Day 10

Saturday

A bitter sweet day as we conclude our training at THARS today and say goodbye to the many new friends we have made. Today is hands on for training as the participants apply some of what they have learned to the Botwa (Pygmy) children who are ever present. The kids loved all the attention. To give you some perspective remember that Burundi is the poorest country in the world and the Batwa are the poorest people in the country. These kids have nothing, so a broken crayon or used wrapper becomes a prized possession. Every time one of us westerners showed up the children would come flocking yelling “Muzungu” which means “white person.” Living in the bush they see very few white people. A few showed signs of fear, possible spurred on by the stories that white people eat black children, but most were eager to stare at us or see what our skin feels like.

We concluded our training and the participants treated us to a surprise: they had prepared a special thank you for us complete with songs, traditional dances, a speech and gifts. It was very touching and will never be forgotten. It made the goodbyes all that much harder.

After lunch when everyone left we went with David to watch the drummers. These are not any drummers. The direct descendants of the kings drummers, they play traditional drums while acting out morality plays. There are not words sufficient to convey the experience, but suffice it to say they were spectacular. At the end of their performance they invited me to play with them…so why not! It was a thrill. I learned later that it is a high honor to be asked to play with the drummers usually reserved for dignitaries and important people.

Days 6-9

The first four days of teaching will be combined here – partly to save you the tedium of reading about our daily teaching, but mostly to help me get caught up and break the week into more logical categories rather than just chronological.

Each day’s schedule is roughly the same. Get up, shower, dress, breakfast, devotions, teach till lunch, Kim naps, teach till dinner, place bets on what time the moon will rise, race to find an open outlet to recharge whatever, go to bed.

Getting up was pretty easy since the sun came up about 6:00. Alarm clocks were set, but were largely unnecessary because life was happening all around you. Showering was another matter all together. Yes, we do have showers which is quite a luxury for which I am grateful. Do not interpret the following as a complaint, merely as descriptive. There is no hot water unless it is heated over a fire. If you remember to place your bucket in the hallway the night before, in the morning it will be filled with boiling hot water for washing. The procedure is pretty straight forward. Collect your wash cloth, soap, shampoo and anything else you may want before you start. You will want to work quickly. Step into the basin under the shower head. Notice I don’t say “step into the shower,” because no curtain, door, or wall would delineate it as such. Turn on the water and brace yourself for the icy blast that will instantly push all air out of your lungs and cause you to go into cardiac arrest. At this point you should wash up as quickly as possible since you will not last long without oxygen in your lungs or blood. When the room starts to fade and you begin seeing spots, reach into the bucket of scalding water, grab your washcloth and slap it against your chest. This restarts your heart and causes a gasp that completely refills your lungs. Move the wash cloth quickly to avoid second degree burns on your chest as you start the rinse cycle. If you did not work quickly enough on the first attempt you must repeat the fire and ice cycle. At this point you are wide awake and ready for the day.

Devotions for the morning are my responsibility. On Tuesday, we had an extra treat as a new chapel had just been completed and David, the coordinator for THARS asked me to consecrate the building with a blessing and asked Vickie to open it for the first time. It was quite an honor. We left our shoes outside and sat on cushions on the floor (except me, I had an exercise ball to sit on as the teacher).

 The conference itself was a lot of fun for us as presenters. We did a lot of hands on activities. It is a bit slow to teach through an interpreter, but an interesting experience. Discussion is almost impossible, but that did not stop us from trying to get some discussion going. During one meeting they were not providing much input so I threatened to make them sing Sunday school songs. As soon as my words were interpreted one of the attendants jumped out of her chair babbling away in Kirundi. She came to the center of the room and got everyone up to play a game of “Commander Says,” essentially the same as Simon Says. It caught me totally off guard, but I did make it to the final four before I was eliminated. They certainly are a lively bunch.

Tuesday night I started with the travel bug from which Chris was just beginning to recover. It caused me to miss Wednesday devotions and the first training session Wednesday. Chris and I took substantial abuse for getting sick when the women did not.

