Step Outside

We all know that life is not about money or status, and yet I have to keep reminding myself of that each day I’m here. I am even selfish when staring poverty right in the face, as I do every day on my way to work in the city or when visiting a rural project. How can I continue to be selfish when surrounded by such poverty? Have I become callous? Perhaps it’s because I really have no idea how my contribution is making a difference in the context of such a big problem. It would seem unlikely, even if I were to devote my entire life to doing so, and I might as well go home and get on with things. Or maybe there’s something hidden deep down inside that tells me I’m different. Different from them. I’m different because I come from a rich country. I’ve known only peace, I’ve got a university degree, I regularly bathe, I eat healthy food, I know about science and politics and iPods and blogs. As such, these problems exist outside of my responsibility. I have indemnity: I can choose to help, but I am under no obligation to do so. If ever I get tired of being here I can hop on a plane and be home in 48 hours. Furthermore, I say, Regardless of what actions I take as an individual, the government of my rich country and others like it are giving billions in aid. And yet for whatever reason Africa just can’t get things together. However, when I dig deeper I realize that despite all the media hype of cancelled debts and massive international relief budgets, my rich country and others like it still take far more from Africa today than they claim to be putting in. The raping and pillaging continues unabated, albeit less conspicuously than during the last several centuries. I think it quite possible that my happiness comes at the expense of others’ misery, and I don’t like that thought.

Being honest, I confess that I am a citizen of a rich country who enjoys all the privileges and benefits thereof, who is not ready to give them up, and who will return one day and thoroughly enjoy them. Does it make me more reprehensible than someone who only sees poverty on a World Vision commercial and neglects to act, because I see it with my own eyes and touch it with my own hands and I still remain selfish?

The other day I was visiting a project site in a remote little village in the south of Burundi. As I arrived and the crowds started gathering, I was moved by the emotional pleas of the women, Please help us have clean water; our children are sick. We walked together to where they are currently fetching water: bubbling up out of the mud in the middle of a marshy valley-bottom where they also have their pitiful garden plots to grow their food. It’s no wonder their children are dying from intestinal diseases, or why 45% of children in Burundi are underweight. Or why the average life expectancy is 44 years. Or why Burundians now have 25% less to eat than they did 25 years ago.

Sometimes there are simple projects, but there are rarely simple solutions, especially to the bigger problems the world faces. Let me be daring and suggest a simple project- I propose we become less selfish. I’ll begin at that and leave it entirely open-ended; the specific details are your own and my own. Simple? Yes. Easy? Not in the least. Is it a solution? Perhaps not; however, I guarantee that the results will be astounding for everyone involved. And we’re all involved, either as part of the solution or as part of the problem. If I live in excess, even if I’ve toiled for it with my own hands, I come by it by Grace alone: I was not born a Twa who will never be granted the luxury of owning footwear or attending school. Rather, I was born into a culture whose clever exploitation of others affords me my happiness. It doesn’t leave me too happy though, to remember that when I have, someone else doesn’t. Or worse yet, that maybe it is precisely because I have that someone else doesn’t.

I know I am not going to change Africa, or Burundi for that matter. Yet I also know that it is possible to bring significant change to an entire community with a simple project. And that I can do. The songs and dances and prayers of people who receive assistance remind me that it’s all worth it. It’s so necessary, and it is my responsibility. I must share the happiness and resources that I have. Because I am Christian, and Christ would be with the poor in their squalor. Because I am human, and refuse to forget that others live in misery while I enjoy affluence. Because I am selfish, and long to step outside of myself.

Perhaps there is Salvation for me yet.

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Post-script: An incredibly encouraging group of friends in Ontario led by Mr. Joseph Ferretti just put on a party and raised $1400 to construct a simple clean water source for this community. Their efforts will benefit hundreds of people for decades. Now that’s something to party about!

Perception

Yesterday, Doug and I travelled to a small school that MCC supports in the middle of Burundi. The Hope School is an amazing success story of ethnic reconciliation. It exists primarily to bring education to severely marginalized and normally unschooled Twa children, but serves children from other ethnicities as well. As such, the kids all learn and play together without stigmas or exclusion based on ethnicity, and there has even been reconciliation between parents of different ethnicities whose children are friends at school.

