Thoughts and Stories from my Seldom Boring Life

A Day in My Life

2011-11-08T11:40:00.000-08:00

Woke up early yesterday because I had a meeting across town.

Put on dressy clothes.

Waited for 20 minutes at the main street for an empty seat in the small sedans that serve as public transport in Santo Domingo (7 people in a 1987 Toyota Corolla is a typical "carro publico")

After finally finding an available car, began the journey with a not-small women nearly on my lap.

Traffic made the 10 minute trip take over 30 minutes.

Switched to another carro publico which would take me close to the meeting location.

Rode said car for 10 minutes (no large ladies on my lap this time).

Got off bus and began to walk to meeting location.

Walked for 20 minutes.

Arrived, just on time, drenched in sweat.

Waited for 45 minutes for the person to see me.

"How can I help you?" She asks.

I tell her.

"Well, I don't really know about that, but this person at a different place across the city can maybe help you" she responds.

I press for more info...surely she knows something that would be helpful.

Nope, nothing.

I'm out in under 10 minutes.

Begin the 1 hour crammed bus/walking trek back home so I can email this other guy to try to talk to him.

You win some, you lose some!

A carro publico in Santo Domingo

Some Lessons Learned

2011-10-10T11:17:00.000-07:00

A master networker/researcher I am not, but I have learned a thing or two during my short time in Santo Domingo...

•Don’t be afraid to ask for a favor. I showed up in Santo Domingo with very few contacts, however, I know people who know people who know people. Through these long chains of connections I’ve been able to speak with some of the most important players in the sector I am investigating. The key is simply to ask for some help by those original contacts and run with it from there.

•Make friends however you can. For example: I recently made a really important contact while meeting with a group of “couchsurfers” in a bar.

•Learn to navigate the Public Transport System. When conducting research for a yet-to-be-established initiative with an almost non-existent budget, working cheaply is essential. It’s taken some time and a concentrated effort, but I have learned to navigate the public transport system of Santo Domingo, saving me plenty of money that would have otherwise gone towards taxis.

•Dress to impress. My current reality is that I am very obviously a foreigner, I am young, and I speak Spanish more like a street vendor than an academic or business professional. In light of this, I have to do everything I can to make myself look credible. Dressing like a competent professional is part of this effort. How much does wearing slacks and a nice shirt actually help build credibility? I can’t be sure, but I am certain that it doesn’t hurt.

•Be confident, but honest. In the midst of meeting a contact, shyness and insecurity are not what people want to see. It is important that I am confident that my project will work, and capable of making it happen. However, being honest about the status of the project, the difficulties faced, the areas of uncertainty, is necessary and helpful—if you’re talking to powerful people, they’ve gotten to that position because they are smart and motivated…let them understand your difficulties and help to come up with potential solutions.

The Networking Game

2011-09-18T13:29:00.000-07:00

I’m here in the Dominican Republic to figure out how to best provide IT education services to the population. The demand is there, the technology exists, but access to services is lacking. Why? How do we fix the problem? Can we provide quality services cheaply enough for poorer people to afford, but still be sustainable? My mission is to find answers to these questions and to formulate an action plan accordingly.

At the moment, finding these answers is about talking to the right people in the right places and thus I’m earnestly involving myself in the networking game. In week 1 of the game I’ve found myself in the office of the executive director of a prominent university, speaking with staff of a government commission, in conversation with field directors of several NGOs, and having coffee with several university professors. These meetings have led to further contacts and future meetings, which will in turn lead to even more contacts and meetings. All will form part of the equation which leads to the final plan.

While the answers are still not quite clear, there is, already, a light forming at the end of the tunnel. My mind is spinning with ideas and possibilities. How will the puzzle pieces swirling around my brain form into a clear picture and what will that picture be? We shall see…

Misisi

2009-07-03T02:31:00.000-07:00

Greetings loyal readers (I think we're up to 15 professed readers of this blog, although the "followers" list to the right only says 5),

Below is a report about a new program we've been working on in Misisi, a slum in Lusaka. This place really is as bad as described (trust me, I wrote it)

Misisi Compound is notoriously known as the worst and most neglected slum in Lusaka. With one hundred thousand inhabitants and no public schools, police stations, or health clinics, this perception appears quite accurate. There are no sewage systems to speak of. Those residents that are not fortunate enough to have a pit latrine close to home instead use the ponds that are scattered throughout the compound. These mini ‘lakes’, often with the foundations of houses lining the edges, have small outhouses built above them so that waste conveniently drops directly into the water below. This lack of proper hygiene, coupled with the overwhelming HIV/AIDS problem in the country, has led to in a high proportion of sicknesses and deaths, resulting in scores of orphans. Some of these orphans have a grandparent or other relative that tries to care for them, even though many of them barely able to care for themselves, but even this is not always an option. Up to one thousand children in Misisi live in “child headed families” - orphaned brothers and sisters who depend only on each other for survival.
Because there are no government schools in the area, a system of sixteen community-run “schools” has been developed for those students who can’t afford private schooling and are unable to travel to those schools further away. These schools are run only with sporadic, small grants from the Ministry of Education, meaning that all teachers are unpaid and facilities and materials are incredibly insufficient. A two hundred and eighty student school can be housed in a three by six meter structure, with the students coming to class in two to three hour increments throughout the day.
The Chairman of the Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVC) Committee from Misisi summed up the situation facing his compound: “There are many orphans here, but in reality, we are all orphans. The OVC Committee, the schools, the families - we are forgotten. The government and the NGOs have all abandoned us. We are alone.”

