Terracing, Refugees, and Obamamania!

Yesterday we made our journey up to Kayanza, about a two hour drive to the north from Bujumbura. It’s beautiful country that we made our way through, climbing around 4,000 feet in elevation to get to this province while passing windy roads and bicyclists holding on to the back of trucks so they can make it up the mountains. There are quite a many road fatalities here each year which is not surprising as there are literally thousands of people that line the streets and highways on foot and bikes and motorcycles to reach their destinations. Plus, the drivers here are a bit reckless as they weave back and forth in between cars, ignoring stop signs and the like. It’s no wonder the government doesn’t bother to post any kind of speed limit – there’s no way it would be obeyed or could be enforced.

But this morning we got up early to eat breakfast with our wonderful hosts Steve and his wife Ann, and followed that up with a time of fellowship down the road in the Food for the Hungry (FH) office with the other employees. It’s a daily thing they do, gathering to sing one or two hymns, spending a short time in the Word, and then closing out with prayer. The scripture we were studying turned out to be Esther 4, which the Stone focused on a month ago during the vision series, so we felt like we had a little bit to offer during the discussion time thanks to Matt’s preaching and what we covered in our respective community groups.

Following that time of fellowship we gathered up 500 small seedling trees and were on our way to a village about 30 minutes away. FH is involved in a terracing process that is on land owned by a Baptist church, so it had not yet been planted as almost every square inch of soil is here in this region. Overpopulated by the thousands, even the road sides have coffee plants or banana trees or some kind of crop growing. What this has done is just about completely destroy the ripe, fertile soil that has made this area such a grower’s paradise. There is no process of giving the land a year or two of rest, because most people have so little and they need it to produce something, otherwise they will have nothing to feed themselves or sell on the market. So FH is working on terracing a piece of land to teach these growers how to make better use of the land, as it is almost all sloped and plagued by erosion. Today we were planting seedling trees alongside the locals on the edges of these terraces in order for moisture to be better held and to prevent erosion. We were greeted as “muzungus” but received quite a many “hellos” and “how are you” as most stopped and gazed interestingly at the only white people in the valley. We wonder what they’re thinking when they see us. A large number stick their hands out wanting something, as so many others have come before and trained them to do this by their “good deeds”. Others just stop and stare, and a great majority smile and wave when we greet them.

As we planted the trees alongside our Burundian friends most of the conversations we had revolved around Barack Obama. In fact, many that we have talked to here in this country who don’t know much English mention his name. I think they expect us to know him, and when we say “Yes, Barack Obama” they smile and laugh and sometimes mention his skin color. It’s a big deal here for Africans to see the U.S. elect a black man as president, and it helps us create a connection with them. Even out in such a rural area that we were today where most don’t have electricity or have to walk a distance to get running water, they know of Obama. They don’t know of his tax plans, abortion beliefs, or socialist agenda, but that’s for another time. They know that a country that they see as ruled by the white man now has a leader that is “one of their own”, and that brings them a sense of pride and that maybe they truly aren’t forgotten out in the depths of Africa.**

We also walked a couple miles over to a site where former refugees were now given housing after returning from Tanzania. They fled Burundi during the civil war in the 90’s, running to Rwanda which is just a few skips from where we were today. Problem was, that country was in the middle of genocide as well that saw a far greater number of people killed. So they ended up in Tanzania, and just recently were run out of that land by rebel groups, finding their way back to Burundi. I can’t even begin to imagine what they’ve been through. Living in countries where people would rather see them dead than living because of the way that their nose is shaped or because they were born into poverty and have very little chance of ever escaping it. To us, “making it” is having your 2.4 kids, 1.3 pets, a beautiful wife, a nice home, and white picket fence in the suburbs. To them, “making it” is saving up enough money to buy a couple goats or maybe if they strike it rich a cow. Such a stark contrast in life, and most of it was quite surreal today. You see it in pictures and in videos, but it’s a far greater impact when your standing in the doorway of a home that is made from mud, has minimal sleeping space much less a living room or a place to eat, and there are pits for guinea pigs – which is a delicacy to them and their main source of meat. They have real needs, truly wondering where their next meal is going to come from and hoping that the small plot of land they have been given can begin to produce the crops they intend to grow. So what FH is doing for these people is teaching them how to care for their land and use it most efficiently. One of the problems we have learned with the churches here in Burundi is that there are a lot of folks coming to Christ, but nobody making disciples. They see work and church as two separate things, whereas what needs to be taught is that God is most glorified when we are good stewards of our land that He has created and that He desires to reign supreme in all facets of our live and ultimately we are most satisfied in Him when this is lived out. So that is what FH is trying to do, through the church and through the work they are doing with coffee growers and the planters we were digging alongside with today.

