This month´s newsletter will, like February´s, be a departure from the Franklin´s Choice formula, albeit for a different reason this time around; namely, that Franklin hasn´t sent us a prompt and it´s almost the end of the month. Today´s topic: Time.
It has been almost 8 months since my arrival in South America. Two-thirds of a year have gone by. When I left the United States, John McCain was all but being encouraged to drop out of the presidential race, Barack Obama wasn´t a household name, and gas still cost less than $3.00 a gallon in southeast Texas. No news organizations had put up hyperlinks to a New York call girl´s MySpace page yet, no senators had been accused of lewd acts in airport bathrooms, and an ounce of rice did not yet have the same approximate value of an ounce of pure gold. The Patriots hadn´t had a perfect season (yet still lost the Super Bowl), the Rockets hadn´t won twenty games in a row, and nobody thought that an Olympic torch relay could become political. There was no “Soulja Boy” on the radio, the screenwriter´s guild hadn´t gone on strike yet, and movies that came out about the time I left are now being released on DVD.
I feel, in some ways, a little bit like a cultural Rip Van Winkle. I remember when I came back to the U.S. after a half-year in Africa and Europe. People would whine about how overplayed certain songs were, only to get a puzzled look from me…half the time, I hadn´t even heard the song in question! I had no idea what was playing at the movie theatre, and I definitely couldn´t tell you what was on T.V.
However, I´m not in a vacuum. My eight months in Uruguay have been filled with other changes. When I arrived, the peso was 24 to the dollar; now, it´s 20 to one. Bus fare was 15.50 pesos; now, it´s 13.50. Argentina still had a male president, and the Partido Colorado hadn´t lost an election for decades in Paraguay. Patito Feo is at least not QUITE as omnipresent, and we all know who ended up with who at the end of “Son de Fierro.” When I arrived, Agarrate Catalina hadn´t swept the Carnaval competition, no shroud of smoke had prompted Uruguayans to dare Argentina to say the word “papermill” again, and it was potatoes and tomatoes, not rice, that were prohibitively expensive.
More personally, I couldn´t read a novel in Spanish (and DEFINITELY could not read Jorge Luis Borges, like I´m doing at the moment), or remember how to say “I´m excited” rather than “I´m exciting” en español. The members at Nuestro Salvador had never heard of enchiladas, tacos, or the Texas Longhorns, and the members included several people fewer than now. La Obra was physically about half as large as it is now, there were 35 rather than 54 kids enrolled in the afternoon program, Fabiana hadn´t had her baby yet, Natalia was out for a sprained wrist, and neither Roman nor Patricia had come, or gone, yet. I weighed 30 pounds more, had a moustache, and much shorter hair on September 5th, and I´d never worked with kids for longer than a few hours every now and again.
I think of the people, too. José, one of the students who comes to La Obra for homework help, has a new, deeper voice compared to when we first got here. His older brother, Gustavo, and another participant from the first half of the year, Ximena, passed all the required exams to move on to the more specialized upper levels of secondary school. Santiago, one of the kids in Escuelita 1, is now no longer missing both of his two front teeth…suffice it to say his Dracula impression has now been ruined, as his canines don´t stand out nearly as much these days. Alejandra, the five year old daughter of two of Carlos and Carla at Nuestro Salvador, has started learning English at school and can count to 10...not always in the right order, but she knows all the words. The grupo de jóvenes at the Valdense church has changed some, as well – a few people have graduated and moved away from the city, and there are some new faces in the group, too. Dorothea is back in Germany, working hard at the university; I have to confess that I miss my talking-about-the-kids-and-making-fun-of-the-news partner.
And then there are the things that are coming full circle. The weather reminds me of October here – sunny and 22 C one day, cloudy and 15 C the next…or occasionally all in the same day. The days are getting short again. Activities that took summer breaks, like the choir at the Valdense church, are back in full swing like nothing ever happened. People come into Centro de Estudios half-panicked about tests, just like in November. Life goes on; the more things change, the more things stay the same.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Lutheran World Travels - Anthony in the UK
Anthony Presents
Lutheran World Travels
First Quarter Report
Greetings,
So it has been awhile and I have fallen behind with my monthly installments of what I have been up to. I figure why not just give you the first quarter report for 2008.
A lot has happenedover the course of the past few months.
In February my parents came to visit and spent a week with me. They got to see where it isthat I spend my days living and working. We also spent time running around Oxford and London. My mother was convinced that after I had successfully led her around London without getting to lost that I would be alright to make it on my own. My favourite part of their visit was sitting in the little pub not to far from our hotel in London andsharing a laugh and spending time with one another. The thing that I learnedfrom their visit is that we can often take certain relationships for grantedand it is only when we aren’t able to be with those people that we realise howmuch they really mean to us and how much we love them.
In March, myattentions had turned to running. I had the opportunity to take part in theReading Half-Marathon. It was a fantastic day and there were nearly seventeenthousand people that gathered at the Madejski Football Stadium to take part in the race.I was running the race as a sponsored run to raise money for Door of Hope, theplace where I work. In the end, I finished the race in 1 hour 45 minutes andraised £300 for the house.
As Easter rolled around I decided since I had a four-day holiday, I wanted totravel to see a little bit more of the country. I made my way up to visit a fellow volunteer in Saltburn, England. I had a fantastic time in the littlenorthern seaside town. I had proper fish & chips, great walks and conversationwith my friend, and it snowed for the first time that winter/spring.
We are now into April and I am beginning to think about my next big adventure here. A co-worker and I are getting ready for our cycle ride from the frontdoor of Hope House to Paris, France. We are undertaking this journey to raisemoney for Door of Hope and I couldn’t think of any better way of taking in thesights and smells of the French countryside. We will leave Hope House in Reading on May the 13th andride 65 miles to Portsmouth on the south coast of England. There we will board the overnight ferry toLe Harve, France. Upon our arrival there they will begin our 130-mile tripthrough the French countryside before we arrive in Paris, where we spend 2 daysresting and sightseeing and then begin our trip back towards England.
We have a set up a website that explains more about our trip and why we are going, http://www.justgiving.com/hopehouse2paris.I am truly looking forward to opportunity and sure that by the end of our tripI will have taken way to many pictures. I am also looking forward to sharing mystory from this experience as well.
Lots of Love from your Lutheran traveller,
Anthony
Soli Deo Gloria
Lutheran World Travels
First Quarter Report
Greetings,
So it has been awhile and I have fallen behind with my monthly installments of what I have been up to. I figure why not just give you the first quarter report for 2008.
A lot has happenedover the course of the past few months.
In February my parents came to visit and spent a week with me. They got to see where it isthat I spend my days living and working. We also spent time running around Oxford and London. My mother was convinced that after I had successfully led her around London without getting to lost that I would be alright to make it on my own. My favourite part of their visit was sitting in the little pub not to far from our hotel in London andsharing a laugh and spending time with one another. The thing that I learnedfrom their visit is that we can often take certain relationships for grantedand it is only when we aren’t able to be with those people that we realise howmuch they really mean to us and how much we love them.
In March, myattentions had turned to running. I had the opportunity to take part in theReading Half-Marathon. It was a fantastic day and there were nearly seventeenthousand people that gathered at the Madejski Football Stadium to take part in the race.I was running the race as a sponsored run to raise money for Door of Hope, theplace where I work. In the end, I finished the race in 1 hour 45 minutes andraised £300 for the house.
As Easter rolled around I decided since I had a four-day holiday, I wanted totravel to see a little bit more of the country. I made my way up to visit a fellow volunteer in Saltburn, England. I had a fantastic time in the littlenorthern seaside town. I had proper fish & chips, great walks and conversationwith my friend, and it snowed for the first time that winter/spring.
We are now into April and I am beginning to think about my next big adventure here. A co-worker and I are getting ready for our cycle ride from the frontdoor of Hope House to Paris, France. We are undertaking this journey to raisemoney for Door of Hope and I couldn’t think of any better way of taking in thesights and smells of the French countryside. We will leave Hope House in Reading on May the 13th andride 65 miles to Portsmouth on the south coast of England. There we will board the overnight ferry toLe Harve, France. Upon our arrival there they will begin our 130-mile tripthrough the French countryside before we arrive in Paris, where we spend 2 daysresting and sightseeing and then begin our trip back towards England.
We have a set up a website that explains more about our trip and why we are going, http://www.justgiving.com/hopehouse2paris.I am truly looking forward to opportunity and sure that by the end of our tripI will have taken way to many pictures. I am also looking forward to sharing mystory from this experience as well.
Lots of Love from your Lutheran traveller,
Anthony
Soli Deo Gloria
Monday, April 14, 2008
Newsletter - James in Argentina
“The poor are poor because they do not want to work and are lazy, what you are doing here is good and all, but it is sort of well, useless”. I hear this phrase said with all the certainty in the world, a fact in the mind of a upper middle class woman I speak with here. I remain quiet the rest of my time with her trying to think of a response to a phrase that speaks against everything I hold true. I dissect the phrase and find story upon story to try to change this woman’s incredibly distorted view.
I think of a mother breaking down in tears telling me how ugly a life it is without an education. Her parents never cared enough or were too busy to encourage her to study, so she never did. She tells me the only jobs she can get, are cleaning the floors and toilets of the rich. She has dedicated her life now to stop that cycle from consuming her children’s life. She is studying now along side her children in order to be able to help and push them to study. She does this on top of working two jobs a day, volunteering in the comedor passing out milk and bread, and having a six, nine, ten, and twelve year old to bring to and from school, do laundry for, cook and being a wife. How could this be called lazy?
I think of my supervisor Ofelia spending all day working with a boy to write the story of his life. After learning to use a computer and typing the story up, he brought it to his parents who didn’t give him the light of day, not a word of encouragement. What is that boy’s motivation to continue with school if no one ever tells him that what he is doing is good?
A pair of brothers has just started school again because of the positive influence that Ofelia has on their lives. They could only start participating in the workshops if they started up with school again. After a month of reminding them everyday to enroll, and telling them they were too smart to waste there time without going to school, they themselves started up again. The incredibly influential power a positive force has in someone’s life. Where I work is a positive force in the barrio. It is a place where children feel loved and special, where they are encouraged to dream the big dreams and where they are challenged to treat others with respect. It is a place where we focus on matching our words with our conduct. Our lips speak the world love while we show it with our actions.
It is a frustrating reality because small change in individual lives is not noticeable by a passerby, or someone who lives a kilometer away from the barrio. Instead of seeing a woman who works every minute of her life struggling to be able to provide her children with a better future than the one she inherited, they will see a tipped over dumpster in the middle of the street with men along side dogs picking through the waste. Instead of seeing a child that just dedicated his day to help clean and fix the inside of a church they will be bothered by that same child asking them for change on the street at night. It is a frustrating but necessary struggle to work toward change that affects people one by one. It is the gospel. The son of the creator of the universe wandered around and listened to people’s problems and ate in people’s homes to talk about them. While Jesus was the savior of all of creation he still healed people one by one.
The poor are not poor because they are lazy. There is poverty because we have forgotten that every man, woman, and child on this earth, we are to love as our family. We can not talk about poverty as if it is a separate entity from the world of the rich and privileged. There is exists incredible wealth in the world because there exists systems of oppression and injustice that provide wealth for a select few while dealing out pain, hunger and disease to the majority of the globe. The gospel defies this reality. It teaches us to love and to care, and struggle one with one for a tomorrow that is better and more just than today.
-james
I think of a mother breaking down in tears telling me how ugly a life it is without an education. Her parents never cared enough or were too busy to encourage her to study, so she never did. She tells me the only jobs she can get, are cleaning the floors and toilets of the rich. She has dedicated her life now to stop that cycle from consuming her children’s life. She is studying now along side her children in order to be able to help and push them to study. She does this on top of working two jobs a day, volunteering in the comedor passing out milk and bread, and having a six, nine, ten, and twelve year old to bring to and from school, do laundry for, cook and being a wife. How could this be called lazy?
I think of my supervisor Ofelia spending all day working with a boy to write the story of his life. After learning to use a computer and typing the story up, he brought it to his parents who didn’t give him the light of day, not a word of encouragement. What is that boy’s motivation to continue with school if no one ever tells him that what he is doing is good?
A pair of brothers has just started school again because of the positive influence that Ofelia has on their lives. They could only start participating in the workshops if they started up with school again. After a month of reminding them everyday to enroll, and telling them they were too smart to waste there time without going to school, they themselves started up again. The incredibly influential power a positive force has in someone’s life. Where I work is a positive force in the barrio. It is a place where children feel loved and special, where they are encouraged to dream the big dreams and where they are challenged to treat others with respect. It is a place where we focus on matching our words with our conduct. Our lips speak the world love while we show it with our actions.
It is a frustrating reality because small change in individual lives is not noticeable by a passerby, or someone who lives a kilometer away from the barrio. Instead of seeing a woman who works every minute of her life struggling to be able to provide her children with a better future than the one she inherited, they will see a tipped over dumpster in the middle of the street with men along side dogs picking through the waste. Instead of seeing a child that just dedicated his day to help clean and fix the inside of a church they will be bothered by that same child asking them for change on the street at night. It is a frustrating but necessary struggle to work toward change that affects people one by one. It is the gospel. The son of the creator of the universe wandered around and listened to people’s problems and ate in people’s homes to talk about them. While Jesus was the savior of all of creation he still healed people one by one.
The poor are not poor because they are lazy. There is poverty because we have forgotten that every man, woman, and child on this earth, we are to love as our family. We can not talk about poverty as if it is a separate entity from the world of the rich and privileged. There is exists incredible wealth in the world because there exists systems of oppression and injustice that provide wealth for a select few while dealing out pain, hunger and disease to the majority of the globe. The gospel defies this reality. It teaches us to love and to care, and struggle one with one for a tomorrow that is better and more just than today.
-james
Sunday, April 13, 2008
March Newsletter - Sarah in Mexico
Sarah's March Newsletter
¡Provecho!
(Spanish equivalent to “Bon Appetit!” “Var så god” or “Forks Up!”)
I’ve heard it said that some people eat to live, while others live to eat. Well don’t waste too much time trying to figure out which category I fit into! Nearly all my favorite things in this world involve food—camping, socializing, traveling, cooking, holidays, etc.—and that remains just as true here in Mexico. So, this month’s newsletter hits on a lighter part of life south of the border, and is dedicated to the culinary beauty of Mexico and some of my most cherished moments in the kitchen.
