We spent our month in Cambodia with the Cambodian Hope Association. It is a Christian organization founded by our awesome contact, Rithy. We worked in the orphanage where Rithy, who also grew up in an orphanage, lives with his wife. They share a very small room with 5 month old Paul who was abandoned at a factory and 3 year old Deborah who was also abandoned and has special needs. There are about 30 children/young adults at the orphanage ranging from 5 months to 19 years old. Each kid lives off of about $0.20 a day for food, mostly rice, which is simply not enough. Rithy speaks of how it is sometimes hard for the kids to concentrate in school because they are so hungry.
The vision of Cambodian Hope Association is to include a sustainable agricultural program along with an outreach health clinic. However, it is still a struggle simply to feed and education the children. The power was cut for a day while we were there because they could not pay the electric bill. It was hard to see someone with such vision, passion, and love for Cambodia and its children struggle so hard everyday for things we take for granted in the U.S.
For our ministry this month we taught computer and English classes. However, Rithy said that one of our greatest gifts to the children was simply loving on them and reminding them that they are important and people care about them. He said that the kids feel poor because they don't have pocket money to buy snacks at school like the other children. They doubt they have a chance at a better future because they believe rich kids with families have such a head start. But as they learned in Sunday school while we were there, with God all things are possible even when they are facing giants like Goliath.
This video captures my time in Cambodia. It was the Khmer New Year at the beginning of the month and many of the ministries were not receiving teams. During this time we had the chance to visit Angkor Wat and see the amazing sunrise and sunset there. In Phnom Penh, we visited the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum and the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek to learn about the genocide that occurred under the Pol Pot regime. Our last day at the orphanage was one of my favorite days on the race. The rainy season had just begun and we played with the kids in the pouring rain and simply enjoyed the time we had together.
I needed a restraining order. This person began calling 3 and 4 times a day everyday. This person began appearing at places frequently visited. This person began to think they saw who they were looking for everywhere. This person'sthought about this for too many hours of the day. This person possibly should have been called a stalker. This person would not relent. This person was me.
Her name was Spice. We met her our first night at the bars. We ordered a coke; She taught us how to play Jackpot, a dice game. She was immediately friendly, open, honest, and forward about not liking her job. Within the first 5 minutes, I knew she was the reason God brought me to Phuket.
The next time we saw her, Spice was so excited to see us. We invited her to ice cream and she emphatically agreed. At the ice cream shop, she stood on her tiptoes and eagerly peaked at all of the different flavors. We told her to order anything she wanted. It took 5 minutes for her to decide on one of the biggest sundaes on the menu. Spice rocked our world when she said that if we didn't see her at her bar tonight it was because she quit. Her manager was mean and she knew she deserved better.
(Playing Jackpot with Spice our first night at the bars)
We were elated when she was missing from her job that night. We called her the next day hoping to meet up and tell her about SHE. No answer. We called 30 minutes later. Then again 30 minutes later. No answer. She had always picked up on the first few rings. I had us keep calling day after day, 3 and 4 times a day for the next few days. I wondered if we had lost her forever. I had my team go to Bangla and sit and simply look for her for hours in case she walked by. She never did. I had become this person.
I thought about and prayed for Spice all the time. My heart was wrecked for her. One night I found myself on the floor during worship weeping and crying out to God for Spice and the other girls on Bangla. God allowed me to experience a darkness, hopelessness, and despair that I imagine the girls on Bangla feel. It was during this time when I felt such darkness and despair that I realized who this person was. This personwas a manifestation of the love of Jesus that lives inside of me. This person was committed to relentlessly loving and pursuing Spice.
(On our ice cream date)
Finally, 5 days later Spice returned our calls. It had only been 5 days, but it seemed like months. We set up a date, but then she stood us up twice that day. It was a draining emotional roller coaster of getting excited every time a Thai woman walked by, thinking it might be her. Two hours later, my teammates finally had to peel me away from the coffee shop because I refused to believe she wasn't coming. When she called later and set up another date for that night, I wasn't sure how much more I could take. I knew I was here in Thailand for Spice, but why did it hurt so much. Yet, this person would not let me relent.
Spice showed up that night for ice cream. She had quit her job! BUT she brought us to another bar at Bangla she was considering working at. This bar was much worse than her first one. We told her she deserved better and our friends at SHE could offer that. She agreed to come back to SHE with us the next day to check it out.