So now we sit back at the house, enjoying the last few moments of sunlight and incredible weather, reflecting on what we’ve learned these past eight days not allowing the experiences and things that have been revealed to us to go to waste. It’s similar to how the people here waste almost nothing. Everything they have to them is precious and is a resource, and may what they have taught us be looked at in a similar manner.

**yesterday, while on the beach with simon and doing a bit of evangelization, we stopped and talked with a group of pot smokers that sit in the same spot every Sunday morning. one of them told travis that he thought God loved those who lived in Europe and America, but not those who live in Africa. He reasoned this because people in Africa grow up with nothing, make a few Burundian francs to pay for food and housing, and then they die – usually relatively unnoticed. Travis did an excellent job explaining to this young man just how great God’s love is and that Jesus came for all and not for just a few. He had never heard of Christ’s love before, and was quite impacted by it.

Food for (the Hungry) thought

Greetings from Kayanza in northern Burundi!

We have arrived at the home of Stephen and Anne Stordy (originally from the UK) and have found this leg of our journey to be absolutely delightful (and we have only been here for 4 hours).
Steve and Anne work for FH (Food for the Hungry) here in Kayanza, assisting the local farmers with their agricultural processes and achieving the most effective commercial sale of their goods. Steve and Anne are experienced consultants (my words, not theirs) in both peace processes and agricultural programs in war torn and impoverished nations; New Guinea, Rwanda, Burundi to name only a few.

While we have had a good bit of fun (see below for some less serious though), I can already say that we will leave the Stordy’s in three days having gained more wisdom than we walked in with. This very pleasant couple, now in their 50’s or 60’s, has the joy of Jesus and has been seasoned with a life of service in difficult circumstance that has produced humility and a unique (and proper?!) view on life that we long to soak up. One discussion over dinner tonight was the struggle they face as to the extent which we are to sacrificially live in light of the extreme poverty that surrounds them; i.e. what “luxury” could/should they/we sacrifice to help the some 80% of those living on less than a dollar a day in the rural parts of Kayanza? Is enjoying a rare glass of wine excess indulgence when it costs $5? We all agreed it was not, though the questions remain.

It was interesting to see that even after serving in NGO’s (Non-governmental Organizations; called Non-Profits in the U.S.) and living in close proximity to poverty for over 20 years, the Stordy’s continue to wrestle with these questions. As followers of Christ, we agreed that our giving is to be a reflection of the condition of our heart, as He does not need our money, but wants our hearts. We also agreed that we struggle with desiring a “New Law” telling me to give XX% away to achieve God’s satisfaction, when this is certainly the last thing in the world that we need, as the law shows us that we cannot achieve God’s level of perfection, and Thanks be to God that Jesus died so we would not have to attain any level of moral code or perfection to be made right with God.
A related observation and blessing the Stordy’s have already noted regarding living and serving in remote areas is the removal from the lies of consumerism and advertising that plague the western world, informing us that we must buy things we do not need (this relief is echoed by Simon).

All of this is Food for (the Hungry) thought, I suppose. Would love your thoughts in the comments or via email. Press on friends, and without sounding trite, don’t live too comfortably in America... there are starving families in Africa. Be thankful.

