Diary

Ah, french keyboards. Got to love them. Or whatever this keyboard is. I am in some internet cafe - let me copy and paste a week`s worth of thoughts on you:

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Tristan and I have been at the New Hope Orphanage since Monday.

In 2004, ethnic Tutsis in the DR Congo were being hunted and killed in a drawn-out continuation of the genocide in Rwanda a decade earlier. Thousands fled across the border into refugee camps in Burundi (not far from here), and were protected by the Burundi national army and the UN. However, the Hutu rebel group in the Congo contacted their allies in Burundi and got them to attack the Burundi national army base, a few kilometers from the refugee camp. While the army was distracted, the Hutus came across the border and into the camp, setting fire to the tents and killing the Tutsis with machine-guns and machetes as they fled. The UN, their mandate forbidding them to shoot unless shot upon, watched.

The massacre orphaned many children in the camp, and it was at this point that God started speaking to Pastor Reuben, Ray Bale and others about the crazy idea of starting an orphanage for these kids. And that’s how New Hope was born.

There are fifty survivors here (5-18 years old), as well as a half-dozen ‘Mamas’ – women widowed by the same massacre. The orphanage is in the middle of Bujumbura, in a neighbourhood with many other Congolese (even in Burundi it is not completely safe for ethnic Tutsis to live. Returning to the Congo is all but suicide).

These people are incredible. If anyone has a right to complain about what has happened in their lives, it would be them – yet they have an incredible faith and continually speak of the goodness of God. These kids are the models of what it is to be worshipers – all the time, and despite of anything. Their culture is one of singing, and right now the older ones have been practicing (about six hours a day) in anticipation of heading into the studio on Monday to start recording a CD. Think African’s Children’s choir, but better.

It is summer holidays right now, and the schedule is pretty loose around here. All we do is sleep, eat, and play with the kids (the younger ones, who are not in the choir, are around all the time). Tristan and I are sleeping in the guest room, with our own washroom. It is simple, but nice. Sometimes the water pressure drops enough to render the shower useless, and the power goes out around midnight, but other than that – pretty luxurious.

We are the first ones to be staying overnight and spending a lengthy period of time here. The children and the Mamas could hardly believe it when they heard we were planning to stay. Needless to say, we are very loved here, and the older ones are keen on learning English and hearing about ‘America’.

I am struggling. The description above doesn’t show it, but I am having a tough time here. Africa is often romanticized. World Vision images show cute pictures of little kids smiling up at you, just waiting to be loved. And this is true. But a picture doesn’t capture the language barrier which prevents me from having any decent conversation all day (except with Tristan), or the fact that it’s hot and you’re sweaty and the kids are sweaty and sticky and often smell, and there are always a few hanging off you wherever you go. Or the fact that Tristan and I have been battling fatigue ever since arriving here (which we suspect is from our diet – mostly rice, potatoes, and some form of sauce or beans. Very starchy. No fruits or vegetables), and are exhausted even after only a few hours playing with the kids. A World Vision image (or even the very cute pictures I’ve gotten so far) does not capture the sense of hopelessness that I can’t help but feel when I walk around town and see the poverty, the rampant unemployment, and read about the tortured history of this continent. The West has been trying to ‘fix’ Africa for decades (with little success), and the more I learn here, the more I think it never can be fixed. No form of secular peace-keeping is going to heal the tribal and ethnic battles. No amount of checks and balances are going to be enough to halt the corruption that is rampant in all levels of authority (which makes it so difficult to deliver sustainable aid). And no amount of education will change the generational habits and ways of life here that can often be so detrimental to people improving their lives.

It is becoming ever clearer to me that Christ is the only thing that is going to fix the problems here, and when I see these believers singing their hearts out to God for hours on end (despite having watched their entire families be killed in front of them), I know there is still hope. And my petty complaints of tiredness and hopelessness and not feeling useful become insignificant when viewed in the light of these kids’ lives.