Kids Alive’s “Families Together” Program in Misisi
Often in the struggle to care for the thousands of orphans in Zambia, children are placed in an orphanage program despite having a loving family member who wants to care for them. This is because this guardian is simply unable to meet the needs of the child due to a lack of resources. Many aging grandmothers are caring for their orphaned grandchildren with little or no money, so, instead of watching the children suffer, they search for a person or program that can adequately meet the child’s needs.
Kids Alive’s “Families Together” program in Misisi seeks to combat this problem through providing a unique and thoroughly holistic model of care. By merging the Care Center model that has been established successfully in several Kids Alive fields with a more ‘family-based focus’, our program aims to provide optimum benefit to the orphans and vulnerable children within Misisi Compound. Our goal is to enable and empower these children’s guardians so that the children can stay at home, rather than enter the already overcrowded orphanage system in Zambia. The plan is to begin modestly, with 25 children from the most dire of circumstances supported, but with the goal of expanding as funding, staffing, and facilities allow.
This program will have a multi-faceted approach in order to holistically meet the needs of the selected children. The child will receive a daily meal, medical care, clothing and the supplies needed for school attendance, daily tutoring, spiritual and emotional encouragement, and opportunities to interact with other students. There will also be an intensive focus on supporting the family of the child in order to enable them to play an active role in establishing a stable, positive, and healthy environment for the child to grow up in. These needs will be met through providing clothing and foodstuffs for the family, loans or grants that can be used by guardians for training or income-generating activities, or repairing or improving their homes. This program will also target the child-headed families by providing basic needs so that the oldest brothers and sisters can return to school instead of having to work odd jobs in order to feed their younger siblings.
Please pray for this exciting new program as it develops – that it will make an enormous difference in the lives of needy children and their families in this desperately poor part of Zambia!

Scenes from Misisi:

compassion

2009-06-22T12:16:00.000-07:00

I’m not a compassionate person. This might seem an odd statement considering my current profession, but it’s often true. Lately at least, my compassionate side has been hiding away in the far reaches of my soul. I’ve been too caught up in the business side of saving the world. Developing project plans, dealing with unruly employees, fighting against the view that due to my white skin I have piles of dollars pouring out of all bodily orifices, etc. Often, though, it only takes a small story, experience, or scene of suffering to jolt me back into reality and get my heart juices flowing. Usually, as I see, touch, hear, and smell poverty on a regular basis, my own experiences suffice to give me that periodic reminder, but today it came from the story a friend relayed to me.

Here is what happened:

The doctors and nurses are striking in Zambia, fighting for higher salaries. Strikes can be painful, I guess that’s the point, as pain often brings forth action. In this case, however, those that end up suffering have nothing to do with the disagreement. When there are no doctors and nurses, it’s the common public who reap the consequences. This brings us to Ruthie, a beautiful 4-year-old with asthma. Ruthie is lucky in that both her parents are alive, but they are poor, very poor. Just one of the thousands of families struggling to survive in the slums of Lusaka, the Zambian capital. Ruthie had an asthma attack last week, so her mother rushed her to the closest clinic. No nurses, no doctors, no one to help. They moved on to the next clinic, same story. She used precious resources to hire a taxi in order to find a clinic with the medical personal to help her little girl. Seven clinics in all they visited, none could offer any help. On their way to number eight, Ruthie died, in the arms of her hysterical mother, in the back of a cab, of an easily treatable condition.

This should not have happened.

Someone is to blame.

Is it the doctors and nurses, or the government, both sides too caught up in the fatness of their wallets to bother themselves with the suffering of those they are responsible to help? Or maybe it’s the western countries, whose corporate bailout packages reach the trillions of dollars, a tiny percentage of which could go to increase salaries for medical personal in developing nations, satisfying those workers. In the end, the problem is inside all of us. It’s selfishness. Lack of compassion. It’s thinking too much about our own well-being and not enough about that of others. The question I ask myself now is what can I do to keep a scenario like this from happening again. How many Ruthies have died because of my self-centered attitude, my lack of compassion? I don’t have an excuse, I can’t plead ignorance. I see suffering every day. The same story, with different characters and slight plot variations repeats itself over and over and over, right in front of my eyes. Yet I am so often unbothered, or uncaring. I must do more. I must change my attitude. I must live differently. Someones life may depend on it.

