Home Sweet Home

I arrived home on Friday. The flight was relatively uneventful. Although, sitting on the plane in Paris...everyone on board and an airport worker comes on board and asks me for my baggage claim. Of course, Jim (my boss) had handed me a suitcase with broken equipment in it for me to transport back to the states. I had no idea what those items were so I was getting a little nervous that I would have to explain the contents. Fortunately, they couldn't read the numbers on their paper and just wanted to confirm they had the right baggage.

I feel very different after this trip. I sat in Starbucks on Sunday talking with a friend just crying over the things I was feeling. I usually don't react like that....probably because I used to put this wall of protection or false strength around me and this time I just don't have the energy. I remember coming back from India just glad to be back and really not having any desire to go back. This time my heart just hurt.

A friend had sent me an email with an article about the prostitution in Bolivia (which she visited). The article mentioned that in Bolivia prostitution is legal and the prostitutes were striking which meant they didn't go in for their regular STD checkups. They were striking b/c of the harassment from those trying to make it illegal. Harassment that had taken transvestites and prostitutes stripped them naked and made them stand their and watch them burn everything they had. At the end of the article, the organization of prostitutes responded that of course they didn't want to be prostitutes...that is not their dream job. They just can not afford to feed their family. They are simply fighting for the ability to make some money to feed the family.

Then I read about Darfur and some more about Congo...I replace the images of those people with the faces of those I have meet. They don't live that far from the genocide and war. I remember the children I meet with reddish hair that indicates that are malnourished. The villages that don't have clean water. The aged faces of those who have had to survive in this harsh country. The excitement the solders as we gave them pens, a simple BIC pen. Our cook who begged for a full time job...and I wish we had a need to provide him a full time job.

And my heart just aches...I walked away from this trip most with the realization that these people are just like you and me...they are people. It is so easy to dehumanize them. To not see their emotion, their hurt. I watched them laugh, get frustrated, be tired, hurt, learn, be hungry....just like me. I watched children giggle, cop an attitude, play... the difference is they live in poverty and I could never imagine what it feels like to be that powerless.

A book "a billion bootstraps" talks about families that have to sell children just to feed other children...they have to pick between two evils. They hate it...they try to find another way but in the end the only solution is to pick one child. Can you imagine having to pick a child? A child you love...you created...just to feed the other children.

I realize that this is where Jesus is. That the breaking of my heart is actually God instilling his broken heart into mine...these are just a few drops of his tears.

So then I am sitting around and checking CNN.com. There is a quick blurb about the presidential candidates. So I thought, what the heck I never research what these candidates stand for...you got time...(and man there are a lot of candidates). I looked through a good amount. I found the republicans usually stood the same on the issues and the Democrats also stood the same on their issues. In reading them (pathetically for the first time in my life), I realized I don't resonate hardly at all with the republican opinion. They all stand on almost three topics increase the military, protect our borders, and against homosexuals. They were almost silent on the issues of poverty and the treatment of human kind in other countries. The democratic candidates all had comments about Darfur, poverty and impoverished countries, and the marginalized (women, elderly, children). Other than the point of abortion, my heart just resounded with most of the issues that the democratic party stood for. My point here is not about the presidential campaign. Although, I am fairly certain I no longer stand with the republican party. My point is I figured out in my heart what I want to fight for and it isn't about protecting our wealth (or borders) or furthering war. It is about defending those who can not defend themselves, about walking with those who are in poverty, about seeing people as God created people and helping them reach the potential God created them to be....and I don't want to sit idle either...coasting along in my wealth.

I want to weep for those God weeps for. I want to let my life be an expression of his love. And I don't want to just talk it...I want to live it. I just pray I have the strength to do that.

By the way, I don't plan on stopping this blog just because I have returned...actually I am going to the Dominican Republic on the 8th to discuss micro enterprise loans and a partnership to help us expand this in Africa. I plan to continue to let you hear my heart as I struggle with what it means to live this life God has given me.

Leaving Bangui

So, it is Thursday and I get to go home today.  I leave at 10:15 PM on Thursday night and land in Indianapolis at 7:22 PM on Friday night.  It took me about 3 days to get here and about 24 hours to get back…amazing.  I am glad the way home is the shorter path.