Speaking of Chris…while us lightweights were sitting in chairs or teaching adults he had a much tougher job. Chris is responsible for programming with the children. On the first night before the conference started Chris was asked how many children he would like for the programming. He suggested 30 would be a good number. The next day he found himself with 75 Batwa children with no help and no interpreter. To say these children are wild and unruly is a significant understatement. I walked down the hill after teaching on the first day and saw a mountain of dirty half-dressed black children and realized that Chris was in the middle of that mountain trying to give instructions. I think he was doing a fantastic job with the kids, he was even teaching them English. By the end of the day he was so filthy and looked so tired we all felt sorry for him. I just got a small taste of his day when I went out with my camera and took a picture of one of the children. As soon as I took the picture I felt like the guy at a goat petting zoo with a bucket full of corn. Creatures were climbing my body, getting my attention any way they could (including the goatly head-butt) to ask me to take their picture. No camera shyness here. I don’t know if you have ever been mauled by several dozen tiny people, but if you have you may start to get a feeling for what Chris endured for hours each day.

            Electricity only runs from 6:30pm to 10:00pm so any powered activities must be done during these hours. There are a total of 2 electrical outlets in the lodging building to be shared by 20 participants, the 5 of us, and several staff. Most were charging cell phones, but I was charging my CPAP machine which enables me to continue breathing through the night. Somebody produced an eight outlet power strip which enabled several of us to charge simultaneously. Only one night was I unable to fully charge my CPAP, but my wall shaking snoring from 3:00am on assured I always got a slot on the power strip after that.

Day 5

Monday morning and we need to be ready to roll by 8:00 am as today we travel by car to Gitega. At breakfast, Chris is not eating and we soon discover he spent the night fighting the urge to worship at the porcelain altar. He is the first victim of the travel bug which is stalking us all. Fortunately, he can merely ride in the car today. Unfortunately, that car will be weaving back and forth through switch backs on narrow roads up a mountain. A couple hours of this does it’s magic and Chris is hiding behind a tree to expel whatever small amount remains in his stomach. Though we thought we were well secluded in the bush, his retching causes three women to appear from further in the bush to offer assistance.

At this point a side note is needed. The Burundi people are extremely hospitable and kind. Every action movie shows the hero minding his own business when a number of local toughs come to throw the stranger out of town, then get their fannies whooped by the hero. An action movie would fall quite flat in Burundi. The hero would be minding his own business when several of the local toughs would walk up, smile broadly, stick out their hand and say “welcome.” Whether speaking in English or Kirundi the message would be clear, “I don’t know you, but I will gladly make you my friend.” It is impossible to not love these people. I have so much to learn from them.

When Chris finished his roadside expulsion we continued on toward Gitega making stops at local listening rooms. Listening rooms are for group and individual counseling for people who have been traumatized. We arrived at these small buildings to find all members of the group that met there sitting out front waiting for us. They had been waiting since 10 in the morning though we didn’t arrive until the afternoon.  Their patience and relaxed attitude about time is a marvel. While visiting the rooms the people that met there told us there stories. Stories of rape and torture. Stories of watching family members butchered before their eyes. Stories told from bodies that bore the scars to substantiate their telling. Stories that changed us forever. However, we heard atrocities from people filled with joy and hope; people changed through their encounter with counseling and Christ. They sang and danced for us. They educated us about joy in the middle of suffering. I believe I encountered Christ face to face today, and He is beautiful.

The folks in these groups are working to pull themselves out of poverty by pooling their money and working together. One group raises goats and after 3 years of working together they have 5 goats. Another group weaves baskets and a third makes soap to sell at market. The fourth group does an internal form of micro finance. Every member must contribute some money to be a part of the business “club” (for lack of a better word). Then members can submit a business plan and receive a short term (1 to 2 months) loan to get their business going (e.g., buy bananas to sell at market). Then the loan is repaid and funds are available for others to borrow. Books are carefully kept by an appointed member and all enforcement is conducted by peer pressure. The soap-making group used to use this format also, but some members took out loans and never returned. The group diminished to 4 members who now make soap together and are extremely bonded because of the shared suffering.

