Three Strikes Out of the Comfort Zone

Here are some pictures in our new house. It is great for hosting guests, although it has some unusual appointments, like the bidet in the bathroom and the palatial master bedroom. I love the front porch!


This Saturday morning is beginning like many others. I am up early with Oren (and David as well.) We are huddled around the computer, they are watching a movie (Bolt) while I begin to write this week’s blog. One variation on the routine is that we are at the ANLM guesthouse in Kigali, and not in Bujumbura. This is my third trip here in a month, and I won’t deny that I am getting tired of the 5 hour drive. At this point I am on a first-name basis with all of the border guards.

The occasion for our return this week is to install our new service workers, Ruth Plett and Krystan Palikowski into their home in Kigali. We will also be picking up some MCC peace reps, Amy and Gopar, who will be visiting our partners in Burundi. Finally, we are getting Oren’s cast removed…

We arrived Wednesday evening and plan to return on Monday. (By the time you read this blog we may be back in Bujumbura as we are having internet trouble in Kigali.)

The three days prior to our arrival are worth reviewing because I was, on three occasions, taken out of what I would call my ‘comfort zone’ by a considerable margin.

The first incident happened last Sunday. Rebecca and I went to church at PTI (the place we attend.) The morning routine was normal, and we arrived just in time to join in the first 15 minutes of singing--only 5 minutes late. Then one of the ‘elders’, Jean de Dieu, pulled me aside and told me that Emmanuel Ndikumana, the pastor was sick and had asked Simon to preach. (Simon is a missionary I have mentioned in the past. He is the father of Oren’s friend Zack) Simon was to be preaching in French, and since one of the translators was sick, Jean de Dieu asked if I would be willing to do the translation of the sermon?

My immediate reaction was fear. I could not have felt less prepared. I even left my reading glasses at home that morning so I could not read the Bible passage he would be preaching from. Despite some serious reservations about my capacity to do it well, I agreed. I felt like this was an opportunity God was giving to me, to begin to develop this capacity. I was also aware of being tested by Him. I know God is aware of a sort of spiritual shell I have felt I have retreated into in recent weeks, especially with the disintegration of our small group here.

What is hard about translating, I have found, is not understanding what is being said, but rather, remembering how a person ended a sentence. Often you are so concentrated on remembering the beginning that you realize only too late that you missed the end. Fortunately Simon does speak English and could translate what I missed. He is also a very good preacher and got the message about the urgency of our call to be Christ’s ambassadors across quite effectively.

I have to say, despite my fears, it was the most alive I have felt in worship for quite a while, and I was honored to be asked and to find a way to share more in worship. I would, nonetheless, not grade myself above B- on the effort. But in time I may improve.


The second incident of being out of my comfort zone occurred on the following Tuesday. This is a difficult topic to write about, but I feel it is important to include because it is a sad part of life here as an expatriate, and worth some reflection.

Rebecca and I had to dismiss one of our house staff.

It is interesting, in all my life, I have never been in a position where I was obliged to fire anyone. The very idea of doing so is deeply unpleasant. The problem was stealing money, and I have been told it is often a problem one has with staff. I admit that I naively believed that this problem would not be visited upon us because we pay our workers better than most anyone I know. I believed that the problem of theft was due to the lack of a fair wage.

We started noticing money disappearing from our wallets and other places in the house beginning about a month ago whenever he was working.

Because this worker speaks primarily Kirundi, we asked Zachee to help us translate. (I felt bad for Zachee having to be involved, but grateful for his gentle diplomacy.) The conversation was fairly short and awkward. He denied the charge despite the overwhelming evidence. I did not insist on a confession, and resisted the urge to ask the question why, or what changed that made him begin to do this. What was hardest for me is that I am really sympathetic to the temptation our workers must feel. There is such a disparity between our lifestyles. I imagine that there is also the perception that we would never miss a few hundred dollars.

Despite his dishonesty, I did give our worker his last month of pay. I do not feel any indignation, just sadness, as he was a nice guy. I do pray that he will make better choices in the future. As far as justice, I don’t know what that means in this context. There is the small injustice of being robbed which in my heart palls in the face of the greater injustice of structures that put my family and his in such dire economic juxtaposition. I think of the parable of the man who is forgiven a large debt by the king, then shakes down his own worker for a small debt he is owed. I have no doubt that when the scales are righted, I am will not have much of a case for any complaint against him.