(Checking out the new bar that Spice was considering working at)
She stood us up again. Instead, that night we saw her at the new bar in short shorts, high heels, dancing on a pole. Tomorrow was our last day; It was now or never. She seemed to sense our urgency and did come to SHE the next day and even brought a friend. Spice was not as excited as we had hoped she would be largely. However, her friend seemed very interested and I believe if her friend leaves the bars, Spice will follow. At SHE, Spice told us more about her hopes and dreams of finding a good man to take care of her and we had the chance to tell her about Jesus.
This was not the fairy tale ending we had hoped for. Spice is still in the bars. Yet, seeds have been planted. She called us her friends. She said that we were different. She knows we love Jesus. She knows SHE is a standing offer whenever she is ready.
This person let me experience God heart for us. God loves us with a relentless love. He pursues us even when we are oblivious to the lengths He is going through just to get us to acknowledge him again. He continues to call out to us over and over again. He is not angry when we ignore His calls because we are out partying and don't have caller ID to alert us that the almighty God is desperately trying to get our attention. He hurts when we say, yes we are ready for a change, but then stand him up over and over. Yes, He is God and yes, He knows every move we will make, but that does not mean He does not allow himself to experience the pain and hurt every time we reject him. But He does not relent. He continues to pursue us. Though I have left Thailand, I believe that right now God is still pursuing Spice and will continue to do so.
This is based off of the thoughts I wrote in my journal after our second night in the bars.
Worship. Pray. Distracted. Focus! Seek. Pray. Worship. Just do it.
Before leaving, we prayed for divine appointments and to be exactly where God wanted us. The first night went well, but I wanted to be even more led and guided by the Holy Spirit. Although I do not doubt He's speaking, it's hard to pray and hear God in the midst of all of the distractions down at the bars.
But tonight, I asked God to give me guidance before setting out so I would go with a greater sense of purpose. The word I kept hearing was "right"/"write". I couldn't decide which sense of the word I was to take away. To help me remember in the bars, I wrote them on the insides of my fingers. Throughout the race, I have written words on my wrists as a reminder throughout the day. Yesterday I had "pioneer" on my left wrist and "legacy" on the right. But for some reason tonight, I went straight to my fingers. I wrote "right" on the ring finger of my left hand and "write" on the pinky finger on the same hand. I wasn't sure what they meant or what I was supposed to do with them, but I was eager to find out.
I also kept seeing an image of the Nike sign with a line under it. It reminded me of the orange shirt a squad mate had given me last month. I had been wearing a white shirt and intended to wear it tonight. But I went and changed my shirt, simply trusting that God had some purpose behind it and that even if it was just my own thoughts and not God that it couldn't hurt.
We jumped in the back of the truck for the 20 minute ride and I put in my headphones and listened to worship music as the 5 other people talked all around me. Last night, during worship I felt God was telling me to bring my music so I could stay focused in the ride. Worship is great and we get excited and ready to go, but the drive has the potential to be distracting. It was hard to focus on the songs and not get drawn into the conversations, but I realized it mirrors the bar scene well. In the bars, the music is always blaring and there are distracting conversations all around, but we still have to focus on praying and listening to the voice of God. By the time we pulled into the parking lot, I had finally found my focus and could hear God speaking through all of the distractions.
As the night went on, every time we had to choose which direction to go, I suggested that we go right. A new bar strip called New Tiger had just opened and the bar girls there had not been very receptive to people from SHE. I suggested that we go right down that strip. We quickly realized that the first girl we talked to, Stacey, had words tattooed on the insides of many of her fingers exactly where I had written my words earlier that night. We had never seen a girl with words tattooed on their fingers like that before although many of them have tattoos. I showed her that I had words written in the same place and it was the beginning of a great conversation. I believe that "write" was emphasizing the importance of writing the words on my hand. Right from the beginning God was confirming that we were walking in the path He had for us. Stacey was extremely open and friendly, a rarity in New Tiger, and at the end of our conversation we invited her to ice cream on Friday and she agreed and gave us her number.