‘Enjoying’ is not the adjective I would use to describe how I’m feeling right now, but I am ‘growing’ and ‘learning’. Learning isn’t always easy – but I never expected it to be. And I’ve found growing doesn’t really happen when I’m comfortable. So here I am – uncomfortable, inadequate, and broken-hearted. Oddly enough, a good place to be.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Friday and Saturday we went to the President’s church to participate in a concert for orphans. The President’s wife runs an orphanage herself, and bunch of other orphans were there. It was basically a church service, but with more worship music and more choirs singing (including New Hope’s choir). The president is a born again Christian, and on Friday he led some of the worship and gave a quick word. He seems really cool; Ray says he is a great guy – but a poor politician. To give him credit, he doesn’t have an easy job. Burundi is just coming out of 13 years of war, and right now 50% of the GDP is coming from NGOs and other external investments. It is an interesting situation – Rwanda, itself having been ravaged by war, is now a modern, bustling country, thanks to heavy investment by Western countries after the genocide in what seems to be a kind of delayed apology for not having done anything to stop the killings. However, the genocide and civil war continued on for another decade in the DR Congo and Burundi, leaving them in shambles, and yet few people know it. Or even know that Burundi is a country. Interesting what media does.

Today was a good day. Church in the morning, lunch at Pastor Reuben’s house, and then church in the evening at the orphanage. It was a real party tonight – there are a few people from Bella Coola here (but working in a different orphanage), and there was a whole bunch of students from the university here as well. I broke a nice sweat dancing (okay, I’m practically always breaking into a sweat here). A double round of Fanta followed.

I am doing better. I realize that posting a week’s worth of thoughts in one post gives a false sense of time, a very long week compressed into a five minute read. And it has been a long time. But I am slowly getting accustomed to the heat, the food, and the schedule. God is giving me grace for every day, and I have grown to love these kids dearly. The language barrier continues to be very frustrating (especially when hearing Tristan’s stories about some of the French conversations he’s had with the older kids), but I’m getting good at the non-ver-bal. They are very huggy (interestingly, even the 12-year olds are), so often words are not really necessary. The older kids are also becoming increasingly comfortable around us and opening up (Tristan, with his French, is the lucky beneficiary of that).

Monday, August 3, 2009

Actually, already Tuesday. The day rarely ends before midnight here – these kids are crazy.

Oh, they just started singing in the other room. It’s 12:30. They’ll probably go for another few hours. Last night a number of them stayed up most of the night praying. A few girls were singing close to our window as we were falling asleep – it was beautiful. And not just because the singing itself was beautiful, but the sincerity behind it could be felt even in the darkness. Wow. I woke up this morning at six to hear another group singing.

Now they’ve broken out into spontaneous prayer. It is loud. It is unbelievable.

Tonight a dozen of them came into our eating room (we have a separate bedroom) to sing us a song and to pray for us before we went to bed. Just because.

It is difficult to explain the authenticity of the faith in this Orphanage. Or the wild abandon with which they pray and worship. People who are so in adoration of their Lord that they stay up till 2 AM most nights to worship and pray, and then some get up to go to the six o’clock prayer service at the church the next morning. And a three-hour service in the evening, too. And it is not even the amount of time they spend in a church building (which is actually nothing more than a tin roof), but the earnestness with which they study the Word, and seek him in prayer, and worship him in song.

Friends, it is not possible to explain. I wish I could bring my mind to dream up adequate words to describe things here. I will need some time to process the thoughts flying around my cerebrum. And probably even then words will fail me.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

A team from Ireland from Samaritans’s Purse arrived today. They will be doing activities with the kids and doing some construction work. It is good to talk with other English-speakers. They are also a great distraction, allowing me some freedom to collect photography material (that hopefully Ray and others can use when giving presentations) without five kids on my arms.

Tomorrow we head into the Congo. There is a whole convoy going, as our trip coincides with the opening ceremony for the new orphanage up there. The hydroelectric project is by no means a certainty, but we will see what we can do. I imagine my expectations and preconceptions will be tossed out the window again. I am excited.

We will be in the middle of nowhere. You’ll hear from me in a week or two…

Okay, the internet is fast enough for one or two pictures. Here ya go:

Love to you all!