 

It has been a long trip.  I am ready to be home.  I think my mind is reeling with perceptions and business stuff.  These last few days have been a blur.  Trying to make sure everything is finished up, that I have communicated everything to the Bangui accountant, and helping with internet connections.  Which for those who really know my computer abilities, it is a joke that I am considered on of the experts in getting the satellite internet connections working. 

 

One of the main things I have noticed through the whole African experience, is that the African’s are really just like us they just speak a different language and have different experiences.  Sometimes it is hard to realize the similarities when you are struggling with translations.  I am sure that when I get home I will have a few more thoughts and time to formulate myself.  So, for know I will say thank you to all those who have prayed for me and read my blog.  Please keep me in your prayers as I am tired right now and I will be up for the next day traveling…I will be so tired.

 

By the way, I called my mother the other day and then I told an African that I had just finished talking with my mother.  He then proceeded to ask if next time I talk with her if he could then speak to his future mother-in-law.  I laughed.  I just meet him the day before and then he was informing me that we were going to get married.  I asked him about the local African woman and he told me he likes American’s better…ugh!  They have such a romantic way of sweeping you off your feet…. J 

Orphans

So, we traveled from Berberati to Bangui on Wednesday.  I was sick most of the way…I felt so bad for my driving companions as I had to make them stop a few times for me to stabilize my stomach.  It is a 12 hour drive that is not smooth in the furthest stretch of your imagination.

 

I truly like Bangui.  There is a little bit more to do.  I few more restaurants (Berberati only had one) that are quite nice.  I don’t feel as much like an animal at a zoo where every one stares at you.  They are a little bit more used to white people.  The internet here in Bangui is not as stable.  They have hooked something up at the place we are staying today but then the electricity went out and the internet hasn’t come back up yet.  So, I still have to find internet somewhere else.

 

Yesterday, we went around to a few of the orphan groups.  ICDI supports about 500 orphan children in 8 groups around the city.  We partner with Vision Trust and only have about 250 sponsored (I am not sure the exact number).  Sponsored means that an individual has decided to pay $21 a month to sponsor one child.  So, we cover the rest of the costs from other donations or a roll over from the well-drilling.  They are such beautiful children and they are just like children in the states.  They laugh at silly jokes, love to jump around and sing, giggle a lot, some of them are disrespectful, some are shy…they are children.  A few were pointed out as having reddish tint hair which means that they are mal-nourished.  They now have food and medication but you never know if it is too late.  It just breaks your heart.  One group sung us a song about how no one wanted them…their parents are dead, their aunts and uncles do not want them, their friends do not want them, but now ICDI has come and they have taken care of them.  It was such a heart wrenching song.  But it is God who has provided for them…we just have allowed him to use us. 

 

I saw pictures of what some of the villages are drinking…dirty disgusting water....it is amazing.   I am in a job that does allow me to bring hope to those who are hopeless...children that would probably have died can now live.  I am honored to be able to be a part of this.  I sit in an office and just work through the finances and sometimes it is hard to feel what and why I choose this.  Then I see the people.  They are poor and yet beautiful.   I realize again that I did not choose this but God choose me.  I just hope I can continue to have that perspective.  I often wonder why God has allowed me of all people to do this...I know I don't deserve his grace.  I may not deal with these people on a daily basis but without someone like me ensuring the money is handled appropriately fewer can be touched. 

Berberati

Tonight is my last night in Berberati. We leave for Bangui at 6:00 am....for those of you who know my sleeping habits. That is a bit early for me...I think I might even beat the Roosters up since I have to pack all the last minute small things and be in the car at 6:00 am. I told my traveling companions not to expect too much in the way of intelligent conversations at that time of the morning.

I have enjoyed by experience here. The two main programs that exist in Berberati are the well drilling/repair and the agriculture. The well drilling/repair largely occurs during the dry season which is getting ready to start at the beginning on November. They can't drill during the wet season as the roads are horrible and it provides false indications as to where the water line is at...so if they drilled in the rainy season it may go dry in the dry season b/c of a false water line. In the rainy season, they work on fixing and preparing all the vehicles.