The rest of the night we kept going right and kept having favor and making meaningful connections both with the girls and even with a bar owner. As we talked about our night on the ride back, I told my team about how I made us go "right" all night and why. I also laughed as I told them about how I changed shirts even though I wasn't sure why. Then one of the girls said "Nike! Just do it!" Just do it. What an interesting way for God to confirm that if we just do what He asks great fruit will grow from it. I know that's why I was told to change shirts. All night without even knowing it, I was wearing my willingness to follow the voice of God even when I don't understand on my chest. I was willing to just turn right, to just write the words down, to just change my shirt, to just be obedient.
I loved tonight, I love this ministry, I love going out to the bar and getting to minister to the girls. I returned to our home at almost 1am more energized and rejuvenated then I have been in a long time. I have a feeling this is going to be one of my favorite months on the Race.
I have been here before. I came to Thailand in 2008. I walked down the street in Pattaya and saw Western men with Thai women who they did not treat like their girlfriends or their wives. They treated them like they bought them, which they did. But this time was different. Instead of feeling raging anger and sense of helplessness, we had a plan. The plan was love.
This month in Thailand we are working with SHE (Self Help and Empowerment). SHE is a Christian organization that works to get girls out of the bars and provide them with job training in other fields such as hotel management or at SHE. Our ministry for the month involved going to Bangla Road, the center of the commercial sex industry in Phuket, Thailand, and loving on the girls.
When you walk down Bangla Road, you walk past hundreds of girls trying to entice you to their bar, past the foreign men staring at women like objects to be bought, past girls in evening gowns dancing in glass boxes, past girls dancing on poles to familiar American songs, past the young children selling flowers late into the night, past the swarms of people shoving fliers for sex shows into your face, and past the foreign families with young kids oblivious to the dark side of Bangla Road.
We pass all of these things to get to the girls. We sit at the bars, order a soda, and begin our own game of enticement with the bar girls. While they attempt to entice men with their looks and their moves as the men entice them back with promises of money or love or both, we entice them with the love of Jesus.
Most of the bar girls seemed trained to ignore a group of foreign girls and focus on the men. But we lure them back. We ask them their names, about their families, their children, their hopes, and their dreams. We treat them as equals, as friends. We play endless games of Connect 4 and Jenga as we talk. These games are normally used by the girls as icebreakers with the men as a way to ease the awkwardness and get around language barriers. But what the enemy intended to aid evil, God allows us to use for good.
Yet as we talk, it is hard to ignore the man at the next bar laughing as he tucks money into the extremely short shorts of a girl dancing on the pole and then lets his hand linger. But thankfully before we left, during nightly worship, we prayed against the spirit of anger and judgment and asked instead to see these men as God sees them. They are His lost and broken sons looking for love, power, worth, etc. in the wrong place. We say a silent prayer for the men and regain focus.
Having successfully pulled the girls attention away from the men walking down the strip, we then ask them for a date; an ice cream date that is. For some, this is a strange concept and we have to ask multiple times and clarify our intentions. But then her face lights up when she realizes we just want to treat her; treat her like the beautiful daughter of the King that she is. We pray for the chance to tell her she is worthy of real love, that she is beautiful, that more awaits for her then this.
She gives us her number and we promise to visit again. We then move on to the next bar and do it all again. Eventually we have to go home and try to sleep. But sometimes our minds won't shut off as we wonder if she is ok. Is she being forced to drink shot after shot with a customer or did a customer buy her for the night?
Yet, as we lay our heads down on our pillows and listen to the hum of fans all around , all we can do is pray. Pray that she will not be too hung over to answer her phone tomorrow. Pray that one day she will be at place where we can safely tell her about SHE. Pray that one day she will see what we see, what He sees. Pray that she leaves that dark place called Bangla Road and never returns.
Below is a video my team leader for the month named Jenna made about our ministry on Bangla Road and also our daytime ministry. (And no, I did not eat the squid like Jenna does at the end of the video)
I had a follower--he was about 6 and would cling to my hands and my arms. I would try to walk away to help with the work and would have to pull him off of me. He would quickly emerge as soon as I was finished with the work and hold on again. I realized that he had been hanging around me from almost the moment I arrived, although I hadn't noticed because there were so many kids.
One of the most impoverished and remote areas I visited during my time in Swaziland was a village called "Big Bend". We spent the day at a Care Point, which was run by an amazing organization called "Beyond the Game" (BTG) founded by Chanita Foster. Kids walk from all directions every day, and some even for miles on end, to the carepoint where they get two meals--usually the only two meals they will eat all day.