Simple Ingredients, Countless Entrees, Exquisite Flavor!
Get a bunch of tomatoes, some onion, a couple cloves of garlic, a handful of chile peppers, loads of cheese, a good bit of salt, corn tortillas, rice, and beans and you’ve got yourself the principle ingredients for Mexican cuisine. Despite the fact that the ingredients don’t vary much from meal to meal, I’ve found Mexican food to be surprisingly diverse and wonderfully flavorful. A resourceful and creative people, Mexicans have found myriad ways to embellish their staples and spice up the palate. They make salsas of every color, texture, and spiciness. Sometimes the peppers and tomatoes are boiled and then blended, other times they’re grilled and then mashed by hand in a stone bowl. Rice may be served white, green, or red. Chicken may come to you in many forms—leg, breast, wing, foot, even stomach. Tortillas may be round, oval, oblong, diamond; they can be made of blue, white, yellow, or red corn; sometimes they’re grilled over an open-fire and other times fried in a pan of sizzling oil. Chile peppers appear in every color, shape, and size; some are sold fresh, others have been hung and dried; their spiciness ranges from subtle and mild to off-the-charts hot. Imaginative and delicious, Mexican cooking has yet to bore me! Some of my favorite platters include enchiladas, quesadillas, tinga de pollo (spicy chicken often served in quesadillas), and pozole (a hearty soup of corn and chicken, garnished with lime, chopped onion, dried chile, oregano and avocado).
The blessed tortilla
For Mexicans, no meal is complete without tortillas…I mean several tortillas. In fact, I just read in the newspaper last week that Mexicans devour over 300 million tortillas daily!
One begins to understand how Mexicans consume so many tortillas by simply watching them eat. Instead of using forks and spoons, Mexicans find the tortilla to be equally, if not more, functional. They rip off half of the tortilla and use it as a sort of “mitt” to help them peel off some meat, cut through the beans, or scoop up the broth; then they curl up the edges of the tortilla to keep food from spilling, and quickly lift it directly into their mouths. This may sound like an exaggerated description of the short transport from plate to mouth, but it illuminates the amount of concentration it requires for me to follow suit. It’s an art, I’ve decided, as I rarely get through a meal without refried beans seeping out of my tortilla, or bright, red salsa dripping down my forearm!
My favorite tortillas are those that come straight from the cornfield near Cuentepec, as I’m able to witness the entire process—from plant to plate—every week. During the harvest season, the women and their husbands spend days and weeks in the unyielding heat, hauling bushels of corn from the country to their homes. They scatter the plants out on the roof to dry, and then separate the stalks, kernels, husks, and cobs. Not wanting to waste one part of their produce, they will use the husks to wrap tamales, the cobs and stalks as “kindling” for the fire, and the kernels for tortillas. Soaked overnight in water and a bit of limestone (this limestone powder has, for centuries, been a significant source of vitamins and minerals for the indigenous people), the kernels are then brought to the molino (a machine that crushes the kernels) and ground into masa (dough). It is a lengthy and arduous routine, but the women noticeably take pride in their labor and tradition. I value the opportunity to take part in this custom, as I see in it a great testament to the organic interconnectedness of humanity and earth. I see the fields from which the food comes, I am able to name all of the ingredients, I see the hands that pick and prepare the food, and I know the names of all those who serve and feast with me. It can be tempting to label indigenous lifestyle as behind-the times, inept, and inefficient, but they have something to teach us about love of land, appreciation of and dependence on natural resources, and deliberate, organic living.
Living Local
Though mega-stores and super-Walmarts are starting to spring up all over the city and wipe out local commerce, I’m grateful that many Mexicans are trying to hold on to the way of life they know and love. The idea of going to a giant supermarket to take care of everything on the errand list—fruit, dried goods, shoes, cosmetics, etc.—is so contrary to this culture and these people. Having grown up without refrigeration and pantries, most Mexicans are accustomed to daily (sometimes multi-daily) trips to local markets, little convenience shops, and corner fruit stands. They go to the people’s market to pick out the season’s freshest fruits and vegetables, swing by Maria’s papeleria down the street to find paper or make copies, count on Jorge’s carniceria to provide fresh cuts of beef and poultry, stop by Marce’s next door when they need household cleaning products, and wait for the nearby tortilleria to come out with kilos of steaming, 100% corn tortillas every afternoon at 2. It’s a treat to watch this hustle and bustle come to life—bopping around from shop to shop, or home to home, with carts dragging behind or hefty, canvas bags draped over shoulders, Mexicans stroll from one errand to the next, never passing up an opportunity to greet the neighbors and catch up on the day’s latest news. Though I notice the inefficiency (when the convenience store is out of the one thing I need, when the woman selling bread doesn’t have any change, or when a sign says “Open at 9,” but there’s still no sign of life at 10:15), I also notice freedom, neighborliness, and support of local community. They know each other and each other’s commerce not by sign or advertisement, but through relationship and communal living. Well aware of the influence of international corporations, it’s getting harder and harder for local businesses to make it. It is my hope that Mexicans are able to resist the power of these monopolizing markets and continue to fill their kitchens and homes with the produce and labor of friends and neighbors.
“Ahorita vengo.”
(I’ll be right back…)
It’s just delightful to me how this rhythm of local and communal living does not at all lend itself to planning ahead. Take, for example, a typical Saturday morning brunch at Marce’s. We’ve decided to make scrambled eggs and beans, so Marce will start up the oil in the pan, chop up the tomatoes, onions, and chiles, heat up the tortillas and pour the juice, and then suddenly realize she doesn’t have any eggs—a critical ingredient! “Oh mother of Mary,” she’ll say, “Ahorita vengo,” and off she’ll go with coin purse in armpit to the corner food stand. She’ll hustle back, we’ll finish preparing the meal, we’ll just get seated at her cozy, kitchen table, and up she goes. “We really should have some avocado with this meal, don’t you think?” It’s not really a question, as she’s out the door before we can assure her it’s wonderful as is. This happens at nearly every meal, and though it’s a little strange to rarely begin and finish a meal with everyone seated together at the table, it’s also simply adorable and amusing!
There’s spicy and then there’s spicy
Many of my Mexican hosts were wonderfully gracious in the first months of my being here. They tamed down on the chiles and made it more accommodating to my untrained, Scandinavian tongue. But now that I’m “more Mexican,” as they like to say, and have mastered consumption of spicy food without getting watery eyes and a dripping nose, it’s become kind of a joke to see if they can get me. Mexicans actually use the verb “enchilar,” which I guess I would translate “to be chilied” or “to chilefy.” After a spicy meal, they’ll often ask, “Te enchilaron?” (Did you get chilied or chilefied?) Gives new meaning to the expression, “You are what you eat.”
A sacred place
Aside from these common, often comical snapshots of the Mexican kitchen, I’ve grown to see the kitchen as a profoundly holy place. I’ve always seen mealtime as important and sacred, but while in Mexico, I’ve realized the way in which the kitchen and its simple tasks often generate space for intimate conversation. Let me tell you about my friend Lore…
Lore is a co-worker of mine at CIDHAL. She is in charge of the cleaning and landscape on our campus, and she works harder than anyone else in the office. Over the past months, Lore has shared pieces of her story with me, a story that begins with poverty, abandonment, homelessness, unemployment, and self-negation, and moves toward growth, health, family, pride, and self-respect. Left by her partner with two young daughters, a junior-high education, and no job, Lore began with a house made of cardboard, beds made of newspaper, and meals of rice and corn. Now, after twenty-five years of tireless work as mother and domestic worker, Lore and her two daughters live in a very small, 2-room, cement home in Nueva Morelos, a community about 45 minutes from Cuernavaca. She and her daughters share one bedroom, they wash all dishes and clothes by hand with water that comes from an underground cistern, they shower by heating up water on the stove and pouring it over their bodies, the bathroom is nothing more than a toilet seat and hole in the ground, and the kitchen is good-sized and amazingly-furnished with refrigerator, stove, table, and dishes. Life is simple there. Life is also rigorous there.
It was an honor to be invited to Lore’s for dinner a few weeks ago. When I walked into her home, I was immediately struck by both her compassion and anxiety. It was clear I arrived earlier than they were expecting, as Lore was scrambling around the house, washing buckets and rags, rinsing the corn for tortillas, and sweeping more vigorously than the winds of the prairie. No matter how many times and ways I offered to help, she insisted that I sit and relax. She got me a chair, set it right in the middle of the patio, and told me to stay put. Because she and her daughters were scurrying around the yard, in and out of the house, and up and down the street, they were never in one place long enough for us to really have a conversation. So I sat there. I felt very uncomfortable, but wanted to respect their wish to host and serve me as guest. Never before have I been so aware of the ‘elite’ status I carry in some social situations. Lore was clearly excited to have me there, but overly apologetic, expressing her regrets multiple times that the house was so small and dirty, that the meal was not ready, that she doesn’t have a more comfortable chair for me, etc. I was caught off guard by her unnecessary preoccupations, and wasn’t sure how to respond to such veneration. What could I say or do to tell her that none of that mattered to me? How could I show her how blessed I felt to be invited to her home? How could I say with sincerity and admiration how beautiful I think her home is? How could I start to deconstruct the walls and differences our world has placed between us?
After a couple hours of waiting in my chair, Lore was ready to begin the meal. I told her of my fascination with cooking, and she invited me into the kitchen to help. Perfect! We began chopping onions, washing apples, cleaning the various parts of the chicken (my favorite job!) and pressing tortillas. I think there’s something about these mundane tasks for the way they shed barriers, transcend language complications, permit silence, inspire humor, and invite vulnerability. We began to have wonderful conversation about our families, traditions, and stories. Lore opened up more about her past and entrusted to me stories of past relationships, challenges of single parenting, the realities of immigration, (all but one of Lore’s seven siblings are living in the U.S. as undocumented immigrants), and her aspirations for herself and her children. I remember there being a short period of silence—I was chopping carrots and Lore was frying the chicken—and then Lore turned to me and admitted, “Sarita, pensé que nunca ibas a venir a mi casa.” Translated, she said, “Sarita, I thought you were never going to come to my house.” Her doubt and honesty startled me, and I asked her to expound. She explained, “You are from America, the wealthiest country in the world. And even though you’re living in Mexico, you have been to many nice and big homes in Cuernavaca, and I live here in this tiny and ugly home.” I was spellbound, uncomfortable, moved, humbled. It pained me to know that my being American, white, and well educated made such assumptions completely normal and valid. Our differences in upbringing, wealth, education, and skin color do not carry equal respect and power; rather, history has given power and privilege to mine over hers. It was a vulnerable moment for both of us, as we confronted pride and shame in our own roots. But her openness gave me the opportunity to express so clearly my gratitude for her hospitality, my admiration for her altruism and determination, my belief that gifts of love and welcome transcend all monetary worth. Since living in a foreign country and being so aware of my yearning for familial togetherness, I’ve been moved to deeper thankfulness for authentic warmth and welcome. “This feels like family to me, Lore,” I told her, and she responded with my favorite Mexican phrase, “You are in your home, Sarita, and I’d love to call you daughter.” It was a holy moment. My whole being felt like it had been drenched in a shower of grace and love. I was able to tell her that I—this young woman that society places above her—needed her. There was a powerful spirit at work within and around us that afternoon, as we were taken beyond labels and inequalities to a place of fuller understanding and real connection. To think about where we began—with our differences so palpable and divisive—and where we ended—with our differences acknowledged, but our unity as sisters and companions surpassing any division—still moves me to tears. And it all brewed out of that little, “poor” kitchen…
Thanks again for reading this month! Just as I relish in the flavors and feasts of Mexico, so do I also look forward to sharing a meal with each of you when I return.
God’s peace,
Sarah Rohde
If you feel so called to “get chilied” yourself, give this recipe a whirl!!!
Tinga de Pollo-Spicy Chicken Quesadillas
(from the kitchen of Marcelina Fitz)
4 chicken breasts
4 tomatoes, diced
2 onions (1 whole, 1 sliced)
2 cloves of garlic
2 chipotle peppers (in can)
(*chipotle peppers are very spicy, so add according to personal preference/stamina*)
1 Tbs. oil
Chicken bullion cube
Cook the chicken breasts in boiling water with onion and a couple cloves of garlic. Let the chicken cool and then shred it. Save the broth.
In a frying pan with oil, cook the slices of onion until transparent, then add tomatoes and 2 chipotle peppers (also diced). Sautee until soft. Add a small cube of chicken bullion and a little of the leftover chicken broth. Lastly, add the shredded chicken and bring to a boil.
Fill tortillas with chicken mixture and lots of shredded cheese. Grill sides until chicken and cheese melt together.
¡Buen Provecho!
¡Provecho!
(Spanish equivalent to “Bon Appetit!” “Var så god” or “Forks Up!”)
I’ve heard it said that some people eat to live, while others live to eat. Well don’t waste too much time trying to figure out which category I fit into! Nearly all my favorite things in this world involve food—camping, socializing, traveling, cooking, holidays, etc.—and that remains just as true here in Mexico. So, this month’s newsletter hits on a lighter part of life south of the border, and is dedicated to the culinary beauty of Mexico and some of my most cherished moments in the kitchen.
Simple Ingredients, Countless Entrees, Exquisite Flavor!
Get a bunch of tomatoes, some onion, a couple cloves of garlic, a handful of chile peppers, loads of cheese, a good bit of salt, corn tortillas, rice, and beans and you’ve got yourself the principle ingredients for Mexican cuisine. Despite the fact that the ingredients don’t vary much from meal to meal, I’ve found Mexican food to be surprisingly diverse and wonderfully flavorful. A resourceful and creative people, Mexicans have found myriad ways to embellish their staples and spice up the palate. They make salsas of every color, texture, and spiciness. Sometimes the peppers and tomatoes are boiled and then blended, other times they’re grilled and then mashed by hand in a stone bowl. Rice may be served white, green, or red. Chicken may come to you in many forms—leg, breast, wing, foot, even stomach. Tortillas may be round, oval, oblong, diamond; they can be made of blue, white, yellow, or red corn; sometimes they’re grilled over an open-fire and other times fried in a pan of sizzling oil. Chile peppers appear in every color, shape, and size; some are sold fresh, others have been hung and dried; their spiciness ranges from subtle and mild to off-the-charts hot. Imaginative and delicious, Mexican cooking has yet to bore me! Some of my favorite platters include enchiladas, quesadillas, tinga de pollo (spicy chicken often served in quesadillas), and pozole (a hearty soup of corn and chicken, garnished with lime, chopped onion, dried chile, oregano and avocado).