The third incident that put me out of my comfort zone happened once we arrived in Kigali. We left Wednesday after Oren’s school and got to Kigali about 6 pm. We were blessed to be able to give Bridget, Zachee’s wife a ride up with us as she had a conference to attend up there as well. She is such a resource of information and insight to work with our partners as she has so many years of experience.

On Thursday our family ran some errands in the morning, including making an appointment to get Oren’s cast removed at 6:30 pm. Then at about 2 we headed upcountry to Byumba to pick up Ruth and Krystan from their ‘live-in’. We rode up with Eugene, whose house they were staying at. We got there about 4pm. I knew that there would be quite a bit of relational interaction between us, them, and Eugene’s family, and I was a bit concerned that we might not be able to leave an hour and a half before we were due in Kigali for Oren’s appointment. My concerns were justified as Eugene did invite us to sit and have a meal. Many people who had met Ruth and Krystan were invited to join us, and there were a series of speeches and gifts given. We were invited to give speeches as well, and were not able to leave until about 7pm.

I don’t want to underplay the importance of this ceremony or the emotional depth of it. Eugene was deeply touched that we had asked him to take care of them. And he was humbled by how gracious Ruth and Krystan were. They apparently left a very good impression on everyone they met there, and ate the local cuisine--cassava paste and fermented sorghum juice—without any complaints. (Krystan did spend 3 days with diarrhea and vomiting from the latter, but was a very good sport about it nonetheless.)

Besides missing Oren’s appointment to get his cast removed, the bigger problem of leaving at 7pm was that it was pitch black and I had to drive us back to Kigali from upcountry. I really do not like to drive long distances at night around here as it is dangerous. It is hard to see people and the roads are narrow. We also had no guide. Despite my anxiety about it, we got back fine a bit after 8 and had pizza for dinner in Kigali.

On Friday we did get Oren’s cast off! We also spent that day as well as Saturday setting up Ruth and Krystan’s house. MCC had some stuff in storage that was brought over, then we went out and bought a stove, fridge, living room set, and dining room set. We also discovered an interesting thing about Kigali which I wish I would have known about before—Kigali has very inconsistent running water and sometimes goes a month at a time without any. It was then I started to notice that most every house had a huge water reservoir on a tower on the property. We are now talking to someone about building one for the place Ruth and Krystan are staying.

The trick is getting a tank that is sufficient to store water in the shortage time, but not so big that it crushes the tower by its sheer weight. This is not such an easy task as people will build anything you ask for, but there is never any consideration of engineering principles when construction is going up, unless you happen to be an engineer or know one. (I have seen more than one crushed steel tower in the neighborhood.)

Hiring house staff also needs to happen, and fortunately the Thomas’ (a missionary family I wrote about before) are right next door and can help them.


It is now Sunday night and we are wrapping up our time here, getting ready to go back to Bujumbura. We do have 2 passengers coming back with us. They are MCC peace program coordinators, Amy and Gopar. They will be visiting some of our partners’ projects in Burundi next week. I am personally looking forward to getting back to Burundi

I am also realizing how much travel this job entails. I will be upcountry several days next week with Amy and Gopar. Please continue to pray for our morale, the job has felt hard the past 2 weeks and will continue to be so in the near future.

There are some things I am thankful for worth mentioning:
-I am getting better at Kirundi and can have conversations now! I was able to do some negotiating for Ruth and Krystan while we were getting them some household items.
-Oren is really doing better, and continues to love his school.
-We are blessed to be in our new house and are looking forward to living in it.
-Friends have been reaching out to us when they see us floundering
-David is doing very well and smiles more than any baby I know.
-Rebecca is a great wife who keeps track of much that I miss.

Moving Day and the ethics of ‘Fantas’

Oren and David at the playground at Oren's school


I have been feeling the pressure frequently on the weekend to write a shorter blog entry because we have been busy the past several weeks on Saturday and Sunday. Today, however, I am going to have to make good on that threat as we have a big project ahead of us to complete in two days—MOVING!

For those of you who missed the allusions to it in the past few weeks, we are moving at of the house we are currently renting to a new one. While the project will definitely be worth the effort, it has been and will be a lot of work.

