, media and in schools. Through out the week we discussed how these different parts of our lives impact us and how are we exposed to violence by them? Aside from not having been a camp counselor in oh I don’t know 6, 7 years it was fun and interesting to see what these young Argentines had to say about violence. More importantly what alternatives they came up with. It would be hard to try and sum up a week of conversations and discussions but allow me to quote certain phrases and thoughts I’ve managed to pluck from my memory.
- Beyond the power of violence we have the power of decision.
- I guess that when we turn the other cheek it doesn’t mean that I am setting myself up to get hurt again. It means disarming the people that would hurt me by acting out in a different way.
- How do we sell compassion in a world that thrives on selling violence?
- If someone was going to beat down on me I might think to let him and when he was done I’d ask: Are you happy? What was the point of that huh? What have you gained? Then I would leave him to his thoughts.
Violence is every where not only here in Argentina all though I think I’ve been made more aware of it here because I pay more attention. I cannot cast any stones because I know that at home we are just as guilty. Someone asked me have you experienced racism in Argentina and then someone else asked me how do you accompany the people you are with? The answer to both questions is interrelated. I find myself accompanying the people that surround me by walking with them and asking questions. I’ll hear something and bring it into the light pointing out phrases sayings, expressions and humor that I find hard to swallow. It isn’t ever directed towards me but it affects me none the less. When I ask why they pause and think about it saying yeah your right it is an awful thing to say but every one dose they shouldn’t but they do. Then I go on to argue that’s true but maybe you could stop and there would be one more person less saying it. I don’t expect to change the cultural reality of Argentina heck in Puerto Rico we have similar sayings that are tied in to oppression and hate but people say them any way with out really thinking about what they’ve said. No I don’t expect to change a cultural reality but I hope that by my asking questions and paying attention to what others say and what I say as well something will change. I hope that when I leave here I won’t be able to measure the totality of my accomplishments in what was done but in the stories that I am able to tell. So in answer to those questions yes I am surrounded by racism and violence but so is everyone I am in contact with that is our common denominator. How do I accompany them? By being present and getting to know who they are by being an influence in their lives as they are in mine.
I am here I am not invisible…
Not knowing what else to say I leave you these words from a guy that looks a lot like my grandpaJ
“ Be the change you wish to see in the world…”
"An eye for an eye only makes the whole world blind" - Gandhi
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