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Friends
and Family,
Yesterday,
after a series of long flights interspersed with journeys through foreign
airports, I finally returned safely to my home in
The
last several days I spent in
As
great as these excursions were, the most powerful and moving of them was a trip
we made to
.
In
the back of Ntarama they have constructed three mass
graves to honor and commemorate those whose lives were taken. Two of
these graves are accessible to walk down into. The feeling that overcame
me as I walked down the stairs and into the mass graves is truly
indescribable. The first grave was filled with shelves and shelves of
coffins, most of which I was told contained the remains of up to twelve victims
each, at least the portion of remains that could be found. After walking
through the first with Josh, I was not sure I wanted to venture down into the
second, but I decided to anyway. I needed to confront the gravity and
weight of the memorial in its completeness.
As I
approached the second mass grave, a Rwandan ALARM pastor named
Benjamin stepped in front of me and began walking down the stairs. Out of
respect for his story, which has been abused in the past, I will not give all
the details of Benjamin's history. But I think it is important for you
to know in the context of this story that during the genocide he was twice
captured by extremists, stripped naked, and told to face a wall for
hours to await his execution. Thankfully, he managed to escape both
times. So as Benjamin came to the bottom of the stairs, he took a right
down the narrow walkway of the grave, passing amongst the shelves of
coffins. At the end of the walkway there was a window cut high into the
wall, which streamed in light from the outside world. It looked like a
great picture, so I turned on my camera as I continued to walk between the
shelves. As we neared the far wall, I snapped a picture just as Benjamin
turned from the window to face me. Bringing the camera down from my face
I realized two things. First, the shelves surrounding us were no longer
filled with coffins but with rows and rows of human skulls. At my feet
was a pile of femurs about two and a half feet tall. Secondly, as I
looked at Benjamin, I noticed his eyes were closed and under his breath he was
crying out a prayer that carried this tone of desperation.
In
this moment, I was struck with the heaviness of what such a memorial might mean
to a Rwandan like Benjamin. Any one of these skulls could have been, and
almost were, his own. Staring into his face and seeing his pain allowed
me, even if just for a moment, to better grasp the humanity of what was
currently surrounding me. When visiting places where such atrocities
occurred, it is often hard to digest and connect with the reality of what
actually happened. It seems so diluted, so movie-like, so distant.
But the reality is each of those skulls had personality, had friends, had
family, was loved by others, and probably loved someone themselves.
Recognizing this allowed me to grasp what was a minute fraction of the pain
most Rwandans have experienced in their lifetime - and it was burdensome.
The potential for humans to carry out the most evil and abominable acts is
unbelievable. However, through my interactions with heroes such as
Benjamin and Abraham, I have also seen that within us, we have the potential to
bring radical love and transformation to our world. As much darkness and
evil as we may face, there is reason to have a hope which equals, if not
surpasses, the pain we may experience.
In
This
was reconfirmed to me on Tuesday afternoon as I prepared to leave
In
this moment, I could not help but think of several emails back when I expressed
my frustration that I was not being used efficiently or effectively, that my
time was being wasted. What I was
failing to recognize was that time spent with others is never wasted time
because it is inherently valuable. What
provides meaning and purpose to our lives is often that which we most frequently
overlook, the community we share in the human experience. Yes, change is about relationships or REALationships as my professor Mr. Musoma
likes to say. There is power when we
intentionally and honestly invest our time into others. In the interchange our weaknesses and
vulnerabilities are manifested but attended to by the other person. Similarly, our strengths, if properly used,
can serve to uplift and edify the other, making the exchange mutually beneficial. Those of us who claim to be activist or
humanitarians need to realize that to bring about change,
we need not to look any further than the people we often ignore or those we
look down our noses at in superiority.
These relationships are where changing the world begins.
I
want to thank you all again for your support throughout my travels. Many
of you on this list supported me financially, some emotionally, some through
prayers, and some of you simply gave a listening ear to my ramblings. To all of you I am more than grateful for the
role you played. These adventures
minister to my growth and development in so many ways, a fraction of which you
get to read about on my updates. I
consider myself blessed to be able to have the time, opportunity, and ability
to explore while I am young. I hope I
have been successful in communicating some of my thoughts and experiences so
that you too could share in part of my journey.