(My little friend for the day)
At the end of the day, we drove the boy and his two cousins home. Chanita had decided to bring them a bag of food that was meant for another Care Point and give it to their Gogo (the Siswati world from grandma). The baby boy was visibly malnourished and was doing even worse than when she had visited weeks before. When we pulled up, the Gogo had been praying for God to help her and he answered her prayers in that moment. We then learned that the little boy's mother had been brutally murdered by her boyfriend the night before. The Gogo was now left to care for the little boy and his 2 young cousins who were already orphans, yet she had nothing. The house was empty--no mattress, and no food in sight. Now the widowed Gogo had 3 orphans to care for. I wondered if the boy had attached himself to me so quickly because of his grief. I was told all month that my features were extremely Swazi. Did I remind him of his mother? Did he cling to me and want to be kept close because he would never have his mother's touch again. I don't know. I will never know.
(The 3 orphans who live with their Gogo)
One night, as I looked up at the glorious, bright full moon, God reminded me that the moon shines because it is reflecting the sun's light. It shines the brightest in the darkest of nights and serves as a reminder that even when we can not see the sun, it's still there. Jesus is the Son (sun). He also shines the brightest in the darkest of places and reflects his light to the earth in many different ways to remind us that He is still there especially in the darkest times.
That day in Big Bend, I met James. James 1:27 says, "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress..." My heart broke for this boy. My heart broke for his Gogo. Throughout the month God broke my heart for Swaziland over and over again. I was continuously struck by the beauty, the joy, and the love that overflows in Swaziland.
The video below shows how I fell in love with Swaziland. The video is set to Brooke Fraser's Albertine. It says "I will tell the world, I will tell them where I've been." I would like to tell the world that God loves Swaziland and there is so much light and hope here despite the darkness. From the moment we arrived, we were bombarded with statistic after statistic projecting the gloomy future that is supposed to be Swaziland. Yet, these statistics are not what I will tell the world about. The broken hearts and encounters with the power of James 1:27 let me know that God is so in love with this country and will not allow it to disappear.
*To learn more about Beyond the Game and the awesome work they are doing throughout Swaziland you can visit their website.
**If you feel called to sponsor one of the kids you saw on the video who are all from carepoints we worked at throughout the month, please send me a message and I can connect you with the proper organization.
This month one of our ministry sites, Hope House, houses people with illnesses ranging from cancer, HIV/AIDS, TB, etc. can rest and recover. Each resident have their own small house and a caretaker who receives training on how to better care for them once they become healthy enough to return home. We visit the patients and encourage them through praying, talking, playing cards, watching movies, and anything else they want to do. After visiting other patients for 2 weeks we were told a new couple, Carl and Esther*, had arrived. We were blessed to have them share their amazing story with us over the next couple of weeks.
Carl and Esther are Rwandan refugees who have lived in Swaziland for the past 17 years. Carl's job as a high ranking government official in Rwanda left them blacklisted and fearing for the lives. They first fled to a village within Rwanda that then suffered from a cholera outbreak. Esther told us that there were so many dead bodies on the street that she had to tip-toe around them just to get around in the village. Then they moved to their first refugee camp in the Democratic Republic of Congo, which was overcrowded with over 300,000 people. The United Nations was unable to not provide adequately for all of those people. They relocated to another camp in Kenya only to encounter the same problem. Finally they fled to Swaziland, believing that if they could get far enough away they could find a camp with less people and better support.
The camp in Swaziland was considerably smaller with only about 300 refugees from many different countries. Carl was supposed to receive a work visa upon entering the country, but at the border, he was denied working privileges. They lived in this refugee camp for 10 years before the United Nations cut off their support. They are still afraid to return to Rwanda to this day. For the last 17 years, he has not been able to work or provide for his family. Esther still suffers from the psychological effects of both the war and the camps. Every night she takes sleeping pills because she can not shake the horrible images she has seen that haunt her. As Carl tells his story, at times he just trails off. He seems to be trapped in the past before emerging out and switching subjects by asking us to tell him about our lives before later returning to his story.