homelessness

2009-04-24T01:57:00.000-07:00

I'm learning that there are various states of homelessness. For example, there are your classic homeless folks, the panhandlers in big cities, sleeping under cardboard boxes and filling soup kitchens. I currently interact with homeless street boys, those that sleep wherever they fall, usually high on glue or drunk on cheap liquor sold in plastic bags. There are also refugees, chased out of their land by one threat or another and forced to live at the mercy of their new hosts and the international organizations who attempt to keep them alive. And then there is me, a slightly higher class of homelessness, maybe, but still homeless nonetheless. I'm now completing my 4th month of being a vagabond, rarely staying in one place more than a week or two. I left North Sudan in late December with a weeks worth of shirts and underwear and a few pairs of pants and am still making due with that wardrobe, the resulting wear and tear pulling me closer and closer to looking like the rest of my homeless brothers. I've slept in no fewer than 16 different homes, apartments, hotels, and hostels since leaving Khartoum. To take a further step back, since the beginning of 2008, I've lived (staying at least one month) in 6 countries.

Am I complaining? Certainly not. This sort of priviledged homelessness that I "endure" can only be dreamt of by most people. I can say, however, that it's time to at least gain some control of this nomadic lifestyle. I could use a home base of sorts that I can go back to. Maybe a place that has a closet, so that at least occasionally, I can unpack my suitcase. These might be petty requests--when considering the street children and refugees that I see on a daily basis, they certainly are--but perhaps I'm just not strong enough to be homeless. An interesting thought: to be able to survive a homeless life, you must be either completely crazy, or incredibly strongminded. Apparantly I'm neither, although I feel like I'm moving closer to the crazy side every day. In fact, if within the next year you stumble across a smelly, sunburned white guy with an afro and bushy red beard sleeping on a park bench with the sports page of the local newspaper as a blanket, remember this message and buy the guy (me)some coffee, or fried chicken, and try to understand as he mumbles to you in an odd combination of English, Arabic, and Spanish about his prior life as an African nomad trying to save the world.

what I might look like after a few more months of homelessness...be on the lookout for this guy if I go missing:

Christmas thoughts (a few weeks late)

2009-01-10T04:45:00.000-08:00

An important part of surviving the type of life I find myself in is gaining
the ability to have gladness in the daily successes and constant joys, while
being surrounded by seemingly hopeless images and suffocating scenes of
despair. I must learn to celebrate with little boys who have been given
hope, to sing and dance with joy, as they do, all the while knowing that
outside the gate is the dirty 9-year-old refugee girl with yellow hair from
malnutrition, living in a tent because her house was torn down, who can't go
to school because she has to care for her younger siblings while her mother
sells tea in the market. It's a hard line to follow, to laugh and smile in
the presence of certain children, to truly experience their joy, and then
later to cry and curse in frustration of my own limitations to help others.
I don't wish to dampen your Christmas spirit with these thoughts, but rather
to help you understand what the reality of my life is. I also write to say
that despite the unrelenting scenes poverty that fill my every day, joy and
happiness were in abundance for me this Christmas season. I celebrated this
Christmas at a children's home located in a refugee camp. I spent that
night sleeping outside, surrounded by boys who have been given a chance, a
chance to receive food, an education, love, and truth. I managed to put
aside what was happening outside the walls of the compound and be joyful
that at least these 15 boys had a happy Christmas and were sleeping soundly,
with full bellies, dreaming of how to play with the few new toys we were
able to purchase. Happy, smiling kids on Christmas is always beautiful and
joyful and I was blessed to experience it in full this year.

Ps. I almost forgot to mention that I am temporarily (hopefully) leaving
Sudan in a few days. My current visa is expiring, so I must leave the
country while I wait on the new one to come. I will fly to Kenya on the
30th , where I will spend 2 weeks helping out in the Kids Alive programs
there. After this, I will visit our one program in South Sudan (it operates
on a different visa system). The current plan is to stay in South Sudan
until my new visa for the north comes through, which could take a few weeks,
or a few months.

Some pictures

2008-11-07T04:14:00.000-08:00

Winter!

2008-11-02T02:16:00.000-08:00

Winter has arrived! The weather has turned and Khartoum is now a much more pleasant place to live. The daytime temperatures are still in the high 90’s, but with a lack of humidity here in the desert, 98 degrees is actually quite comfortable. For weeks the Sudanese had been telling me that winter was coming, so I'm happy to say that it is finally here.

communion in a haboob

2008-10-05T11:00:00.000-07:00

What's a haboob? A haboob is what we call the cloud of dust that races in from the desert in front of an ensuing rain shower. Khartoum is famous for them.