The blessed tortilla
For Mexicans, no meal is complete without tortillas…I mean several tortillas. In fact, I just read in the newspaper last week that Mexicans devour over 300 million tortillas daily!
One begins to understand how Mexicans consume so many tortillas by simply watching them eat. Instead of using forks and spoons, Mexicans find the tortilla to be equally, if not more, functional. They rip off half of the tortilla and use it as a sort of “mitt” to help them peel off some meat, cut through the beans, or scoop up the broth; then they curl up the edges of the tortilla to keep food from spilling, and quickly lift it directly into their mouths. This may sound like an exaggerated description of the short transport from plate to mouth, but it illuminates the amount of concentration it requires for me to follow suit. It’s an art, I’ve decided, as I rarely get through a meal without refried beans seeping out of my tortilla, or bright, red salsa dripping down my forearm!
My favorite tortillas are those that come straight from the cornfield near Cuentepec, as I’m able to witness the entire process—from plant to plate—every week. During the harvest season, the women and their husbands spend days and weeks in the unyielding heat, hauling bushels of corn from the country to their homes. They scatter the plants out on the roof to dry, and then separate the stalks, kernels, husks, and cobs. Not wanting to waste one part of their produce, they will use the husks to wrap tamales, the cobs and stalks as “kindling” for the fire, and the kernels for tortillas. Soaked overnight in water and a bit of limestone (this limestone powder has, for centuries, been a significant source of vitamins and minerals for the indigenous people), the kernels are then brought to the molino (a machine that crushes the kernels) and ground into masa (dough). It is a lengthy and arduous routine, but the women noticeably take pride in their labor and tradition. I value the opportunity to take part in this custom, as I see in it a great testament to the organic interconnectedness of humanity and earth. I see the fields from which the food comes, I am able to name all of the ingredients, I see the hands that pick and prepare the food, and I know the names of all those who serve and feast with me. It can be tempting to label indigenous lifestyle as behind-the times, inept, and inefficient, but they have something to teach us about love of land, appreciation of and dependence on natural resources, and deliberate, organic living.
Living Local
Though mega-stores and super-Walmarts are starting to spring up all over the city and wipe out local commerce, I’m grateful that many Mexicans are trying to hold on to the way of life they know and love. The idea of going to a giant supermarket to take care of everything on the errand list—fruit, dried goods, shoes, cosmetics, etc.—is so contrary to this culture and these people. Having grown up without refrigeration and pantries, most Mexicans are accustomed to daily (sometimes multi-daily) trips to local markets, little convenience shops, and corner fruit stands. They go to the people’s market to pick out the season’s freshest fruits and vegetables, swing by Maria’s papeleria down the street to find paper or make copies, count on Jorge’s carniceria to provide fresh cuts of beef and poultry, stop by Marce’s next door when they need household cleaning products, and wait for the nearby tortilleria to come out with kilos of steaming, 100% corn tortillas every afternoon at 2. It’s a treat to watch this hustle and bustle come to life—bopping around from shop to shop, or home to home, with carts dragging behind or hefty, canvas bags draped over shoulders, Mexicans stroll from one errand to the next, never passing up an opportunity to greet the neighbors and catch up on the day’s latest news. Though I notice the inefficiency (when the convenience store is out of the one thing I need, when the woman selling bread doesn’t have any change, or when a sign says “Open at 9,” but there’s still no sign of life at 10:15), I also notice freedom, neighborliness, and support of local community. They know each other and each other’s commerce not by sign or advertisement, but through relationship and communal living. Well aware of the influence of international corporations, it’s getting harder and harder for local businesses to make it. It is my hope that Mexicans are able to resist the power of these monopolizing markets and continue to fill their kitchens and homes with the produce and labor of friends and neighbors.
“Ahorita vengo.”
(I’ll be right back…)
It’s just delightful to me how this rhythm of local and communal living does not at all lend itself to planning ahead. Take, for example, a typical Saturday morning brunch at Marce’s. We’ve decided to make scrambled eggs and beans, so Marce will start up the oil in the pan, chop up the tomatoes, onions, and chiles, heat up the tortillas and pour the juice, and then suddenly realize she doesn’t have any eggs—a critical ingredient! “Oh mother of Mary,” she’ll say, “Ahorita vengo,” and off she’ll go with coin purse in armpit to the corner food stand. She’ll hustle back, we’ll finish preparing the meal, we’ll just get seated at her cozy, kitchen table, and up she goes. “We really should have some avocado with this meal, don’t you think?” It’s not really a question, as she’s out the door before we can assure her it’s wonderful as is. This happens at nearly every meal, and though it’s a little strange to rarely begin and finish a meal with everyone seated together at the table, it’s also simply adorable and amusing!
There’s spicy and then there’s spicy
Many of my Mexican hosts were wonderfully gracious in the first months of my being here. They tamed down on the chiles and made it more accommodating to my untrained, Scandinavian tongue. But now that I’m “more Mexican,” as they like to say, and have mastered consumption of spicy food without getting watery eyes and a dripping nose, it’s become kind of a joke to see if they can get me. Mexicans actually use the verb “enchilar,” which I guess I would translate “to be chilied” or “to chilefy.” After a spicy meal, they’ll often ask, “Te enchilaron?” (Did you get chilied or chilefied?) Gives new meaning to the expression, “You are what you eat.”
A sacred place
Aside from these common, often comical snapshots of the Mexican kitchen, I’ve grown to see the kitchen as a profoundly holy place. I’ve always seen mealtime as important and sacred, but while in Mexico, I’ve realized the way in which the kitchen and its simple tasks often generate space for intimate conversation. Let me tell you about my friend Lore…
Lore is a co-worker of mine at CIDHAL. She is in charge of the cleaning and landscape on our campus, and she works harder than anyone else in the office. Over the past months, Lore has shared pieces of her story with me, a story that begins with poverty, abandonment, homelessness, unemployment, and self-negation, and moves toward growth, health, family, pride, and self-respect. Left by her partner with two young daughters, a junior-high education, and no job, Lore began with a house made of cardboard, beds made of newspaper, and meals of rice and corn. Now, after twenty-five years of tireless work as mother and domestic worker, Lore and her two daughters live in a very small, 2-room, cement home in Nueva Morelos, a community about 45 minutes from Cuernavaca. She and her daughters share one bedroom, they wash all dishes and clothes by hand with water that comes from an underground cistern, they shower by heating up water on the stove and pouring it over their bodies, the bathroom is nothing more than a toilet seat and hole in the ground, and the kitchen is good-sized and amazingly-furnished with refrigerator, stove, table, and dishes. Life is simple there. Life is also rigorous there.
It was an honor to be invited to Lore’s for dinner a few weeks ago. When I walked into her home, I was immediately struck by both her compassion and anxiety. It was clear I arrived earlier than they were expecting, as Lore was scrambling around the house, washing buckets and rags, rinsing the corn for tortillas, and sweeping more vigorously than the winds of the prairie. No matter how many times and ways I offered to help, she insisted that I sit and relax. She got me a chair, set it right in the middle of the patio, and told me to stay put. Because she and her daughters were scurrying around the yard, in and out of the house, and up and down the street, they were never in one place long enough for us to really have a conversation. So I sat there. I felt very uncomfortable, but wanted to respect their wish to host and serve me as guest. Never before have I been so aware of the ‘elite’ status I carry in some social situations. Lore was clearly excited to have me there, but overly apologetic, expressing her regrets multiple times that the house was so small and dirty, that the meal was not ready, that she doesn’t have a more comfortable chair for me, etc. I was caught off guard by her unnecessary preoccupations, and wasn’t sure how to respond to such veneration. What could I say or do to tell her that none of that mattered to me? How could I show her how blessed I felt to be invited to her home? How could I say with sincerity and admiration how beautiful I think her home is? How could I start to deconstruct the walls and differences our world has placed between us?
After a couple hours of waiting in my chair, Lore was ready to begin the meal. I told her of my fascination with cooking, and she invited me into the kitchen to help. Perfect! We began chopping onions, washing apples, cleaning the various parts of the chicken (my favorite job!) and pressing tortillas. I think there’s something about these mundane tasks for the way they shed barriers, transcend language complications, permit silence, inspire humor, and invite vulnerability. We began to have wonderful conversation about our families, traditions, and stories. Lore opened up more about her past and entrusted to me stories of past relationships, challenges of single parenting, the realities of immigration, (all but one of Lore’s seven siblings are living in the U.S. as undocumented immigrants), and her aspirations for herself and her children. I remember there being a short period of silence—I was chopping carrots and Lore was frying the chicken—and then Lore turned to me and admitted, “Sarita, pensé que nunca ibas a venir a mi casa.” Translated, she said, “Sarita, I thought you were never going to come to my house.” Her doubt and honesty startled me, and I asked her to expound. She explained, “You are from America, the wealthiest country in the world. And even though you’re living in Mexico, you have been to many nice and big homes in Cuernavaca, and I live here in this tiny and ugly home.” I was spellbound, uncomfortable, moved, humbled. It pained me to know that my being American, white, and well educated made such assumptions completely normal and valid. Our differences in upbringing, wealth, education, and skin color do not carry equal respect and power; rather, history has given power and privilege to mine over hers. It was a vulnerable moment for both of us, as we confronted pride and shame in our own roots. But her openness gave me the opportunity to express so clearly my gratitude for her hospitality, my admiration for her altruism and determination, my belief that gifts of love and welcome transcend all monetary worth. Since living in a foreign country and being so aware of my yearning for familial togetherness, I’ve been moved to deeper thankfulness for authentic warmth and welcome. “This feels like family to me, Lore,” I told her, and she responded with my favorite Mexican phrase, “You are in your home, Sarita, and I’d love to call you daughter.” It was a holy moment. My whole being felt like it had been drenched in a shower of grace and love. I was able to tell her that I—this young woman that society places above her—needed her. There was a powerful spirit at work within and around us that afternoon, as we were taken beyond labels and inequalities to a place of fuller understanding and real connection. To think about where we began—with our differences so palpable and divisive—and where we ended—with our differences acknowledged, but our unity as sisters and companions surpassing any division—still moves me to tears. And it all brewed out of that little, “poor” kitchen…
Thanks again for reading this month! Just as I relish in the flavors and feasts of Mexico, so do I also look forward to sharing a meal with each of you when I return.
God’s peace,
Sarah Rohde
If you feel so called to “get chilied” yourself, give this recipe a whirl!!!
Tinga de Pollo-Spicy Chicken Quesadillas
(from the kitchen of Marcelina Fitz)
4 chicken breasts
4 tomatoes, diced
2 onions (1 whole, 1 sliced)
2 cloves of garlic
2 chipotle peppers (in can)
(*chipotle peppers are very spicy, so add according to personal preference/stamina*)
1 Tbs. oil
Chicken bullion cube
Cook the chicken breasts in boiling water with onion and a couple cloves of garlic. Let the chicken cool and then shred it. Save the broth.
In a frying pan with oil, cook the slices of onion until transparent, then add tomatoes and 2 chipotle peppers (also diced). Sautee until soft. Add a small cube of chicken bullion and a little of the leftover chicken broth. Lastly, add the shredded chicken and bring to a boil.
Fill tortillas with chicken mixture and lots of shredded cheese. Grill sides until chicken and cheese melt together.
¡Buen Provecho!
Saturday, April 12, 2008
March Newsletter - Sarah W. in Kenya
March 2008
The month of March has been a very busy one for me. I have spent everyday of the week except for Sundays working at the Animal Orphanage and Safari Walk. Because of spending so much time at work I have been able to take many pictures of my animals and friends and wanted to share some of them with all of you. Hope you enjoy!
This adorable animal is my newest baby at the Orphanage. She is a Lesser Kudu, a member of the antelope family, and around 3-4 months old. Although it’s hard to tell from this picture, she is incredibly small, about the size of small dog, with her head barely reaching the height of my knees! She arrived on a Sunday when I wasn’t working, so on Monday when I came the guys at work all said to me “Sarah, did you know you gave birth yesterday?” She doesn’t have an official name yet, but she responds to my voice and follows me around the nursery area whenever I’m there.
Here is a picture of me and Julius, my brother who I mentioned in my last newsletter. On this day he and several of the others guys were working on a pipeline connecting water between the Safari Walk and Animal Orphanage. For a period of over two weeks we could only get water from one tap at the Orphanage, which became extremely tiresome because obtaining water from that one tap often meant climbing over multiple fences to carry the water to the desired destination. The management decided that a trench and pipeline connecting the two places would be more efficient, so the guys spent an entire week digging. Ironically, water has come back to the Orphanage on its own, without the pipeline, therefore the project has been abandoned. That’s sometimes how things work around here.
This is one of my favorite coworkers Samuel with two of our lion cubs. Yes, those big animals are cubs! Sammy does a lot of work around the Orphanage from fixing fences to animal care. On Sundays or days when I can’t come into work he is the one who takes care of my babies for me, making sure they all get their milk on time and come into the nursery at night.
Here is a picture of me in my work overalls with Kofi, a chimpanzee who was staying at the KWS vet office for one month. Kofi was rescued from Rwanda and was on his way to a chimpanzee sanctuary in Kenya. We had him for a one month quarantine to ensure he was fully healthy before moving onto the sanctuary. Kofi had his own private caretakers from the sanctuary, but his keepers and I became friends and they allowed me to visit him often during his stay with us. Kofi understands more Swahili than me! He also offered his hand for a greeting handshake whenever I came to see him.
My last picture is of my beloved buffalo, Bob. Bob has been with us at the Orphanage since he arrived around 3 weeks of age in early December last year. He is most recently recovering from a very serious digestive problem that left him weak and near dying. He is a little fighter and has pulled through rather quickly, now returning to his annoying antics of following me so close that he hits the backs of my knees causing my legs to buckle beneath me. Bob is my most loyal child, running to greet me whenever I am in sight and making it his personal job to go anyplace I do, even if that means right next to the lion or hyena cages.
It is the memories and stories like these that I have shared with you that make my time here in Kenya so wonderful. I am reminded everyday of how blessed I am to be able to experience God so fully in the simplest activities of everyday life.
The month of March has been a very busy one for me. I have spent everyday of the week except for Sundays working at the Animal Orphanage and Safari Walk. Because of spending so much time at work I have been able to take many pictures of my animals and friends and wanted to share some of them with all of you. Hope you enjoy!