We arrive at THARS (Trauma Healing and Reconciliation Services) in time for dinner. The food here is great. However, most meals consist of about 4 different kinds of starch. Rice, potatoes, pasta, bread, peas, carrots, something green and unidentifiable, but not bad tasting (though I am alone among Americans in my appreciation of its flavor), and fried bananas are all common staples. Everything a diabetic should not eat. Chris, still pretty green around the gills, just looks at the food and groans. I decide to eat his portion for him.

            Some last minute brain storming for the teaching that starts tomorrow and it is off to bed.

Day 4

Sunday Morning. We are all a bit tired, but we look forward to naps after church. Church is a special service this morning as they honor four new pastors being sent out by the church, each of whom gave a mini sermon to accompany the main sermon. I feel all preached up, and didn’t understand a word of it. After our three hours of church we headed back to our lodging for a quick lunch before taking off to see Stanley Rock, the famous place where Stanley and Livingston met. Then we had to hurry back for a celebration reception for the four pastors. This reception involved a lot more preaching, (or I assume that is what they were doing since they talked a lot and I didn’t understand any of it). This service was also three hours long. A nap is definitely out of the question.

Now let me back up a minute for those of you who assume my comment about the length of the service is a complaint. Yes, a three hour service is a bit of a culture shock, but not as big as the other culture shocks I received. Shocks like small children sitting in the front of the church without their parents for the full three hours without complaint. Shocks like nine choirs in one church each of whom sang with gusto and joy that belied their impoverished state of being. Shocks like a building that Americans would feel crowded if shared with 400 others stuffed with 1200 eager worshippers including those who didn’t have seats and those over-flowing out the doors. Shocks like citizens of the poorest country in the world standing in line for nearly 20 minutes for their opportunity to put a tithe or offering in the basket. The service was long, but it was so jam-packed with prayer, worship, surrender, praise to God, and solid Bible teaching that it may not have been long enough. The widow’s mite was given by worshipper after worshipper. If someone had no money, they gave sand to make bricks. If they had no sand they gave time to make the bricks. If they didn’t know how to make bricks, they would haul the sand to the brick makers, and if they didn’t have the back for hauling sand they would bring drinks to the workers. Everybody gave something, most gave generously and sacrificially. For an impoverished church in the slums of Burundi, it may have been the wealthiest group with whom I have ever had the honor to worship.

           We meet every person who attended the service…twice, then head back to the guest house for a leisurely dinner and a much needed early trip to bed.

Day 3

Pretty uneventful day. Our flight took off from Zurich without fanfare or delay. I hit the jackpot on seating and got a bulkhead placement with lots of room for my legs. Unfortunately, my seatmate, a man from Tanzania, believed that all the armrest were his sole domain. He spread out and made himself quite comfortable. Sitting in the bulkhead provided a couple of interesting opportunities not typically available while flying. First, I sat knee to knee with the flight attendant during our take off and landing. I enjoyed the opportunity to ask her questions about flying around the world as she does. This is when I discovered she is a distant cousin to Helga, the attendant on my flight from New York. She launched into a tirade about Tanzania in general and Dar Es Salam in particular (the home city of my seat mate). She concluded the political debate by smiling and saying she had to get to work. She jumped up leaving my new friend a little thunderstruck, and with a need to defend his homeland to me. The other unexpected opportunity was to meet most everyone on the plane (because the bathroom is at the bulkhead). While I saw the space in front of my seat as a place to stretch my legs, everyone else also laid claim to that space to queue up for the bathroom. I spent most of the flight with the derrières of people in intestinal distress just inches from my face.