(Carl and Esther in their home at the Hope House)
What stuck out most to me is when Carl asked us, "Why isn't God listening?" While telling their story to us, they asked over and over: "Do you know? Have the people in America heard about this. Do you know that people are still in trouble?" Carl talked about the power that we have as Americans to do something about their situation. How we are blessed to have access to the Internet--with tools like Google and Wikipedia we can inform ourselves about the world while he can not. We have a government accountable to the people, and the ability and resources to change situations. Being the "good" missionaries we are, we tried to encourage him that God loves him, knows their suffering, and we should just rely on Him. I don't think we expected Carl's response when he asked us, "Why isn't God listening?" This was not a question asked out of anger, but out of despair.
When we walked in to visit them the first day, Esther was reading a devotional. She said her favorite thing to do in her free time is to read the Bible, especially 1 Corinthians 13, "Love is patient, love is kind..." They both love God and believe He loves them, so Carl wasn't questioning that either. Yet, he vocalized a thought I have had since first driving into Swaziland: why is there so much suffering and death in this country? Eighty percent of the people in this country identify as Christian and there are many churches and Christian organizations working and praying for this country. Yet, the dismal predictions of the future of this country persist.
We were told over and over again at training camp before we left for the Race is that "We are God's Plan A!" God's plan for the world involves Christians stepping up and taking action. God is powerful enough to miraculously turn around any situation in the blink of an eye. Yet, He chooses to allow us to be part of the change. We alone can not change the situation of the refugees or the trajectory of Swaziland's future, but God can use us to do so. Carl and Esther made me realize that the real question is not "Why isn't God listening?" Instead, it is, why are Christians allowing so much bad in the world to continue happening? Yes, many churches and Christians are doing great things everyday, but clearly there is more to be done. The world does contain much suffering, but God is listening and He has called us to act.
I believe God is answering their cry both through all of the great local and foreign people throughout the world who are already taking action on so many of the issues facing the world today. Yet, we all are called not to just preach the gospel (Matthew 28:18-20), but tangibly bring the Kingdom. Matthew 34-46 talks about when we care for the least of these who are hungry, thirsty, strangers, sick, or imprisioned it is blessing to God.
(Another family and one of the worker I went to visit at the Hope House)
Jesus addressed physical needs as well as spiritual ones. This month in Swaziland, God has placed a great sense of urgency on my heart for the people of God to rise up and take action. We can first use our voices to pray and see what actions God is calling us toward. It may be to sponsor a child, move to Swaziland, support an organization, or to appeal to our government or the UN (thoughts that have all crossed my mind in the past month).
My heart has been broken here. I am still praying about what God's game plan looks like for my life, but I know I have to be willing to be used for something more. Everyone has their own passions and callings. I realize that not everyone's passion is refugees, orphans, or human trafficking; however, I do encourage everyone to ask God to show us how He wants to use us to be Plan A and to put our faith into action.
For a more complete picture of Carl and Esther's amazing story you can go to my teammate Lindsay's blog and read her post called "Using My Voice"
*The names have been changed to protect their privacy.
Travel Day #7 from Machava, Mozambique to Timbutini, Swaziland involved just 1 bus and took 7 hours and 47 minutes. This was the shortest travel day we have had so far although somehow it still was not the 4 hours we expected.
Saturday, February 11th
1:03pm - Leave Beacon of Hope. There were two mini bus that fit all 50 people on our squad plus our luggage. (My bus had an even shorter journey than the other one who got stuck at the border was an extra couple of hours because their driver did not have a passport. Then the bus stalled while going up a hill so they had to unload all of their bags, push the bus up the hill, then carry their luggage to the stop of the hill...)
3:07pm - Arrive at the border to Swaziland. We were not pleased to learn that they were charging to use the only bathroom. Not everyone had the local currency, but thankfully you can get buy most anything if you are willing to greatly overpay using USD.
4:25pm - Official entered Swaziland
6:39pm - Wondered if we would live to see another day as our bus driver hit 200km/hour as a massive downpour began while going through a winding road up a hill.
7:15pm - Pull up in front of KFC in downtown Manzini and could afford a rare treat of fast food with our increased food budget for travel days of $5 for the day while waiting for our contact.
8:50pm - Arrive at our home for the month in Timbutini a small outside of Manzini.