Recently the students were asked to fill in a map of their country with drawings that depict their perception of development for their country. Some of their ideas were "No more illegal marriages in order that men cannot so easily chase away their wives"; "Police to maintain order and prevent violence" (I neglected to tell this truly bright little fellow that it's often the police who cause those very problems); "More schools, and materials for the schools"; and "More crops so that people have enough to eat" (a problem that keeps many children from going to school- one can't concentrate with an empty stomach, or with the likelihood that if they don't spend the day looking for food there won't be dinner in the evening either).

What are their favourite subjects? Invariably the languages- French and English. I felt somewhat sheepish that some of these youngsters speak French more correctly than I do (after all, I am more than double their age and come from a bilingual country....)

To observe children pursuing school with such enthusiasm despite all the obstacles they face, and when the stakes are so high, one's perception of education is profoundly affected.

Do I Really Live Here?

My friend Mrs Amy Mawson asked the question already- "Wait, we don't really live here do we?"

Although it's easy to be overwhelmed by the poverty and the corruption and everything else that comes with living in one of the poorest countries in the world, it's is also a very beautiful place if your eyes are open to see it.

United Arab Emirates

An arid 40 degrees is one thing; an intensely humid 40 degrees is quite another thing. Whereas the intense, dry heat at the beginning of my week in Dubai was somewhat of a novelty (after all, it’s expected when in the middle of the desert), the same 40 degrees was an altogether different experience when 100%+ humidity was involved, as I experienced at the end of the week. The brief, intermittent walks between the air-conditioned hotel room, vehicle, shopping mall and restaurant were about all that one could handle, unless walking around with luggage containing a change of clothes for each subsequent item in the agenda.

Dubai really is the booming, Arabic paradise city that it’s cracked up to be, albeit somewhat difficult to navigate outside of the various visitor-friendly air-conditioned capsules. Perhaps just as I’ve acclimated to the “more moderate” temperatures here in Bujumbura, one’s body could also theoretically become accustomed to the heat in the Middle East. But it’s difficult to imagine.

In any case, Cassien and I found ourselves in Dubai last week in order to purchase vehicles and computers for Help Channel Burundi, and we were successful. I am very enthusiastically awaiting their arrival to see the ways in which Help Channel’s capacity will be extended to do the important work they are doing. It will be quite a step; up until now, the rural offices that oversee all projects have been operating without computers at all. And because of the decrepit state of their current fleet, it is not infrequent that they have been required to rent vehicles at a significant cost in order to visit rural projects found far off the beaten track.

Additionally, I returned to somewhat of a Christmas in October yesterday, as several wonderful friends had sent out gifts and cards with a recent visitor. Coffee and chocolate and music chosen by those with impeccable taste will enrich my daily experience for months to come- thanks to my parents, Aunt Betty and Uncle Larry, Tammy, Laura and David and Karla. You are sorely missed.

Mr. David Bretherick has played a particularly large role, as he was responsible for the project of printing the promotional materials I designed for Help Channel a while back. They’ve finally arrived after lots of work on his part and generosity on the part of Westside Church, and they will undoubtedly have another big impact on the capacity of the organization. If you are interested in receiving a brochure, please request one by leaving a comment or sending an email (include your address if you suspect I don’t already have it) and I’d be happy to mail one out.

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving! from me and my cat. I miss you all, and my cat is missing a name. Perhaps you can help me out with some inspiration. She's a feisty little African feline with an identity crisis... 

free burma

(the following is taken from Jim Wallace's blog God's Politics, September 28th)
Gene Stoltzfus is a friend who worked in Southeast Asia during the 1960s and 70s, and then became director of Christian Peacemaker Teams, a program of Brethren, Mennonite and Friends churches and other affiliated organizations that places teams in high conflict zones to emphasize human rights protection, nonviolent action, and peacemaking campaigns. On his blog, he comments on the religious roots of nonviolence for the Buddhist monks leading the demonstrations against the military junta. [He writes:]

"Two groups with countrywide power and influence in modern Burma are now facing each other across potholes in the streets. The military with Chinese-supplied weapons, is determined to retain the grip it has had on the nation since 1962. The Buddhist movement, with an institutional life going back more than 1000 years, is led by monks armed with spiritual disciplines and a commitment to an ethical system that combines practical living with a deep sensitivity to all of creation. The Buddhist way is nonviolence empowered by love, honed by teaching and meditation. However, this does not mean that monks are not tough, persistent, and even militant."