This adorable animal is my newest baby at the Orphanage. She is a Lesser Kudu, a member of the antelope family, and around 3-4 months old. Although it’s hard to tell from this picture, she is incredibly small, about the size of small dog, with her head barely reaching the height of my knees! She arrived on a Sunday when I wasn’t working, so on Monday when I came the guys at work all said to me “Sarah, did you know you gave birth yesterday?” She doesn’t have an official name yet, but she responds to my voice and follows me around the nursery area whenever I’m there.
Here is a picture of me and Julius, my brother who I mentioned in my last newsletter. On this day he and several of the others guys were working on a pipeline connecting water between the Safari Walk and Animal Orphanage. For a period of over two weeks we could only get water from one tap at the Orphanage, which became extremely tiresome because obtaining water from that one tap often meant climbing over multiple fences to carry the water to the desired destination. The management decided that a trench and pipeline connecting the two places would be more efficient, so the guys spent an entire week digging. Ironically, water has come back to the Orphanage on its own, without the pipeline, therefore the project has been abandoned. That’s sometimes how things work around here.
This is one of my favorite coworkers Samuel with two of our lion cubs. Yes, those big animals are cubs! Sammy does a lot of work around the Orphanage from fixing fences to animal care. On Sundays or days when I can’t come into work he is the one who takes care of my babies for me, making sure they all get their milk on time and come into the nursery at night.
Here is a picture of me in my work overalls with Kofi, a chimpanzee who was staying at the KWS vet office for one month. Kofi was rescued from Rwanda and was on his way to a chimpanzee sanctuary in Kenya. We had him for a one month quarantine to ensure he was fully healthy before moving onto the sanctuary. Kofi had his own private caretakers from the sanctuary, but his keepers and I became friends and they allowed me to visit him often during his stay with us. Kofi understands more Swahili than me! He also offered his hand for a greeting handshake whenever I came to see him.
My last picture is of my beloved buffalo, Bob. Bob has been with us at the Orphanage since he arrived around 3 weeks of age in early December last year. He is most recently recovering from a very serious digestive problem that left him weak and near dying. He is a little fighter and has pulled through rather quickly, now returning to his annoying antics of following me so close that he hits the backs of my knees causing my legs to buckle beneath me. Bob is my most loyal child, running to greet me whenever I am in sight and making it his personal job to go anyplace I do, even if that means right next to the lion or hyena cages.
It is the memories and stories like these that I have shared with you that make my time here in Kenya so wonderful. I am reminded everyday of how blessed I am to be able to experience God so fully in the simplest activities of everyday life.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
March Newsletter - Mark in Slovakia
Mark's Missionary Notes
Ahoj and Greetings from Slovakia.
Well here is my March Update. My March was spent mostly in preparation
for Easter or Velka Noc. I was great to experience some of the very
unique customs and celebrations. March was also filled with many guests
and fun.
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/
I also have many more pictures available at
http://flickr.com/photos/themoltron
I have continued to teach English in school. I find it one of the most
challenging things I do here. I try to plan exciting and interesting
lessons but every week it is a gamble. Sometimes they seem interested
and other times not. As my Slovak is getting better it makes teaching
more difficult because they don't want to speak English. Despite this
frustration I keep trying, they are learning probably more than I think.
I have also been teaching drum lessons to several of the kids. This is
also a challenge because sometimes they kids show up and sometimes they
don't. I have to remind them to come often. When they do show up I enjoy it.
The weeks leading up to Velka Noc were a fun time in youth group. We
took the time to read the story of Jesus' journey to the cross. We then
made an illustrated time line. It was amazing how many things we forget.
We sometimes think we are familiar with story of Easter that we forget
to remind ourselves of the details. It took us 2 weeks to read, draw and
discuss the events. For me, it helped to get a better picture of the
passion of Christ and just how great Christ's love is for us. I can only
hope that the youth somehow got as much out of it as I did.
Good Friday or Velky Piatok was a big service. We had about 400 people
at the service. The church was packed. I sang with the choir and heard
the kids' choir sing. They had the brass ensemble perform and some
people play guitar. It was fantastic. Communion is served only at larger
events and significant times during the church year. It took about an
hour for everyone to receive it.
The Saturday of Velka Noc, or Biela Sabotu, we had more youth than
usual. Mostly from young people returning from school for the holiday.
We played a quiz game about the events of the Resurrection and
immediately after. With questions like, how many times did Jesus appear
to his followers after his death? How many people saw Jesus Alive? The
answers aren’t simple and it sparked some lively debate and thorough
searching of the bible for answers. From what I have found Jesus
appeared at least 5 times and he appeared to at least 20 people
according to combined facts from all the gospels. Don't take my word for
it. Find out for yourself.
The Monday after Easter was filled with a very unusual tradition. The
tradition involves young men getting girls wet and then hitting them
with green branches called a Korbača. The girls then give the guys
Chocolate and a Ribbon to be proudly displayed on the boy's Korbača.
Basically this only process is a huge flirting ritual. I had one of the
youth guys make me a Korbača.
Flo, one of the other volunteers from Germany, was leaving early Monday
morning. We waited until midnight and went to visit Zorka, who is the
vicar and lives next door in our building. We knocked on her door and
when she opened it, she was rather surprised. Nothing quite like being
splashed with water and being hit by Korbača and then reciting the rhyme
goes with it. "Šibi ryby mastné ryby, kus kolača od korbača" She then
gave us a ribbon with her name on it and chocolate.
After Zorka we travel to another house that at 3 young ladies living
there. When the first girl answered the door we surprised her with
water. She then told us to wait so she could get her sister. At the same
time the mother Shouted, "Already, it's so early, quick give me your
water buckets, I'll go fill them." It was quite a shock to see the
mother and the other girls helping us. After all the girls had gone
through the ritual we were invited in for coffee and snacks and each
girl gave us a ribbon for our Korbača. Well it was early in the morning
so no one else was up so, we went to bed. Later in the morning at a more
reasonable hour I went around the village with some of the other young
men participated in this ritual at several other houses. It was a fun
day and I met many nice girls.
They also traditionally have a small service. The Pastor arranges for
all the doors to be locked except for one. Then when all the ladies file
out of the Church he can hit them with his Korbača. Apparently they
considered it Good Luck, and wishes for Health and Beauty in the future
when they are hit by a Korbača. With the women being treated like it is
often said they boys should watch out the next day but usually nothing
happens.
March was also filled with a variety of Guests. Flo's family arrived to
spend Easter weekend in Vrbovce and then go to the High Tatry. It great
to meet new people and see the family of people I work so closely with.
His mother father and 2 younger sisters were quite a joy. Zorka and I
were invited to join in their family Easter egg hunt/walk after the
Service on Easter. When Flo and his family left for the High Tatry
another group of guests arrived the next day. Oli had spent his Easter
in Germany with family and arrived back with his Pastor and 2 friends.
They spoke decent English and Oli was able to translate well. I also
have been picking up a little German too so that helped. We had some
interesting conversations about life in Slovakia. They were here in
Vrbovce for about 3 days before they returned. After all these big
events I was feeling a little tired and wanted to return to a somewhat
normal routine.
Well, what I have I learned this month? I learned how Slovak's celebrate
Easter or Velka Noc. I learned and strange tradition of hit girls with
sticks the day after Velka Noc. I have also been learning about patience
and catching God's plan. Much like the Disciple's after Good Friday, I
sometimes think, "Where is God?" When I'm frustrated with working on
something I see no end to or I'm teaching English with kids who really
have not interest or when I have to chase to remind kids tom come to
youth group or drum lessons all the time and then they don't show up.
The disciples heard everything Jesus said but they just weren't sure
what was next. On Easter and many times after Jesus reminded them, "I'm
here! I'm Alive".
We too need to be reminded that Jesus died for our sins but he is a
Living God. When the 2 women went to take care of Jesus' body in the
tomb, they met an Angel who said, "Why are you looking for the living
among the dead?" We must ask this question to ourselves when we are
frustrated or lack vision. The fact that Jesus was resurrected as he
promised makes all his other promises more real. How can a dead God keep
his promises? He can't but Jesus is Alive.
I am reminding myself of God's Grace everyday that he is working, he is
living. I may not see results of my work now or even in a few months but
God is there, walking with me through all my joys and frustrations.
Lord,
Thank you that we worship you, a Living God
One who keeps his Promises
Help us to remember
You are Alive and walking with us
This is not another figure of speech, it is True
You showed yourself to the Disciples
And later gave of yourself to them your Holy Spirit.
We are your Disciples too!!
In your Holy Name, a name that has power of the living and the dead
Jesus Christ
God's Blessings and Peace be with you,
- Christ’s Servant in Slovakia
Mark
Ahoj and Greetings from Slovakia.
Well here is my March Update. My March was spent mostly in preparation
for Easter or Velka Noc. I was great to experience some of the very
unique customs and celebrations. March was also filled with many guests
and fun.
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/
I also have many more pictures available at
http://flickr.com/photos/themoltron
I have continued to teach English in school. I find it one of the most
challenging things I do here. I try to plan exciting and interesting
lessons but every week it is a gamble. Sometimes they seem interested
and other times not. As my Slovak is getting better it makes teaching
more difficult because they don't want to speak English. Despite this
frustration I keep trying, they are learning probably more than I think.
I have also been teaching drum lessons to several of the kids. This is
also a challenge because sometimes they kids show up and sometimes they
don't. I have to remind them to come often. When they do show up I enjoy it.
The weeks leading up to Velka Noc were a fun time in youth group. We
took the time to read the story of Jesus' journey to the cross. We then
made an illustrated time line. It was amazing how many things we forget.
We sometimes think we are familiar with story of Easter that we forget
to remind ourselves of the details. It took us 2 weeks to read, draw and
discuss the events. For me, it helped to get a better picture of the
passion of Christ and just how great Christ's love is for us. I can only
hope that the youth somehow got as much out of it as I did.
Good Friday or Velky Piatok was a big service. We had about 400 people
at the service. The church was packed. I sang with the choir and heard
the kids' choir sing. They had the brass ensemble perform and some
people play guitar. It was fantastic. Communion is served only at larger
events and significant times during the church year. It took about an
hour for everyone to receive it.
The Saturday of Velka Noc, or Biela Sabotu, we had more youth than
usual. Mostly from young people returning from school for the holiday.
We played a quiz game about the events of the Resurrection and
immediately after. With questions like, how many times did Jesus appear
to his followers after his death? How many people saw Jesus Alive? The
answers aren’t simple and it sparked some lively debate and thorough
searching of the bible for answers. From what I have found Jesus
appeared at least 5 times and he appeared to at least 20 people
according to combined facts from all the gospels. Don't take my word for
it. Find out for yourself.
The Monday after Easter was filled with a very unusual tradition. The
tradition involves young men getting girls wet and then hitting them
with green branches called a Korbača. The girls then give the guys
Chocolate and a Ribbon to be proudly displayed on the boy's Korbača.
Basically this only process is a huge flirting ritual. I had one of the
youth guys make me a Korbača.
Flo, one of the other volunteers from Germany, was leaving early Monday
morning. We waited until midnight and went to visit Zorka, who is the
vicar and lives next door in our building. We knocked on her door and
when she opened it, she was rather surprised. Nothing quite like being
splashed with water and being hit by Korbača and then reciting the rhyme
goes with it. "Šibi ryby mastné ryby, kus kolača od korbača" She then
gave us a ribbon with her name on it and chocolate.
After Zorka we travel to another house that at 3 young ladies living
there. When the first girl answered the door we surprised her with
water. She then told us to wait so she could get her sister. At the same
time the mother Shouted, "Already, it's so early, quick give me your
water buckets, I'll go fill them." It was quite a shock to see the
mother and the other girls helping us. After all the girls had gone
through the ritual we were invited in for coffee and snacks and each
girl gave us a ribbon for our Korbača. Well it was early in the morning
so no one else was up so, we went to bed. Later in the morning at a more
reasonable hour I went around the village with some of the other young
men participated in this ritual at several other houses. It was a fun
day and I met many nice girls.
They also traditionally have a small service. The Pastor arranges for
all the doors to be locked except for one. Then when all the ladies file
out of the Church he can hit them with his Korbača. Apparently they
considered it Good Luck, and wishes for Health and Beauty in the future
when they are hit by a Korbača. With the women being treated like it is
often said they boys should watch out the next day but usually nothing
happens.
March was also filled with a variety of Guests. Flo's family arrived to
spend Easter weekend in Vrbovce and then go to the High Tatry. It great
to meet new people and see the family of people I work so closely with.
His mother father and 2 younger sisters were quite a joy. Zorka and I
were invited to join in their family Easter egg hunt/walk after the
Service on Easter. When Flo and his family left for the High Tatry
another group of guests arrived the next day. Oli had spent his Easter
in Germany with family and arrived back with his Pastor and 2 friends.
They spoke decent English and Oli was able to translate well. I also
have been picking up a little German too so that helped. We had some
interesting conversations about life in Slovakia. They were here in
Vrbovce for about 3 days before they returned. After all these big
events I was feeling a little tired and wanted to return to a somewhat
normal routine.
Well, what I have I learned this month? I learned how Slovak's celebrate
Easter or Velka Noc. I learned and strange tradition of hit girls with
sticks the day after Velka Noc. I have also been learning about patience
and catching God's plan. Much like the Disciple's after Good Friday, I
sometimes think, "Where is God?" When I'm frustrated with working on
something I see no end to or I'm teaching English with kids who really
have not interest or when I have to chase to remind kids tom come to
youth group or drum lessons all the time and then they don't show up.
The disciples heard everything Jesus said but they just weren't sure
what was next. On Easter and many times after Jesus reminded them, "I'm
here! I'm Alive".
We too need to be reminded that Jesus died for our sins but he is a
Living God. When the 2 women went to take care of Jesus' body in the
tomb, they met an Angel who said, "Why are you looking for the living
among the dead?" We must ask this question to ourselves when we are
frustrated or lack vision. The fact that Jesus was resurrected as he
promised makes all his other promises more real. How can a dead God keep
his promises? He can't but Jesus is Alive.
I am reminding myself of God's Grace everyday that he is working, he is
living. I may not see results of my work now or even in a few months but
God is there, walking with me through all my joys and frustrations.