We landed in Nairobi without incident and enjoyed a 5-hour layover there. While in Nairobi we discovered that Kim’s inability to read international signs extends to the signs on restroom doors. It is so confusing: skirt, no skirt, which one to use.

Kenya Airways delivered us safely to Bujumbura, Burundi. Almost done. We paid for our visas and waited for one-fingered captain hunt and peck to manually type our paperwork. By the time he finished it was 1:30 in the morning. We piled into a van and headed off for our nights accommodations.

Day 2

This day came much faster than expected. At 2am Helga, my helpful Swiss Airline stewardess, oops, I mean flight attendant, jabs me with all the gentleness and repressed frustration a neutral country can instill in a person, to see if I would like some breakfast. Helpful Helga is concerned about my jet lag and figures a meal in the middle of the night is just the ticket to get my internal clock switched around. I guess after roasting me to medium-well on the tarmac at JFK, it was time for the sleep deprivation test. It is clear to me now that Swiss Airlines has thrown down the gauntlet to see if they can break me. It is on! I took their food with the confidence of a man who has lived his whole life on too little sleep; I knew I would win this match. I was wrong. Flying Swiss Airlines to Zurich, Switzerland I was not surprised to see a hunk of cheese included with my meal…until I read the package. It came from Oregon, USA.
Score: Swiss 2  JD 0

As the day advanced toward lunch, about 5am, I get the news that we have missed our connecting flight and will be re-routed through Istanbul. Of course, it's right on the way to Nairobi!
Score: Swiss 3  JD 0

Having been fooled once by the Swiss already with the whole cheese incident, I was unprepared to accept my new itinerary without further confirmation, so I went to the source – Vickie, the trip mother. (Interpret that as you see fit). After retrieving Kim, who had to return to the airplane to collect the belongings she left there, we stood around looking like lost children as Vickie did battle with the transfer agent. Outcome: No Istanbul, a free night in a Zurich hotel, and free dinner for each of us (assuming your definition of dinner is a salad and tap water).
Score: Swiss 3  JD 0  Vickie 1

After collecting Kim from the "Fundburo" (that means "lost and found" for those of you who have not traveled with Kim) and returning to get the bag she left at the Fundburo (I guess she thought it would save time to just lose it there so no one would have to turn it in) we caught a shuttle to our hotel. It was at this point that I really started to miss Fred. We settled in as Mario Andretti's illegitimate half-brother, fresh out on parole and off his medication, climbed into the driver's seat and seized control of the vehicle. I don't know what the Swiss have against me, but the next ten minutes were terrifying. I'll take Fred's granny impression any day over that. I suspect our driver works for Swiss Airlines.

We had time at the hotel to change our underwear and get our heart rates under control from the ride over, while Mother Vickie negotiated revised flights with Kenya Airways.

Not one for sitting around when there is the opportunity for something educational, Judi marched us out of the hotel so we could do a self-guided walking tour of Zurich – and educational it was. I learned that Vickie becomes very stressed with unplanned events and unplanned expenditures in excess of $6. She wrings her hands and apologizes for things beyond her control. I learned that Judi must read every plaque for every statue even if she can't understand the language it's written in. I learned that Kim is unable to read picture cross-walk signs in other languages and is prone to walk into busy streets, stop in the middle, then stand there looking around completely bewildered. I learned that women have tiny bladders, do pre-emptive peeing "just in case", or there is something a lot more fun going on in the women's room than they tell us about. The men's room is simply not that exciting.

I also learned that Chris is very long-suffering. Let me explain. While enjoying our educational hike Vickie noticed a small white flap sticking off the back of Chris's shoe. She had seen it before and it bothered her then as well. It simply was out of place and disorderly, and that was more than she could bare, she must take matters into her own hands. Walking behind Chris on a very crowded street she announces, "Chris, you've carried around this toilet paper long enough. I'm getting rid of it." Chris, in his usual, laid back and quiet way starts to say, "It's not toilet paper." Unfortunately, he only got half way through his sentence when Vickie, with puma-like speed and agility pounced on the little white tab sticking out and ripped the full lining out of his shoe. Walking next to Vickie and not fully aware of all that was transpiring, I merely heard Vickie's war whoop as she attacked the unsuspecting tab and heard Chris say "It's not toilet paper." I recoiled in horror as I saw what I believed to be a feminine-hygiene product get ripped from Chris's shoe, flip up and stick to the top of a woman's foot that was innocently passing by. Chris never missed a beat and just kept walk sans the panti liner.

