Fruit for thought

Fruit for thought
Originally uploaded by wycliffeimc

Yesterday morning we went to visit the president and vice president of a denomination here that is using the trauma healing materials created by SIL. As we walked into the office, I was thrilled to see that they had a basket of fake fruit, just like we sometimes have in the U.S., except these were Congolese fruit. Instead of an assortment of plastic apples, grapes, pears and such, there were wooden mangoes, papayas, finger bananas and stalks of sugar cane. It seems hilarious that they have the same idea of using fake fruit to decorate, but the fruits themselves were entirely different! It was a good object lesson in cultural relevancy. I made Sean take a picture of me pretending to eat the wooden sugar cane.

It was also ironic that the president and vice president we spoke with were from opposite sides of the conflict here—but they are practically identical. Not only that, but somehow they even happened to wear the same suit for the interview! They called themselves brothers (in Christ) and they certainly looked the part: a visual representation of their unity. During the war they sheltered each other from their own tribes, even though this meant that some of their own family members considered them traitors for protecting “the enemy.”

Before coming to see them, I awoke very early to the sounds of Bunia awakening. If it’s true that the sun sees everything, than it has seen some horrible sights here. But the sun still rises and spreads its triumphant colors, even over dilapidated buildings hidden by high walls and razor wire. The birds still sing in the morning. Most of all, the people themselves have not lost their songs.

Life continues, albeit with a limp. Jesus said, “I have come that they may have life, and have it more abundantly” (John 10:10). I don’t know how it is possible, but this promise must hold true even in the DRC. These people—who’ve been maimed by bloodshed, rape, famine, disease and ethnic hatred—must be able to not just survive, but thrive. If evil has such great power to destroy, then Good must have even greater power to heal.

- Borghy

What I've learned in Africa

Congo 13
Originally uploaded by wycliffeimc

I’ve never really been the homesick type (sorry, mom and dad). Don’t get me wrong: I do miss family, friends and the comforts of home, but I’ve always enjoyed traveling, visiting new places, and seeing just what God has created. I always enjoy returning home, but the time away is a great experience as well.

Africa is no exception. We’ve met some great people, and we’ve seen God at work on this trip. But, being in Africa has also made me appreciate the things of home. So, picking up on Borghy’s theme, I’ve compiled a Top 10 list of what I appreciate about America now that I’ve had a chance to be away.

What Africa has taught me to appreciate about home:
10. Charmin. I think I might start buying stock in the company. We’ve got to get these guys exporting to more places (Bunia in particular would be top on my list). There’s nothing like that soft, absorbent, comfortable feeling.
9. Washing machines and dryers. Let me begin by saying that we’ve been blessed to have a friend in Bunia who has graciously been washing our shirts and pants for us. But we’ve been responsible for our undergarments. Underwear is meant to be soft, and you just can’t capture that same softness by washing them in the sink and hanging them up inside to dry.
8. Water pressure and reliable electricity. We don’t have much of either one, which makes warm showers (or showers in general) tricky. But you can feel surprisingly clean after just a good rub down with moist towelettes.
7. Paved roads. I’m not sure we can fully communicate how bad the infrastructure is here. Think of the worst dirt road you’ve been on, multiply that by two, and that will give you an idea of the best roads in Bunia. Seriously. It’s an adventure every time we get in the car.
6. Favorite foods. Things like Starbucks and peanut butter M&Ms sound really good right now.
5. A government structure that I trust. At least in the U.S. you don’t get accosted for extortion by officials trying to get bribes out of you. No, I’m not joking on this one. (We’ll blog about this experience separately.)
4. “Morning manna” and early conversations. While I haven’t quite missed the commute to work, I normally have some great conversations on the way there (KL, this one is for you), and prayer time at the office is a treat. I’m looking forward to both of those again.
3. Comfortable connections with the people around me. As social beings, we tend to develop comfortable, reliable connections and interactions with the people we are around (family, friends and co-workers). Having to establish these relationships anew in a place like Africa makes those people back home seem even more valuable.
2. Daily routine. I’m a creature of habit, and I enjoy knowing what tomorrow will bring. I know that there isn’t a great amount of spontaneity in that, but it is comforting and it does keep things normal.
1. The people I’m close to. My family, friends and co-workers are all great people, and I love each one of them. Sometimes it takes a trip to Africa to make you realize this even more.