Today’s (less emotionally heavy) Kayanza happenings:
The Stordy’s female goat is in heat and Mr. Billy Goat is not performing his studly duties... so following our arrival and a few minutes of British tea time, we hopped into the FH Land Cruiser with Steve, three Burundian FH employees, and two lady goats (yes, inside the car with us) and made out for our baby goat making adventure. Following a jaunt through town, we turned onto a dirt road that led quite steeply up the mountain using the necessary four-wheel drive of our tough vehicle and after 5 minutes of cautiously steady, yet bumpy travel, arrived at the top of a mountain complete with a church (somewhat under construction, though being used), a parsonage (forcefully occupied by Burundian soldiers along with the preacher), and a goat house. We did the needful introducing Steve’s lady goats to the new Stud Billy and his home, rounded up the goats we had allowed to escape in the process (the local children which had gathered around found this quite amusing to have a white fellow chasing goats), and hopped back into the car to head back to home for a lovely dinner and chat (see above). The Stordy’s are now reading books, Michael is checking out pictures from our adventures on his computer, and it’s a very peaceful evening. More on the Stordy garden (of Eden), pictures of the trees holding avocados the size of Volkswagen’s, and our tree planting FH adventures tomorrow (Lord willing). Thank you for your prayers. Love ya’ll.

Marathon de la Paix

This morning was the Marathon de la Paix here in Bujumbura, a marathon to celebrate the recent peace agreement here in this country. Dignitaries from all over Africa were on hand, including notables from Rwanda, Uganda, and Tanzania. There were armed guards everywhere, well within the hundreds in and around the stadium where the race was to start and finish. We heard that the final peace talks have been going well and are close to being finalized with one remaining faction, which would end over 15 years of civil unrest here in this small eastern African country. For me, the marathon was to be a culmination of almost five months of training and also a way to represent Gilbert in his home country. I was the only American at the start line, although there were some French and other Europeans with their short shorts and funny accents. Most of them were running the half, some competitively and some just for fun.

The race was to start at 8 a.m., which is towards the latter for starting times you would find in races in the U.S. Here, the sun rises about 5:30, and by 6:30 temperatures are already well into the 70s. The weather is pretty much identical every day. Mid to low 60s when it’s dark, and low to mid 80s when the sun is out. Today was the exception, however, as by 8 the heat was already soaring into the low 90s. With no breeze, it was scorching. And then we sat at the starting line, and baked. For over 90 minutes we waited as different government vehicles drove through and into the stadium. Most crowded around in anticipation of the president’s arrival, while I found shade under a tree off the side of the road and tried to avoid the heat. Finally, after multiple presidents entered into the stadium to make their arrival and their speeches, we were called to the start line. At about 9:30 we were off, 3,000 strong running down one of the main roads in Bujumbura, past the president’s home and onto the highway for a couple miles. As we wove in and around town, we passed hoards of locals that gathered the streets and were yelling “Mizungu” and “Whitey” as I trotted by. One of Gilbert’s family members found us a bike to borrow, so Travis was riding alongside of me, taking pictures and carrying a camelpak. He was able to capture some amazing still photos and a few videos, which we will share upon return to the States.

But as I ran through the streets, hitting between 6:30 and 6:45 for my first seven miles, I felt the heat taking its toll on my body. Nothing like the long runs we did on Saturday mornings in Gilbert’s group, as we would do anywhere between 18 to 24 at a fairly steady pace and hardly even tire. This you could feel. The heat of the pavement burning through my shoes. The sun beating down off the streets of asphalt and sucking the fluids out of our bodies. It wasn’t even five miles into the race when we saw the first casualty. A runner collapsed on the side of the road, sprawled across the street as people rushed over to see what had happened. It was reminiscent of when I ran Chicago back in the fall of ’07, except it didn’t turn into a war zone until around mile 16 or 17. That day the heat was in the low 80’s with humidity soaring – quite the opposite of ideal conditions. But today felt like a mid-afternoon in August in Austin, Texas, as it is almost always humid in this city but rarely so hot. Around mile 7.5 I told Travis we were probably going to cut the marathon and go for the half. At the beginning of race I told him this was the craziest thing I had ever done. That quickly turned into the race becoming potentially one of the dumbest things I could ever do. So at mile 8.5 with my watch reading 47 minutes I stopped, marking the first race I have ever dropped of. Disappointed, no doubt, but I had no desire of feeling the effects of attempting a sub-3 hour marathon in these conditions. We still have a week here left in Burundi, and next week is going to be a lot of manual labor and working in the upcountry. I’m no good for that if I can’t walk. Tonight we are attending a celebration for the race put on by the local brewery, where there are supposed to be many dignitaries, including the Minister of Sports for Burundi and many other race officials. It will be a great time to talk about Gilbert, talk about the country, and see what role we might be able to play in the area of sports and recreation.