This month we are working with Adventures in Missions who has ministries all throughout the country. This month is what we call an ATL (Ask the Lord) because we are given the freedom as teams to pray about which ministries we feel called to. One option is Care Points where we love on the children who come for what may be their only meal of the day. Another is the Hope House which is a place where we visit those who are sick and have come with a caregiver to recover and learn how to take care of themselves at home. We can also go and pray for people in the hospital or go talk to the women at the market.
(Relaxing in our "Hammock Tree" before having to say goodbye for good. We often came here to escape the scorching midday heat )
(Group photo of everyone at Beacon of Hope)
(All month long people kept yelling "Malaria!" as a way to tell people to keep the screen door shut after 5pm. 2 days before we left we finally put up a sign instead)
(The truck driving in front of us as we left Mozambique)
(The cozy bus ride)
(The beautiful view we saw shortly after crossing into Swaziland)
As promised, this is a continuation of my Race on the Race series. We are going to go back to the beginning. The first few days of the Race we were in Quito, Ecuador for our Launch session. Although I knew that there was a lack population (they make up 3% of the population according to the CIA World Fact book and in a region called Esmeraldes 70% of the population is of African descent), I was surprised when I saw an African hair braiding place in the center of downtown Quito. A small, yet noticeable percentage of those living in Quito were of African descent. I didn't feel as out of place here compared to the way that I did in Albania and I attributed this to the presence of others of African descent. It was not until I left Quito that I really began to notice race on the Race. My team lived in a small town called El Carmen in Ecuador where black people where much more scarce than in Quito. Overall, in El Carmen and the surrounding towns we visited, I received a lot of comments about my hair and the occasional extra question about "my country" or the assumption that I was an "Africana." However, on a day-to-day basis, I didn't feel particularly stared at or out of place. Here are a few stories from the month.
(Ecuadorians of African descent)
The Streets
Walking back from a store, there were men hanging outside of a repair shop who called out some words I did not understand along with "negra" to me and continued to laugh loudly as I walked down the street and ignored them. Many times, I choose to simply ignore comments like these, but every time it is still unsettling and shoots a small shot of adrenaline through my body as I quickly assess the situation. Is it harmless curiosity, alcohol induced comments (as I think it might have been this time), or something more serious?
Another time while walking back from the market in El Carmen, I passed a black man. We caught each other's eye and both of us did a double take, looked back, and smiled before continuing on our way. Whether this had anything to do with our similar skin color I do not know. However, it was a nice reminder for me that I am not alone. In some ways, I felt secured and relived by his presence because I knew that comments spurred by my novelty would be distributed between the two of us and anyone else who looked like us in the neighborhood. In this sense, I felt connected to him and that he was sharing the, at times, tiresome burden of being not of the norm.
(Restaurant signs)
Followed in the Store
A couple days before we left El Carmen, we went to a store where I saw a black girl with her friend. I passed them and continued on shopping as normal. However, over the next 10 minutes they kept appearing in the my same aisle. I smiled at them and continued shopping. Finally, the girl's friend came up to me and said, "Hola!" The black girl then came over and I asked them their names and ages. They were 16 years old. I told the black girl that I liked her hair and then removed the buff that was covering my hair to show her that we both had braids. I had noticed this girl walking on the street in her school uniform a couple of times and asked them if there school was down the road. We made more small talk before saying goodbye. This was one of the most memorable interactions for me while in Ecuador.
(Girls walking home from school in Esmeraldes)
Due to my previous experiences abroad, I have a tendency to pay more attention to other people of African descent when I run into them, but this girl also had the same curiosity and eagerness to connect that I did. It reminded me of when I was in Singapore, I ran into two Nigerian brothers at a beach and we were drawn to talk to each other simply because we had found another person who stuck out in the same way that we did. When we departed, we hugged goodbye and commemorated the moment with a photo; however, I have begun to ask, is it simply being anomalies that bond us together or is it something else?
Part of the Family
While talking to another lady who lived in our apartment complex, she randomly made the comment that she has a brother-in-law and nieces that were my color. A couple of days later her nieces came to visit. I guessed that while there were not many media representations of "people my color" in El Carmen, I was not as novel as I had thought because people seemed to have relatives and know that this segment of the population does exist regardless if the media choses to represent it or not.