With that said, there are a number of things that I’ve come to appreciate about Africa. So, to contrast the previous list above, here’s another Top 10 list of the things that are great here in Bunia.
10. Toilet paper. Even though it isn’t the greatest, at least we have some. There are plenty of places in the world where this is considered a luxury. Thank God that we aren’t there.
9. New experiences. If I hadn’t come to Africa, I may never have had the opportunity to wash my underwear in the sink. I’m going to look at this as a blessing, because new life experiences are always valuable. (Or at least that’s the spin I’m applying to it).
8. The opportunity to learn to be flexible. While water and electricity are unreliable, at least we’re learning to deal with it and make the most of it. Once again, it could be far worse than what we’ve faced this week.
7. Having a car and driver. Even though the roads may be awful, there are scores of people that have no way of getting around, other than walking. Jon, our driver, has been great. We’re teaching him some English, and he’s teaching us some Swahili (when we aren’t trekking through the mud or nearly leveling pedestrians, that is).
6. The produce. Sure, there are things that I miss about the food back home, but the food here has really been great. The bananas, tomatoes and pineapple are the best I’ve ever tasted. And passion fruit juice is my new drink of choice.
5. Collecting great stories. I did think for a moment yesterday that we could, in fact, be thrown into a Congolese jail when the immigration official kept asking for our passports and why we were in the country. But at least there are some great memories that came out of it.
4. Mornings over Bunia and team check-in. The Democratic Republic of Congo, of which Bunia is the capital, is truly a beautiful place. From just outside my hotel door, you can see rolling hills and mountains, lush forestry and the town awakening each morning. I step out around 8 a.m. to some bread, jam, fruit, eggs and the best chocolate spread that I’ve ever tasted. Yes, it’s better than Nutella.
3. Christian love. The hospitality that our friends here in Africa have shown us has been remarkable. They are taking such great care of us, and they genuinely love having us around. They’ve kept us safe, fed and comfortable.
2. Relying on God’s leading. While I do admit to being a creature of habit, it has been awesome to see God work on this trip. He’s led us to the contacts and people that we’ve needed to talk to. He’s given us the time and energy to work as hard as we’ve ever worked, and He’s allowed us to be part of an experience that is so much bigger than ourselves. You really can’t ask for much more.
1. My team. One of the biggest blessings of this trip has been working with this team in Africa. I knew all of them well before we left, but I hadn’t had the opportunity to work closely with most of them. I’ve always said that you learn more about people when you travel with them than you do in any other social circumstance (NYC 2003, anyone? annual trips to Daytona with the Brooks’, etc.). We’ve each learned so much about one another, and Borghy, Jon, Sean and I all bring different talents and abilities to this project. It hasn’t always been rosy, and there have been frustrations and discussions, but I’ve loved the interaction that we’ve had together. From the conversations at night to the debriefing that we’ll be bombarding our bosses with (get ready, Scott and Kristie, we’ve got plenty of notes for you), I really believe that God orchestrated each one of us to be a part of this. And for that I am thankful.

We’re a little over half way through our trip, and it’s exciting to see what God has done already during our time here. I can’t wait to see what else is in store.

Mornings in Congo

market 9
Originally uploaded by wycliffeimc

3.18.08



I realized that you all have no idea what it feels like to wake up in DR Congo. It’s different....



I know it’s different because I wake up at about 6 am or so to the sound of the hotel staff setting up our tables for breakfast (I’ll get back to that) and then I roll over and go back to sleep. At about 7, I wake up and spend the next 10 minutes trying to get out of bed. 



Eventually I do and then I have to do a quick logic problem on par with Federal Tax Code: If I had hot water last night, then I have already showered, but if there wasn’t, then I need to check to see if there is any today. If there is hot water now, then I need to shower, if not, then I need to figure out how many days it’s been since I last showered. Has it been more than two? Then I need to shower any way.



After working that out, I get dressed and step out of my room into a walkway which doubles as a balcony over looking the southwest of Bunia. There, waiting patiently by my door is a white plastic outdoor furniture set consisting of a small table and a chair. The table is covered with a blue and white checked table cloth, and there, placed neatly on the table are: a thermos of hot water, tea bags, one or two tubes of Nescafe Instant Coffee, sugar that looks like sugar in the raw, dehydrated milk, three or so slices of white bread, butter, a jam of some sort, a chocolate spread that is better than Nutella, and fruit. The fruit is the part that makes me think of you the most: most days it is either passion fruit or apple-bananas, other days it’s papaya.