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Please add your name to an international petition here, and stand with the Burmese in support of democracy through non-violence. The petition will be advertised in a massive ad campaign all this week, delivered by a Nobel Prize winner to UN Secretary General Ban Ki Moon, and broadcast into Burma over the radio.

A Shiny New Pen

A young orphan girl simpers in front of the camera while waiting in line to receive a UNICEF school kit.

Thursday was a day that helped me remember why I’m here.

Sometimes things can get a bit stagnant in the office, and the immediacy of the need in this country and the beauty of the beneficiaries can dim. Which is why Thursday was so good for me. Help Channel Burundi was in Rutana Province in the south of the country, distributing 12 000 primary school kits to orphans and otherwise vulnerable children in a project funded by UNICEF. We spent many days planning the logistics- how to best determine the distribution locations, how to formulate the information database to ensure the correct amounts of materials make it to the correct schools and to the correct children, and then how to actually do the distribution. It was a massive job, and the Help Channel team shone brilliantly. However, the best part of the experience for me was actually driving to a few schools and handing the school kits to the individual children. It was inspiring to see how they graciously accepted the materials, with the looks on their faces showing their eagerness to learn. For some, to use a pen for the first time. For all, to fill the bright white pages of their new workbooks with marks of hope for the future.

My Burundi

When the camera comes out, this is the Burundi I know.

International Day of Peace

September 21st is the UN International Day of Peace. I hope that we can take today and the weekend to consider the current situation in our own countries- whether that means Canada, the United States, Burundi, or elsewhere- and be thankful for what peace exists. I think we can't really understand how wonderful it is if we haven't experienced otherwise. Let's also consider very carefully our choices, and those of our governments, and how these choices influence the situation of peace, or lack thereof, in other countries. We all play a part, whether knowingly or not, for better or for worse. Let's make it the former of those two.

In Memoriam

Miss you buddy.

Steven Peter Dirksen
November 24th, 1981 - September 14th, 2006

At least 4 N.W.T election candidates have criminal pasts...

I got a chuckle from this headline in today's CBC.ca newsfeed: 

"At least four candidates in Northwest Territories election have criminal records- and in one case, the would-be legislator is still wanted by police, according to court files."

Well, I guess I can understand. After all, who among us doesn't make the occasional death threat or obstruct justice by releasing crickets in the local courtroom? In any case, at least we have elections and our government representatives aren't guilty of crimes against humanity (I'll make a note that I'm speaking only about the situation in Canada...)

Click the title to link to the article.

Studio Photo

I came upon this interesting scene on Thursday while traveling upcountry with Help Channel Burundi to check out a future project site. Studio Photo. I can't overstate how remote this is- it's truly in the middle of nowhere. There were no houses in view and the nearest village was at least a few kilometres away. Awesome. 

What's also awesome is that the project site we were checking out is for the construction of a clean water source near one of the new HCB tree nurseries in Rutana Province, in the south of Burundi. At the moment, the entire village gathers water that bubbles up from a spring in the middle of a muddy marsh where everyone also grows their crops. The first time we visited the nursery, the first thing the people said was that they need clean water because their children are dying of intestinal diseases. What's more is that right above this area is the location of a newly constructed primary school that will host a few hundred students for the first time next week. 

a note

i just thought that i'd mention quickly that i didn't know the unfortunate man written about in my previous post "of sushi and instability". he was just one of the many people suffering human rights abuses and all sorts of other injustices in this beautiful but conflict-ridden country in the heart of africa. 

Woken Up By Sounds Of...