Lord,
Thank you that we worship you, a Living God
One who keeps his Promises
Help us to remember
You are Alive and walking with us
This is not another figure of speech, it is True
You showed yourself to the Disciples
And later gave of yourself to them your Holy Spirit.
We are your Disciples too!!
In your Holy Name, a name that has power of the living and the dead
Jesus Christ
God's Blessings and Peace be with you,
- Christ’s Servant in Slovakia
Mark
Monday, April 7, 2008
March Newsletter - Eric in the UK
St. Pancras News
March
A Celebration of Father Nicholas’s Ministry in Paris
Father Nicholas has worked for 12 hard years to promote the church within the new billion pound St. Pancras International Station and high-speed rail service. With his and other people's hard work, there now is a dedicated chaplaincy within the rail station and a name of St. Pancras that is retained- both of which Eurostar officials were originally opposed to. Our parish has now "twined" with a church on the other side of the channel called St. Vincent de Paul in Paris. With all of this work now seeming to pay off, it was only fitting that on the last official day where Father Nicholas was Team Rector of the Parish of St. Pancras that the staff and church council ride the Eurostar line to meet our new friends in France.
Without much sleep at all, we arrived at St. Pancras International at 6am to check in for our train that departed right on time at 6.55am. The ride of the train was incredible as it felt like we were literally floating. However with a top speed of 184 mph, a person sitting in a seat facing backwards (like the seat I was sitting in) can still be prone to motion sickness. When we got to Paris 2 hours later, I still tried to hold my head up high... but I sure didn't feel very well.
Our friends from St. Vincent de Paul were at the Gard du Nord Station with smiling faces and open arms. They immediately took us to their grand church which is only about 5 blocks away from the train station. After drinking wonderful French coffee and eating some tasty pastries, we went on a tour of the church. St. Vincent de Paul has had a similar history to that of St. Michael's Church (one of our four churches). It is a wonderful, grand, old building that is becoming tired and worn out. We were told the very familiar story of how the parish is struggling to raise enough money in order to keep the building together. Currently it is the roof that is the problem being over 100 years old. There are large buckets stacked along the walls ready to catch dripping water during a rain storm. "We hope we can replace the roof before the wood floor is completely gone", said Father Bruno as he was taking us around the chapel. In the fact that we would not be able to go on top of the Eiffel Tower because of the tremendous crowds on a Saturday, Father Bruno and the parishioners took us on a private tour up of the roof of the church. "We think this is an even better view!", said one of the parishioners. "The best part about it too is that it is free!" And what a magnificent view it was indeed! All of Paris seemed to be stretched out in front of us. It was a sight I will not forget for a long time!
After a wonderful reception at St. Vincent de Paul, the 18 of us from St. Pancras boarded a city bus and headed to the Eiffel Tower. I know from past conversations that you shouldn't expect to be "wowed" by the height of the Eiffel. What is incredible to see, however, is the size of the base. It's HUGE! What an incredible achievement the structure of the Eiffel Tower is! For lunch, we boarded a boat and cruised down the Seine River admiring the French architecture as we went. At the end of our boat ride, we came right into the presence of Notre Dame Cathedral. Now I have seen a lot of churches in my day, but I think I can honestly say that Notre Dame is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever been in. There is something about the gothic design that absolutely captivated me. It was lovely! At the end of our time, we all decided to sit down in a wonderful French cafe by the Cathedral and indulge ourselves in some French cuisine. Indeed, I was not disappointed as my Crepe' was wonderfully tasty!
My time in Paris, though short, was very meaningful. Though the views, buildings, and food were all beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful thing was to be with this parish family as it came to the end of a chapter in it's life. Fr. Nicholas could not stop smiling the entire day and was grateful to all of us for helping make this trip a reality. Everyone knows that after all the celebrations and parties are over, things will be different. This family will never be the same again. Though in many ways, that is what this trip in my mind tried to emphasize. A church family is always changing as it is continually saying heartfelt goodbyes to the "old faces" and warm welcomes to the "new faces". What links this group together is a belief that there is something more to the equation than just pure chance. We all have our lives to go live and sometimes that means physically leaving people who you really love. However, ties are not just physical at all and remain within us just as the hope and faith in God remains in us. It is important to take time and celebrate the current family ties that you have, but also to take time in knowing that the love of one another will go forth with you always for the rest of our lives.
Royal Albert Hall and a New Sense of Life
This last week, Mrs. Trigg- the headmistress at St. Michael's Primary School, asked me to accompany the Year 5 class on a field trip to the Royal Albert Hall. St. Michael's was part of a huge group of schools invited to the hall to participate in the Camden Music Festival. Over 2,000 kids from around the Borough of Camden participated in this event. What an event it was indeed! Knowing that this would be an incredible experience, I didn't hesitate to say yes to this invitation.
At the end of the school day, the 20 kids from Year 5 and four adults boarded a coach and braved London traffic to get to the Royal Albert Hall. The ring leader of all of us was an energetic and goofy Year 5 teacher named Mr. Russel. While on the coach, Mr. Russel did not hesitate to join in with the kids as they were singing some of the songs for the evening concert. He joked around and seemed in his prime with the kids. His inspiring energy made the long trip through the heavy traffic go quickly.
Royal Albert Hall is one of the largest performance halls in the world as it houses around 4,500 people. Thus, the 2,000 kids who were participating in the evening concert barley filled up half of it. It was an incredible sight to see all of the various school uniforms color the already beautiful hall. St. Michael's school was instructed to take a place right up on stage. I've never been so thrilled! There we were, with the pipes of the GIGANTIC Royal Albert Hall pipe organ rising in our background, sitting on stage at one of the most famous concert halls in the world! Then all the kids started to sing....and what a sound it was! There were so many kids (three sections of the hall were filled) singing during the mass choir pieces that it took four conductors to keep everything together. I still can't believe how the three choir conductors and an orchestra conductor kept everything in line. They even managed to pull off a rather descent sounding Gloria by Vivaldi. The British do not shy away from challenge in the arts! Perhaps Americans could learn a thing or two about the English passion for challenging music.
The period in-between the rehearsal and the concert got challenging as the energy from the kids got higher and higher. So what do you do with 2,000 10-12 year olds who become restless? Good question... I dont' really know. The organizers didn't really know either so consequently we had piles of kids running around and playing tag in the fancy corridors. To my amazement, some of the kids actually got THE WAVE started before the concert began. Yes ladies and gentlemen.... I have seen the wave go around the entire Royal Albert Hall like it was a football stadium. A site to see!
Because of the kids starting to go bonkers, Mr. Russel decided to take the St. Michael's kids out and have them run around in a nearby park. As the kids were playing a British version of Red Rover, I got the chance to look up and see the moon rise right above the Royal Albert Hall. It was a very clear and brilliant night as one could see even the London eye peaking through the trees. It was one of those moments for me when time decided to stop for an instant and I reflected on how blessed I was to be in that very spot. I was incredibly thankful for that moment as it created a space where I could back up for one instant and actually see where I was at and what I was doing. We all get so focused and buried within all the activity that goes on in our lives that it sometimes becomes quite difficult to see the "big picture".
Spring has started to come in London and things are beginning to change. Not only can I see the new buds start to form on the trees and the flowers start to bloom, but a new look on people's faces. It is a fantastic time of new life and hope. I saw the first glimmer of this outside Royal Albert Hall this week. I pray that we all might have the chance to stop where we are and acquire a new sense of life this spring.
March
A Celebration of Father Nicholas’s Ministry in Paris
Father Nicholas has worked for 12 hard years to promote the church within the new billion pound St. Pancras International Station and high-speed rail service. With his and other people's hard work, there now is a dedicated chaplaincy within the rail station and a name of St. Pancras that is retained- both of which Eurostar officials were originally opposed to. Our parish has now "twined" with a church on the other side of the channel called St. Vincent de Paul in Paris. With all of this work now seeming to pay off, it was only fitting that on the last official day where Father Nicholas was Team Rector of the Parish of St. Pancras that the staff and church council ride the Eurostar line to meet our new friends in France.
Without much sleep at all, we arrived at St. Pancras International at 6am to check in for our train that departed right on time at 6.55am. The ride of the train was incredible as it felt like we were literally floating. However with a top speed of 184 mph, a person sitting in a seat facing backwards (like the seat I was sitting in) can still be prone to motion sickness. When we got to Paris 2 hours later, I still tried to hold my head up high... but I sure didn't feel very well.
Our friends from St. Vincent de Paul were at the Gard du Nord Station with smiling faces and open arms. They immediately took us to their grand church which is only about 5 blocks away from the train station. After drinking wonderful French coffee and eating some tasty pastries, we went on a tour of the church. St. Vincent de Paul has had a similar history to that of St. Michael's Church (one of our four churches). It is a wonderful, grand, old building that is becoming tired and worn out. We were told the very familiar story of how the parish is struggling to raise enough money in order to keep the building together. Currently it is the roof that is the problem being over 100 years old. There are large buckets stacked along the walls ready to catch dripping water during a rain storm. "We hope we can replace the roof before the wood floor is completely gone", said Father Bruno as he was taking us around the chapel. In the fact that we would not be able to go on top of the Eiffel Tower because of the tremendous crowds on a Saturday, Father Bruno and the parishioners took us on a private tour up of the roof of the church. "We think this is an even better view!", said one of the parishioners. "The best part about it too is that it is free!" And what a magnificent view it was indeed! All of Paris seemed to be stretched out in front of us. It was a sight I will not forget for a long time!
After a wonderful reception at St. Vincent de Paul, the 18 of us from St. Pancras boarded a city bus and headed to the Eiffel Tower. I know from past conversations that you shouldn't expect to be "wowed" by the height of the Eiffel. What is incredible to see, however, is the size of the base. It's HUGE! What an incredible achievement the structure of the Eiffel Tower is! For lunch, we boarded a boat and cruised down the Seine River admiring the French architecture as we went. At the end of our boat ride, we came right into the presence of Notre Dame Cathedral. Now I have seen a lot of churches in my day, but I think I can honestly say that Notre Dame is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever been in. There is something about the gothic design that absolutely captivated me. It was lovely! At the end of our time, we all decided to sit down in a wonderful French cafe by the Cathedral and indulge ourselves in some French cuisine. Indeed, I was not disappointed as my Crepe' was wonderfully tasty!
My time in Paris, though short, was very meaningful. Though the views, buildings, and food were all beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful thing was to be with this parish family as it came to the end of a chapter in it's life. Fr. Nicholas could not stop smiling the entire day and was grateful to all of us for helping make this trip a reality. Everyone knows that after all the celebrations and parties are over, things will be different. This family will never be the same again. Though in many ways, that is what this trip in my mind tried to emphasize. A church family is always changing as it is continually saying heartfelt goodbyes to the "old faces" and warm welcomes to the "new faces". What links this group together is a belief that there is something more to the equation than just pure chance. We all have our lives to go live and sometimes that means physically leaving people who you really love. However, ties are not just physical at all and remain within us just as the hope and faith in God remains in us. It is important to take time and celebrate the current family ties that you have, but also to take time in knowing that the love of one another will go forth with you always for the rest of our lives.
Royal Albert Hall and a New Sense of Life
This last week, Mrs. Trigg- the headmistress at St. Michael's Primary School, asked me to accompany the Year 5 class on a field trip to the Royal Albert Hall. St. Michael's was part of a huge group of schools invited to the hall to participate in the Camden Music Festival. Over 2,000 kids from around the Borough of Camden participated in this event. What an event it was indeed! Knowing that this would be an incredible experience, I didn't hesitate to say yes to this invitation.
At the end of the school day, the 20 kids from Year 5 and four adults boarded a coach and braved London traffic to get to the Royal Albert Hall. The ring leader of all of us was an energetic and goofy Year 5 teacher named Mr. Russel. While on the coach, Mr. Russel did not hesitate to join in with the kids as they were singing some of the songs for the evening concert. He joked around and seemed in his prime with the kids. His inspiring energy made the long trip through the heavy traffic go quickly.
Royal Albert Hall is one of the largest performance halls in the world as it houses around 4,500 people. Thus, the 2,000 kids who were participating in the evening concert barley filled up half of it. It was an incredible sight to see all of the various school uniforms color the already beautiful hall. St. Michael's school was instructed to take a place right up on stage. I've never been so thrilled! There we were, with the pipes of the GIGANTIC Royal Albert Hall pipe organ rising in our background, sitting on stage at one of the most famous concert halls in the world! Then all the kids started to sing....and what a sound it was! There were so many kids (three sections of the hall were filled) singing during the mass choir pieces that it took four conductors to keep everything together. I still can't believe how the three choir conductors and an orchestra conductor kept everything in line. They even managed to pull off a rather descent sounding Gloria by Vivaldi. The British do not shy away from challenge in the arts! Perhaps Americans could learn a thing or two about the English passion for challenging music.
The period in-between the rehearsal and the concert got challenging as the energy from the kids got higher and higher. So what do you do with 2,000 10-12 year olds who become restless? Good question... I dont' really know. The organizers didn't really know either so consequently we had piles of kids running around and playing tag in the fancy corridors. To my amazement, some of the kids actually got THE WAVE started before the concert began. Yes ladies and gentlemen.... I have seen the wave go around the entire Royal Albert Hall like it was a football stadium. A site to see!
Because of the kids starting to go bonkers, Mr. Russel decided to take the St. Michael's kids out and have them run around in a nearby park. As the kids were playing a British version of Red Rover, I got the chance to look up and see the moon rise right above the Royal Albert Hall. It was a very clear and brilliant night as one could see even the London eye peaking through the trees. It was one of those moments for me when time decided to stop for an instant and I reflected on how blessed I was to be in that very spot. I was incredibly thankful for that moment as it created a space where I could back up for one instant and actually see where I was at and what I was doing. We all get so focused and buried within all the activity that goes on in our lives that it sometimes becomes quite difficult to see the "big picture".
Spring has started to come in London and things are beginning to change. Not only can I see the new buds start to form on the trees and the flowers start to bloom, but a new look on people's faces. It is a fantastic time of new life and hope. I saw the first glimmer of this outside Royal Albert Hall this week. I pray that we all might have the chance to stop where we are and acquire a new sense of life this spring.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
February/March Newsletter - Karin in Argentina
"Every authentic encounter with God makes a person less insular, less complacent, and more restless, more inspired, more committed to the world and humankind."