What do I mean by communion in a haboob? Well, I mean that I took communion in a haboob. I've been attending an English speaking, international church on Sunday evenings. The church meets in a 3-sided building with chairs overflowing out the back. I always sit in the back because it gets a better breeze, an important aspect to consider when you live in a state of perpetual sweatiness. This evening, as the pastor was finishing up his sermon and transitioning into the time to take communion, someone sitting next to me said, "look behind you." I turned around to see an enormous, brown, seemingly impenetrable cloud advancing on our location. "Haboob," my friend whispered quietly as she pulled out a scarf to cover her face. I had heard of the famous khartoum haboobs before arriving and had seen a few baby examples, but this giant was my first "real" experience, my first Daddy haboob. I assumed, considering the lack of 4 walls and a ceiling, that we would cancel the rest of the service and everyone would run frantically to their vehicles to escape the oncoming onslaught of sand, but to my surprise, no one moved. As the cloud engulfed us, stinging our eyes, dirtying our songbooks, whipping our hair (those of us that have it), and making our skin instantly tan (a first for me), we carried on with the communion service, partaking of the gritty bread and dust-flavored juice, in the most Sudanese of environments, the middle of a haboob.

Here are a few examples of what a haboob looks like as it advances on the city and a view from the middle of the cloud.

the last 2 weeks

2008-09-20T07:46:00.001-07:00

A quick update of what I’ve been doing these last 2 weeks…My boss, Francis, finally did arrive. Unfortunately, he only stayed for 6 days before heading off to America to speak in churches and raise money. In the few days he was here, however, we had a good time together visiting the 3 program sites around Khartoum and gaining a better understanding of what Kids Alive-Sudan is all about. In reality, though, I’m still struggling to find my place in the midst of the work here and to fill my schedule with productive activities. A major hindrance is my lack of ability to speak Arabic, which keeps me from most activities with the children, unless I have someone to translate. I can hang out and play, but not much really beneficial I can do for now. I will be in Arabic class 3 times a week, so hopefully it won’t be too long before I am able to communicate enough to find more productive ways to be involved. In the meantime, I’ll probably end up helping teach some English classes. I’m not particularly fond of teaching English, but it’s such an important tool for the children and is one of the few areas where I can be useful at this point. The importance of English is increased due to the fact that most children in our programs are originally from the south of the country, whose official language is now English. So, if they ever return to their true home, being able to speak English will be essential.

I am also helping out with administrative tasks as much as I can. The programs here are underfunded, with the global rise in food prices hitting especially hard (food prices have doubled this year), so I am working on developing contacts both inside and outside of Sudan who can help meet the needs of our children. I’m also working hard to improve the child sponsorship program (this was my job in the Dominican Republic), which will be essential in gaining more funding through Kids Alive. Hopefully Francis will come back from America with a pile of new sponsors and that program will be up and running.

So, things are generally still a little slower than I would prefer, but each day brings new experiences and challenges. I’m in more of a learning, observing mode now, which isn’t always fun, but it’s good and it’s important.

I posted some pictures below.

Until next time…

Francis with some boys

Proudly displaying their artwork

a future model in the making???

Where the boys sleep

update from sudan

2008-09-05T09:24:00.000-07:00

I made my mind up to go into this new adventure with no preconceptions, with no picture in my head of how things would work. I came into Sudan with no expectations, it’s a good thing because the last week has been outside of any scenario I could have predicted.

Let’s take a step back…After rushing back to Lebanon from Syria upon hearing that my visa for Sudan had been granted, I spent a few days packing, saying goodbye to friends, and attempting to organize travel details, then began my journey. The first hour of the trip was the most harrowing of all. I arranged for a taxi to pick me up from the orphanage in Lebanon at 2 am. I loaded my bags and settled into the front seat of the taxi (I was sweating profusely from hauling my bags to the road and needed to be as close to the AC as possible), and we headed towards the airport. As we began the descent from our mountain suburb into the heart of Beirut, I noticed that the driver was moving slowly, too slowly, especially considering the empty late-night roads. It didn’t take long to realize that he was either drunk, high, had not slept in 4 days, or some combination of the 3. He was dozing off, driving in the middle of road as far from the edges as possible, and slowing to a crawl for every curve and passing car. I briefly considered demanding to be let out, but the prospect of standing on the side of the road, at 2 am, with 2 suitcases, a carry-on, and a backpack did not strike me as particularly appealing, or any safer than my current situation, so I stuck it out. For the duration of the 45 minute trip that should have been 20, I gave directions, and pointed out any upcoming hazards, and did my best to keep the driver awake. Whenever the conversation lulled, his eyes would begin to get heavy and so, with death in a fiery crash becoming all too likely, I would have to jump back in with some question about his family, the political situation in Lebanon, the problems of America, anything to keep his mind functioning and his eyes open. At last, after much prayer and several near-death experiences, we arrived at the airport.

Now began the fun part, getting myself onto an already overbooked flight to Abu Dhabi. Thankfully, I have managed to make some friends in the right places, one of which, a flight attendant with the airline, called the captain and convinced him to allow me to sit in the extra jumpseat (where the flight attendants sit during take-off and landing.) Had I not been able get on, I might still be in Beirut now, as all flights were overbooked for the next 10 days.