For now, we are enjoying some of the local fish and pineapple juice. In Kirundi it’s called ananas, and it is absolutely amazing! Shortly we are meeting up with our friend Simon to head out to the Bujumbura beach, as it is another opportunity to spend some time with him and learn more about what he and his family are doing here in this country.

To God be the glory for bringing peace to this country after so many years of war and so many deaths. Today was a celebration of that, and although selfishly my race didn’t go as planned, thousands of people came out from all across Africa to join in on the movement here in Burundi both as runners and as spectators. There are so many who want the country to return to what it once was, and this morning we got to witness what it looks like to have thousands cheering and smiling and enjoying the festivities. We have met quite a few people here who love Jesus and give Him praise, but there is still much to be done and a long road ahead to finish the work He has started. We’re grateful that God has called us to be at least a small part of that, and are excited to see what is in store for the coming week.

bonjour, mi amigo!

Greetings from the only coffee shop with wifi in Burundi! The western way of life continues to spread its vast reach into the valleys of Africa! Yesterday we came here for a few minutes and had lunch and got another lesson in the locals trying to take advantage of us. By an “honest” mistake from the guy who took our order, there was an extra 2,000 Burundian Francs added on to our bill, which made the total 15,500 instead of 13,500, or roughly 13 U.S. dollars instead of 11. Not too much of a difference in the States, but to here that’s a lot, especially as a worker in a restaurant. We left it for them as their tip, but look forward to many more times of trying to be squeezed of a few extra BF. There was another American man in the coffee shop (imagine that, Americans meeting at a pseudo-Starbucks in Africa!) who had dealt with these experiences many times. He’s gotten use to them, but never pays. He also informed us that nobody tips here in Burundi, so they are always very, very appreciative when you leave them a little extra. We’ve been doing this everywhere we have eaten.

Yesterday we walked around Bujumbura for about 8 hours, doing lots of photography so that others may visually see both the beauty and the brokenness of this country. But we spoke to many, many locals, some who knew English and some who didn’t. Every time we talked with them about Jesus, they wanted to know what church we went to in the States. I, personally, love these kinds of questions because it opens up a door to explain a bit of my faith. You get all kinds of confused looks when you tell them that you follow Jesus and not a denomination, then explaining that you live by the Bible and the example that Christ gave us. Some remain puzzled by this, and others are intrigued. But it opened many doors today to talk with people about Jesus and why we are in Burundi. The presence of a large number of “muzungus” in Burundi for the past couple decades leads many to ask what our purpose is in the country. Around the 60’s the Belgians pulled out and it wasn’t until after they (the Belgians, who colonized this region) implemented the Hutu and Tutsi designations that the mass killing of one another began in some of these eastern African countries. So we tell the people we talk with that we love their country and think it’s beautiful and we love them and we come as brothers in Christ to encourage and serve. Not one that we’ve talked to has been disappointed by this answer.

One funny thing that has been happening over the past couple days is Travis’s tendency to revert back to Spanish when trying to speak in French. We went without our translator today to travel around the city – which worked out fine and we were able to make conversation with most everyone – so as we would start talking in French, my dear friend Travis would throw in the occasional “basura” or “salud” or “si” or “hola”. It’s quite amusing to hear, and it always provides for a puzzled look on the face of the person we are talking with. Today the language barrier was almost non-existent, and it was great to get out on our own and work our way through conversations. It’s by nothing but the grace of God that we are able to interact with so many, and we’re excited about getting even deeper into the language and with the Burundians over the remaining days of our journey here in His country.