5:45 in the morning and I'm awake. It was probably the fault of the night guard who is somewhat noisily taking a shower in the building in the back yard. The birds have begun to wake up as well, and their exotic songs break the early morning silence. But there is another strange sound under the rest of the usual morning  clamour, audible at first only during pauses in the chirping. Then, with the unmistakable sound of a distant explosion, followed by another, I realize that the other strange sound is machine gun fire. I take some consolation in the fact that it sounds to be coming from across the lake in East Congo...

...but later learn that it was in fact coming from Burundi, in one of Bujumbura's northern suburbs. From about 5:30 to 6:30, dissident parties within the last remaining militant rebel group were fighting because of dissatisfaction with the group's leader. Apparently at least six combatants were killed, but we'll wait for the news later in the day to learn more. 

Again, I'm safe. I live in a safe neighbourhood far from where anything would happen, if anything were to happen. Although there are present tensions and disconcerting rumours, there is massive pressure from the international community for the government to resolve the peace talks, and it appears that they will soon come back to the table. And perhaps with the present instability within the rebel group, their leadership is showing signs of weakness, and their combatants signs of non-commitment.

I'll write more when more is known. Click the title for a link to the Reuters AlertNet news article.

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Afternoon radio news counts 19 dead soldiers plus 1 civilian, but is still unconfirmed because journalists aren't yet allowed on scene. 

Apparently there are those among the rebels who want the peace talks to continue, while others don't, and are fighting over leadership in that regard. 

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September 5th news sources now says at least 25 soldiers and 1 civilian; other sources say 21 soldiers plus 1 civilian.

Routine

Some people have asked me about my routine- what does a normal day look like for me in Burundi? When I got home last night and was reflecting for a moment, I realized I had had a most wonderful day; and although it hadn't been anything out of the ordinary, perhaps it could have been called a day of ideal routine. 

0730- Wake up. Strong, dark coffee from a press. Whole wheat toast with cheese. Fresh pineapple.  

0830- Watch Le Téléjournal de Radio Canada, news from Québec on TV5 (France morning television).

0910- Arrive at work. Email. Put almost-finishing touches on 2006 Annual Report in French.

1200- Home for a special lunch, to which I've invited Emmanuel and his wife. Eat like royalty. 

1400- Back to work. Email. Skype with Mr. James Perreaux. He asks me if I shower; respond in the affirmative. Even use soap. Feel somewhat homesick. Chat with Antonio on MSN. Should be working. Coffee.

1700- 2 hours to finalize French translation of the annual report with good friend Jean-de-Dieu. Completion brings grand sense of accomplishment and relief. 

1900- Skype with Duncan, says there's a power cut at the gym. 

1930- Duncan's proven correct, I'm alone at the gym, exercising by candlelight. Quite enjoyable, actually; nobody is around to see my profuse sweating. A choir practices next door and makes me very glad to be in Africa.  

2030- Leave the gym when the candles burn out. 

2100- Home. Shower. Warm up dinner of pasta with fresh fish. Paul Desmond on the stereo (thank aloud Mr. Daryl Alford for the iPod and Benedikte for the stereo). 

2200- Read a chapter of Sa Majesté des Mouches (The Lord of the Flies).

2300- Not entirely abstemious nightcap while catching TV5 Africa news.  

2330 or so- Collapse in bed. Reflect on enjoyable day. 

of sushi and instability

i'm still alive.

even though i dared to try sushi in bujumbura last night, after noticing it was offered at a restaurant i was visiting for the first time. i know- it was a risky move. but duncan made me do it. and i was just a little bit intrigued, to say the least. after all, if it would have been good, my life in burundi would have been forever changed. anytime a nostalgic trip back to vancouver were desired, i could hop on over for a few pieces, and go on with the day in a wonderful state of mind. so, was it good? sure, it was okay. did it merit the two-dollar-per-piece price tag? well, not really, but perhaps on the rare special occasion...

etienne nkurikiye, on the other hand, is dead.

he was beheaded by a group of rebels last wednesday, who proceeded to harvest and steal his potatoes and plunder other houses nearby. the police report that the aim of the attacks was to steal food, money and clothes. this was the latest of an increasing number of violent acts that have been occurring since the last remaining militant rebel group backed out of peace negotiations. two weeks ago the houses of five members of the government opposition were attacked with grenades. on friday the first vice president was sacked, and there has been a major shuffling of appointed positions in recent months. the current situation of political stalemate is sparking worries of a descent back into civil war that has plagued this tiny african nation since 1993.

i think everyone should just chill out, have some sushi, and decide together to stop destroying their beautiful country.