I then spend the next hour sipping tea or coffee, enjoying a slice of bread, and nibbling on some fruit while I read the Economist, or edit video; these days it’s more the latter.

The next person to get up is Dustin (did you catch that? I’m up first!) who is two rooms down from me, and after he’s had break he usually comes over, and we talk about the plans for the day. Dustin, the person on the team who I had the least previous experience with, is proving himself to be a great working colleague and trustworthy friend. He usually is the one planning where we are supposed to be, when, and with who. Typically, from there Sean comes up to my table, and we talk out what we need to get today and what needs to happen. Borghy usually comes over around this time as well.



Now, I know what you’re thinking, “Jon, are you really that cool?” I’m afraid the answer is “no.” It’s just that all the gear is in my room, so that ends up being the meeting place.



From there, we head out for the day... more on that later. :)



-Jon

“The Conflict” in Congo

Congo 12
Originally uploaded by wycliffeimc

My time here in Bunia has led me to loath that word “conflict.” CNN likes to use it; we like to use it; I used to use it all the time. I think it’s because it’s easier to swallow.

When I was a kid, my sister and I had “conflicts.” We fought, then we would get over it and move on; now I have a great friendship with her: “conflict”.

To refer to the 10 plus years of war, pain and trauma here in Congo as a “conflict” is like referring to the monsoon floods of Bangladesh as the “wet season,” like saying war-lite, Diet War.

I think I understand why we label the things like this “conflict.” How do you compartmentalize the echoing waves of violence in the Great Lakes/Rift Valley region of Africa? They wash into neighboring countries without regard for sovereign borders. The current violence in the Kivu provinces is mostly an issue of local militias stretching out their arms over the population. But the local militias were originally a positive response to the wave of Rwandan and Ugandan soldiers that came into Congo during the tribal warfare here in Bunia and the surrounding region. Nothing exists in a vacuum here. Nothing.

Two days ago, I met a man whose wife and daughter where raped by soldiers during the most recent chapter of war here in Congo. He is part of a translation team that was displaced by the violence in his province and is now living and working in Bunia. To my amazement, he didn’t share with me his violent fantasies of revenge. Instead, he told me that he has come to a place where he has forgiven the men who violated his family, that he now prays for those soldiers. He was able to come to this conclusion, in part, with the help of the trauma healing workshop.

I would be ignorant if I said that I personally had an understanding of war or violence. But I think I understand history, and history says that true peace only comes with forgiveness. Otherwise, the hatred just sits under the surface, waiting for something to trigger it.

I am proud to work for an organization that sees how their work is tied not just to an end goal of numbers and figures, but holistically ministers to the needs of the communities that they serve.

After all, how can we say that we come in the Name of Christ if we don’t?

-Jon Shuler

Borghy's Top Ten for Bunia

Top Ten for Bunia

10. My morning cocktail: a shot of Pepto-Bismol and a malaria pill
9. The kids telling Sean that he’s pregnant
8. The kids asking why Dustin’s legs and arms are so hairy
7. Driving in Bunia: no need to go on a roller coaster at Disney World, just ride with a Congolese driver; you don’t even have to wait for pedestrians to move. Getting thrown around on the craterous dirt roads is especially enjoyable in the sticky heat of midday after eating three plates of food for lunch so as not to insult your hostess.
6. The spandex-esque toilet paper here: non-absorbent, scratchy and refuses to flush down the toilets, but hey, it’s practically indestructible—an important quality when you’re suffering from traveler’s “issues.”
5. Lack of luggage etiquette on my part: I couldn’t understand why this nice Congolese Bible translator wouldn’t let go of my bag as we were leaving. Surely he wasn’t coveting my dainty, female-sized, turquoise backpack. After trying unsuccessfully to get my bag from him about three times, he graciously informed me that their custom is to carry a visitor’s bag to the gate. Aha!
4. Me questioning Rev. Mbanza about the picture on his desk: “Is that your wife?”
Nope. Not even close. It’s a picture of Rev. Mbanza two decades ago. Did I mention I have excellent cross-cultural communication skills?
3. People who keep thinking Jon is sick because, “you look so pale." Well thank you for your concern, Madam, but paleness is an important part of my whole “white guy” persona, just comes standard with being, uh, you know, white.
2. Being informed that English is “the language of the deaf.”
1. Sean explaining to the kids that the stubble on his shaved head is like Velcro, but they don’t know what Velcro is. I demonstrate by trying to see if the Velcro on my camera bag sticks to his head. It doesn’t.