I was told a story about a village that dug a large hole that was just deep enough that water would seep into the hole. The villagers would wait for hours next to the hole waiting for their chance to fill up on the water. The problem is it was basically very wet mud. Dirty water...red or brown and that is what they drank, washed, and lived from. Another village has to hike a day to the closest stream, wash clothes on the second day, and then hall as much water as they can home on the third day...three days just to get water for the family. We forget how difficult some people have it to just get a clean cup of water. The water that is drilled by the well teams is clean enough for me to drink without getting sick. Actually, I have drank it every single day I have been in Berberati....it is probably cleaner than the water back home. The sad part is that drilling a well in Central African Republic is more expensive than most countries b/c of the harsh conditions and depth needed to reach the water.

The agriculture program is really neat and way above my skill level. They have about a half hectar of land (1 acre) that they use to test out various different types of fruit trees and vegetable plants. They get them shipped in and see how they prosper in Africa. The ones that appear to be conducive to this land are then sold or given to Africans. They also work on grafting and multiplication techniques. Seminars are held to teach Africans how to grow healthy gardens. They also have taste testing times to let the Africans experience the different types of fruits and veggies. We are partnering with a man named Roy Danforth who the African government donated 500 Hectars of land (1000 acres) in Gomboula (about 3 hour drive from here). He is going to set up a mega center to test vast number of agriculture techniques including starting a program for animals. Since most of the people in this culture live and die off of their gardens, this is a great program to truly meet the needs of the local people. The paper work for the land has not been finished yet; but when the work begins they will have to clear all the growth on the land. We drove to the property (on basically a foot path) and the grass was higher than the car. There is even a protected rain forest next to the property...it is beautiful but will be alot of work. A great adventure for those who love to work with the earth.

It has been neat learning about this and seeing how it works. It can be crazy at times. I find myself slightly sad to leave but I am ready. I have a trend that after two weeks of traveling I am ready to be home...it has been over two weeks and I am ready to get home. I will be in Bangui for another week (getting home next Friday). The nice thing about Bangui is that usually power is on all night so I get a fan to circulate the air...ahh!

It is also hard to develop relationships when you don't speak the language...you can only go so deep. My heart is yearning for good friends and family to just be with and talk with...to be able to meet random people and just strike up a conversation.

Ramadan

Every morning…really early at around 1 am the Muslim calls to pray are resounded from the local mosque. At first it would wake me up…I tend to sleep through them now unless I am struggling to fall asleep at all. At least the calls don’t compare to the pesky Rooster.

At the end of Ramadan, the local radio station, which is located right next to ICDI property, allows all the children to get on and say hi to their mother, father, or friends for a small fee. So, for the past two days their have been a mass number of people outside of the station/on the station. It reminds me of a 4th of July in the states with people playing on the lawn, soccer and basketball being played in the background, everyone tending to enjoy themselves….the teens are even cruising on their bicycles or motorcycles. I don’t think their will be fireworks but it does feel like a grand ole party with everyone enjoying themselves and knowing everyone else who is present.

There are moments where I am struck by the differences between the American and African culture. Then there are other moments where I am reminded how similar we really are. The African’s have parades and parties, the employees act like employees…always wanting more from their employers for doing less work, people mess up, they love their families, and the list goes on. It is neat to be reminded that even though we are so different we are still human and operate very similarly in many manners.

Tonight, I get to go to an ICDI person’s home for dinner. This guy knows English but his family does not. I am excited and nervous. The missionaries who live around here keep trying to get me to eat bugs and such. I have no desire and I hope they don’t serve anything truly odd. Yet, this family is accustomed to American’s so I will hope that I can stomach it…I guess this is part of diving in feet first.

Church

On Sunday, I went to a French church. Of course I can’t speak French any better than I can speak Sango….and I can’t speak Sango at all. In Africa, the men sit on the left side and the woman sit on the right side. Faye (Jim’s wife) wasn’t feeling well so it was me and the boys. When we got there a female “usher” would guided me to the place I were supposed to sit…which happened to be basically the front row (there was one row in front of me for the younger girls…I guess so they could see better). The ‘pews’ were basically a long somewhat thin bench with no back. Every other row of women had four woman to a bench…except mine which only had three of us. I wasn’t sure if that was b/c I didn’t move over far enough when I got there or if they weren’t particularly fond of sitting close to me.