(The nieces of the lady in our apartment complex)
Wishing for a Blonde
Our hostess in El Carmen said that her in-laws initially rejected her because they wanted a blonde, light-eyed daughter-in-law. Most of the advertisements in the city featured white models and the majority of those that had a model of Latino descent had lighter skin than most of the people we saw in El Carmen. I never saw any advertisements with people of African descent. I wondered if this contributed to the parents preference.
Souvenirs
There was one advertisement that caught my attention the last day in Ecuador as we were traveling to Peru. The logo of a fruit stand was a cartoon picture of a black boy in tattered clothing and no shoes. However, the one thing thing that really surprised me was that while Ecuadorians of African descent were absent in the advertisements that I saw on the streets (we did not have much access to TV, newspapers, or magazines so I acknowledge it could be a lot different in those areas), it seemed to change when we went about an hour away to the beach where there were many Ecuadorians of African descent. On the beach shops, there were shop after shop that had the trinkets pictured below of black Ecuadorians "representing Ecuador". However, many of these representations were not positive and had exaggerated features.
(Souvenirs sold at the beach)
People Your Color
My closing anecdote was the inspiration for the title. The wife of our contact for the month whose house we were living in asked me one day if I could sing. I said, "No." Her response was, "But people of your color sing well." I was a little caught off-guard by this comment and answered, "No, not all of us." A couple of days later, there was a music awards show on the TV whereBeyoncéwas performing. She jokingly called out, "Angela, is that you singing?" These two comments got me thinking a lot about how influential the media can be. She seemed to have made this association that African-Americans were singers or entertainers. It made me think more about what types of images are portrayed of African-Americans in the U.S. and what is being funneled abroad and the impact that it is having. It kind of left me frustrated and annoyed, not at her, but on the whole, that this is the tiny box that had been created to stick African-Americans into and I had been shoved into it even though we are so much more.
"They're fine." That was not exactly what most of us were expecting to hear, but this was the answer we received when asking God what to do about the flooding sewage in the boys' home.
The day before, some of my teammates had gone to check out the boys' house and saw that there was flooding over the walkway due to the recent tropical storm. After hearing about the problem, our team decided that we wanted to take this on as a special project in addition to the other ministry we had been assigned. It was suggested that the best solution would be for a truck to come and pump out the sewage and then repairing the walkway because there were sections missing. Someone brought up the idea of also re-painting the house to make it more home-y. We talked about praying specifically for God to provide for all of the answers we had come up with the truck, the building materials, and the paint which is apparently really expensive in Mozambique.
However, as we talked about this I began to feel really unsettled, but I really didn't know why or how to express it without seeming like I was shutting down their enthusiasm. I was able to articulate the feeling that we should pray for God to give them what they need, instead of assuming there was a problem and praying for a solution we came up with on our own not necessarily what we think they might not need. I suggested that we also ask our contact what would be the most helpful or the best solution. I believe that as foreigners going into other countries we have a responsibility even down to the level of our prayers to try to address issues in the best way possible, not simply through our American mindset. Of course, I was not opposed to God going above and beyond and blessing them with the paint or a nice new walkway, but for some reason I just could not get on board with praying for the specific solutions we had come up with. When it was time for us to pray, I ended up not praying for these solutions we had discussed as a team and instead only prayed for God to work as He willed and give them what they need. Even though we had all prayed at once, I felt awkward and bad for not praying in unity with the rest of the team.
Partially in response to my hesitation, the next morning we agreed to physically go to the boys' house and ask God to speak to us about what He wanted us to do. After walking around for a while, I finally just sat down and prayed for God to speak. I heard nothing. Part of me thought it was because my heart wasn't into praying for change despite my efforts to engage. When we all met as a team outside, one of my teammates started by saying that while praying last night he heard God say, "They're fine." Others had gotten similar words such as God saying, "All they need is me." Some people felt God was telling us to encourage the boys' to grow in Him and possibly writing down characteristics of a biblical man that we saw in each of them and giving it to them to hang on their wall or something. That was not the answer any of us, especially me, was expecting. I had not been able to shake feeling bad for not jumping on board and praying and expecting God to show up specifically as we asked. Yet, this was confirmation that the unsettling sense I had was the Holy Spirit pushing me to bring up this issue and getting us to pause and seek God more.