If you ever have any questions or needs, do not hesitate to contact me. I will let you all know when my child
sponsorship page is set up on the Family Legacy Missions site.
"In
the face of scoffers live as if your heart is open, kiss as if your eyes are
open, and never surrender."
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Hello Friends and Family,
I am happy to report to you that this week was much more satisfying in the
sense that I was able to substantially pour my time and effort into something
of worth - teaching English. It is easy to say this in retrospect, but
there were definitely moments that tested my patience and moments where I was
afraid the "ugly American" would come roaring out of me in all its
fury.
Many of you who have traveled outside the Western world know that one of the
most difficult cross-cultural adjustments to make is operating under different
concepts of time and scheduling. As I mentioned to you in my last
email, I spent all last week sitting and reading, despite the fact that I was
told before my travels that I would be teaching for two weeks. Much to my
chagrin, however, this was shortened to one week because ALARM, "forgot
they would be running a pastors' conference," as one of the Rwandan
directors told me. I was promised this week would be different.
So on Monday, as I prepared to head out to IWE Girl's School, I was told by my
director that we needed to make some "scheduling adjustments."
Fortunately, after the first day of teaching, the teachers agreed to use one of
their holidays to meet with me for an extra lesson. So I was actually
able to teach four days instead of three. This put me in a much better
mood, not to mention that each session went really well and the teacher were
incredibly encouraging and genuinely interested in learning. At the end
of the week they asked me, "why are you only here
for one week? Next time you need to tell ALARM to schedule more
time." I just smiled and responded with a simple, "I know, I'll
be sure to do that next time."
Along with scheduling frustrations, there was another event that provided more
realization of just how "American" I actually am: the 4th of
July. Now, normally the Fourth would not have terribly too much
significance in my life. I love fireworks and my country, but there are
many things that I love more and that know no imaginary, politically drawn
boundaries – like people. But when you travel anything that reminds you
of home holds a special place in your heart. So what did we do to
celebrate? We took a little trip to the Embassy of course, and boy did it
pay off!
When traveling through
My time in
"To make a mountain of your life is just a choice."
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Hello
Friends and Family,
The
email I last left you with gave the story of my very eventful weekend with ALARM's Youth Advocacy Program. If there is anything
to say about this week, it is that it was entirely different. I had a lot
of down time, which was definitely nice after a long weekend, but after three
or four days I became very anxious and frustrated that my limited time in
Though
there were not many activities, the amount of free time allowed me to do a
decent amount of relational investment with the other A&M team members (who
just left this morning) and a group of ALARM pastors who were here for a
conference. The pastors came from all over
I
would like to start with the president and founder of ALARM, Celestin Musekura. In order to tell his story I will not use
my own words but the words of one of my favorite authors, Shane
Claiborne. This comes from his most recent book "Jesus for
President."
"We
have a friend named Celestin who grew up in
In
my opinion, Celestin embodies what should be the ultimate Christian ethic:
radical love, forgiveness, mercy, and reconciliation even to those who we might
consider enemies. If you consider the story of Christ this should not
seem so farfetched. Christ, who we claim is God, humbles himself to the
form of a human and dies at the hand of man so that man might have the
opportunity to fully experience His love. And this is who we are called to
emulate. We must ask how much our lives and our actions bless even those
who desire to take our lives or our livelihood. How do we treat the
criminals? The illegal immigrants? (And
dare I say) the Islamic terrorists?
What
is great about ALARM is that these ideals are not just embodied by Celestin,
but ALARM pastors are empowered and encouraged to practice such radical
love. Now the story of Abraham:
Abraham
is a pastor in a town called Lietnhom in southern
These
are only two of the many stories I heard this week that completely blew me
away. I realize that such ideas may be hard to understand and even
controversial in America, especially when put into the context of our
situations with illegal immigrants, Islamic terrorists, and those "flaming
liberals" I hear about so much in the South. But I challenge all of
you who identify yourselves with Christianity to try and read the Gospels
through such a lens. We approach even our theology with so much cultural
baggage that we often confuse God's agenda with
I
have more to say, especially about my visit to the Genocide Memorial and Hotel
Milles Colline (Hotel Rwanda), but I realize this is
getting long and I probably have some of you fuming by now. As I
mentioned earlier, the other group of Aggies that was
here in
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Friends
and Family,
I
have arrived safely in
Last
time we talked, I believe I had left
When
25 person passenger van arrived, I was surprised to find
about 30 Rwandans already crammed inside. The combination of our team and
the
At
this point I am definitely not putting on a pretty face. I'm tired,
hungry, and not in the mood to deal with much. The church service we
attend only lasts about 5 hours, all in Kinyarwandan.