- Borghy

When words won't do

Congo 10
Originally uploaded by wycliffeimc

It would be easy for me to tell you about the people we met yesterday and the stories they so courageously shared with us. But I’m not going to.

You see, I don’t feel like I can truly give their stories the justice it deserves at this very moment. I’m finding myself asking God, “If this is Your creation, why has Africa, and the Congo—and specifically the brave men that we met yesterday—why have they suffered so much?” But then again, we’re told not to ask “why,” only “What will You do through this circumstance?” And He is doing great things.

I am only beginning to process what this Bible translation team has gone through. I really don’t think that Americans, or much of the west for that matter, has a clear understanding of what has happened in central Africa over the previous years. I know that I was not prepared for what we would be met with, even after doing the background research and preparation for this trip.

You see, most Americans (myself included) do not know suffering. Certainly there are tragedies, hardships, circumstances completely out of our control that effect us in numerous ways, and I definitely don’t mean to diminish those instances. But have you ever been beaten for no reason? Have you watched you home and village be burned to the ground? Have you seen your family literally ripped apart by mobs and militias and armies?

After talking with them for about four or five hours and listening to the things they each went through, they treated us like royalty. We were given Fanta and white bread as a sign of appreciation (a huge deal considering the poverty that many of them live with every day), and when we were preparing to leave, it was as if they were saying good-bye to the Queen herself. As we drove off, I turned back to see each one of them standing and waving us into the distance, and a quote suddenly hit me that I read or heard a few weeks back: the world gives applause to the wrong people. Here they were, acting as if we had just blessed them with our presence, but really it was their stories that touched and blessed my heart more than they will ever know. They just appreciated the opportunity to share what God has done in their life, and we were happy to listen.

And I pray to God that we can tell their stories so the world can know what God is doing through them.

So hopefully I’ve intrigued you just enough to keep you interested. Like I said, I haven’t even wrapped my head around it all yet, and our team here in Africa is beginning the video piece that will share their story in a greater way. Stay tuned.

On a lighter note, Africa really is a great place. The people here are friendly, the produce is amazing, and the Congolese people have a genuine curiosity about America. We had an interesting discussion with our guide/translator today about American politics and the race for the Democratic nomination. Even people in Africa are interested in Barak and Hillary—who knew?

--Dustin

Four Little Ducks

I had a moment of real sadness realizing I could give away all my food and spend all my money and there would still be hungry people here! Whatever I give is just a drop in the bucket, so the enemy would like us to forget about trying to help entirely. The lie is, “don’t bother to give at all, it’s just a drop in the bucket.” But the truth is that every drop saves lives, whether it is money for food, medicine or school. And the money given towards God's kingdom here helps save souls.

I gave a 100-franc bill to a Congolese grandma. She seemed happy to get it, but then I was horrified later to find out it was only 10 cents! Are my drops in the bucket this valuable to someone here?

Yesterday I met a translator from the Lendu team. He had to flee with his family through the woods when the conflict here broke out. I asked him how many children he had, and he said five, but one of them died. Now there are only four.

Later that day, I sat reading a nursery rhyme to four-year-old Amooti and seven-year-old Maziga. The rhyme was about a mother duck with five ducklings who go out to swim one day.

“Mother duck says, ‘quack, quack, quack, quack.’
But only four little ducks came back.”

At the end of the rhyme, after all disappear one-by-one, eventually all five ducklings come back. I could not help thinking of that Lendu translator whose little one will never come back to him and his wife.

Yet he bravely continues to serve God and to teach his children to serve Him as well. He is not bitter, and he has forgiven his enemies.
He works on the translation even though the pay is meager and just looks to God to provide.

As he told about his exile, I thought of the people in Hebrews 11:37-38

“They wandered about... being destitute, afflicted, tormented--of whom the world was not worthy. They wandered in deserts and mountains, in dens and caves of the earth.”

I do not feel worthy to be in the presence of this brother, but I thank God I can help support his vision through my job with Wycliffe. This man should never have to ask for anything. Christians like me should be lining up for the honor of supporting his work.

- Borghy

Congo: A Land of Incongruity

Our time here in Bunia in the Democratic Republic of Congo in central Africa has only just begun, but I feel that I have already learned and noticed so much. Bunia sits in the Great Rift Valley in the heart of Africa. It is a fertile land with amazing produce, beautiful rolling hills, and enough natural resources to make this country one of the most successful economies of the modern world--or at least in Africa.