The sad side of all of this is that we are moving into the house previously occupied by our Scottish friends the Carr family. They have been great friends to us and the core of our small group here. Yesterday (Friday) I took them to the airport. It was quite a feat as the 5 of them had arrived with a shipping container, but were taking back what they could in their luggage. Although I have not heard from them yet, we do know that they did get on the plane bound for Heathrow.

Going back a few days… This was a busy week, but not atypical. Oren has been sick on and off, but did manage to go to school every day this week. (I gave him a dose of ibuprofen each morning before he left.)

Among the things we have been doing this week, is learning how to do Zachee’s job! You might remember that I mentioned he and his family are going to Cananda for 3 months and we will need to do the things he normally does for us. Besides book keeping, he also is charged with the often unpleasant task of interfacing with the Burundian bureaucracy to keep our team’s visas updated, our vehicles legal, our organization properly registered, etc. This is a thankless task (eventhough we are profoundly grateful for it.) The challenge of this kind of work is first and foremost that francophone countries in Africa are the progeny of a massively inefficient colonial legacy. Secondly, tasks that are now done entirely electronically, like filing and searching, etc. in the US are done completely by hand here. Finally, corruption is ubiquitous here. It is almost impossible to get even a signature on a form without providing a ‘fanta’. (Fanta is the word for bribe.)

We had a discussion about bribes and corruption in small group--especially about the morality of paying a ‘service charge’ for something as a missionary. One of our members said that she had understood a bribe to be a payment for something you are not entitled to, while a ‘tip’ is giving a fee for something that you are legally entitled to. Myself, I would be inclined to agree, except in truth, a tip is given as a ‘gratuitous gesture’, that is provided AFTER the service is rendered, not as a guarantee that it will be done.


So my foray in to Zachee’s world began at the immigration office in town where I went to renew our families visas. (Something we do every 3 months) The job requires 3 trips for different stages of the process. We had progressed to stage 2 and I needed to drop off our passports for stamping. Standing in line is the long part of the process. Filling out forms takes far less time.

For phase 2 of the process I arrived on Friday in the early afternoon (3pm) to begin the waiting process to drop off the passports. I was feeling really lucky because there was only one person ahead of me and what I had to do was really quite simple. There was no one behind the reception desk, but a man came finally, after 15 minutes, and helped the person in front of me, then left again. I stood waiting for another 45 minutes watching the numerous clerks, and other bureaucrats behind desks, looking bored, chatting, sleeping and generally ignoring those of us on the other side of the windows waiting for service. At 4 pm, Zachee came in to try to pick up Jodi’s passport. He told me that generally no one works on Friday after 11am, eventhough the office is open. We stood around for another 25 minutes, and then were told the office is closing and we needed to leave.

While we were standing I asked Zachee if someone would serve me if I offered a ‘fanta’. He said, yes. He asked me if there was corruption in the US and I explained that it was built into the systerm. I told him:

“If I want my passport processed overnight I pay $160, if I want it in 3 days I pay $90, and if I don’t mind waiting a month, I can pay $40.”

I am not sure what the difference is, except the money is distributed more equitably within the organization. Rich people still get the fastest service though. The other problem I suppose, with corruption is that poor people may not be served at all. Whether I pay a first class ticket or economy class on a plane, we are all going to arrive (or not arrive) together. In a corrupt system though, services are only rendered to the rich.

I guess I have my sense of integrity to comfort me as I fume over the fact that I stood at the front of a line in the passport office to get my visa renewed for an hour and a half without being acknowledged, and eventually told to leave as it was closing time. I also have a better understanding of the challenges Zachee faces almost weekly as our program officer. He will be sorely missed when he leaves in June.

I will need to be back in the immigration office bright and early Monday morning as Rebecca and I are going to Rwanda on Wednesday and need to have our visas renewed before we leave. Prayers would be appreciated if we are going to do this without resorting to ‘fantas’.

The week was not all bad though. Val Carr dropped what I would have to call an atomic bomb of fantastic news on us. During my language lesson on Wednesday she called and said:

“We have a problem. The orphanage we were going to give the our trampoline to decided they did not want to deal with the risk of having it there. Would you like us to leave it at the house for you?”

“Uhhhh OK.”

Honestly, they left a lot of stuff that belonged to their kids including a playstation, TV, legos, matchbox cars, etc. I think Rebecca will have to go through it all before Oren realizes what is there as he will probably not be given most of it.