Anthony Gitten
Every morning on my three-block walk to work, I pass Cordoba´s garden. It sits at the intersection of Avenida Kenney and La Roca, where people pass by with frequency and immediacy, myself included. In the past seven months, I have acquired many saludos and smiles, three potted-plants, a handful of Valentine´s day chocolates, and a poster. I encounter God in Cordoba.
My mornings begin at the guardaria, a daycare center for 35 children providing support for surrounding low-income neighborhoods. I see God in Ana, my co-worker, who gives everything that she has to the children and their families. She spends over-time hours on chocolate bunnies at Easter, ornaments at Christmas, and handmade cards for Mother's Day. I see God in her hospitality, organization, and efforts to integrate me into her community in Comodoro by welcoming me into her family, her church, and her daycare center. I encounter God in Ana.
I see God in the food and support of Elsa, the cook, who is always nearby to help when I feel overwhelmed and who makes, I am convinced, the best food served at any daycare center in the entire world. I see God in our early morning, five-minute chats, where she talks about her sore muscles from the gym the previous night and I talk about my sore pansa, or tummy, from my dinner the previous night (which, proportionately, could have fed 5). I see God in Elsa´s efforts to bring home to me on those tough days, by making my favorite apple pancake recipe and cooking up personal Elsa favorites. I encounter God in Elsa.
I see God in the children, like Tiziano, who has a kick and catch that is bound to make him one of the greatest futbol players of his time, in Sophia who is shy but strong, in Mariano, whose smile could make anyone melt, and in Tomas, who loves to read and learn, and who can sing "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" louder than all of the rest combined. God is made clear to me in their simplicity and affection. I encounter God in the children.
I see God in the untiring patience and gracious teaching of Monica. She cares, she listens, and she shares her life with me. Even when it takes me mistake after mistake and sentence after sentence to articulate thoughts in Spanish, Monica listens. She is, to me, a face of kindness, concern, compassion, and understanding.
I see God on Saturday nights at Estudio Biblico, where ten or so neighborhood children gather together to learn, play games, and work together. I see God in the hours we spend jumping rope, drawing and eating cookies. I also see God in the service that follows, with the familiar melodies and chords of Holden Evening Prayer or La Oracion de La Tarde.
I encounter God in my next-door neighbors: Gustavo, Solange, Leandro (10), and Lourdes (8). I see God in the chick-flick and pochoclo, or popcorn nights with Solange, in the home-made pizzas of Gustavo, in the card games and laughter of Leandro, and in the drawings of Lourdes´ that cover my refrigerator. I hear God as we sit around and share laughter and conversation together, either over mate, or The Simpson's, or current political events. There is always an extra chair that sits around the dinner table. I encounter God in my neighbors.
So there it is, a year made up of small kindnesses, and endless encounters with the living God.
Que Dios te bendiga,
Karin
Anthony Gitten
Every morning on my three-block walk to work, I pass Cordoba´s garden. It sits at the intersection of Avenida Kenney and La Roca, where people pass by with frequency and immediacy, myself included. In the past seven months, I have acquired many saludos and smiles, three potted-plants, a handful of Valentine´s day chocolates, and a poster. I encounter God in Cordoba.
My mornings begin at the guardaria, a daycare center for 35 children providing support for surrounding low-income neighborhoods. I see God in Ana, my co-worker, who gives everything that she has to the children and their families. She spends over-time hours on chocolate bunnies at Easter, ornaments at Christmas, and handmade cards for Mother's Day. I see God in her hospitality, organization, and efforts to integrate me into her community in Comodoro by welcoming me into her family, her church, and her daycare center. I encounter God in Ana.
I see God in the food and support of Elsa, the cook, who is always nearby to help when I feel overwhelmed and who makes, I am convinced, the best food served at any daycare center in the entire world. I see God in our early morning, five-minute chats, where she talks about her sore muscles from the gym the previous night and I talk about my sore pansa, or tummy, from my dinner the previous night (which, proportionately, could have fed 5). I see God in Elsa´s efforts to bring home to me on those tough days, by making my favorite apple pancake recipe and cooking up personal Elsa favorites. I encounter God in Elsa.
I see God in the children, like Tiziano, who has a kick and catch that is bound to make him one of the greatest futbol players of his time, in Sophia who is shy but strong, in Mariano, whose smile could make anyone melt, and in Tomas, who loves to read and learn, and who can sing "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" louder than all of the rest combined. God is made clear to me in their simplicity and affection. I encounter God in the children.
I see God in the untiring patience and gracious teaching of Monica. She cares, she listens, and she shares her life with me. Even when it takes me mistake after mistake and sentence after sentence to articulate thoughts in Spanish, Monica listens. She is, to me, a face of kindness, concern, compassion, and understanding.
I see God on Saturday nights at Estudio Biblico, where ten or so neighborhood children gather together to learn, play games, and work together. I see God in the hours we spend jumping rope, drawing and eating cookies. I also see God in the service that follows, with the familiar melodies and chords of Holden Evening Prayer or La Oracion de La Tarde.
I encounter God in my next-door neighbors: Gustavo, Solange, Leandro (10), and Lourdes (8). I see God in the chick-flick and pochoclo, or popcorn nights with Solange, in the home-made pizzas of Gustavo, in the card games and laughter of Leandro, and in the drawings of Lourdes´ that cover my refrigerator. I hear God as we sit around and share laughter and conversation together, either over mate, or The Simpson's, or current political events. There is always an extra chair that sits around the dinner table. I encounter God in my neighbors.
So there it is, a year made up of small kindnesses, and endless encounters with the living God.
Que Dios te bendiga,
Karin
Feb/March Update from Gatundu Kenya - Sarah L.
February/March 2008 Newsletter: Update from Gatundu, Kenya
I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live a new life.
-From one of my favorite childhood camp songs from Luther Park Bible Camp in Danbury, WI
I seem to always begin my newsletters by apologizing. This one is no different. But I wish you would try to pry yourself away from political commentators, English marking schemes, My So-Called Life reruns and 10 shilling (20 cent!) chai tea long enough to write a newsletter. =)
As I write this, I am spending my days and nights marking end-of-term examinations for my Form 1 and 2 English students during the what-seems-to-be-endless rainy season. The term will end on April 9th when the students and I will have three weeks of r&r before second term begins in May. I have been entrusted to be the “head teacher” for an enter class of new Form 1s. I think after two months of teaching and preaching, the students have finally stopped smirking at my accent and funny hair color and have started to actually learn something from me. Who else is going to teach them the differences between collective nouns and phrasal quantifiers?
In the beginning of March, I had the great fortune of entertaining my parents in Kenya for two weeks. It was calming to finally show them the desk in which I plan my lessons and wonderful people I have been able to share my life with this year. I am sure that many of you have already seen the pictures and received the memo from the Kenya Tourism Agency (my mother) about the wonders of Kenya and its people.
I know that the season of Lent has come and gone, but since this newsletter is tardy, please bare with me. Recently, I’ve been reading this fabulous handbook that I had picked up at Luther Seminary by Daniel Erlander, Baptized, We Live: Lutheranism as a Way of Life. For anyone who survived off of Cliff’s Notes in high school, this handbook is for you! Among the simplified explanations for Lutheran liturgy and why Lutherans think the way they do, there is a thought-provoking section on Martin Luther’s Theology of the Cross.
Throughout the season of Lent, we are constantly reminded of the extreme sacrifice that Jesus made for us, his death on the cross. In his book, Erlander writes, “We [must] accept [the] reality that we humans would do almost anything to avoid, to ignore, to escape, to evade. That reality is this: We are called to die in order to live.” We are called to die in order to live. Luther’s Theology of the Cross, calls us to do just that.
I don’t know about you, but this is not an easy concept for me. How do I let go of myself, how do I die, so that I may give myself completely to God? A concept I struggled with all throughout seminary, Erlander makes very clear. Luther is calling us to drown our sins and self and be renewed in the Holy Spirit. He calls us to be renewed in our Baptism each and every day. My favorite part of Luther’s theology is that we meet God where he chooses to find us, in our sorrow, our pain, and our weakness.
While serving in Kenya, I’ve been reminded time and time again that I do not call the shots. Whatever happens, whatever I experience, whomever I meet, is not of my own doing. God’s plans are so much bigger (and wiser) than my own. Meet God wherever he chooses to find us… This year, I am constantly aware, and often reminded, of my fears and weaknesses. How refreshing to remember that it is only through these fears and weaknesses, only through my letting go of myself, that I may die in self and be renewed in the Holy Spirit. While living in Gatundu, I have learned to put my absolute trust in God.
As a community and as a country, we have endured numerous hardships and heartaches in the past seven months that I have lived here. But even amidst all of the heartache, I still hear (and am reminded) daily that, God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good. He is always watching over us. The faith of the Kenyan people continue to shine brightly each and everyday. It is only through giving ourselves completely to God that we may truly live. I am very fortunate to have been able to witness Luther’s Theology of the Cross lived out daily in my community.
Kiswahili lesson:
Nimechoka: I am tired Nimeshukuru: I am thankful
Nahisi njaa: I am hungry Nimeokoka: I am saved
Nimeshiba: I am full/satisfied
Prayer Requests:
1. For the outbreak of cholera in the camps for Internally Displaced People (IDPs) from the election violence.
2. For the continued effort on the sides of President Kibaki and Prime Minister Odinga to honor the coalition government agreement mediated by Kofi Annan and his team.
3. For peace, truth and justice in Zimbabwe, in regards to the presidential elections that some fear may be following in Kenya’s footsteps
Thank you all for your continued support.
Peace be with you,
Sarah
Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” Matthew 16:24-25
I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live a new life.
-From one of my favorite childhood camp songs from Luther Park Bible Camp in Danbury, WI
I seem to always begin my newsletters by apologizing. This one is no different. But I wish you would try to pry yourself away from political commentators, English marking schemes, My So-Called Life reruns and 10 shilling (20 cent!) chai tea long enough to write a newsletter. =)
As I write this, I am spending my days and nights marking end-of-term examinations for my Form 1 and 2 English students during the what-seems-to-be-endless rainy season. The term will end on April 9th when the students and I will have three weeks of r&r before second term begins in May. I have been entrusted to be the “head teacher” for an enter class of new Form 1s. I think after two months of teaching and preaching, the students have finally stopped smirking at my accent and funny hair color and have started to actually learn something from me. Who else is going to teach them the differences between collective nouns and phrasal quantifiers?
In the beginning of March, I had the great fortune of entertaining my parents in Kenya for two weeks. It was calming to finally show them the desk in which I plan my lessons and wonderful people I have been able to share my life with this year. I am sure that many of you have already seen the pictures and received the memo from the Kenya Tourism Agency (my mother) about the wonders of Kenya and its people.
I know that the season of Lent has come and gone, but since this newsletter is tardy, please bare with me. Recently, I’ve been reading this fabulous handbook that I had picked up at Luther Seminary by Daniel Erlander, Baptized, We Live: Lutheranism as a Way of Life. For anyone who survived off of Cliff’s Notes in high school, this handbook is for you! Among the simplified explanations for Lutheran liturgy and why Lutherans think the way they do, there is a thought-provoking section on Martin Luther’s Theology of the Cross.
Throughout the season of Lent, we are constantly reminded of the extreme sacrifice that Jesus made for us, his death on the cross. In his book, Erlander writes, “We [must] accept [the] reality that we humans would do almost anything to avoid, to ignore, to escape, to evade. That reality is this: We are called to die in order to live.” We are called to die in order to live. Luther’s Theology of the Cross, calls us to do just that.
I don’t know about you, but this is not an easy concept for me. How do I let go of myself, how do I die, so that I may give myself completely to God? A concept I struggled with all throughout seminary, Erlander makes very clear. Luther is calling us to drown our sins and self and be renewed in the Holy Spirit. He calls us to be renewed in our Baptism each and every day. My favorite part of Luther’s theology is that we meet God where he chooses to find us, in our sorrow, our pain, and our weakness.
While serving in Kenya, I’ve been reminded time and time again that I do not call the shots. Whatever happens, whatever I experience, whomever I meet, is not of my own doing. God’s plans are so much bigger (and wiser) than my own. Meet God wherever he chooses to find us… This year, I am constantly aware, and often reminded, of my fears and weaknesses. How refreshing to remember that it is only through these fears and weaknesses, only through my letting go of myself, that I may die in self and be renewed in the Holy Spirit. While living in Gatundu, I have learned to put my absolute trust in God.
As a community and as a country, we have endured numerous hardships and heartaches in the past seven months that I have lived here. But even amidst all of the heartache, I still hear (and am reminded) daily that, God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good. He is always watching over us. The faith of the Kenyan people continue to shine brightly each and everyday. It is only through giving ourselves completely to God that we may truly live. I am very fortunate to have been able to witness Luther’s Theology of the Cross lived out daily in my community.
Kiswahili lesson:
Nimechoka: I am tired Nimeshukuru: I am thankful
Nahisi njaa: I am hungry Nimeokoka: I am saved
Nimeshiba: I am full/satisfied
Prayer Requests:
1. For the outbreak of cholera in the camps for Internally Displaced People (IDPs) from the election violence.
2. For the continued effort on the sides of President Kibaki and Prime Minister Odinga to honor the coalition government agreement mediated by Kofi Annan and his team.
3. For peace, truth and justice in Zimbabwe, in regards to the presidential elections that some fear may be following in Kenya’s footsteps
Thank you all for your continued support.
Peace be with you,
Sarah
Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” Matthew 16:24-25
Friday, April 4, 2008
March Newsletter - Katie in Mexico
Visiting Hours are now over...
Cuernavaca, Mexico Newsletter
March 2008
By Katie
Well, here I am. It is the end of March and this month flew by with two different arrivals of visitors and Mexican Holy Week celebrations. In a couple of days it will be April and I am seeing the fast-approaching end of the year. But before I launch into some of my personal reflections and musings... an update.
At the beginning of March three of my best friends from high school (Katie, Jill and Molly) came to visit me in Mexico. It was a long weekend of fun, travel, girl talk, and reminiscing. We did a whirlwind tour of Cuernavaca and Tepoztlan while also enjoying quality time with some quality girlfriends.
At the end of March my parents and best friend from college, Angie, came to visit. In addition to the tour of Cuernavaca and Tepoz, we also went to Mexico City and the archeological site of Teotihuacan. Once again, it was great to have visitors that wanted to catch a glimpse of the Mexico I know. Although, I have to admit that it is a formidable challenge to explain the experience I’ve had over seven the past months to my visitors who can only come for seven days. It feels limiting, but it is undoubtedly better than nothing.