Iyo Ngwe

Do you speaka da English?

A quick post re: Day Three in Bujumbura

As noted by Michael in the previous post, we are now in a new "compound" as we have moved out of the house that we, thank the Lord, found the day that we got here. We'll be in the compound (which was recommended by our new friend Simon) until we leave for Kayanza on Sunday to assist with Food for the Hungary in the field.

Today we woke early in order to chat with folks back in the states before they went to bed (we're 8 hours ahead of the majority of you), Michael went for a run to prepare for the inaugural Burundi marathon on Sunday, and we then set out without our translator to see the city and the people, to locate another new friend Meg (a missionary from Illinois who works with Simon) and find internet.

Through our walks around the city and surrounding area, it was made even more clear as we walked around that covetousness is as visibly rampant here as it is in the U.S., if not even more so. As we walk around with our cameras displayed, a large number of eyes lock gaze with our lenses and scowl as we pass, looking at the camera as if it were made of gold.

It would be wrong to paint a grim picture of these people as whole however, as they are lovely and kind and pleasant though some are struggling with materialism (of which there is no end; as we continue to covet in the States, though we have many more of the world's resources). As we pass farmers along the dirt roads, the women wave, grab their children and point while smiling. The men are slightly more skeptical, though the vast majority will return a smile and a wave when first offered by us.

Lastly (before we run out of battery), this is a beautiful nation. Our friend Meg accurately noted that if the West had not been discovered, this would certainly be a five-star resort filled oasis; mountains surround Bujumbura and Lake Tanganika with a mild tropical climate that is comparable to Hawaii.

Pray for the Kingdom of God to come to these people's lives. Much love.

Noteworthy:

• Simon (previously noted) has two dogs: Stark and Naked. British humor anyone?
  
• I have been told by our translator that I resemble Jesus and/or a Japanese person.
• After being somewhat awkward and struggling through broken French to buy water from a man on the road today, he asked us (with a puzzled look and equally broken lingusitics) "Do you speaka English?" Hi, we're those Amercians.
  

Life in Burundi

It’s been quite the experience these first two days here in Burundi. It’s only 6 in the evening and I’m just about at the end of my energy level because of all the talking and negotiating we’ve had to do. We have learned very quickly that you have to negotiate for everything, and you can trust no one. Even our translator, who seems to love Jesus passionately and is very open with us, we’re not sure if we can fully trust. But I guess that’s what you get when you’re white and travel to an African country who for so many years recently was plagued by civil war and distrust in one another. It’s just that it takes so long to get anything done here. On Monday, for us to exchange our money into Burundian Francs, it took over an hour and negotiating with several different people, and even then we still did not get market price. One U.S. dollar is worth approximately 1,250 Burundian Francs, but that’s only if you have a bill from the year 2003 or later. If you have anything before, you’re lucky to get 1,150. It’s hard to fathom, seeing as in the States we use pennies from the 60’s, but that’s just the way it is here. Even going to different banks, as we tried to do, you have to negotiate. We quickly learned that money is king, and since we are white they all look at us as the rich people and we have lots of money so they will try many ways to take advantage of us.

I thought coming here that we might be more welcomed than we have been by the locals. But even when we have given out different things we’re lucky to get a handshake. For example, today we gave out a pair of shoes and a shirt that were a gift from a friend in Austin to a family member here, and when he came to the house he gave no thank you, and instead asked for a plastic bag to put them in. When we said we didn’t have one, he gave a disgusted look, put the stuff to the side, and began talking with our translator. Shortly thereafter he left the house to return to work, no “thanks” or “nice to meet you”, it’s only “what did you bring me and how much do I get”.