Throughout the service, I felt particularly sure that I was supposed to continue to face forward no matter what. However, I sincerely wanted to turn around and watch everything that was going on. As with most churches, they sang and preached. I would just stand and clap with everyone else not having a clue what they were saying. To take offering, they file you up front one after another to the offering box. I know that people get annoyed when the pastor’s in America preach on giving but I don’t think the guilt trip can compare to publicly having to show everyone that you do or do not have an offering. And again, the men had one box and the woman had another.

The French service starts at 7:30 and only lasts an hour and half maybe two. Then the Sango service starts which can last considerably longer. People were gathering around outside for the next service. Soon the children realized that white people were in the service (at least that was my perception) and began peaking their heads in the doors at the front of the church. I felt like making faces to them but thought better of it since I was in the front row.

When we left the service, there were a few ICDI employees present that could speak English if I talked slowly. So, we stood around to talk…I think it took no more than 1 minute for a horde of children to stand around staring. I never know what to do with that. I struggled with the same thing in India. How do you engage well when you can not communicate? So, I would say Bala-o (hello) and waive. As we were leaving, I shook one of the children’s hands…which is a common greeting. It triggered a chain reaction and every child wanted to shake my hand. Some would even just touch my arm and run away giggling.

I think everyone should experience what it is like to be a minority in a group of people. It is most certainly difficult at times when you sort of want to blend in and just explore. However, I will admit that although I am a minority I am considered “rich” and respected because of my color. Whereas I know there is a difference when you are a minority and treated as second class. I wish it was not such an amazing thing to be different…I wish it could just be common and transparent. That is not to say I don’t think differences shouldn’t be celebrated but I wish it was accepted more…I am not sure I clearly understand what I am saying.

Anyway, that evening the Swedes (about 5 people who are on a short term stint in Africa), a french lady, and the ICDI American personnel got together for a church service. It was such a sweet time. Someone had a guitar, another just spoke about what God was laying on his heart, and we prayed. Afterwards, we just ate snacks, drank tea (or coffee) and talked. It was simple and it was beautiful. I get tired of the presentation of church sometimes and it is nice to just worship, celebrate, question, and pray together…nothing fancy. The cool part is it was an assortment of countries and backgrounds…we each prayed in our own language….it was just neat.

$2 a Day

Some people may be very sensitive about this subject, so I do not write this to anger or frustrate anyone who may be passionate about this. I have just found myself wondering and thinking...so I thought I would share.

The average wage for a working individual in Central African Republic is $2 a day. ICDI pays many of our men and woman more than this but still it is usually less than $10 a day. For the African culture, that is truly a great job. I have been very impressed with the knowledge of the two accountants I am working with to start new processes. There are a few things that I have been trained more in but for the most part these are fully knowledgable and capable men...having already been trained in accounting. Although I took a pay cut to do this job, I still make considerably more than $10 a day. If I would equate the value of a person to the amount of money we are willing to pay to have them work for us, I seriously struggle with this. I am not any more or less valuable than these men.

Then I begin to think, what would happen if we started paying the equal salaries to what we would pay in America. What would happen to them...to their family...to their village? Right off the bat, I would say that ICDI would not be able to drill as many wells, touch as many children, provide as many loans b/c we would have to pay the men more. So, our ability to impact more people would be decreased as we give more to a few. I get that...but if we gave to them would they buy more and follow that trickle of money that we learn about in the American culture. Or would it be like the countries where the rich mansion sits right next to the slums.

The one thing I have noticed here is that I do not see a large diversity in economic status. Don't get me wrong...there is a diversity but it isn't as starchly apperent to my eye. Jim who has lived here his whole life easily points it out to me. I often relate this place to feeling very primitive rather than slum like.

Then I begin thinking about the trend in America to boycott companies that buy cheap labor. I fully agree with boycotting companies that treat their employees inhumanly. However, if they treat them fairly and the average income of that country is $2 a day is it all that bad for these people to have jobs. If that income allows the individual to live reasonably well in their culture, should we look so poorly on a company that is providing these familys a way to feed themselves. I know that the answer is not simple and I know this is only one side of the coin. I truly have no idea what is going on with these companies or if what I am saying is really a reality there. But I know here, labor is cheaper than the states...we pay them well for their culture and most of the men and woman working for ICDI are in the upper class for C.A.R. In addition, we are able to have a more widespread impact to provide clean water, good hygene, orphan care, and eventually micro loans.

