On the road again

My head and heart are still in South America
now my bags are packed for Asia

What have I done to deserve such a hard life?

In fact, what have any of us done to deserve
all the blessings God bestows?

'Every good gift is from above...'  James 1v17

Enabling Heroes

Her name is Belén; she'll turn 7 on Christmas day and lives in a small house with her mother, grandparents and uncles on the outskirts of Cochabamba, Bolivia. Her (now remarried) father drives a bus and she gets to see him, well....every time she spots him on his route around the city. Nevertheless she's a bunch of smiles and a ball of energy.

She is also my sponsor child through Tearfund/Compassion, whom I had the privilege of meeting as I backpacked Bolivia.

Many of us sponsor sponsor children. And at times, many of us are asked (or ask ourselves) 'Does the money really get there?' Now, it could be that Compassion pockets my money and someone else is supporting Belén. But from what I saw in my one (and probably only) day with her didn't suggest that. Rather, running around the playground, picking flowers and eating ice-blocks together only served to strengthen my belief in organisations like Compassion, and child sponsorship programs.

I observed something else that day: So often, the media, the organisations, and even we ourselves make us sponsors out to be 'heroes'. We are the ones who sacrifice 2 cups of coffee a week; we support a child/family/community; we better the world. And yes we do this - but we're not the heroes.

They are. The hero of the story is Belén, who gets up each morning, kisses her mother goodbye and goes to school so she can have a bright future. The hero is her single mother, the same age as me, working in the flower market Mon-Sat, persevering when times are tough and her child is trying. The heroes are the selfless staff at the Compassion centre, where sponsor children come after school to be fed, taught and play. 

We are not the heroes - in our comfortable western lifestyles making direct debits every month. Our role is different: We enable heroes.

'Everything'

14 Sept 2014, Trinidad, Bolivia. 

Today, upon request from one of the students' aunts, we took a road trip to her village farm to vaccinate cows. For Foot and Mouth Diease. The 'accredited technician' had just signed the form (in the future, even!) and left the vaccine. The farmer wasn't quite sure what to do (and, to be honest, neither were we, but when in doubt, read the back of the bottle). 

Lasooing 20 odd cows, one at a time, attaching them to a tree, tying their head and legs - to give each one a single intramuscular injection...this is the kind of bolivian efficiency that I will never get used to. 

That done and dusted/y, we did little devotional. The dear lady expressed her gratitude: 'Muchas veces, tenemos todos las cosas materiales para la vida.. pero nos faltan cosas espirituales - gracias por venir, y compartir las palabras de Dios´*

And I'm standing there thinking:

Dear lady, you live in a mud hut, you have an outhouse as a bathroom,  no running water; your motorbike has been at the mechanics for 3 months so you walk 1.5km in the relentless heat to the nearest shop; you milk 5 cows a day to sell iceblocks for a living...and you are telling me you have 'every material thing?'

And I realise something: that its not how much you have, but how much you think you have. For her, she has everything she needs and wants. I, on the other hand, look at her and see everything she doesn't have... this bothers me, but not her. Shes bothered about her lack of spiritual things.  

How much more stuff do we have in our lives, and how much more do we lack the things of God (not in the least, contentedness!)?

* 'Many times, we have every material thing in life... but we lack spiritual riches...thank you for coming and sharing the Word of God with us' 

I guess theres a lot more to lose in life
than a backpack full of things.
Whats more
many have their things
yet they themselves are lost.
And in this state
I do not wish to be 

Lost in La Paz

10 Sept, 2014

So I lost all my stuff in La Paz last week. My backpack of wordly possessions, suspiciously disappeared from the bottom of the bus, sometime during the 17hr journey from Santa Cruz. After numerous visits to the company offices, hours of meetings, and even more of just waiting around, they compensated me roughly $175NZD for my loss.

Left with the clothes on my back (and, thank God, my valuables in my hand carry), I can't say I wasn't just a little depressed for couple of days. My back pack and I had become quite attached to each other over the last 4 months.  And I mean, I didn't lose any family heirlooms or my wedding ring ( helps if you don't have one...), they were just things - of little eternal significance; I still have blood flowing through my veins, a family who loves, (and my flight home, even!) but one still asks 'why?' and possibly sheds a tear or two hundred.

And with little trust in humans and their word, one learns to turn to God and his.