After the rather uncomfortable 3-hour flight to Abu Dhabi, I discovered that the next available flight to Khartoum was 42 hours away. Oh yes, I forgot to mention a seemingly unimportant detail. Francis, the director of our programs in Sudan (my boss and the only person I know in the country), was in Egypt when I left Lebanon, retrieving a visa for a month-long fundraising trip to the US. No problem though, as I was stuck in Abu Dhabi for a few days, giving him enough time to return to Sudan before I arrived. Moving on...after a night in a hotel, my last good American meal (at Fuddruckers…yes, there is Fuddruckers in Abu Dhabi…who knew? They even have fountain sodas and free refills), and some time with friends, the hour came to catch my flight to Khartoum. The boss was still stuck in Cairo, but would surely be back by the next day.

I arrived in Khartoum early Sunday morning and after an hour or 2 of waiting in lines get the correct visas and stamps, I officially entered Sudan and found the driver that was sent to take me to the hotel where I would sleep and wait for my boss to contact me. After a day of waiting at the hotel, Francis was still not back, so the travel agency that worked on my visa arranged for a taxi to take me to my long term living arrangement, a guesthouse run by SIM. I arrived at the guesthouse Monday afternoon, and am currently, on Friday evening, still waiting on Francis to return from Egypt. His passport is stuck at the American Embassy and he can’t leave until he gets it back. What was supposed to be a quick 2-day trip has turned into a 2-week fiasco.

The circumstances of my arrival have not been ideal, but as I said at the beginning of this note, I came to Sudan with no expectations, a good thing because I certainly would not have expected my first week to be filled with boredom and waiting. There have been some positives…I am now very well rested after a few days of travel with 2 overnight flights. I was able to visit the main orphanage yesterday to meet the staff and the kids and gain an understanding of what my work environment will look like. I have also come into contact with some other Americans living and working in the area where I live. This has been a welcome surprise. I was even able to help a new friend teach an English class in a very poor area, a welcome change from the upper-class neighborhood where the guesthouse is located.

So, here I am. After some interesting travels, my new life in Sudan has gotten off to an unexpectedly slow start, but I’m in this for the long haul, so while a week of inactivity might be frustrating, it’s far from disastrous. At least I didn’t die with my drunken taxi driver in Beirut.

In Khartoum

2008-08-31T04:01:00.000-07:00

I made it.

half way there

2008-08-30T03:09:00.000-07:00

Well, it took a minor miracle, but I made it out of Beirut. Now I'm in Abu Dhabi and hope to fly to Khartoum at 1am Sunday morning.

Going to Sudan!!!

2008-08-27T10:26:00.000-07:00

Finally, the long awaited visa has arrived and I will be on my way to Sudan soon. Actually, the visa came in the day after I left for Syria, but there was no internet access where I was visiting in rural Syria, so I didn't find out until I returned to Damascus on Sunday.
I'm back in Lebanon now and plan on heading to leaving for Sudan on early Friday morning. Unfortunately for me, Friday also marks the start of Ramadan, a heavy travel period in this part of the world, and definitely not the best time to be flying standby. All of the flights for the next week and a half are overbooked, so I'll just show up at the airport and hope that some folks cancel at the last minute.

I'll post some reflections on my trip to Syria soon.

...

2008-08-16T05:54:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm still in Lebanon, awaiting that elusive piece of paper that allows me to enter Sudan. There is no current news on if the visa will come soon or not...could be tomorrow, next month, or next year. In the meantime, I'm going to spend a week in Syria with my friend, Brent. We'll have a night or 2 in Damascus, then go on the home of his extended family for the remainder of the trip. This will be a good chance to learn more about the Arab/Syrian culture, as well as practice my Arabic, as English speakers will be few and far between.

I'll post pictures and recount any stories I deem worthy of your time upon my return to Lebanon.

good news

2008-07-31T23:55:00.000-07:00

We got word from the agency working on my visa that the gov't of Sudan recently issued visas for several Americans that began the application process before me. How does this affect me? It shows that there are people receiving visas to enter the country... Americans even. This means that it's not impossible for me to get in, it's just a matter of waiting. Good news indeed!

missing head lice

2008-07-27T01:30:00.000-07:00

I was having a conversation with some friends yesterday and the somehow the topic turned to lice. I began to recount stories about some of the many heads I've seen that were absolutely teeming with the little devils. I remembered the "dias de los piojos" (days of the lice), when we would form an assembly line of head washing in order to treat as many kids as possible in one day. I would show up in my swimsuit and flipflops, with my head recently shaved to avoid any unwanted inhabitants of my own, and shampoo, rinse, and comb out the dead and the eggs for hours. I told them about heads with thousands of lice, among other crawling creatures, in which 5 washings still wouldn't completely eliminate the infestation and about shaving boys' tangled messes of dirty, living hair in the same anti-louse technique that I employ myself. I explained the joy I've experienced that few can understand when a deloused, freshly sheared 6-year-old boy comes the next day to school with a huge smile on his face and more bounce in his step because for the first time in months, he slept the entire night without waking up once to scratch his itchy head. But also the experience of despair in knowing that in most cases, the heads of these children would be re-infested within a few weeks of sleeping on the same sheets with their 4 siblings that we weren't able to treat and that their parents would do nothing about it.