God was clearly teaching all of us the lesson that He alone is enough. God was saying the boys' did not need our team's help, or ideas, or our resources in this way this month. God made it clear that all they need is Him. I believe that God will bring about His solution to these issues and will raise up the people and the resoures necessary to support the ministry and improve their living situation. Our duty was simply to listen to Him and in this case prayer and listening was all He required of us.
This is what a Monday at Beacon of Hope looks like:
7:55am - My alarm goes off and I climb out from under the mosquito net that I share with Kelly who sleeps less than a foot away from me. My bed for the month is the 20-inch wide Big Agnes sleeping pad which is a great cushion from the concrete floor. When I roll out of bed, I hope that the bathroom is free--a rare occurrence when 14 people are sharing.
(The room I share with Kelly and Lindsay. This month I learned to appreciate bedrooms that have doors since mine currently does not have one.)
8:00am - Breakfast! Almost every morning we get about 3/4th of a roll of some of the softest, most delicious bread that I have had all race. There is always butter and a mixed fruit jam. I bring out my medicine cabinet each morning and take my malaria pill, a garlic pill, a vitamin, and a probiotic.
9:00am - Church! We have church Mondays instead of Sundays so that the staff who works with the boys Monday-Friday can be with us. Kyle plays his guitar and leads the English half of worship, then the boys sing songs in Portuguese. Afterwards, one of the World Racers shares a messages that Angie translates for the boys.
(Performing the Lifehouse "Everything" skit that we did in Albania for the boys during church.)
After church, Angie meets with her staff and we have time to plan our classes for later in the day. The boys have their daily chores such as cutting the grass with machetes to help keep away the snakes and mosquitoes and tending to the garden. This month, I am teaching English to the boys along with two others racers.
During this time, I usually also have my personal time to pray, read my Bible, and journal. We also have time to shower which is essential to do in the morning because the water cuts off around 10:00AM most days. Multiple times it has cut off mid-shower so I have learned to wash and rinse sections of my body at a time. The water is subject to cut off anytime and there have been a couple of 3-day stretches were we have been completely without running water. (Imagine what that means with 14 people sharing a bathroom without having a reliable way to flush the toilet. Let's just say the great outdoors becomes your new best friend...)
(The boys doing their daily chores)
(My attempt to cut grass with a machete before the boys returned from holiday. It's a lot harder than it looks to get the right technique especially after 3.5 hours in the scorching sun.)
(Sonya, one of the women who helps around the house, preparing the vegetables. We may only get a little, but it's a lot of work/expensive to feed 18 people so we rotate helping to prepare meals.)
12:30ish - Lunch! Most days we have rice or noodles with a little bit of vegetables or every once in a while we get protein from a potato salad!
Around 2pm, classes start for the eight boys at Beacon of Hope. On MWF, there is English, Math, and an elective such as Etiquette or Swing Dance. On TTH, there is Science, God's World and another elective. Every day we start out with a prayer and short Bible study. This month, I am very excited to be teaching English because it is a great skill to have here. It can be a ticket to many well paying translating or government jobs. We have a lot of fun in our class and try to make it interactive. For example, this past Monday the topic was body parts so we sang Father Abraham, the Hokey Pokey, and Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes.
(The boys showing off their school notebooks that they just decorated)
(English class! We have classes outside under the mango tree everyday.)
(Helping one of the boys learn a multiplication trick during math class)
The classes last about 2 hours and then its time for soccer. We have organized an official tournament for the month. My team is Manchester United and I play with 2 of the boys and our contact's daughter. It's a great time to build relationships with the boy's and also the staff who play as well. Afterwards, the boys get ready to head off to school which lasts until 9:00PM. The local school has a morning, afternoon, and night session to accommodate all of the students.
(Watching one of the soccer matches with Angie's youngest son, Popinio)
(Some of the boy's cheering on the soccer teams.)
(Go ManUnited!)
5:30pmish - Dinner! Most days we have rice and beans or rice and vegetables. Angie sometimes treats us with special meals like Mexican night or hamburger night and we get to remember what meat tastes like again.
After dinner we have our daily team time and feedback sessions which can last anywhere from 30 minutes to 3 hours (as it did last night). We then are free for the rest of the night to hang out with Angie's three kids or any of the other 14 people who live in the house. Sometimes I retreat to the safety of my mosquito net where I relax and pretend that I'm alone. Lights are usually out by 11:30PM and the quiet hum of the fan sings me to sleep.