We did go over last night to put the safety net back on the tramp. (It had been taken down.) Zachee came over with Tim. They had not seen the house yet. Timmy was ecstatic to see the tramp and Zachee could not believe we had managed to find such a great house. He said “Oh, Tim will want to live here!” (Timmy has already suggested that Oren should be his little brother. I am actually hoping that having this larger house and stuff for kids will help Oren make some new friends, (especially French speakers). This is definitely a place to share with others. Hopefully we can continue the Carr’s tradition of having people over for folk dancing as well. We are also hoping to run an English speaking Sunday School for kids on Saturday morning. We will work on all that as soon as we are settled in.

Oren is still having a tough time, with the whole idea of being here, and having a new baby brother. He is still quite possessive of me and needy in a not entirely pleasant way. He does seem to do much better with friends, than with me alone. On ‘daddy day’ this past Thursday I walked David and him over to school in our jogging stroller with David in the front pack-- Rebecca had taken the car to work. (As an aside I will say that a mzungu man pushing a large 3 wheeled stroller with a child in it and a baby in a front pack would be mildly interesting in the US, but is the equivalent in Burundi to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. I cannot tell you how strange that was. Everyone would stop working when I passed, traffic stopped, or almost drove off the road rubbernecking. It did take a real effort to have a sense of humor about what a freak I was, especially with most of the people laughing hysterically at the sight. I was certainly not a “light under a bushel” that day.)

The reason we were going to school was for ‘activity afternoon’. Mdme. Cecile has a Thursday obstacle course and other activities for kids. Oren really likes it and I have some pictures in this blog of the things they do.

OK, I have to start packing now.

Home Alone (with the kids)

David is really beginning to notice things. He likes Bella especially.

I suppose that as a parent with a child in preschool I should be getting used to illness. Oren has a fever again that started Thursday and he needed to stay home from school Friday. (I think he is just beginning to understand that there may be some ‘perks’ to being sick, i.e. staying home from school. Our new service workers had left him an MPEG of Bolt, a story of a dog who thinks he is a superhero. Oren watched it about 4 times in a row on Friday!)

But that comes later in the story. Monday was the start of an auspicious week. We had been orienting our new service workers, Ruth and Krystan over the weekend, and on Monday, I was charged with taking them to Kigali for the first time, to meet the staff of Friends Peace House, AND to begin a two week ‘live in’ up country in a town called Byumba. Rebecca and I had made arrangements for them to stay with Eugene Twizerimana one of our partners, until the middle of next week. They will learn some Kinyarwanda, among other culturally useful things (we hope.).

The drive was going to be a bit of rite of passage for me as well. After dropping them off, I was going to drive back to Bujumbura completely alone for the first time. The reason we did not go as a family this time is that it would have meant pulling Oren out of school again for several days, and we are really trying to be the kind of parents that don’t cause their children to be absent from school excessively because of their own work agendas.

The prospect of the family not going was pretty depressing to me, but Oren took it the hardest of all. He pleaded with me to go. He said he could put his seat way in the back of the car and not take up any space. (He seemed to think it was a space issue.) I told him, not this time, but that he would be going back with us in 2 weeks to pick Ruth and Krystan up. He was very sad and I assured him I would be back in two days.

The trip went well. We arrived on Monday evening after a very smooth drive to Kigali via the new route. It took about 5 hours. On the way in to Kigali, we stopped in a town called Nyamatta where there is a large genocide memorial, a church, in which about 4000 tutsi were massacred. I had visited it before, in fact Doug Hiebert, the former MCC Rep. took Rebecca and I to it on our first trip to Rwanda. I thought, as sobering as it was, that it is a significant introduction for new workers to the country.

While we are now 14 years away from the actual time of the genocide, there is no doubt that that experience colors every area of life in Rwanda to this day. I told Ruth and Krystan that it is the backdrop against which every interaction they will have is played. Yet, It is not something people talk about personally very much, especially to strangers.

I need to diverge here to talk about Guchacha. These are the local tribunals that have been set up around the country to try prisoners for ‘crimes against humanity.’ The government has recently announced, that after 14 years, the guchacha courts will close as of June 1st as all prisoners will have been tried and sentenced by that point. (It is important to remember that there are people in prison who have been waiting for a trial for the past 14 years!!) The good thing is that once sentenced, the time they spend behind bars in credited to them as time served.