So I sit there periodically reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
and writing in my journal. I would go outside, but every time I do I am
surrounded by hundreds of kid and become quite a distraction to the service
inside. So I tough it out and finally we eat and head off to our
accommodations for the night: a mattress with one thin sheet, thrown in the
corner of a completely cement room that could easily be mistaken for a solitary
confinement prison cell. Oh yes and I shared it with two other
guys. I'm so tired I just go to sleep in all my clothes so that I can
stay warm when it gets a little cooler at night. About four in the
morning I wake up to this strange noise; it's a goat and its baaing
right outside our window. At this point I realize two things: I'm
freezing cold and I have to pee. But it's pitch black
and the flashlight is nowhere to be found. So I hold it. About
At
this moment I am quite bitter, but my mood is lighten
by a sweet revenge...our breakfast: freshly grilled goat. We briefly go
to church to say goodbye to the congregation and begin our journey back
home. The bus finally poops out and we are left stranded in a rural
Rwandan town late into the night. After waiting some time, we get a new
bus and driver who promptly gets us home at an average speed of about 90 km/ph
down rugged dirt roads. All in all, the ride home was about 6 hours in
extremely cramped quarters. Thankfully I think the Rwandans were as worn
out as we were and were much quieter this leg of the trip.
I
say this all with a bit of jest. It was definitely miserable at the time,
but you honestly cannot travel without some experience like this. It's
something to look back and laugh at and an experience that gives you the
ability to start stories with, "remember that one time our bus overheated
and we were stranded in the countryside of
I
would also like to point out that not all of my time in
Even
though I am in
I
hate to leave on such a note, but I am running out of time. Until we talk
again,
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Friends and Family,
This has been my first week in
Monday afternoon and night I spent resting and viewing the
restaurant/bar that Mr. Musoma owns.
Tuesday I was invited to attend a funeral in the morning which lasted until the
midafternoon. On the whole the service was not
terribly different (Mass followed by burial), but there were a couple things
that were entirely new experiences. First thing I noticed is that most of
the Zambians were dressed in bright colors and were
not ashamed to take pictures of any and everything all throughout the
service. Secondly, there was a wide array of emotions expressed during
the service and they were always expressed emphatically. Those who
laughed did so heartily and those who cried practically wailed. There was
no sense of "putting on a face." You expressed exactly how you
felt and there was a great amount of sincerity to the whole experience.
There was also a stronger feeling of family and community than in American
funerals. Between the death and the burial, close family members stayed
at the house of the deceased, even if it meant sleeping on the floor. At
the actual burial most family members help cover the casket with dirt once it
is laid in the ground. The only conclusion I could draw from all of this
was the fact that Zambians view death much differently than Americans.
Yes, I am sure they are sad and grieving, but the entire process had the
feeling of something that should be remembered and not forgotten. Most
American funerals I have attended always seemed to be covered in this sense of
darkness that is reflected in the dress and solemn faces.
On Wednesday Mr. Musoma took me to Da Gama School for the Disabled. This was a
Franciscan project that was absolutely incredible. Driving up to the
school you are given the feeling that it is a nice, quaint little building, but
you have no idea what lies behind. This school sustains itself off not
just a farm with pig and chicken raising and a garden,
but an enormous banana plantation - mostly cared for by the sisters
themselves. Any food they do not use in the cafeteria is sold at the
market to generate revenue. Along with a dining hall, dormitories, and
numerous classrooms, this school has a swimming pool, a physical therapy room,
and a shop where the specially make prosthetic limbs for their students.
To top it all off the place has this incredible sense of community. It is
really amazing to see one legged boys pushing around their friends who are in wheelchairs,
knowing that without each other neither could move very far. After
visiting the school, Mr. Musoma asked me to play at
his bar. So....
