"There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven;
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time time to tare and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace."
I have been doing a lot of contemplative mental exercises lately. There have been many times in the past when I have wondered why I am where I am or why are certain events taking place in my life. And the question that surpasses them all is what I am supposed to learn from this? I have been asking that last question a lot lately. I have received a few answers so far: have joy and learn about community.
I would have to say that I have been on a quest for the past few months trying to understand and appreciating joy regardless of the circumstances. I can honestly say that it has been one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences. I have mentioned to a few people lately that I am very future focused and have had a conviction lately to focus on today and have joy in it, whatever it may be. I am reminded by the Old Testament Wise Man that this moment is intentional whether if be silence, mending, loving, healing, building, weeping, planting, or dying and will soon fade into something else. So I invite you along on this challenge I find myself in-- take this time to find joy because in an instant this moment will be gone and with it opportunities to grow, receive comfort, or be a blessing to those around you. Persevere!
Onto my other answer: community. My co-worker, Faly, challenged me today in this area. He said that he noticed this past weekend at church that I am very adaptable. And confidently he assured me that "since you are so adaptable, you can't be lonely!" Initially, I wanted to argue with him and refute his statement. Instead I bit my tongue and took it as a complement and challenge that I shouldn't allow myself to be lonely -- I am adaptable.
Regardless of Faly's statement, you might be thinking that it is challenging to find a sense of community and belonging in Madagascar -- which would be correct! The cultural differences, language barriers, color of my skin, and automatic labels that come with 'American' pose automatic obstacles in seeking community. So community building really isn't going in my favor. I am, however, finding creative ways to make this happen. According to dictionary.com, along with the normal definitions of community, it can also be defined as a group a people sharing common interests, occupation, social or religious interests, similar character and enjoyment. Volia! I have community with the local church, my co-workers, the guys I play basketball with, or the random person on the street who also cares about things that I do such as poverty, human rights, peace, and equality. The definition doesn't mention that communities must speak the same language, have the same skin color, share the same DNA or nationality.
So I am learning to merely enjoy listening to songs and prayers I don't understand; experiencing rushing endorphins together with 'the guys' while on the court getting broken fingers from sloppy passes; helping the security guard, Manana, speak English; or exchanging a smile with the women who sells me eggs knowing that we both care and support the welfare of her family through her work and my investment. No, it's not easy. And no, it's not the same as the community I would have in my home country. But I wouldn't say that one is better than the other, just different. I am trying to embrace this moment of speaking Malagasy blunders, laughing at my cultural faux pas, receiving encouragement from the prayers of the saints in this land, and silently listening to the beauty of a different life all in the name of community.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
What's News?
When overseas I find myself developing an accent. I have realized in order for my English to be better understood, I need to converse utilizing local vowel and consonant pronunciations. I have also adopted phrases in English that probably don't make much sense such as 'full stop'(end of story), 'alight' (disembark a vehicle), and 'what's news.'
There are a few different greetings in Malagasy but one directly translated means 'what's news?' I guess it is similar to our English phrase 'what's going on?' I get asked at least once a day from someone "what's news" and providing our usually limited vocabulary in each others languages, I respond 'good' or 'not much' and that seems to suffice the inquirer. However, I do wish that I could give a more detailed response and really share with them what news I may have at that particular moment.
So since I can't share with them what's news I will share with you!
This past week I have experienced a few Malagasy firsts: snake siting - which isn't worth reliving in my memory in order to document it here; the worst rice, and perhaps the worst consumable product, I have ever digested in my life - which is better left forgotten and never to be repeated; and a Malagasy concert - which was epic.
The pastor and his wife of the local church are leaving and have taken up a position further south. So this weekend there was a farewell concert in their honor. Upon crossing the threshold of the church, we were given programs outlining who the performers were and how long this rendezvous would last - 2:30-5:00pm. It seems as though time is always an under-estimated calculation that always warrants adding an additional hour, at least.
The church was packed and many had traveled throughout the district to attend this event. It was interesting to see the different groups. There was one choir comprised of about 10 performers, which is relatively small for this type of event. They were one of the few choirs that did not wear robes and I noticed that many of them did not even have shoes. This is usually a sign of poverty because everyone wears shoes to church even if they don't the rest of the week. Despite their attire, or lack of, they still sang beautifully. About half way through the concert many of them got up to leave; probably to start their multiple hour trek home before dark settled.
One of my favorite choirs of the day was the local church's children's choir, for two reasons: they sing with every fiber of their being, even if they don't know the words; and I have a crush on one of the choir members, I think he is about 11. This is one of the most beautiful children I have ever seen and whenever I see him, I wish that he was 15years older! Don't judge me! But don't worry, I think I am out of luck and some other, much younger girl has caught his eye.