The director of Friends Peace House, Sizerre, is a judge for guchacha in his district. I asked if it would be possible to see one of the trials before they were all finished this month. He said it was hard for foreigners to get in, but he would try to get me in to see one before the end of the month. I am hoping this might be a possibility.

Continuing on…

From Nyamatta we went on to Kigali and checked into our guesthouse. (Africa new Life.) We did some business and shopping after that and had an interesting evening as Ruth’s dad was in town for business! (He works for World Relief in Kenya.) He is an old MCCer as well and we had a nice visit over dinner. The next morning we went to Friends Peace House to have formal introductions of the new ‘Consultants’ to our partner.

They were introduced around, I did some business, then we headed in the car up to Byumba. (We did stop by the Friends Church to make sure their house was almost ready, and fortunately it was!) I requested one of the Friends Peace House staff to come with us as I had only been to Byumba once, and did not want to get lost. Fortunately Jeanette, the director of the Women’s programs was available to go with us.

We got to Eugene’s house about mid afternoon and he introduced us to his children. He has two young girls one boy an an older girl that he is raising alone. (His wife died exactly one year ago.) They were extremely gracious, and we had a fanta together before Jeanette and I left them up there.

I had the strange feeling of dropping a child off at college. I was excited for them but nervous as well. I did leave them with a cell phone and money, and instructions on how to contact me, but I think they are fine. They did seem excited about all that was happening.

Another interesting side note. We had brought a water filter from Burundi because Rebecca and I were worried about their drinking water. Upon getting to Kigali, we realized that there was a loose bolt that was causing it to leak. We needed a wrench to tighten it. I decided it was worth it to buy one at local hardware store in Kigali as we did not have one in Buj.

We were in luck on our drive to the guest house. There was an area with about a dozen hardware stores all in walking distance. (This is normal, usually all businesses of one type will be in the same area. When I go to change money at a Forex, there are usually about 50-75 in the same block.) I went into the first (biggest) one and asked for a wrench (clef). They took a brief look around and said they were sorry they did not have one. Not discouraged I went to the second store, and got the same story. By the third hardware store I was getting concerned and took a bit of time to look around. It seemed that there was paint, plumbing supplies and even construction materials….but no tools!! I asked at the next store if they had any tools at all, they said no. I asked where one goes to buy tools and they said a used parts shop. So here is something I have learned: Hardware stores do not sell tools in Rwanda, as far as I can tell. As an American who usually made a trip to Home Depot once a week, and often came home with a new tool, I found that really odd! We never did get a wrench, but fortunately Eugene had a filter at his house.

On Wednesday I got up early and drove back to Burundi alone. Honestly it was quite easy and I listened to three Bill Moyers interviews I had downloaded onto my ipod while I had decent internet connectivity in Kigali. I got back about 3 in the afternoon.

Probably an even bigger challenge than I faced sans famille, was Rebecca, having to stay in Bujumbura with two boys and no car or husband. Here is her report on how that went:

While Paul was away in Rwanda, I needed to figure out how to go along with the routine in Bujumbura. Three days. Two kids. No car. School at 8 am. Go! (And our double stroller is temporarily out of commission while we wait for a new inner tube for the punctured tire.) On Monday, Paul took Oren to school before heading to Rwanda with Krystan and Ruth. He dropped me off at the office and I was able to do a few hours of normal work. Zachee’s son Tim goes to the same school, so he took me and David to pick up Oren. It was so sweet to see Tim and Oren greet each other after school and then hold hands as they walked to the car. Zachee drove us home then, which was quite out of his way. With the help of Charlie (a short-term mission volunteer from the UK) and Marcelline our cook, we managed to keep the kids under control well enough for me to learn about the passé simple tense in my French lesson. One of Oren’s other friends, Zack, also came over to play later in the afternoon (he brought his mom Lizzy and little sister Grace, too.) The kids and I had a reasonably quiet night, aside from David raising the roof while I gave Oren a bath. Also, our nightguard Gaspar was kind enough to reason with me about my travel plans for the morning. I was planning to do the 40 minute walk to school with Oren in the stroller and David in the front-pack. He told me I would be too tired (and I know he’s right – David is already 7.5 kg). “Let me call a taxi for you in the morning…” Gaspar insisted. Tuesday morning came, and I was so thankful for Gaspar’s counsel. I really missed Paul! He normally does everything in the morning: wake up Oren and help him transition to the world, make Oren’s snack, make breakfast, get Oren and David dressed, entertain David while I shower. Even thought I woke up before 6, I was scrambling in every direction to get us out the door on time. Thankfully, Oren agreed to be my friend, and was very cooperative. As soon as he had his shoes on, he ran down to the gate to wait for the taxi. We got to school on time (whew! Just barely!) and Zachee took me and David the rest of the way to the office. At lunch time, Zachee and his whole family took us back home with them for lunch and play time. Oren was delighted to go to Timmy’s house and see how they had fixed it again (after the flood last month). It was funny – Oren was actually convinced that everything in the house had been fixed and was brand-new (even Timmy’s toys that had not been touched by the water). The kids came up with a novel game that amused them for a whole hour: they found the little artificial Christmas tree, and decorated it with electronic singing, blinking lights, tinsel, Christmas balls, and everything else they could find. Eventually, took a taxi all the way across town and back home again. One thing about taxis here: I think there must be a policy of removing seat belts from the back seat. There just aren’t any. So even if I had a baby car seat with me, I couldn’t buckle it in. It’s just a matter of praying when you get in the door. And humanly speaking, it’s hard to have confidence. Just about every taxi has a busted windshield or fender or something. So if you find a taxi driver who is not too reckless, it’s good to get his number. Which I did with this guy, Richard, and he promised to pick us up for school in the morning. We had dinner and cleaned up the house before Bible study. And then I wanted to spend a few concentrated minutes with Oren so that he would be OK while I led the study. We read some books. Then, since no one had come yet, we started singing every Christian camp song I could think of and dancing around the living room. Eventually, someone did come – one local guy – and as awkward as it might have been, we actually had a good study. All the other regular folks had things come up. Oh well. So, Richard the taxi man picked us up in the morning. But on the way to school, we were stopped by the police. There was obviously some kind of power struggle, and they cops were not going to give back Richard’s papers. We waited and waited. When we were 5 minutes late for school, I asked one of the policemen what I should do. He said – get another taxi! Yeah right, on a busy road, with two kids. Yikes! Thankfully Richard must have made some kind of deal to drive us the two blocks and come back. As we walked to the classroom, another parent heard me telling Oren that I would be walking to pick him up and might be late. She offered to give us a ride. So that’s how we solved the final leg of the school journey. Anita is Burundian, married to a Canadian, and she was happy to practice her English. We’ve seen her family numerous times around town, and Oren likes to play with her daughter Crystelle, So I’m thankful to have made a better connection with them.

OK, back to Paul…

Thursday was a productive workday for Rebecca and I, and we were hoping Friday would be too…until Oren got sick on Thursday night. This meant that one of us had to stay home Friday morning with him. We also were realizing that Jodi had not had a visit from us for a while and was needing supplies and encouragement.

We decided that if Oren’s fever was not too high Saturday, we would head up to Bura Sera on Saturday. Oren was indeed well enough, so we headed up country as a family. It was a nice drive and we are really enjoying doing these drives together. Today we even braved the ill-fated shortcut of a previous blog. This time we did not take the wrong left turn and got from our house to Jodi’s in 3 hours flat!!

Jodi was thrilled to see us and we had a nice walk up country that afternoon. Oren helped her pick vegetables in her garden that evening, and on Sunday we went to mass at the seminary before heading back down to Bujumbura.

We got back just in time to make a dinner engagement with our friends the Carr’s. They had just got back from white water rafting in Uganda and had some harrowing stories of optional body boarding that they offer on the last set of level 4 rapids! We were meeting at our familiar favorite haunt Khana Khazanna, but the evening had a sad side—the Carr’s leave for good on Friday, and this was their last meal at this restaurant. We will really miss them when they leave. They were quite an awesome family!

When we got home at 9pm, Rebecca discovered it was Mother’s Day!! I have to say, I miss the commercialism of days like this in the U.S. At least it keeps you from letting it slip by unnoticed. We had not seen one word about it and almost missed it completely. We will plan to celebrate tomorrow.