Currently I am back in
1. Zambians are make an incredible effort to be the most hospitable people you
will ever meet. This makes such a difference when you are
traveling. It gets really stressful and lonely sometimes and having
almost all natives go out of their way to talk to you or welcome you into their
homes works wonders to brighten your day. This
is something we need to remember back in the States, especially college
students. We have a multitude of exchange students on our campuses who simply need friends. (A&M students get in
touch with Matt Hickey if you want a solution to this problem.)
2. Zambians do everything with intense passion, especially praying. They
shout, they scream, they shake, and they cover EVERYTHING in the blood of
Jesus. Funny story. One of my last days of
3. Zambians eat everything with their hands. It's fun.
4. Toilet paper comes in the normal white, but if you want to get gender
specific there is also pink and blue.
5. And the doozie...gas here is about $9 a gallon, so
I don't want to hear anymore crying about this 4 dollar business.
I love you all,
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Friends and Family,
So another week of
I found many of my boys to be numb to any emotion and nonresponsive
to any affection. This made it very difficult for me to face each day
with a positive attitude and continue to pour into these kids. I see this
as my own personal weakness and desire to know I'm making a difference.
It's truly selfish. Having a difficult week in contrast to my more
positive last week has provided me several revelations. I have always
been able to say that I derive much satisfaction serving others, yet I realize
this week that I have never really served someone who is difficult to love or
does not reciprocate love. If I am to pursue development/nonprofit work
in the future, I have to be willing press through difficult times and continue
to build others up even at the expense of my own satisfaction. I think an
entry from my journal sums up my thoughts well:
"Visiting the kid's compound today after working with them all week
weighed heavy on my heart. The poverty, its causes and effects, seem
truly insurmountable and it left me feeling rather hopeless. The numbness
of my boys and the gravity of their situations makes
all of my efforts feel frivolous.
The contrast between the two weeks has forced me to contemplate on both hope
and love. It is truly hard to love those who do not reciprocate your
love. It can be frustrating, maddening even. Yet true love is loving the unlovable, and true love continues through
struggles and shortcomings. So it should be when working with kids who
are so broken and emotionally stunted from their experiences. We are
called to love unconditionally, radically even. Through we might be
struck down and crushed in spirit, we should never lose sight of the
revolutionary transformation and change love can bring.
Hope. Hope is the only thing that makes sense and the only thing that will
bring lasting change. We can lay down now, call it a lost cause, and
never see any transformation. Or we can strive, never ceasing,
experiencing the pain of loss and failure with the chance that we can make a
difference in the life of even one child. If we fail the outcome is the
same as hopeless inaction, but at least our lives were lived with
meaning. At least we dedicated ourselves to a worthy cause, transcendent
of ourselves. At least we lived boldly and fearlessly, never chained up in
the self-prison of doubt.
The greatest joy, however, is that love never fails. We may never see an
entire generation lifted from poverty or every child receiving the education
they deserve. But personally, I have seen the smile on a child's face
after realizing that there is someone out there who cares. That there is
someone who is willing to fight for him, to be his voice to a world that covers
its ears to his cry and says I don't care. To this child, love is
everything and your hope gives him hope. Therefore no act of love, no
matter how small or how "ineffective" is never,
ever in vain."
I hope you all are doing well in the States. Tomorrow I head north to
"If you never try you'll never know what you are worth,"
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Hello All,
Well, I survived my
first week of
It was not all sad all
week, though. There were many moments I spent with these kids where I was
so impressed with their ability to learn and grow and the sheer tenacity with
which they face life. I would like to share a few:
I had this one boy by the name of George.
One day, my partner Nkandu (who is awesome) and I
were talking to the boys about what it means to respect women. We
discussed the servant nature of Christ and how we are called to love and serve
women in a way that reflects the character of Christ. George spoke up in
all honesty and shared how difficult it was for him to love this one girl at
his school. Despite all the kind things George tried to do for her, he
always felt rejected and mocked by her in return. At that moment we
talked about how Christ loved even His enemies and was willing to put their
needs before our own. Love is never easy, but it is what we are called
to. We then discovered that this girl was at camp, so we challenged the
boys to think of a way they could serve this girl and her group during the week
of
Later in the week we were all sent into the communities for a time of
street-evangelism, which admittedly, I was not too pumped about. It
always feels so superficial to try and talk about such deep and meaningful things
with people whom you lack relationships with, but I went regardless.