This conversation reminded me that I miss head lice. I miss seeing a need as easily treatable as this and being able to meet it, to at least offer a few days of better rest for a tired, hungry, dirty, neglected child. I realized more than ever that I miss poverty and miss playing my part to help alleviate it. There is nothing I can do to make the gov't of Sudan give me a visa, so I wait impatiently to get back to work, back to the life I am called to live. Having spent over 3 months surrounded by relative luxury, I've been forgetting what it's like, poverty. I don't want to forget. I'm thankful that this innocent conversation served as a reminder, brought me back to the reality of endless bouts with headlice that is life for so many.

pictures from Dar El Awlad (boys home)

2008-07-21T08:45:00.000-07:00

Pizza party with group from England

Spiderman

It's hot in Beirut

Water fight

The boys were waiting to attack me with water, but I used my camera as a shield (I didn't tell them it's waterproof)

sitting, waiting, wishing

2008-07-16T01:11:00.000-07:00

The title of this post is taken from a Jack Johnson tune, but I feel it applies appropriately to my current situation. Of course, the song is speaking of sitting and waiting and wishing for a girl, but I wait for something far more illusive, an entry visa for Sudan. My plan was to leave Lebanon for Sudan on Monday, the 21st of July, but the date is approaching and there are no positive signs that a visa will be granted any time soon. Add to this the current political/legal developments regarding the gov't of Sudan (check out CNN for details) and the outlook is even more bleak.

So, I'm here in Beirut for now, formulating the various possibilities for a plan B if it appears that this wait could end up to be a long one. In the meantime, I am continuing my arabic studies, and hanging out with the boys and staff at the orphanage, as well as a group of fine English folks that are putting on a summer program here for 2 weeks. The visa could come in 2 days, or 2 months, or not at all, but I hold out hope and pray that the eventual outcome is closer to that first option.

Bedouin wedding

2008-07-07T12:09:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I had the privilege of attending a Bedouin wedding. It was an eventful, 3-day affair with deafeningly loud music, dancing, good food, firing of guns in celebration, and more music and dancing. There were 2 nights of parties, followed by a Sunday afternoon party/lunch, which consisted of countless platters of rice, sheep, bread (used in lieu of knives, forks, and spoons), and yogurt. Everything was quite tasty, except for the yogurt, a sour, lumpy, lukewarm "treat" that I struggled mightily to get down with a smile on my face.

Their culture rarely allows for interaction amongst the opposite gender outside of family, so the young and unmarried in attendance were in fine form, taking advantage of the opportunity to see and be seen, showing off their dance moves with endless energy. The dancing style, called dapke, is similar to Texas line dancing, but with an Arab twist and a higher degree of difficulty. I spent much of my time attempting to avoid having to dance, but my attempts were rarely successful. Everyone was very adamant that I have a good time, which, of course, could only come from lots of dancing, so no matter where I hid, someone found me and forced me back to center stage. For much of the wedding, I was the only non-arab in attendance, and I'm a disgraceful dancer, especially when it comes to the "dapke" that was on display, so there was much pleasure gained by those in attendance while watching me in my futile attempts to move like a good Lebanese (see picture below). Thankfully, there was also much argili (see earlier post) to be enjoyed, always a positive aspect of time with the Bedouin.

Again, I came away again impressed with the Bedouin culture, with the hospitality shown to me, the general camaraderie amongst friends, and the appreciation and affection of family. This was obviously an important day for the hundreds in attendance and everyone was happy to share it with me.

Thrones of the bride and groom

The Bride in her day 1 dress. She had a dress for each of the 3 days of the wedding.

Let the Dapke begin

The groom arrives (about 2 hours after the bride)

One of my futile attempts

Everyone gathered around to watch the white guy dance

Lunch

Jonathan's Book Club

2008-07-02T03:02:00.000-07:00

I might not have Oprah's ability to make any book a best-seller by putting it on my list, but I plan on occasionally offering suggestions.

I just finished reading Light Force, by Brother Andrew. The book focuses on his work in the Middle East and discusses in length what it’s like for Arab Christians caught in the middle of the mess. I found the book to be an eye-opening view of the conflict, much different than anything heard on CNN, and equally different from thoughts I've heard in many Christian circles.

Read it! You won't be disappointed.