Making New Friends and Tearing Down Idols

Last week I ended the blog by saying that our car had broken down on a Sunday morning. It is now Sunday afternoon a full week later and I am happy to say that the car is in good working order. (Two door handles missing and a stolen gas cap notwithstanding.) Actually, I called Zachee to tell him what happened right after I wrote the blog, and asked what one does for a tow truck around here. He told me that mechanics make housecalls! So on Monday morning we called Musifiri, our regular mechanic, and he came over to our house to have a look. It was a starter problem and he told us we could push start it and he would drive it over to his shop. I had my doubts about whether Zachee and I could push our truck-size Land Cruiser fast enough to jump start us, but Musafiri assured us we could. Long story short, it worked and he took it to be repaired at his shop.

I should also mention that I called Cassien, the director of our local partner Help Channel, and asked if we could rent a car from them while we were waiting. Cassien, ever gracious, immediately drove his wife’s car over to us and let us use it without paying, until our car was fixed. (Happily our vehicle was back to us by Monday afternoon.)

The week began normally enough: Oren went to school as usual, although he was sent home with a fever after about 2 hours.

On Tuesday, we tried him at school again, and he did fine. That morning, Rebecca and I went to a ‘leaving for good’ Sale offered by a missionary family here. We were not sure what we would find, but thought we could use an extra electric fan that was advertised. When we got there, we were amazed at all that was for sale. This family had moved their lives here and were not taking much of it back. There were games and toys, appliances, vehicles, but most impressively, an enormous inventory of Sunday School materials: books, lessons, crayons, play dough, puppets, glue, markers, chalkboards, scissors, poster paper, etc, by the basket full. We asked the person about the circumstances of their leaving (which appeared precipitous) and he said that their denomination (which we are not naming here) in Burundi had made a decision to ask the expatriate missionaries to return home. I don’t know much about the politics of that decision and am not judging it, but I do know that for this family, it was neither a happy nor an anticipated turn of events. They appeared to have committed themselves to a long-term assignment, and had invested considerably in materials to support the church and Sunday School. I could hear in the man’s voice a genuine disappointment and resignation to what was happening, but a willingness to trust God in how they would be used in another place. He also asked us to pray for the good of their denomination here, and that God would be working in through it in Burundi at this time.

Rebecca and I decided to buy pretty much all of the Sunday school materials because we are aware of how little by way of supplies our own church has for kids’ crafts, etc. We are also now the proud owners of an entire puppet theater complete with stage and about a dozen puppets. Hopefully Oren and I will think of a way to make up some skits to do and find a receptive audience.

Wednesday and Thursday were not terribly busy. We had language lessons as usual, and I have been feeling again that I am making some progress in Kirundi. Rebecca’s French is also getting very good, and we can both participate quite adeptly in meetings with our partners in French without translation. For dinner on Wednesday night we invited one of the most fascinating people we know here. Ally has been here for 12 years and in that time has done some amazing things. She began here doing work with World Vision, but has since moved over to a smaller NGO that retrains FNL rebels, giving them skills in various trades, as part of an agreement with them to disarm. She has spent a lot of time working with rebel groups and has met some very unusual people in her time. She has also been involved for many years in prison ministry here. It is amazing to hear her recount many incredible stories of redemption as well as numerous harrowing escapades.

An important thing to know about Burundian prisons is that prisoners are very dependent on family and friends to help them with basic needs. Ally had befriended a rebel leader in prison in the 1990’s who had been born again in the prison. (He was on death row at the time.) During at least one siege of the city of Bujumbura, he called her to say that the inmates had no charcoal at the prison and could not make food—the prison was cut off from the city by a battle zone. She asked him: “Do you seriously expect me to drive through the middle of Musaga at this time to bring you charcoal?” He said “yes,” in desperation, and she did. After that time she said that she had won the hearts and minds of inmates and prison authorities as well, and was pretty much allowed to come and go to the prison as she pleased.

Her latest work, helping disarm and retrain child soldiers from the FNL rebel group, has come out of that trust that has been built as a result of her sacrificial courage. She also told us that the man she met was eventually given a pardon and is currently working as a pastor. Another inmate from that time works with Ally in her ministry.