We ate at some great meals and I ate up every moment with them. We saw the sights and I saw our relationships through new eyes. I am blessed to have such incredible friendships in my life in which we love and support each other while giving each other the freedom to grow and change and seek new paths. It is an awe-inspiring and humbling moment when I realize that we celebrate our differences, embrace the ways we challenge each other, and still love each other with such loyalty and strength.
As always, having visitors is such a blessing and reminds me of the people waiting off stage that are supporting me, cheering me on, and looking forward to seeing me again when I return from this great adventure. However, it is also a balance of maintaining and recognizing my identity as a volunteer in Mexico while also eating out, staying in hotels, and visiting museums. Not only does it take me away from my “purpose” here but it also takes me away from the relationships that I have formed here in Mexico. I love visitors and always will, but I also love who I am and what I do here and I have a hard time shelving that for some vacation time.
By the time I read, reread, edit, reread, edit, reread and finally send this short newsletter, it will be April. April! My departure from Mexico is sneaking up on me and I know that it will come sooner than I can imagine. I am feeling the pulls of being ready to return home, but I also feel my time here flying by. Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, I am reenergized and ready to pour myself into every moment of these last three months. I am ready to recommit to my work and students and coworkers that bring me such fulfillment. I am ready to plunge back into the friendships here that continue to give me so much life, joy and hope every day. As I enter into April, I take a deep breath, sigh and think to myself, “I am ready.”
Cuernavaca, Mexico Newsletter
March 2008
By Katie
Well, here I am. It is the end of March and this month flew by with two different arrivals of visitors and Mexican Holy Week celebrations. In a couple of days it will be April and I am seeing the fast-approaching end of the year. But before I launch into some of my personal reflections and musings... an update.
At the beginning of March three of my best friends from high school (Katie, Jill and Molly) came to visit me in Mexico. It was a long weekend of fun, travel, girl talk, and reminiscing. We did a whirlwind tour of Cuernavaca and Tepoztlan while also enjoying quality time with some quality girlfriends.
At the end of March my parents and best friend from college, Angie, came to visit. In addition to the tour of Cuernavaca and Tepoz, we also went to Mexico City and the archeological site of Teotihuacan. Once again, it was great to have visitors that wanted to catch a glimpse of the Mexico I know. Although, I have to admit that it is a formidable challenge to explain the experience I’ve had over seven the past months to my visitors who can only come for seven days. It feels limiting, but it is undoubtedly better than nothing.
We ate at some great meals and I ate up every moment with them. We saw the sights and I saw our relationships through new eyes. I am blessed to have such incredible friendships in my life in which we love and support each other while giving each other the freedom to grow and change and seek new paths. It is an awe-inspiring and humbling moment when I realize that we celebrate our differences, embrace the ways we challenge each other, and still love each other with such loyalty and strength.
As always, having visitors is such a blessing and reminds me of the people waiting off stage that are supporting me, cheering me on, and looking forward to seeing me again when I return from this great adventure. However, it is also a balance of maintaining and recognizing my identity as a volunteer in Mexico while also eating out, staying in hotels, and visiting museums. Not only does it take me away from my “purpose” here but it also takes me away from the relationships that I have formed here in Mexico. I love visitors and always will, but I also love who I am and what I do here and I have a hard time shelving that for some vacation time.
By the time I read, reread, edit, reread, edit, reread and finally send this short newsletter, it will be April. April! My departure from Mexico is sneaking up on me and I know that it will come sooner than I can imagine. I am feeling the pulls of being ready to return home, but I also feel my time here flying by. Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, I am reenergized and ready to pour myself into every moment of these last three months. I am ready to recommit to my work and students and coworkers that bring me such fulfillment. I am ready to plunge back into the friendships here that continue to give me so much life, joy and hope every day. As I enter into April, I take a deep breath, sigh and think to myself, “I am ready.”
Thursday, April 3, 2008
March Newsletter - Kristen in Slovakia
March Newsletter
Easter in Velky Slavkov
Christ is risen. He is risen indeed, Alleluia. Happy Easter to everyone! The highlight of March was Easter. We really did not do much here related to the season of Lent until the week before Easter. On Palm Sunday, Kvetna Nedela, we went through a series of readings from the Old Testament with the boys, which is used in the churches here. Then on Good Friday, Velky Piatok, we had a service here with the boys where we read through the passion of Christ in the Gospel of Matthew. Following this we watched the movie “The Passion of Christ” which was a really good visual representation for some of the boys who weren’t quite as familiar with the Bible and the crucifixion story. It really made an impression on some of them.
On Saturday, Jessie and I decided to bring some American traditions to Slovakia and dye Easter eggs with the boys. In Slovakia they decorate egg shells after they have the egg inside blown out through a small hole, so the boys were amazed that the eggs were still full when they were decorating them. We had a lot of fun playing around with the crayons and dye and ended up with about 50 decorated eggs. On Easter, since Jessie and I had weekend service(meaning we did the cooking, planning of activities, and general watching over of the boys), we went to the Lutheran church next door earlier on Sunday morning and enjoyed the service there. Afterwards, we finished cooking lunch, resin (schnitzel – pork which is breaded and fried), potato salad, and chocolate for desert, while the boys had an Easter service upstairs.
Surprisingly, Easter Monday here is also a big holiday. The tradition is that the boys drench the girls (we are talking about with buckets of water or dragged over to the bathtub, not just a little cup of water) and all week the boys were excitedly telling us about this. We were a little worried, especially since when we woke up and heard a girl outside screaming, but since we still had service we were busy making lunch and managed to remain dry. Along with this, it is also a tradition for the boys to spray the girls with cheap perfume which the stores carry especially for this occasion. We did manage to experience this when one of the boys sprayed us.
Also, to carry on sharing American traditions, we planned an egg hunt for the boys on Easter Monday morning using both the dyed eggs we made as well as some plastic eggs filled with candy. Unfortunately it snowed a lot the night before and that day, so we had to have it inside, but this is a big building so we made do just fine. The boys had a good time finding the eggs and eating them.
Everything else here is going pretty much the same as always. On our Monday night Bible studies we are still working our way through the book of Acts. Some of the topics of our recent Bible studies were anger management, spiritual gifts and how to apply them in our lives, prayer, and temptation and how to deal with it in our lives. Our Bible studies start and end with us singing praise songs and praying together. In the middle we read the passage from Acts and then have a discussion. Jessie and I have started asking and answering the questions in Slovak that we have prepared ahead of time, so that is an added challenge. It is a good chance for us to have discussions with the boys in a smaller group so that they are more willing to be open and share.
English lessons are also going well. This month we have learned about rooms in the house, clothing, parts of the body, and morning routines. We have done activities such as designing their own house and labeling the rooms, writing sentences about the clothing they are wearing, labeling parts of the body on pictures cut out of a magazine, crossword puzzles, word searches, dialogues, singing “head, shoulders, knees, and toes,” playing Simon Says (Kristy or Jessie Says), worksheets with matching and fill in the blank, and much more. We have a few students who are working very hard to learn English and are enthusiastic for the lessons as well as the others who wander in and out randomly when things look interesting. It is fun to have lots of hands-on activities for them.
Well that is a small taste of life here in the month of March. As always, I enjoy hearing from all of you. I hope that everything is going well for you and your families.
God’s blessings,
Kristen
Easter in Velky Slavkov
Christ is risen. He is risen indeed, Alleluia. Happy Easter to everyone! The highlight of March was Easter. We really did not do much here related to the season of Lent until the week before Easter. On Palm Sunday, Kvetna Nedela, we went through a series of readings from the Old Testament with the boys, which is used in the churches here. Then on Good Friday, Velky Piatok, we had a service here with the boys where we read through the passion of Christ in the Gospel of Matthew. Following this we watched the movie “The Passion of Christ” which was a really good visual representation for some of the boys who weren’t quite as familiar with the Bible and the crucifixion story. It really made an impression on some of them.
On Saturday, Jessie and I decided to bring some American traditions to Slovakia and dye Easter eggs with the boys. In Slovakia they decorate egg shells after they have the egg inside blown out through a small hole, so the boys were amazed that the eggs were still full when they were decorating them. We had a lot of fun playing around with the crayons and dye and ended up with about 50 decorated eggs. On Easter, since Jessie and I had weekend service(meaning we did the cooking, planning of activities, and general watching over of the boys), we went to the Lutheran church next door earlier on Sunday morning and enjoyed the service there. Afterwards, we finished cooking lunch, resin (schnitzel – pork which is breaded and fried), potato salad, and chocolate for desert, while the boys had an Easter service upstairs.
Surprisingly, Easter Monday here is also a big holiday. The tradition is that the boys drench the girls (we are talking about with buckets of water or dragged over to the bathtub, not just a little cup of water) and all week the boys were excitedly telling us about this. We were a little worried, especially since when we woke up and heard a girl outside screaming, but since we still had service we were busy making lunch and managed to remain dry. Along with this, it is also a tradition for the boys to spray the girls with cheap perfume which the stores carry especially for this occasion. We did manage to experience this when one of the boys sprayed us.
Also, to carry on sharing American traditions, we planned an egg hunt for the boys on Easter Monday morning using both the dyed eggs we made as well as some plastic eggs filled with candy. Unfortunately it snowed a lot the night before and that day, so we had to have it inside, but this is a big building so we made do just fine. The boys had a good time finding the eggs and eating them.
Everything else here is going pretty much the same as always. On our Monday night Bible studies we are still working our way through the book of Acts. Some of the topics of our recent Bible studies were anger management, spiritual gifts and how to apply them in our lives, prayer, and temptation and how to deal with it in our lives. Our Bible studies start and end with us singing praise songs and praying together. In the middle we read the passage from Acts and then have a discussion. Jessie and I have started asking and answering the questions in Slovak that we have prepared ahead of time, so that is an added challenge. It is a good chance for us to have discussions with the boys in a smaller group so that they are more willing to be open and share.
English lessons are also going well. This month we have learned about rooms in the house, clothing, parts of the body, and morning routines. We have done activities such as designing their own house and labeling the rooms, writing sentences about the clothing they are wearing, labeling parts of the body on pictures cut out of a magazine, crossword puzzles, word searches, dialogues, singing “head, shoulders, knees, and toes,” playing Simon Says (Kristy or Jessie Says), worksheets with matching and fill in the blank, and much more. We have a few students who are working very hard to learn English and are enthusiastic for the lessons as well as the others who wander in and out randomly when things look interesting. It is fun to have lots of hands-on activities for them.
Well that is a small taste of life here in the month of March. As always, I enjoy hearing from all of you. I hope that everything is going well for you and your families.
God’s blessings,
Kristen
March Newsletter! - Jessica in Slovakia
Jessica’s March Newsletter
Updates from Slovakia
This month Tyler came to visit me and we had a great time traveling and spending time at the center here. I had a nice break from work and we were able to travel to Vienna, Banska Bystrica, Krakow, and Bratislava. After traveling he was able to see my day to day life here in Veľký Slavkov. Everyone enjoyed meeting him and appreciated his musical contributions to our Sunday morning worship. It was a lot of fun to have someone from home here, and I was able to explain some of the cultural customs to him and teach him some basic Slovak.
Veľká noc (Easter) in Slovakia
Easter was a different experience for me while in Slovakia and I celebrated the holiday much differently than in America. The Lutheran churches in Slovakia do not have an Ash Wednesday church service so the beginning of Lent felt different without that. Kvetná Nedeľa (Palm Sunday) was celebrated here at the center with a service of Bible readings, prayers, and singing. Tyler was here for this service and played piano for the songs, which sounded really nice. Holy week was different, because there was not a Maundy Thursday service. However, there was a service for Veľký piatok (Good Friday) here with the guys. It was very informal, as the services are at the center, but it was nice to be able to get together and read the passages in the Bible about Jesus’ crucifixion. From Friday until Monday Kristen and I had service, which means that we prepared the meals for everyone here. It kept us busy for the weekend, but we also enjoyed doing some activities with the guys. Saturday afternoon we made a lot of hard boiled eggs and showed them how we dye eggs in America. We used these and some plastic eggs filled with candy for an Easter egg hunt on Monday morning. It was fun to share this American tradition with them and they enjoyed the candy! Easter Sunday I attended the church service at the Lutheran church in the village. It was a nice service, but a little unusual to be bundled up in my winter coat, scarf, and gloves during church on Easter! Then Kristen and I prepared the Easter meal, which consisted of Zemiakové šalat (a special potato salad) and rezeň (breaded pork that is fried).
The guys were excited for Easter Monday because of one of their Slovak traditions. During the morning boys and men dump water or perfume on girls and women. After the girls get wet they are supposed to give candy to the guys. Guys generally go from house to house getting girls wet, and enjoying it very much. I had heard a lot about this day before and when I woke up in the morning I was watching my every move. I actually heard a girl yelling “Pomoc!” (Help!) when I woke up and I thought I was really in for it being in a house full of guys. Surprisingly, Kristen and I were both safe, because we were working in the kitchen cooking their lunch. We got some threats in the morning and one guy filled a huge pot of water “to make coffee” (and he never drinks coffee) but when we asked him if he wanted lunch on time or not he had mercy on us. We ended the day dry, and with only having a couple sprays of some nasty smelling cologne.
Easter here was different than at home, and it almost did not really feel like Easter to me. I thought a lot about what was different and similar between Easters at home and Easter here. At home there is so much other stuff that goes along with Easter. Usually I get dressed up to go with my family to church on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, and the services are more formal and traditional. On Easter Sunday at home it is also a big deal to get dressed up nicely for church, and spend the day with my family. As I thought about what I missed about Easter here I realized that the most important part about Easter was the same. It was a time of remembrance and celebration of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Even though it would have been nice to be with my family during this holiday, I was able to be with the guys here who do not have families to be with.
Leadership
What does it mean to be a leader within the church? How is my leadership in the church shaped by the cross-cultural context I am in? Franklin shared an interesting quote with the volunteers this month regarding these questions. Eric Law writes, “In a multicultural community, doing the work of justice requires us to understand the different perceptions of power from different cultural points of view. Doing justice in a multicultural environment requires us to understand the consequences of these cultural differences in power perceptions. Doing justice commands us to reveal this unconscious and disproportionate distribution of power. Doing justice compels us to develop new leadership skills that can confront injustice”.