Letter People

2008-07-02T01:09:00.000-07:00

Remember the days of the "Letter People"? You know, the happy characters that helped us all learn our alphabet in Kindergarten. Well, I wish there were Arabic Letter People, with coloring sheets that I could post around my bedroom. That would make language learning more exciting. Upon returning from our trip to Syria, I’ve spent the last week and a half attempting to focus on my studies of Arabic, with a set goal of studying for at least 4 hours every day, as my simple, moderately A-D-D-ish mind can’t handle any more than that. Now, after 2 weeks of studying, I can officially say that I can read, albeit quite slow and methodically, in Arabic. Of course, I don’t have any idea of the meaning of the words coming out of my mouth, but I can at least recognize the characters and sound them out. At this point, I sound like a kindergartner attempting to master the sounds of the aforementioned "Letter People.” I long for the day that I'll move up to the lofty "first grade" level...I'm afraid it won't happen any time soon.

So, with the basis of the alphabet now established, I can begin to work on actually speaking. I’ll start with the basic greetings, important vocabulary, and present-tense conjugation of the verbs. Realistically, this is probably as far as I’ll get with Arabic here in Lebanon, as I have under 3 weeks left, assuming, Inshallah (If God wills it), I get a visa to Sudan. I’ll continue my studies in Khartoum, which is better anyway, as the Lebanese Arabic I’m currently learning is quite different from Sudanese.

I apologize that I don't have anything more exciting to report about, but this is one of those seldom occurring boring times in my life. I need to enjoy it while it last, because things will start picking up soon.

Bedouin Bliss

2008-06-23T08:50:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I went on a bit of an excursion with a diverse group of new friends I met here in Lebanon. There were four of us, an American/Syrian, an Australian-born Chinese, a Swiss-born Brit, and myself. My roots are definitely the most boring of the bunch, I’m as American as you can get without being a direct descendant of Squanto.

On with the story…the final destination of our trip was Damascus, Syria, but we made a pit stop for the night at the house of the family of Brent (the half-Syrian). Brent’s family is Bedouin, meaning they are come from a lineage of migratory shepherds (like Abraham). The way the world works today, with its country boundaries, border crossings, and modern technologies, has driven most Bedouin from their traditional lifestyle and into a more stationary existence, but many of the traditions are still strongly held. This particular family lives in a group of houses that consists of the father who has 2 wives, one of which is Brent’s aunt, and 15 children, several of which are now married and have their own kids.

The visit began with a round of rousing greetings which continued throughout the night as more relatives made their way to the house. We then lounged on cushions on the living room floor with tea, followed by coffee and a few tasty puffs on the argili (traditional water pipe) on cushions in the back yard while the kids ran circles around us, this preceded yet another round of tea in a different room, on different cushions (notice the theme?). Finally, dinner was served Bedouin-style sitting back on cushions that lined the walls of the family room, with an array of local delicacies to choose from placed on the floor in the middle of the circle. We finished the night off with last round of tea, coffee, and argili, before making our way to the same cushions we had lounged on earlier in the night that would act as our beds.

As the title of this post suggests, my time with the Bedouin was one of bliss. I am Christian, they are Muslims, my country is an adamant supporter of their most hated enemies, we speak different languages, and come from vastly different backgrounds and traditions, but for one night, we were one--one harmonious group of new friends eating, drinking, sharing, and laughing together. I am not naïve to the fact that life for these friends can be difficult. There are struggles in adapting to modernity, education is costly (the family is soon to have their first high-school graduate), and traditions that have defined their culture for thousands of years are having to be left behind. These issues, however, do little to hinder the deep bond they share as a family, they also did little to stop them from opening their doors, arms, and hearts to me, a rich, Christian, American.

This little excursion allowed me the privilege to catch just a brief glimpse into the lives of a family Lebanese, Muslim, Bedouin, and I came away impressed and convicted.

Making peace in the Middle East

Our lounging, tea drinking, and sleeping quarters

Reflections on Beirut

2008-06-19T09:17:00.001-07:00

My first experience in Beirut was a trip at 4 am from the airport to the Kids Alive orphanage that will be my home for the next 5 weeks. The quiet, almost serene, early morning streets tell a different story than what is found during the day. Beirut is a magnificent city. A bustling metropolis built in, on, and around mountains that nudge up against the Mediterranean. As you drive through the busy streets, however, remnants of past and present conflicts are evident. There are the destroyed buildings from the car bomb that killed the president 3 years ago, the rebuilding projects from the Israeli attacks a few years back, tanks guarding busy intersections, a few more soldiers than I’m used to seeing, and a Hezbollah stronghold here or there. It is, however, truly a lovely city, better than I expected…and I’d heard good things.

I’m staying at the Kids Alive children’s home with 2 friends who work here. The accommodations are nice and the weather has been beautiful, so I have no complaints. The children’s home is located in a suburb of Beirut, but I’ve managed to get around the city a bit. I always tend to feel more at home in areas of poverty, so I was happy to visit a care center that Kids Alive runs in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Beirut and see how the needs of kids from the area are being met.