Experience Burundi

Lars squirts a worm from his hip. Matt recoils at the sound of a guinea pig’s skull popping in the jaws of a large crocodile. Together they brave open cobra cages in the world’s poisonous snake capital. Together they scoff at the hippos in Lake Tanganyika for the pleasures of bodysurfing. Lars and Matt experience Burundi.

Things got slightly out of hand last night when our game of croquet turned ugly, and Seth wasn’t entirely prepared for the competition put forth by the Canadian contingent. Perhaps expecting a more conservative and orderly arrangement, he soon found himself reeling on the other side of the yard after Lars sent him running like 1812. Braving canine land mines, massive drop-offs and invisible wickets, the US captured second and third place, but gold was solidly in Canada’s hands despite being outnumbered by a factor of two.

I wonder if my cat will ever be the same after a mortally frightful encounter with Matt’s beard. Matt wonders if all females respond the same way. Lars wonders if he’ll ever have a beard. I wonder if Matt and Lars will ever be the same after Burundi. I wonder if Burundi will ever be the same after Matt and Lars. I wonder if it’ll again be such a long time before I see them again. I wonder how long it will be before I am able to see the others who aren’t here with us but who have often been the subject of our conversations. I wonder if you’ll soon be able to experience Burundi yourself.

Read Matt and Lars' account here.

Sometimes dreaming is easy. Other times however, it seems more likely that longing and languish breed only more longing and languish without any easy resolve. To see people in need, or to be in need yourself, but to know that the answer lies far off or that it cannot be envisioned at all, is to be vulnerable to discouragement and even to despair. 

The dreams, when they come, are life. Glimpses of potential, visions of what could be, are the tiny sparks that set aflame Hope. And it is by tenaciously clinging to Hope that one receives life and strength in the struggle for those things most desired.

The dreams, when they come, are what put to death that most awful sin of complacency.

The dreams, when they go, sometimes draw us back into sleep, that we'd enter again the land where with ease anything is possible.

The dreams, when they go, are sometimes born anew in the hearts of those courageous enough to enter the land where with difficulty and perseverance and heartache and joy and sweat and tears, truly anything is possible. 

Zanzibar

a woman collecting seaweed at paje, east zanzibar, tanzania. ps- that's water. seriously. click for larger view.

From our dinner table set on the very edge of Stone Town’s waterfront, I saw Matt and Lars’ faces come into the kerosene light of the vendors’ stalls as they chose their meal of roasted lobster skewers and giant prawns. With a surprise attack on them from behind, I signalled the success of our long-awaited plans to meet up in Zanzibar. After warm embraces and a round of fresh sugar cane-lime juice, we set out on the long task of catching up. And what could be better than spending some good time together with some of your best friends in the world on surely one of the most mysteriously beautiful islands in the world?

We spent the first day together exploring the labyrinthine network of tight passages in Zanzibar’s Stone Town. Getting lost is an inevitable and frequent occurrence as one wanders about exploring sultans’ palaces and ancient fort ruins, but also a necessary part of the experience.

Zanzibar was the main port for slaves coming out of East Africa and an estimated 60 000 slaves passed through each year during the height of the trade just before abolishment. In the slave cells adjacent to where the slave market used to be located, we sat hunched over in the tiny room, dark and featureless but for a deep trough running through the centre for waste and death. It’s an austere venue to consider some of the possible thoughts by which men justified becoming monsters, and the situations in which we continue to do so today.