But this success has not arrived. As one turns from the beautiful vistas and scenic landscapes, you noticed homes separated by barbed wire, children running in dark streets at night and and elderly women stopping cars to beg for money.

A few years ago, the conflict that seemed to engulf much of the entire continent reached Bunia and the Congo. Families were separated permanently. Children carried weapons in the streets, and husbands witnessed terrible atrocities against their wives. Lives were utterly destroyed, to put it mildly.

It all started when two tribal groups, the Lendu and the Hema, began fighting. The two groups had lived together for years--centuries even--with only slight disagreements. But this time was different. This time was like no other time before it.

But those years have gone, and peace has returned to the Bunia region. Despite these hardships, Christians in Bunia kept the faith. They continued worshipping amid the fighting, and now the churches are stronger than ever. Many worship together as brothers and sisters, disregarding the fact that they may belong to two different factions that were once killing each other with little attention from the outside world.

We are here to tell their story. It is a story of reconciliation and forgiveness. A story of faithfulness and triumph. A story of hearing God speak their language--their heart language, the language that they think in and feel in and worship in.

This is the story that we are here to share.

But there is so much else going on in Bunia. The Congolese people are addressing the growing AIDS crisis through mother-tongue scripture and meeting cultural challenges head-on. They are educating translators that will carry God’s Word back to their home village so that they, too, may understand. They are returning to normal lives even after “the angels had left them.”

It is an amazing story, and we get to tell it. What an amazing privilege.

What an amazing responsibility.

- Dustin

Beat the Snake with the Stick that you have.

12.3.2008

Today, we arrived in Bunia in the wake of a day of misadventures. Sometimes misadventures are make for great stories, today's didn’t. They simply made for a boring, discouraging time, a day of shuffling from place to place only to find that we need to move to a new place. Our plane was late, and we had to do an additional stop on our flight to Bunia. Borghy’s passport was lost in a room no bigger than 8'x9' for a half an hour (not her fault), our car doesn't fit all of us and all our stuff, there wasn’t enough room for all of us in the hotel we had originally planned to stay in. We thought we could get the rest of us put up at a University, but when we got there, they were out of room. After looking at the interview schedule for the video, we realized things are not structured properly and would we be able to fix that? Which leads me here: staying at the house of the dean of the university. A house which had no power today, or yesterday, but is full of generous people. We are quickly learning that power is much less reliable than we had even thought.

When Sean and I finally dropped our bags in our room, the only thing I could think about was sleep. But after the beckonings of a very insistent hostess, we came out into the sitting room for what turned out to be tea and treats. We talked, but to be honest, I just wanted to leave; I wanted her to know that I wanted to go to bed.

Then Pastor Enosh came over to visit and welcome us to Bunia. We started talking and somehow a traditional Swahili phrase came up:

“You beat the snake with the stick in your hand.”

Meaning, if you stop to find a bigger stick, the snake will probably bite you.

Or as I took it, if you wait until you are rested, healthy, comfortable and feeling at home, the stories won’t be here any more.

That was convicting. There is too much at stake. What is happening in this country, what GOD is doing in this country is far too important to wait for me to feel good or for electricity.

13.3.08

We didn’t have electricity today either, but we got three amazing interviews. Turns out our stick works pretty well.

- Jon

Worshipping With One Arm

On Wednesday I was getting ready for our communication team’s trip to the Democratic Republic of Congo. I searched online for images to show how much people had suffered there during the wars. One picture showed a Congolese mom cradling a nursing baby with one arm. On the other side of her body where an arm should have been, there was just a stub with a bandage on the end. She had lost that arm defending her children from an attacker.

I showed the picture to my boss, Kristie, who is herself a mother, and said, “Look at all she’s gone through, but she’s still giving life. Even with what happened to her, she’s still a mom. They couldn’t take that away from her.” Kristie nodded and said, “She is a mom. You can take her arm, but you can’t take her kids.”

I wonder if I’ll meet ladies in the Congo whose children were taken from them—moms who would’ve gladly given their arms in place of their kids, but who weren't given that choice. I wonder what you do if you lose your arm, or worse, your child. I have no idea. How do you keep worshipping God from there? How do you make an altar at ground zero, when everything you had worth sacrificing is already gone? Maybe the people I meet in the Congo will know, and maybe they’ll teach me.