Arabic studies are going well. I can now proudly say that I know about ¼ of the alphabet. In a few more weeks I’ll have the alphabet knocked out and can really begin grasping more how the language works. My plan is mostly just to study and try to experience as much of the country as possible with the rest of my time. The kids at the children’s home are gone for 2 weeks, so there won’t be much going on around the campus, which is probably a good thing as I’ll have a pleasant, quiet learning environment…I’m easily distracted.

All is well and life is good (and I had schwarma today, so I am doubly satisfied). Someday I’ll take pictures and post them, but those of you who know me can testify that documenting my travels through photographs is not my strongest quality.

Until next time…

Let the travels begin

2008-06-14T03:16:00.000-07:00

The beginning of my traveling adventures began yesterday…New York City. A friend from the area who let me stay at her house picked me up at the airport and we took a train into the city. I’d never been out of the airport in New York so I was happy to have a day to spend seeing the sites. What did I think of our nation’s marquee city? Big buildings, people, expensive shopping, restaurants and subways…lots of all of these things. We visited the popular tourist spots, kept an eye out for celebrities, wandered the foreign streets of Chinatown, and had coffee in a pleasant little park and pizza in Little Italy. I found some amazing deals at Saks 5^th Avenue. It’s really incredible how much you can save from a sale on a $1500 blouse or a $700 wallet. Personally I couldn’t resist the deals and bought 2 t-shirts and a pair of socks on a 30% off rack and saved over 1000 bucks. How could anyone resist such a deal (that’s a joke…I make $300 a month)

Anyway, I’m at JFK airport now, waiting to check in. Next on the list is a 13 hour flight to Abu Dhabi, where I might be stuck for a few days. As of now, the flight I was hoping to catch from Abu Dhabi to Beirut is overbooked by 15 people. No complaints from me on the standby tickets though, an angelic friend who works for an airline got me the tickets for 10% of the total cost, which means I could spend a week in Abu Dhabi or Dubai and still come out ahead on the price.

Eventually I’ll end up in Beirut and there are plans for a short trip to Damascus, Syria the following week-end. So, I’m managing to visit New York City, Abu Dhabi, maybe Dubai, Beirut, and Damascus, all within a 10 day period. There are some perks to my job, you know? Once I’m in Beirut, though, aside from the trip to Damascus, it’s down to business. I’ve got 1 month to cram lots of Arabic into what little space is left in my brain. Then it’s off to Sudan where the real work begins, along with continued Arabic studies.

couch surfing

2008-06-06T15:46:00.000-07:00

I am currently sitting in one of my favorite buy a cheap cup of coffee and sit for hours of internet usage joints, Panera. Grace's Cafe (those of you from the Cape G. area know of it) is my preferred internet option, but I'm afraid to wear out my welcome in one particular place, so I spread the joy of my presence around a bit. This juggling of coffee/internet locals is made necessary due to the ancient dial-up connection at my parent's house that I should probably get used to as I don't plan on living in any place that is known for it's technological advancement. Nonetheless, here I sit. My agenda of the day is to set the itinerary for my long-awaited journey to Beirut, then Khartoum. At the moment, I am researching potential lodging options and activities during what could be a long layover in Abu Dhabi, UAE. The deal is that I have an amazing friend who works for Etihad Airways and has managed to get me tickets for 10% of the original costs (I fly from New York to Abu Dhabi, Abu Dhabi to Beirut, Beirut back to Abu Dhabi, and Abu Dhabi to Khartoum all for $200). These tickets, however, are standby, and nearly every flight from Abu Dhabi into Beirut is booked full, so it could be a long wait in what is one of the richest cities in the world. Unfortunately, lodging in this city that consists of 80% expats (mostly business folk), is quite expensive, so I'm checking into alternative solutions. The most promising option is to crash on a strangers couch. This may appear to be an odd solution, but this website, www.couchsurfing.com, has a community of people around the world who are willing to give up their couch for a random traveler, such as myself.

Maybe I'm crazy for considering it, but I consider meeting a new person who can show me around city and let me crash for free a considerably better option than paying $200 for a hotel room. If you have any better ideas, feel free to let me know.

blogging

2008-06-06T15:14:00.000-07:00

I don't particularly enjoying blogging and have already had one failed attempt at enticing, entertaining, and informing the masses with my morsels of literary imperfection, but at the urging of not a small amount of friends and family, I am back in the blogging saddle. I don't promise to be consistent in my postings, but I'll give it a shot.

A quick review of where I've been and what I'm doing now...I lived the past 2 and a half years in the Dominican Republic, working in schools and orphanages. Now, I am on my way to Sudan to continue in the same type of work, with a temporary stop in Beirut to try to learn a bit of Arabic.

A life of this sort appears quite exciting to the average individual, and sometimes mine lives up to it's billing. These are the times when keeping up with this blogging thing is quite easy. Unfortunately, and much to the chagrin of my faithful readers, there are often weeks and even months that go by in which nothing happens that I deem worthy of sharing with the world. It's during these times that I will struggle to satisfy the demanding masses, but I strive to fare better than my previous unsuccessful attempt at regular posting.