But some people have been extremely kind and helpful during our short time here. Gilbert’s cousin picked us up at the airport, and when there were problems with the house he originally had set up for us, he did all that he could to find us a new place and it worked out well. (By problems, I mean that there was a person currently renting who had said they would be out last Sunday, but never left. Now they’re saying they will be there until at least Saturday, but maybe longer. As you can see, there are frustrations in this when you were supposed to have a living arrangement in place.) He drove us around town showing us different places, helped us find internet even though it was already 10 in the evening and he had work the next morning, and took us to his house and we sat in the backyard and drank (they drank beer, I had Coke!) and talked about our visit to Burundi.

On Monday we met with Yves, the man in charge for Food for the Hungry in this region. We talked about the water well that the Gazelle Foundation is trying to put the finishing touches on and we discussed other things that they are doing here in the country. One of my questions was if they partnered with other organizations here, or if they did a lot of things on their own. As we were walking around Bujumbura I saw all different kinds of relief services ranging from Catholic Aid to World Vision to FH to Cordaid, but unfortunately it seems as if many of these groups go at it alone rather than teaming up with each other. Talking with Yves, he told me how many of them have different beliefs and because of that it makes it challenging to partner with each other. One would think that if the common goal is to help the people of Burundi then that would be enough, but apparently that is not the case.

After meeting with Yves, we went over to a man named Simon’s for dinner. He has lived here in Burundi for 10 years, and his wife Lizzie moved in 2004 after they got married. They head up what’s called Great Lakes Outreach (www.greatlakesoutreach.org), and he has written an incredibly thought provoking book about what it means to passionately live out the Gospel. We got to play with their kids for a while and then Lizzie made us a home cooked meal as we sat at the table and discussed why were are in the country and what they are doing and some of the struggles they face. One thing that really stuck with me was that even though he has been here 10 years, he still cannot go to the market to buy things. This is because he is white and there’s no chance of him getting a fair price, so they send their cook to get things for them. (I will get to the cook part in a few minutes.) So he told us about a lot of the independence you give up to live here, that you have to be willing to let go of quite a bit. But he also talked about how great it is to raise their kids in this country. There is no western mentality here, there are no magazines or billboards that promote sex or sexual images, and there is just a lot of other things that we see as essential that really aren’t that necessary. So that really got me thinking of what would you give up for the gospel, which I am compiling a list of during our days and we’ll see how it turns out. Some of that includes air conditioning, independence, any semblance of government support through police, health care, etc., and cable television. They also have to pay for their internet by the minute, so not very much time is spent on the computer.

But what we have also learned is almost everybody has a local who works at their house. Even the lower class – if they own a house – has someone who washes and cooks and cleans for them, usually to the tune of $20-$30 per month. Yes, that’s all they make in a month. The poverty issue has been really eye opening, and we haven’t even been to the upcountry yet where it is supposed to be even worse. So this person goes to the market, cooks the food, is there at the house 24/7. If you have 2 employed, which many do, then one usually sleeps outside the front gate to keep watch. Coming from America and our history of oppression and racism, it’s been a weird adjustment having men serving us like this. But it’s a normal thing here, and it’s not that they are any lesser of human beings, it’s a way to support them and give them work because there are not that many available jobs here for people to earn a living.

I have more thoughts and could go on for quite some time, but dinner is about to be served and we could not miss out on the incredible African dishes we have been blessed with since our arrival!

We thank you for your prayers, and they will most certainly be needed over the remaining time as we are about to begin to really get our hands dirty here in the capital city and next week out in the rural areas.

Iyo Ngwe

Here, Safe, Puffed

Hey there praying friends...

A quick update to inform you all that we are here, we are safe, and we are puffed*.

We are using the internet of and are just moments away from dinner with Simon Guillebaud and his wife Lizzie (Michael has just read Zach his son a bedtime story and it's now grown-up time).

Keep praying! More of a detailed update when we have time (and internet).

*Earlier, as Simon was showing us the conference center seen on his website, he asked his son, noticably out of breath, if he was "puffed." And so are we from our miles of walking. Cheers.