I think a lot of times the term leadership implies that someone with more power or more experience is directing or in charge of a group of people. However, I have been discovering the problems with this form of leadership, especially in a cross-cultural context. In a group where one person is dictating or directing I think it is very difficult for members to grow and learn from one another. Not only this, but in a cross-cultural context it can give the impression that one culture stands above another. The guys here have been receiving the message from society that they are not as smart or that they are less of people because they are Gypsies. I need to be a leader here in a way that will confront this injustice and not perpetuate it. When Kristen and I lead Bible studies and English classes we try to engage the guys as much as possible and create a dynamic where they are just as much involved as we are. If we were to simply try to lecture them on the Bible or how we think they should live their lives there would be this disproportionate distribution of power that Eric Law talks about. Not only would we be perpetuating the injustice they already experience, but it would be boring for them and for us. Especially in Bible studies I think it is really important for the leader to make sure there is dialogue in the group, because we can help each other learn. Maybe it is better to think of a leader as someone who can guide the group and help engage everyone in this dialogue where we can learn from one another.
Thank you for your prayers and support!
-Jessica
Updates from Slovakia
This month Tyler came to visit me and we had a great time traveling and spending time at the center here. I had a nice break from work and we were able to travel to Vienna, Banska Bystrica, Krakow, and Bratislava. After traveling he was able to see my day to day life here in Veľký Slavkov. Everyone enjoyed meeting him and appreciated his musical contributions to our Sunday morning worship. It was a lot of fun to have someone from home here, and I was able to explain some of the cultural customs to him and teach him some basic Slovak.
Veľká noc (Easter) in Slovakia
Easter was a different experience for me while in Slovakia and I celebrated the holiday much differently than in America. The Lutheran churches in Slovakia do not have an Ash Wednesday church service so the beginning of Lent felt different without that. Kvetná Nedeľa (Palm Sunday) was celebrated here at the center with a service of Bible readings, prayers, and singing. Tyler was here for this service and played piano for the songs, which sounded really nice. Holy week was different, because there was not a Maundy Thursday service. However, there was a service for Veľký piatok (Good Friday) here with the guys. It was very informal, as the services are at the center, but it was nice to be able to get together and read the passages in the Bible about Jesus’ crucifixion. From Friday until Monday Kristen and I had service, which means that we prepared the meals for everyone here. It kept us busy for the weekend, but we also enjoyed doing some activities with the guys. Saturday afternoon we made a lot of hard boiled eggs and showed them how we dye eggs in America. We used these and some plastic eggs filled with candy for an Easter egg hunt on Monday morning. It was fun to share this American tradition with them and they enjoyed the candy! Easter Sunday I attended the church service at the Lutheran church in the village. It was a nice service, but a little unusual to be bundled up in my winter coat, scarf, and gloves during church on Easter! Then Kristen and I prepared the Easter meal, which consisted of Zemiakové šalat (a special potato salad) and rezeň (breaded pork that is fried).
The guys were excited for Easter Monday because of one of their Slovak traditions. During the morning boys and men dump water or perfume on girls and women. After the girls get wet they are supposed to give candy to the guys. Guys generally go from house to house getting girls wet, and enjoying it very much. I had heard a lot about this day before and when I woke up in the morning I was watching my every move. I actually heard a girl yelling “Pomoc!” (Help!) when I woke up and I thought I was really in for it being in a house full of guys. Surprisingly, Kristen and I were both safe, because we were working in the kitchen cooking their lunch. We got some threats in the morning and one guy filled a huge pot of water “to make coffee” (and he never drinks coffee) but when we asked him if he wanted lunch on time or not he had mercy on us. We ended the day dry, and with only having a couple sprays of some nasty smelling cologne.
Easter here was different than at home, and it almost did not really feel like Easter to me. I thought a lot about what was different and similar between Easters at home and Easter here. At home there is so much other stuff that goes along with Easter. Usually I get dressed up to go with my family to church on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, and the services are more formal and traditional. On Easter Sunday at home it is also a big deal to get dressed up nicely for church, and spend the day with my family. As I thought about what I missed about Easter here I realized that the most important part about Easter was the same. It was a time of remembrance and celebration of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Even though it would have been nice to be with my family during this holiday, I was able to be with the guys here who do not have families to be with.
Leadership
What does it mean to be a leader within the church? How is my leadership in the church shaped by the cross-cultural context I am in? Franklin shared an interesting quote with the volunteers this month regarding these questions. Eric Law writes, “In a multicultural community, doing the work of justice requires us to understand the different perceptions of power from different cultural points of view. Doing justice in a multicultural environment requires us to understand the consequences of these cultural differences in power perceptions. Doing justice commands us to reveal this unconscious and disproportionate distribution of power. Doing justice compels us to develop new leadership skills that can confront injustice”.
I think a lot of times the term leadership implies that someone with more power or more experience is directing or in charge of a group of people. However, I have been discovering the problems with this form of leadership, especially in a cross-cultural context. In a group where one person is dictating or directing I think it is very difficult for members to grow and learn from one another. Not only this, but in a cross-cultural context it can give the impression that one culture stands above another. The guys here have been receiving the message from society that they are not as smart or that they are less of people because they are Gypsies. I need to be a leader here in a way that will confront this injustice and not perpetuate it. When Kristen and I lead Bible studies and English classes we try to engage the guys as much as possible and create a dynamic where they are just as much involved as we are. If we were to simply try to lecture them on the Bible or how we think they should live their lives there would be this disproportionate distribution of power that Eric Law talks about. Not only would we be perpetuating the injustice they already experience, but it would be boring for them and for us. Especially in Bible studies I think it is really important for the leader to make sure there is dialogue in the group, because we can help each other learn. Maybe it is better to think of a leader as someone who can guide the group and help engage everyone in this dialogue where we can learn from one another.
Thank you for your prayers and support!
-Jessica
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
March Newsletter - Ashley in Slovakia
A highlight for me this month was also the history book party event. A man who lives in Hybe just recently finished writing his second book, a history book about the village. In celebration of the book release, the town had a ceremony to celebrate. The celebration took place in a fairly small room (or at least too small for an event like this) in the city building of Hybe. I went to the celebration with my host family, and by the time we got there the whole room was filled with people, as well as the hallway leading into the room. The only place we could manage to squeeze into was the back corner on the right side, right next and literally IN two trees. It was quite funny. My host sister Katka and I giggled quite a bit as we swatted branches out of our faces, and tried to arrange them under and between our arms. Anyways, the ceremony was nice. My friend Vierka, who works as an assistant to the mayor of Hybe, opened the ceremony with a welcome message and poem (although I couldn’t understand much of it). Both an accordian player and violin player played a piece of traditional Slovak music, and Stanislav Ziska spoke a bit about the book and his process of writing it. At the end of the ceremony, we all stood in line to shake his hand and receive a free copy of the book! It was awesome! It’s a nice hard cover book with a lot of pictures (which is great, since I’m not able to read most of it). After the ceremony, everyone gathered in another small room (even smaller than the first) to have a reception, complete with cakes, fruit, alcohol and many other drinks and snacks. This is pretty typical of Slovak celebrations: everyone gathering in a small room around a giant table full of food and drinks, always standing instead of sitting because there isn’t enough room, and socializing and toasting to events. Anyways, the book is a really nice keepsake, and even more special because my host sister Janka had him sign it personally to me. Stanislav Ziska is also my host sister’s history teacher, so that’s pretty fun. She says he is a really great teacher and he is a big reason that she enjoys history so much.
Something new that happened this month was the start of my community English classes. The pastor and a woman from the church thought of the idea to open up a basic English class for whoever was interested in the community, so we held a meeting to see who was interested. It turns out that quite a few people were interested, so the one community class for beginners turned into three community classes (beginner, intermediate, and second intermediate). They have been an interesting challenge, because even though the classes are split up into different levels, there is still a broad mix of ability within the classes.There are mostly adults in my beginner class, and a mix of teenagers and young adults in my two upper level classes. It has been going pretty well and it’s been another great opportunity to meet more people in the community.
Here are some other random highlights for this month: I got my first Slovak Bible! It’s a children’s Bible, so hopefully I will be able to read and understand all of it by the time I leave in August. That is one of my goals. My host sisters and I bought matching kiddy toothbrushes! We were pretty exciting. I love how my family enjoys buying matching things. It’s hilarious, and it really makes me feel like part of the family. I have a green rabbit toothbrush, Janka has a blue puppy toothbrush, and Katka has a purple elephant toothbrush. Good times! I was interviewed for two papers, and for the church magazine (that’s usually published 4-5 times per year). The magazine for our church is called, “Zvon,“ which literally means “bell“ in Slovak. The newest printed edition came out on Easter Sunday, including my interview and picture! Wow, I felt sort of famous! The interview is also published on the church’s website, in both Slovak and English. You can find the interview on the church website (link provided on my blog), as well as on my blog itself, under the posting title “My Interview.“ And, this month I took my first trip “out back“ to see the Turcanova’s animals! I asked my host sisters, sometime in early February, if we could go visit their animals (they live in a little barn that is connected to their garage, right behind the house). They thought I was a little strange, but said yes. And so we finally went in March! They have two rabbits (which they eventually butcher and eat), a cow (which they maybe butcher and eat?? I’m not sure), twelve chickens (or so...they say they don’t actually know), three sheep, and two pigs. One big pig (who they will butcher in a few weeks, to restock their freezer’s meat supply for the upcoming months), and a little pig (who will be butchered next year sometime). I thought it was nice to go back there, just to see how many animals the Turcanovas had, and just because I think it’s fun that the barn is attached to the house (and they live right in town by one of the grocery shops). But from my excitement and interest, they made the assumption that I’ve never seen or been around farm animals before. I tried to explain to them the area in which I live, but I think they still think I’m a bit crazy. But we got to go visit the barn anyway, so I was a happy camper! I also have become a regular at a community aerobics class, held at the school gym on Monday nights. This has been a really nice way to get involved in activity without the language barrier being a roadblock, and it’s been a nice way to work off the steady Slovak diet of meat, potatoes, and chocolate cake.
One more really fun event for the month was the youth choir recording a cd! The younger kids and teenagers are all grouped together to make the youth choir, and they have been practicing these 18 songs for months and months. They finally recorded a cd a few weeks ago, recording all 18 of the songs, complete with flute and recorder additions and solos from the Pastor and some of the kids. And, from me! When I arrived in Hybe back in January, the kids in the youth choir learned a song in English to sing for me in church. Well, we sang this same song for the cd recording, but instead of letting the tape recording sing the main part for them, I sang it and the kids filled in the rest of the song and joined in at the chorus. It was pretty fun, and I hope it sounded ok. We are all anxious to see how the songs turn out! Will keep you posted, and hopefully you’ll get a chance to listen to us sing in the future.
Thanks for reading, and thanks for all of your support! This month I’ve been updating my blog more often, and fixing it up, so please check it out when you have a chance! Ok, hope you all had a fantastic March, and a blessed Easter!
God Bless,
Ashley
Something new that happened this month was the start of my community English classes. The pastor and a woman from the church thought of the idea to open up a basic English class for whoever was interested in the community, so we held a meeting to see who was interested. It turns out that quite a few people were interested, so the one community class for beginners turned into three community classes (beginner, intermediate, and second intermediate). They have been an interesting challenge, because even though the classes are split up into different levels, there is still a broad mix of ability within the classes.There are mostly adults in my beginner class, and a mix of teenagers and young adults in my two upper level classes. It has been going pretty well and it’s been another great opportunity to meet more people in the community.
Here are some other random highlights for this month: I got my first Slovak Bible! It’s a children’s Bible, so hopefully I will be able to read and understand all of it by the time I leave in August. That is one of my goals. My host sisters and I bought matching kiddy toothbrushes! We were pretty exciting. I love how my family enjoys buying matching things. It’s hilarious, and it really makes me feel like part of the family. I have a green rabbit toothbrush, Janka has a blue puppy toothbrush, and Katka has a purple elephant toothbrush. Good times! I was interviewed for two papers, and for the church magazine (that’s usually published 4-5 times per year). The magazine for our church is called, “Zvon,“ which literally means “bell“ in Slovak. The newest printed edition came out on Easter Sunday, including my interview and picture! Wow, I felt sort of famous! The interview is also published on the church’s website, in both Slovak and English. You can find the interview on the church website (link provided on my blog), as well as on my blog itself, under the posting title “My Interview.“ And, this month I took my first trip “out back“ to see the Turcanova’s animals! I asked my host sisters, sometime in early February, if we could go visit their animals (they live in a little barn that is connected to their garage, right behind the house). They thought I was a little strange, but said yes. And so we finally went in March! They have two rabbits (which they eventually butcher and eat), a cow (which they maybe butcher and eat?? I’m not sure), twelve chickens (or so...they say they don’t actually know), three sheep, and two pigs. One big pig (who they will butcher in a few weeks, to restock their freezer’s meat supply for the upcoming months), and a little pig (who will be butchered next year sometime). I thought it was nice to go back there, just to see how many animals the Turcanovas had, and just because I think it’s fun that the barn is attached to the house (and they live right in town by one of the grocery shops). But from my excitement and interest, they made the assumption that I’ve never seen or been around farm animals before. I tried to explain to them the area in which I live, but I think they still think I’m a bit crazy. But we got to go visit the barn anyway, so I was a happy camper! I also have become a regular at a community aerobics class, held at the school gym on Monday nights. This has been a really nice way to get involved in activity without the language barrier being a roadblock, and it’s been a nice way to work off the steady Slovak diet of meat, potatoes, and chocolate cake.
One more really fun event for the month was the youth choir recording a cd! The younger kids and teenagers are all grouped together to make the youth choir, and they have been practicing these 18 songs for months and months. They finally recorded a cd a few weeks ago, recording all 18 of the songs, complete with flute and recorder additions and solos from the Pastor and some of the kids. And, from me! When I arrived in Hybe back in January, the kids in the youth choir learned a song in English to sing for me in church. Well, we sang this same song for the cd recording, but instead of letting the tape recording sing the main part for them, I sang it and the kids filled in the rest of the song and joined in at the chorus. It was pretty fun, and I hope it sounded ok. We are all anxious to see how the songs turn out! Will keep you posted, and hopefully you’ll get a chance to listen to us sing in the future.
Thanks for reading, and thanks for all of your support! This month I’ve been updating my blog more often, and fixing it up, so please check it out when you have a chance! Ok, hope you all had a fantastic March, and a blessed Easter!
God Bless,
Ashley
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