Today we moved on to the other side of the island to enjoy the impossibly clear waters of the Indian Ocean. And here we sit, under a thatched roof with the surf coming right up to the stilts of our restaurant, eagerly awaiting our meals of fresh seafood. In the immediacy of the moment, in its perfection, the rest of life slips far off into the distance, and only the moment remains. But it too shall pass, as will the next, and I will eventually face the malign reality of the moment that escorts me back to life. For that, I will summon the strength when I must; for now, there are other priorities that demand my undivided presence. Namely, barracuda in green curry.

Burundi Stats

Since most of the world hasn't ever heard of Burundi, or if they have, they couldn't point out on a map where it is located, I'll compile a list of statistics that might interest you. I've highlighted some the most significant items, but with the current peaceful situation and the attempts at reform, the future is looking somewhat more promising.

Area: 25 680 sq.km (Canada: 9 984 670 sq.km)
Population: 7.8 million (Canada: 30 750 100 in 2006)
Polulation Density: 303.7 persons/sq.km (Canada: 3.3 persons/sq.km, although this is perhaps not entirely accurate considering that much of Canada's total area is not habitable, whereas the large majority of Burundi's landmass is habitable, and is indeed being inhabited)

Ethnic Groups: Hutu- 86%, Tutsi- 13%, Twa pygmies- 1%
Religions: Christianity- 67%, traditional African religions- 32%, Islam- 1%

Population under the age of 15: 45.5% (2004)
Life expectancy: 44 yrs (2004; in 2001 it was 40.4 yrs)
Infant mortality: 11.4% (% of live births)
Child mortality: 19.0% (0-5 yrs)
Maternal mortality: 1%

Human development ranking: 169th (2003; in 2001 it was 173rd)
Undernourished population: 66%
Literacy rate: 59.3% (females: 52%)
% population living on less than $1/day (USD): 54.6%
GNI (Gross National Income) per capita: $100 USD

Cellular telephone subscribers: 2%
Internet users: 0.4%

Transparency International corruption rank: 130th (1- least corrupt, 145- most corrupt)

Number of physicians: 3 per 100 000 people (in contrast, although there is a lot of complaining, most people living in Canada have access to physicians at rates nearing 1:550)
Percent (confirmed) HIV+: 3.3% (UNAIDS 2006, obviously many don't get tested because of unavailability or stigma)
Number of registered Burundian refugees living elsewhere: 438 663 (UNHCR 2005)

All statistics obtained from http://www.alertnet.org/db/cp/burundi.htm and http://atlas.nrcan.gc.ca/site/english/index.html

Rambling About Entropy And Trees

Burundi is a pretty rough place. Drawn-out ethnic civil wars have a way of destabilizing things, and Burundi’s thirteen-year crisis (that more-or-less ended in 2005 despite peace agreement negotiations which continue to this day) did wonders on that front. The economy is in shambles and can barely begin to improve the bombed-out roads or the nearly non-existent healthcare system. Orphans comprise ten percent of the population, and each city has its masses of street kids. This partly explains why thievery is so widespread (I had my phone stolen, almost completely unnoticed, from my front pocket). Although somewhat less prevalent than in several nearby countries, Burundi is also being hit hard with the AIDS pandemic, and child-headed households are common. The average daily salary for a labourer is somewhere around $0.75. Which means that they will likely never taste Frosted Flakes cereal, which, at the time of writing this, has gone up to $22 per box at one of the local imported food supermarkets. Ah yes, one can obtain certain Western creature comforts in the capital city, Bujumbura (and I am glad for some of it); but it doesn’t help the image of white people that there are some of us here willing to spend money that frivolously, right in front of the faces of people who only eat once per day from their pitiful little gardens perched on the edges of vertiginous hillsides. If they were to lose their balance while hoeing their little plots, they might not stop tumbling until reaching the river at the bottom of the valley, which is invariably running rich with eroded red dirt. And that, at least in part, is their own undoing for having pressed their cultivation deep into where the forest used to hold its secrets. They can’t really be blamed, when a slightly bigger plot might mean more of their children will survive; but as a result, the hills are naked. Their exposed skin is exfoliated with every rain and their raw surfaces are blotched right to the tops with the square patterns of agriculture.