There are a few different greetings in Malagasy but one directly translated means 'what's news?' I guess it is similar to our English phrase 'what's going on?' I get asked at least once a day from someone "what's news" and providing our usually limited vocabulary in each others languages, I respond 'good' or 'not much' and that seems to suffice the inquirer. However, I do wish that I could give a more detailed response and really share with them what news I may have at that particular moment.
So since I can't share with them what's news I will share with you!
This past week I have experienced a few Malagasy firsts: snake siting - which isn't worth reliving in my memory in order to document it here; the worst rice, and perhaps the worst consumable product, I have ever digested in my life - which is better left forgotten and never to be repeated; and a Malagasy concert - which was epic.
The pastor and his wife of the local church are leaving and have taken up a position further south. So this weekend there was a farewell concert in their honor. Upon crossing the threshold of the church, we were given programs outlining who the performers were and how long this rendezvous would last - 2:30-5:00pm. It seems as though time is always an under-estimated calculation that always warrants adding an additional hour, at least.
The church was packed and many had traveled throughout the district to attend this event. It was interesting to see the different groups. There was one choir comprised of about 10 performers, which is relatively small for this type of event. They were one of the few choirs that did not wear robes and I noticed that many of them did not even have shoes. This is usually a sign of poverty because everyone wears shoes to church even if they don't the rest of the week. Despite their attire, or lack of, they still sang beautifully. About half way through the concert many of them got up to leave; probably to start their multiple hour trek home before dark settled.
One of my favorite choirs of the day was the local church's children's choir, for two reasons: they sing with every fiber of their being, even if they don't know the words; and I have a crush on one of the choir members, I think he is about 11. This is one of the most beautiful children I have ever seen and whenever I see him, I wish that he was 15years older! Don't judge me! But don't worry, I think I am out of luck and some other, much younger girl has caught his eye.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Inspired and challenged!
I have to admit, remembering and pronouncing people's names here is proving to be one of my biggest challenges. For example, one of my co-workers names is Dauliviet Randrianasoiomahairatra. So you should probably get used to me not knowing people's names around here!
I went out into the field today with one of my co-workers, Faly (for short), who is the head of the agricultural and infrastructure department at ADRA. One of our last stops was to visit some people who were building a road for our FFW (food for work) program. While we were there, we were told of this man whose name I do not know - big surprise; so lets call him Enoch, because he looked wise and peaceful like I would imagine an Enoch being. We were told Enoch was not working today because he has a swollen knee so we traveled over hill and dale, well more like crater and boulder, to meet this man in-person. I think my life will forever be impacted by the brief moments we spent with him.
Enoch has been crippled from birth. If you can tell in this picture, he has shoes on his knees and walks as if he is kneeling. This is due to the fact that his feet, which are useless, are directly connected to his knees. And his hands are also deformed. The few fingers he has seem to be connected to each other and never separated into their own phalanges.
While all of this might seem awful, which it is, Enoch's determination and drive blows my mind. This man 'walks' 2.5hrs one way every day to the construction site and then does manual labor there all day in order to obtain food for his family. I was surprised to hear that he was married and had children since other African countries I have worked in, handicapped people are ostracized from the community and spend their lives on the streets. But not Enoch!
While talking to this man, I was imagining his life as my own. Would I do what he does? Enoch demonstrated to me that we all have challenges that can either break us down or be overcome. His life displayed to me the sense of responsibility he has to care for his family and contribute to his community no matter what physical state he is in. He does not expect to be served but is the one who serves. When asked what his family will do once this road is complete and they will no longer be receiving food, he said that they will have to plant rice fields and hope to invest in some livestock. In my eyes, this man has achieved so much more than anyone I have ever known; a life of dignity, humility, service, acceptance, and determination despite insurmountable obstacles. If only I could posses a fraction of this man's character...
Friday, September 10, 2010
Recent Discoveries: The roof & motorbikes
It has been a good week here in Madagascar but nonetheless I am grateful for the weekend. Not too much is new on the job front -- just plugging along. My boss did come to my office today however and requested that he have my schedule for the next two months. It was at this moment that I thought, 'I don't even have my schedule for Monday let alone the next 60 days!' But, I didn't tell him that. I just took his request as my permission to put the spurs in some of my co-workers who are supposed to be sending me out to the field and finding things for me to do at the office. Ideally I would like to manage some part of the project but we'll see if that is possible, particularly due to the language barrier.
So onto my recent discoveries: the roof and motorbikes, completely unrelated subjects. My apartment is on the top floor of the office building and above me is an accessible rooftop. This is a multi-purpose rooftop: space for clothes lines and office satellite dishes; secret doors I have yet to discover where they lead and my kitchen-mate, Colin, uses the rooftop for his daily Yoga rituals. I personally use the rooftop for nightly conversations with God. It is a beautiful setting with the the Milky Way clearly visible aside from a few town lights dimming its brightness. By 8pm the town is relatively quiet, minus a few obnoxious mangy street dogs, when I venture up to the rooftop with my ipod, blanket, and prayer requests. It is on the rooftop where I am learning how to talk to God about anything and look forward to our nightly appointment. It is also here where I pray for my classmates each night scattered all over the world and I would kindly ask you to remember them as well, as we are all seeking to break down the barriers of injustice, bring hope to the hopeless, and love to a lost world. If there is anything you would like me to pray about, let me know. I will be on the rooftop nightly at 8pm.