Speaking of child soldiers… I need to take a bit of a diversion here to talk about another lesson I have learned. I have not processed it all yet but I had two encounters that reminded me of just how different my own past has been from many of those whom I meet. Last week Enoch, the young man who has been teaching our cook Marcelline some new recipes, told Rebecca a bit of his life story. He is only about 25, but he said that before he was trained as a cook, he spent 5 years as an FNL guerilla fighter (between 13 and 18). It is quite shocking to me that this quiet, unassuming, cheerful young man had had such a frightening past. I am not sure the exact circumstances of his enlistment, but usually child soldiers are orphans of people who were killed and really have no other option for survival except joining a guerilla army. (Many are kidnapped into this life.)

The second 'encounter' occured on Tuesday night at Bible study. We had two newcomers participate, two students, brothers, that attend our church. We were delighted to have some Burundians at our Bible study as the English language medium of our group excludes many who do not speak it. We shared the passage I wrote about in the last blog, and I was interested in talking to them about the way that human beings pervert God’s word to support their own agendas. I was surprised to find that one of the guys was far more preoccupied with pretty basic moral questions. He asked rather abruptly, “Does God forgive us for lying?” I pondered the question, and did say that I did believe that in Christ there is no condemnation for those who believe in him. He responded by saying: “Because the Bible says not to lie. But when I was a boy, men came with machetes and asked where our parents were. We lied and told them we did not know, because we thought they would kill them.”

I can only describe the feeling I had of the disparity of our life experiences as vertigo. Here was a young man wondering if he could be forgiven of lying to protect his family from being killed, while I was pondering the fallacious theology of the Hamitic doctrine. I stumbled for an answer to his question that would assure him. Rebecca noted that Rahab lied to protect the Israeli spies in Joshua and was rewarded. But ultimately I felt that there was no answer I could give that would touch his soul. My words sounded like tin in my ears as we reasoned with him logically and theologically on the matter. He ended by saying: “They found my parents and killed them anyway.”

I was reminded again, that even when we share an evening—or a day—with new friends here, the differences in life experiences can seem like oceans between us.

I am grateful for prayer.

I am glateful that there is a response to these moments that are beyond our understanding. We all did pray together. I was very thankful at that time for the fellowship we had. I was thankful that God had once again stripped away the pretence that I so often find masquerading as my faith.

Selah

Thursday evening was a lot of fun. We had dinner at Khana Khazana with Zachee, Bridget and Timmy. We were celebrating the fact that Zachee and Timmy got visas to go to Canada this summer!! It can be a long, arduous process and they were expecting it to take up to 6 months. The fact that the passports came back from the Canadian Consulate in Nairobi with visas in 3 days was a miracle! The joy of the evening was tempered a bit by the rambunctiousness of Oren and Timmy, who ran around the restaurant and played on some of the décor. At one point, everyone turned at the sound of a brass object hitting the floor. Even before looking, I knew Oren would be involved. A large statue of Shiva had been knocked off a pedestal and sent careening across the floor. Oren was mortified and I felt strangely conflicted as I went to dry his tears and reset the ‘idol’ back up on its pedestal. (I thought of Gideon tearing down his father’s Asherah pole in the book of Judges.) I am not sure about the theological implications of my onerous task. (Maybe Oren was acting more righteously than me in this situation.) Here is a picture of Oren and Timmy at the restaurant.

Friday was a day we have been preparing for for weeks. Ruth Plett and Krystan Palowski, our new service workers who will work in Rwanda, arrived. We went as a family to pick them up at the airport. That meant, of course, that we were late to get there and Krystan and Ruth were already through customs and hanging out next to the exit of the airport. (Fortunately, the airport is small.) They are a delightful couple from Canada. They had passed through Nairobi for a week to see Ruth’s parents then came to Bujumbura. We have spent the weekend orienting them and giving them a tour of Bujumbura. On Friday we had cold drinks at Cercle Hippique, a stable and riding school. It is a true (deteriorating) colonial relic, but still has horses and offers riding lessons. The horses, however, are not always kept in a stable or corral so they wander around and are a slight hazard for the kids. One even wandered into the open air restaurant as we sipped our fantas.

On Sunday we took them to our church, and ended the evening once again with the entire MCC team (less Jodi) at Khana Khazana. It was good to have Brandon, Zachee, and even Bridget give them some tidbits of wisdom and pitfalls to avoid as they begin their assignment.

Tomorrow morning I drive them up to Kigali. (The family is staying in Buj.) Will let you know how that goes next time. Pray for Rebecca, as she walks Oren to school several mornings this week.