Help Channel Burundi believes that things can change. Although it’s far too late for the legendary pristine forest ecosystems to be restored, real change that protects the environment and that significantly benefits the majority of Burundians who are subsistence farmers is definitely possible. Help Channel Burundi has established more than twenty tree nurseries near ecologically important watershed areas, each producing between 75 000 and 250 000 seedlings every planting season. Millions of trees are being planted that will stabilize soils and allow water to penetrate deep into the ground to replenish the water table. They will provide resources to local inhabitants. They will play a role in the hopeful re-establishment of more moderate and dependable weather patterns that will bring back abundant harvests. The communities are happy. Local inhabitants are given meaningful employment and are educated about the importance of environmental stewardship. Previous plantations are effectively maintained and protected. People can provide for their families. And they have hope for the future.

What is Help Channel Burundi Doing?

Or what am I doing with my time here, you might be asking, other than befriending wondrously cute African children and travelling to exotic locales? I plan to take the next few posts to highlight some of the ongoing work of Help Channel Burundi in response to the needs of their struggling fellow Burundians, and hope that in so doing you will also get a better glimpse into the country and into the current situation here in the heart of Africa.

It would be most logical for me to begin by describing their reforestation activities, considering that I am formally here as a Reforestation Consultant. But I won’t. Instead, I’ll start by introducing you to the Batwa. Some of you will have read my first newsletter in which I illustrated an unexpected encounter with an isolated group of 11 Batwa families high on a mountain above one of Help Channel Burundi/MCC’s tree nurseries. We have since began to establish a relationship with these families, and are working on a proposal for a comprehensive project to help them. Many organizations in Burundi have attempted to work with the Batwa but very few have met with any measure of success, for reasons I will try to explain. [One note before I begin: you may have heard of the three ethnic groups in Rwanda and Burundi- the Hutu, Tutsi and Twa. These are general terms; in Kirundi and Kinyarwanda (the native languages of Burundi and Rwanda, respectively), when referring to one person the prefix “mu-“ is added; thus, Muhutu, Mututsi, and Mutwa. When plural, the prefix “ba-“ is used; thus, Bahutu, Batutsi and Batwa. Sidenote from a sidenote: I would be referred to as muzungu, and very often am, while a group of white folk would be bazungu.]

So then, who are the Batwa? Consensus has it that they, a hunter-gatherer pygmy population, were the first people group to occupy the region (I’ll stay away from the controversial topic of who was the next to arrive on scene.) They were master hunters who respected nature and knew the intimate secrets of the jungle, and as such were feared by the others. In addition to having practices that the others considered taboo, this fear led to their marginalization, which continues to this day. I suspect they would be more than happy to retreat to their jungle sanctuaries and avoid the discrimination altogether, but unfortunately the forests in Burundi and Rwanda have all but disappeared and their old way of life rendered infeasible.

The Batwa are very slow to accept change and stubbornly cling to traditions. As talented potters, many continue to make clay pots to sell, despite the market for such wares having mostly disappeared with the advent of cheap Chinese plastic. Nomadic in lifestyle, if a member of their group dies, superstition demands that they pick up and start again somewhere else. This has kept them from becoming agriculturalists; however, they are quick to hire themselves out to neighbours on a day-to-day basis in return for food. Because of their marginalization, some of the dirtiest work was said to be fit only for the Batwa. This daily begging seems to have been ingrained in their mindset, and they will often move to the cities to beg where it is more lucrative. As with many Africans, especially those facing difficult times, thoughts and preparations for the future are almost nonexistent. Truly, the Batwa of Burundi and Rwanda are the most vulnerable of the vulnerable. Things have been horrific for them in the past, and the future is bleak unless there can be some progress.