Before we began, I tried to challenge the boys not just to preach Christ in
word, but also in deed. About halfway into our time, there was this one
single mother who the boys began engaging in conversation. She kindly
brought us a mat to sit on during our discussion. The boys talked to her
and prayed for her and then one of the boys Timothy (who everyone calls Pastor)
told the woman, "I saw you doing chores alone, is there anything we can
help you with?" The woman just started tearing up she was so blown
away by these kids. She said she could manage the chores but she wanted
to give the boys money so they could by some food. Despite her insisted
the kids replied, "we are not doing this for
money, only for you to know that God loves you and we do to."
So clearly camp was marked by a lot of memorable moments for me. These
are just a few example of things that happened on a
regular basis throughout the week. The best part of this story is I have
another entire week of
I realize this is getting long. Though I have much more to say, I will
leave it at this for now. Remember, I will return to the states with
profiles for each of these kids if any of you are interested in
sponsorship. I do not have any websites or addresses for you to reference
now, but everything should be set up by the time I get back. Thank you
for all your thoughts, prayers, or whatever else you might be sending out.
"Dream away like every bruised eye and every
chipped tooth is worth it."
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Friends
and Family,
I
have arrived safely in
We
had a layover in
Our
time in
The
cycles of poverty here are truly disheartening. As part of the Father's Heart program we were able to travel into the
village of our child and eat with him and his family. Listening to the
father talk about his struggles, hearing our translator make additions about a
typical Zambian, and seeing the poverty that persisted in this
village really makes you wonder what we are doing in America, especially
as part of a Church that claims to bring the good news to the poor, the widows,
and the orphans. It also amazes me how many of the problems can be traced
back to education or a lack there of. A child without an education has
little hope for the future and without the ability to be sustainable they
cannot provide for their own family, and the cycle simply repeats. It
makes me think a lot about my future and where my work needs to be.
Camp
begins tomorrow, which will allow me to grow closer to a group of about 15
orphans. I look forward to this experience and all it will teach
me. Hopefully I will have more personal stories I can share for the next
email. I wish you all the best and I hope all is well back in the States.
Mwikala patalala mwine apatalalika,
(To
live in peace begins with you),
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Friends
and Family,
It
is strange to think that at this moment my departure from
Looking
at the incredible list of people who signed up to receive my updates is truly
exciting and a little intimidating. Not
only are there a lot of you, but the group is surprisingly diverse in
everything from age to faith. Along with
being sent to the States, each of my messages is destined for countries in
Also,
feel free to respond to anything I write.
It is always nice to hear back even though I may not be able to
respond. And unless you want everyone to
be able to read your response to me, please just click "reply" and
not "reply all." (Yes this is for you, Mother).
As
you can imagine, I am growing increasingly excited for the upcoming six weeks I
will spend learning and growing in a completely new and different
environment. A couple of things stand
out to me more than others:
First,
encountering different cultures always serves to stretch the mind, challenging,
maybe even shattering boundaries of belief that I often hold so
dogmatically. I hope while abroad I am
able to set my ideologies aside and listen with the intent of understanding.
Secondly,
as those of you who have traveled abroad know, there are moments and
occurrences that are so incredibly stressful and frustrating you want to
scream. Though never amusing at the
time, usually you can look back and realize what happened was actually
hilarious.
Thirdly,
I am looking forward to interacting with individuals whose life experiences I
simply cannot comprehend. I will be
encountering children orphaned by HIV/AIDS in
Fourth,
whether it be false American perceptions or truth, I
have always understood
I
know at this point much of your interest is probably dwindling. I again thank you for your support and I am
looking forward to forcing my musings into your inboxes whenever I get the
chance. In closing, I would like to
leave you with this quote to reflect upon.
I just stumbled across it in the early stages of reading Orwell's 1984:
"Orthodoxy means not thinking—not needing to think. Orthodoxy is unconsciousness."
Until
I reach the other side of the world,