The day after I returned to Trinidad with my cheap, fake replacement gear, I found myself playing at church: It is well with my soul. Those not familiar with the hymn or history of its author should acquaint themselves.  Geez, I just lost my stuff. Henry Spafford lost his business in a fire and all his daughters in a ship sinking... yet he could still say - sing, even - It Is Well With My Soul. Which - and I'm still trying to comprehend it all - is not to belittle his loss, rather elevate his God. If his loss was great, but his God greater, how great must he be.

And in this unstable world, where else should our hope lie?

 http://www.sharefaith.com/guide/Christian-Music/hymns-the-songs-and-the-stories/it-is-well-with-my-soul-the-song-and-the-story.html

Lapa

12 July 2014, Lapa, Rio de Janeiro. 

A hive of business activity by day - you'd never guess. But when the sun goes down, Lapa lights up. Anything you dare to imagine you'd find. And I found myself wondering...


Dear girl
on your street corner

long lashes
short skirt
full glass
empty smile

why are you here?

what in life has brought you to this place
and what from you has it taken away?

and you, who sells me
 beer (out of chilly bins)
       caipirihnas (from a trolley)
             whisky shots (on a tray)
                    meat (on a stick)
                         popcorn (in paper bags)*

why are you here?

 taxi driver
     street sweeper
         policia

all who are here because of us -
Us - in our insatiable carnality

surely there must be something better for all of us?

                                                             photo courtesy of google images 

       
  *popcorn and prostitutes? what world do we live in? 
                   
                       

The Feet of Jesus

19 July 2014,  Rio de Janiero

Yesterday I was at the feet of Jesus.
I didn't really notice for the crowds pushing and shoving.
Though that's no excuse.

But then I think: everyday I am at the feet of Christ the Redeemer.
At His feet, at His mercy. Within His sight, within His reach.
Were I not, I would cease to be.
Yet for the crowds, I often fail to notice.

Though that's no excuse

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=iaCqOX5OIbs

Confessions of a control freak

1 July 2014 Americana, Brazil

And so I've arrived in this country which speaks Portuguese, and I don't. English here is practically useless, and Spanish only slightly less so. which means a lot of the time, I don't know exactly what going on.

Sometimes its quite important to know what going on. (Like, why isn't anyone at the check-in counter? Oh because our 4.30 am flight has been cancelled..)

Other times, its not. Like,  I'm sitting in a car, and all I know is that we're going somewhere to eat something and will return at an unspecified hour (and we'll do it slowly, even). All I'm called upon to do is sit back and enjoy the ride.

Though my hosts are good and trustworthy, I have to admit, for a control freak like me, its a little unsettling.

Is this not a lot like life? Oh how we wish we knew what was going on, all the time. Us human beings were created to question. We're just not very accepting when there are no answers. Or no answers in the language we understand.

But does it always matter?

Depends. If we know Who we're with  - if He is good, if He knows exactly whats going on, now, and every day hereafter -
Then maybe it doesn't.

Sometimes I just need to sit back and enjoy the ride.

The problem.

Its not that there are no fish
But that we have no patience

                                                                                                                Fishing for piranas 

The Promised Land

19 June, Uruguay.

Everyone here raves about NZ. Well, ok, most of my friends here and the irish guy at the hostel. But still, even with this subset of 'Everyone', I'm suprised.

They rave about the place - its beauty, the work, the quality of life, lack of corruption, the people. Speak of it like its the Promised Land. Those not fortunate enough to have been listen to the sighs and praise and are converted on the spot.

For us Kiwis, this is Sweet! Good as! for our tourism, our seasonal worker demand and shortage of professionals. Its also a little humbling. I mean, by what stroke of luck have we been born/brought up in such paradise? And which aspect of your life were your complaining about the other day?

Now, NZ is undoubtedly beautiful, peaceful and safe. Yes, it flows with milk (and therefore South Americans) and we have a reasonable amount of honey. Yet, its far from perfect. You and I have seen its ugly side - the poverty ( relative, nevertheless poverty), the destructive PC ness, the terrible social stats that shouldn't be in a 1st world country as ours. And you and I don't live fairytale lives either. 

Makes me think: there is quality of life, and there is quality of life. You can be in the best country in the world, but if your heart isn't in the right place, you'll still be lacking. You can be in the most peaceful of places, but if you're not at peace with your Maker, you'll never have peace within. You can find yourself in the most beautiful of surroundings, but if you dont know the Creator of beauty, you'll never fully appreciate it all. 