I took about 150 pictures and thoroughly enjoyed the day, therefor the score must be adjusted.
Swiss 2  JD 1  Vickie 2 (she gets an extra point for successfully killing the shoe liner.)

Day 1

R to L: Chris, Kim, Vickie, Judi, J.D. (Fred taking the shot)

What a day. Woke up about 4:30 (probably excited and eager to get going). Got Lydia off to school for her final final, (not a typo), then went to watch her graduate at 10:15. She has now successfully completed the eighth grade. Bolted from the graduation to get home and meet the Champions and Beams to head up to JFK. On the road at 11:45, 15 minutes ahead of schedule…and now the surprises begin.

Surprise #1: Our flight doesn’t take off until 6:00pm, we’re allowing 6 hours for this two-hour trip to “play it safe since we don’t know about traffic.” I guess I’ll have some time in the terminal to blog.

Surprise #2: Fred drives like an old lady! Oops, an old lady in a 57 Studebaker just passed us like were standing still – Fred drives slower than an old lady. I now know the real reason we allowed six hours for this trip – forget the traffic, it’s Fred we don’t know about. He said he had to go slow because of all the extra weight in the back (I wont say who was sitting there) he was concerned about dragging his bottom. I certainly don’t want that to happen, so I just kept quiet. Fred got us safely to the airport with three hours to spare and his bottom fully intact (I took his word for it).

Surprise #3: All of our baggage came in under the weight limit which had been a source of considerable stress for many of us. Of course, this bit of good news required us to spread all the suitcases out on the airport floor and quickly repack them , incorporating various items from our carry-on luggage. This multi-person, multi-bag free-for-all resulted a fair amount of belongings being commingled. I don't know who's skivvies I will be wearing tomorrow.

Surprise #4: The plane can't take off. A storm kept our plane grounded for more than three hours. The delay wasn't so bad, but the pilot turned off the engines to conserve fuel. No engines, no air-conditioning. I was prepared to go to Africa and sweat while laboring near the equator. I was not prepared to go to New York and be boiled in a tin can by the Swiss. A little after 9 we finally took off. Our trip has begun. It’s all smooth sailing from here, right? What else can go wrong?

The women decide what goes where…

Then put it there

Chris lays down the law for the Tanzania team.

Day 0

     No more time for planning, praying, or putzing around (well I guess there is still time for praying). We leave tomorrow whether we are ready or not. We’ve had our packing parties where we stuffed as many supplies into suitcases as airline regulations allow (yes, Kim, cherry Kool-Aid is just as heavy as grape Kool-Aid). With pens, pencils, notebooks, sheets, towels and teaching supplies we packed 400 pounds of supplies that can be left in Burundi. For those of you doing the math, that leaves 100 pounds to be divided between 2 suitcases and 5 people  to pack all their clothes, toiletries, and personal items for two and a half weeks in unfamiliar territory – Thank God for carry-ons.

     For Tanzania, with 24 suitcases to work with we packed 400 pounds of medical supplies, tools, athletic equipment, and clothing for the needy. That leaves 800 pounds and 16 suitcases to be divided among 12 people. Obviously the Tanzania team does not pack as lightly as the Burundi/Rwanda team.

     I can’t say too much about packing considering all the electronic equipment I am taking – three cameras, a computer, an ipad, and an iphone. That’s not counting the equipment for recording the teachings or medical equipment to keep me breathing throughout the night. Wow. I’m really high maintenance.