Yet, I still feel the lack of equality when I see someone with the same basic skills as me and yet he makes so much less. And I just don't know what to do with it....

Translation and exhaustion

The accountant from Bangui drove over to Berberati to meet with me and the new accountant we hired. We then began work through explaining the current accounting processes and developing up new ones that will better position ICDI to meet its goals. Of course, they spoke little English and since we are dealing with precise terms and understanding I needed to again work through a translator. Although I love working on the tasks and goals in front of us, I have found myself very exhausted. I am excited about creating processes and getting this thing working efficiently (weird I know). So, I find myself working late, waking early to a stupid rooster, and then concentrating very hard to overcome the communication barrier and work through differences in cultural definitions. By the end, I am exhausted.

Yesterday, I found myself realizing that my stink’n patterns present themselves in Africa. I give so much to my job that I disregard my personal needs. I am exhausted physically and mentally and I don’t have the right support around emotionally. Now I am not saying that my teammates (co-workers) are not beautiful and supportive people…but I don’t have a long relationship with them and I am not yet able to lean emotionally on them….so at the end of the day I found myself overwhelmed with emotion and no output.

I will say that skype is an absolute blessing here…I was able to call a good friend and just cry out a little bit of exhaustion and yearning for those who knew me…it feels sort of selfish but it was what I wanted possibly needed.

My co-worker, Bob, once told me that for years he did ministry and never needed God. What an interesting concept? Ministry without God but it is so true for many people. Here I was nervous about coming to Africa so I was praying fairly regularly. I get here and find that I have a good function that I can accomplish and get excited about…even enjoy. So, I jump right in and stop praying as much…I don’t need God…I know how to do this, right? Amazing how when I know I can do it…God isn’t in the forefront. Probably why some of these African’s get the relationship with God so much deeper than I have even thought to think about….they don’t have as many resources…as many things to depend on or disappear in. I don’t judge that it is any better or worse I just recognize the ability that it has to hinder.

Interview

ICDI is located in mainly two locations: Bangui and Berberati. Bangui is the capital of the C.A.R and is responsible for the AIDS program, orphan care in Bangui, radio, and the main African administration. Berberati is about 600 KM west of Bangui and contains the well drilling, well repair, agriculture, orphan care in Berberati, and garage programs. Over the past few years, the African administration in Berberati has not been that strong and yet this is the area that deals with the large amount of processes and money. A few months ago ICDI hired a Berberati administrator and today we interviewed for an accountant.

It was definitely an interesting set of interviews. I was not sure what would be appropriate to expect from an African. I understand what I should expect from an American that claims to be skilled in accounting but the American requirements and processes may be very different than the African’s. Not any better or worse…just different. I found myself very impressed with their answers. Some of the Africans have a depth of understanding and appreciation of life that is absolutely beautiful and refreshing. For one of the interviewees, we asked why they wanted to work for ICDI. He responded that work is extremely healthy for the soul and void of a paycheck to be able to work honorably and purposefully is a blessing. As a western culture girl, it is so easy to make work a factory line mentality…let me do the work to get the money to have something I want. The appreciation of work for the fact that work is just good is not something usually reflected upon. Overall, I was blown away by the calm wisdom and insightfulness that this man presented himself with. Yes it is an interview, but I don’t think I have ever interviewed anyone in America I was that impressed by….I did not expect that with the interview. He demonstrated the knowledge of accounting (as I know it), ability to think strategically, wisdom in dealing with others, a desire to teach others, and a deep appreciation of life. Beyond just this one man, all the interviewees were asked what they felt about training another individual. Consistently, they all stated that someone taught them how could they not teach others….it was stated as if to hold that gift without passing it along is almost a sin. And I love it…to not hold so tightly to our knowledge to even share that freely. I could just feel the beautiful depth of appreciation for life. I must preface that my perceptions are determined through a translator so I probably missed or saw things that were not reality…but it got me thinking all the same.

I have been in Berberati for 4 days and I feel like I have accomplished nothing but yet I know that many things have been reviewed and even processes refined…however, I know there is a ton more to do and I am leave Berberati in 13 or 14 days….I don’t think I will even put a dent in what I wanted to accomplish while I was here….pray that somehow God’s amazing miracles allow us to get many things accomplished while we spend these moments with the Africans.