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.