Onto my next discovery -- motorbikes! When I went to the field this week one of my co-workers asked me about my hobbies. I proceeded to tell him some of the things I enjoy doing, including playing sports. He then went on to invite me to play basketball with some of them at 6am. I said I would consider it, which is the diplomatic way of refusing in Africa. On top of the fact that they were playing at 6AM, I haven't played basketball in 2 years and I wasn't sure what their definition of playing basketball was -- so I was hesitant to accept the invitation. After returning to the office another co-worker approached me and surprisingly asked, "you play basketball?" Word gets around quick! I was extended the invitation a second time and felt I should at least go once. So I did.
On my way to the court through the early morning fog I saw one of the distributors, Lola, I was with the previous day slow down on his motorbike and offered me a ride the rest of the way. Thanks to my good friend Adam, who provided the opportunity to ride a child's motorbike just a few months ago, I have never ridden an adult sized motorbike before so I wasn't too sure if I would like this experience. I held on for dear life and away we went. We reached the court where we proceeded to play quite civilized basketball, which was so much fun and plan on doing regularly now! While playing, I was reminded by my screaming lungs that I haven't exercised since coming to Africa and that I reside at over 5,000ft.
I received a ride back to my apartment and it was while we were weaving in-between trucks, push push (man-pulled carts), and cars in the early morning mist that I realized I was now hooked to riding motorbikes. And what made this first experience so much more amazing was that I did it in Madagascar while going to form relationships with my co-workers who I can't carry a conversation with past two sentences at 6 o'clock in the morning. I entered my apartment, after climbing five flights of un-even stairs, only to collapse for a few brief moments to rest my poorly conditioned respiratory system before beginning my 9hr work day, reflecting on my new-found love of motorbikes and deepened relationships with those I pass in the hall everyday.
So onto my recent discoveries: the roof and motorbikes, completely unrelated subjects. My apartment is on the top floor of the office building and above me is an accessible rooftop. This is a multi-purpose rooftop: space for clothes lines and office satellite dishes; secret doors I have yet to discover where they lead and my kitchen-mate, Colin, uses the rooftop for his daily Yoga rituals. I personally use the rooftop for nightly conversations with God. It is a beautiful setting with the the Milky Way clearly visible aside from a few town lights dimming its brightness. By 8pm the town is relatively quiet, minus a few obnoxious mangy street dogs, when I venture up to the rooftop with my ipod, blanket, and prayer requests. It is on the rooftop where I am learning how to talk to God about anything and look forward to our nightly appointment. It is also here where I pray for my classmates each night scattered all over the world and I would kindly ask you to remember them as well, as we are all seeking to break down the barriers of injustice, bring hope to the hopeless, and love to a lost world. If there is anything you would like me to pray about, let me know. I will be on the rooftop nightly at 8pm.
Onto my next discovery -- motorbikes! When I went to the field this week one of my co-workers asked me about my hobbies. I proceeded to tell him some of the things I enjoy doing, including playing sports. He then went on to invite me to play basketball with some of them at 6am. I said I would consider it, which is the diplomatic way of refusing in Africa. On top of the fact that they were playing at 6AM, I haven't played basketball in 2 years and I wasn't sure what their definition of playing basketball was -- so I was hesitant to accept the invitation. After returning to the office another co-worker approached me and surprisingly asked, "you play basketball?" Word gets around quick! I was extended the invitation a second time and felt I should at least go once. So I did.
On my way to the court through the early morning fog I saw one of the distributors, Lola, I was with the previous day slow down on his motorbike and offered me a ride the rest of the way. Thanks to my good friend Adam, who provided the opportunity to ride a child's motorbike just a few months ago, I have never ridden an adult sized motorbike before so I wasn't too sure if I would like this experience. I held on for dear life and away we went. We reached the court where we proceeded to play quite civilized basketball, which was so much fun and plan on doing regularly now! While playing, I was reminded by my screaming lungs that I haven't exercised since coming to Africa and that I reside at over 5,000ft.
I received a ride back to my apartment and it was while we were weaving in-between trucks, push push (man-pulled carts), and cars in the early morning mist that I realized I was now hooked to riding motorbikes. And what made this first experience so much more amazing was that I did it in Madagascar while going to form relationships with my co-workers who I can't carry a conversation with past two sentences at 6 o'clock in the morning. I entered my apartment, after climbing five flights of un-even stairs, only to collapse for a few brief moments to rest my poorly conditioned respiratory system before beginning my 9hr work day, reflecting on my new-found love of motorbikes and deepened relationships with those I pass in the hall everyday.
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