Tell me if this isnt true. Yet how often do we favour the pursuit of a passport over the citizenship of our souls?

What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world (NZ, even!), yet loses his soul?1

And for those of us who have addressed the later - I wonder what it'd be like if we raved about heaven the way my friends rave about NZ. Sure, no-one has ever been there and back on a working holiday visa. But if we know our God well enough, if we are familiar with his Lonely Planet Guide, then we have idea enough of our Promised Land.

What if heaven were the hot topic of our conversations; always in the back (or front) of our minds; our obsession, our passion, our destination; our one cause we would willingly leave everything we know as 'home' behind for? 

'...for we have an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands... our citizenship is in heaven...so we fix our eyes not on what is seen but what is unseen...for what is seen is temporary but what is unseen is eternal....' 2

Disturb Us, Lord

Disturb us, Lord, when we are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show Your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.
We ask You to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.

(attributed to Sir Francis Drake -1577)

1  Matthew 16v26
2  2 Corínthians 5v1, 4v18, Philippians 3v20

Traveller´s note to self

1. Each day is a gift

2. Every day is not going to be super exhilirating. If it were you'd run out of money, energy, and neurotransmitters. Its OK. Refer to point 1

3. You can't do everything.But thats Ok. You can do some things. Something is always better than nothing. Remember point 1

4. You can't plan everything. But you can plan some things. Then you can sit back and see if they work out (its like a game) (this is South America) Don't stress. See point 1

5. You can't trust everyone. But you can trust some. (eg. the pilot) (sometimes you have no choice) 

6. Every day there is something to learn. NB point 1

7. Travelling is not all that different to being at home. 
Its just taken me 10,000km to realise. 

Slow

I am learning
   to be
       slow

its weird.

I am learning to

    eat slow
          (can't chow through all this carne)

    speak slow
          in Spanish (can't conjugate my verbs fast enough)
           in English (uthawys ppl cnt indirstend my kiwi eksent)

    move slow
           (lest I leave my hosts behind)

Its not a bad thing
its just different

All I've known is fast and faster
But here I see an alternative pace to life
            in which things are still accomplished
            and the world doesn't grind to a halt

How odd
How healthy

S l o w

                Carne

Favourites

28 May 2014

When we were young, we spoke of favourites.

Favourite colour. Favourite food. Favourite teacher.

I´m not sure what happened to favourites as we grew up, but they dont seem to feature much in conversation now.

Ive been in South America two weeks now, and oh the multitude of things I've seen and done!
Crossing the Andes. Asados. Mustering heifers on horseback. The Teatro Colon. Caminito St, its colour and tango. Folklore. Iguazu falls.

But if I had to pick a favourite, it'd be this: español.
I can't explain how or why its so fun - it just is.

And my favourite word: vaquillona*  Get a native to speak it for you. How pretty!

It's not that Spanish is the most beautiful language in the world (though some may argue so) - its just that it's a language - and languages stir me - I can't describe how or why - they just do.

Almost makes me wonder if, in another life, I might have been a linguist.
Almost makes me thank God for the tower of Babel.

Like the world of biology, the world of language fascinates me. Who created Spanish? Who designed its verb conjugations? Who determined it's gendered nouns and accents? I marvel.

And its not that  Spanish-as-a-second-language is without its frustrations. But in moments of mis(non!)communication, there is often warmth, laughter, creativity (..charades and sounds..), grace and an understanding of a different kind.

I guess its kind of odd to take such delight in a language - it a word - but the fact that one can - and does - is... well... nice, isn´t  it?

*heifer

                 
Favoritos 

Cuando estabamos jovenes, hablabamos sobre las cosas favoritas. Mi color favorito. Mi comida favorita. Mis maestro favorito. Pero ahora, no hablamos asi. 

Estoy en sudamerica hace dos semanas ahora y ya vi y hice mucho. Pero mi cosa favorita esta español. Y mi palabra favorita esta vaquillona. No se porque lo me gusta tanto. Me encanta los idiomas. Pienso que, en una otra vida, me gustaria ser una linguista. Siempre pienso asi: ¿quien crea español? ¿Quien hacia las reglas de gramatica? 

No es facile siempre. Pero cuando no se puede comunicar con palabras...se usa los manos, o los sonidos, las sonrisas - se comunica con otras formas. 

Mi español no esta bueno. Pero me gusta, si lo me gusta. 

Vaquillonas