And so, many organizations with good intentions impose projects but are confounded when they’ve constructed houses only to find that the following week the Batwa have sold all the metal roofing sheets and are sleeping in grass lean-tos beside the house, or that goats intended to be a source of sustainable revenue have all been eaten. Help Channel Burundi has seen some very encouraging progress in a large group of Batwa with whom they work in Gitega province. As a result of many years of patience and persistence in education and assistance, the group is enthusiastically and successfully adopting sound agricultural practices. They’ve given up nomadism, live in robust mud brick houses and send their children to school. They now even have six cows to provide nourishing milk as well as organic fertilizer for their crops, a first ever for a Burundian Batwa association. They are excited to help their neighbours by giving the cows’ offspring to other Batwa associations, and as such they are proving to be a model group that proves there is hope. Help Channel hopes to have funding so they can incorporate some of the same projects with the 11 families of Batwa in Kirundo Province.

Three Notifications

I'd like to direct your attention to the result of some of my energies here in Burundi: Help Channel Burundi's website! The finished product was masterfully put together by Catharine Graff of Studio53, to whom many many thanks are owed. Check out her stuff if you or anyone you know is in need of some design work.

Secondly, a wonderful piece of news is that Westside Church in Vancouver, BC has adopted me as a missionary. They will be partnering with me and Help Channel over the next few years, beginning with the printing of a promotional package I've created for Help Channel- a brochure, business cards, letterhead and envelopes.

Lastly, my good friends Lars and Matt are setting out on Sunday for their long-awaited pan-african adventure: Cairo to Capetown. I'll be joining them for a small stretch, but I have yet to decide which; I'm thinking coastal Tanzania. Follow their their progress at larsandmattinafrica.blogspot.com.

To The Bad Place And Back

Seth's moving portrayal of 11 hapless travellers winding their way from Bujumbura, Burundi to Jinja, Uganda in order to raft the mighty White Nile where it begins its sometimes violent journey from Lake Victoria to Egypt. Caution- people were injured during the making of this film, and it contains scenes of raw terror which might traumatize younger viewers.

Distribution Video: Openhanded

Here's a video Seth created recently to send back to supporting churches in the US. Stay tuned for our Uganda trip video....

Kickin' it in Kampala

One of the things about travelling in Africa is that it almost always takes longer than it seems it should. This is especially true when the trip doesn’t quite begin as planned, whether due to a driver waiting for the bus to be full or due to a fall from the top of the Land Cruiser resulting in a badly damaged shoulder and some slightly shorter toes (not mine). Miraculously, the Lord protects and provides, the journey continues after setbacks, and arrival at the intended destination is [mostly] certain, albeit likely somewhat delayed. And thus the 760-kilometre drive on [mostly] paved roads from Bujumbura, Burundi to Kampala, Uganda takes a solid two days. It sure feels like a solid two days when, packed-into the Land Cruiser like sardines, 11 passengers are attempting to avoid carsickness on queasy mountain roads, guarding their coccyges from impact when rogue transport trucks force our trajectory over massive potholes.

Driving in Kampala is an entire story all on its own. We were told that there is no longer any time day or night when traffic lessens. Thousands of motorcycle taxis are whizzing by, winding in and out of traffic, brushing vehicles, remaining [mostly] unscathed. Roundabouts are chaotic intersections in which, if lucky enough to gain entrance, one can never be sure of escaping fully intact. Speed bumps dwarf the nearby Rwenzori mountains and, shrouded in mist, appear suddenly and unannounced, threatening to send any inattentive outsider into orbit. In hindsight, that would probably be a quicker way of getting around town.

The purpose of being in Uganda was to raft the mighty White Nile near Lake Victoria, from which it embarks on its long and sometimes violent journey to Egypt. No one was disappointed except for Roy, an Israeli backpacker who spent most of the morning heaving over the side of the safety boat from motion sickness. Yes, to be sure, there was a lot of motion. Interestingly, the objective of our boat (and our guide) was to capsize in the middle of each and every rapid, and we would have succeeded were it not strongly suggested that we attempt to remain in the raft over The Waterfall. My hypothesis as to the reason why it’s moderately safe to do so is because there is such a massive volume of water pouring through each rapid, the chances of hitting a rock or being caught underwater are slim. But that’s just a hypothesis; it might be somewhat comforting to know that there were two mothers with us who enjoyed their experience tremendously.

Blessings to the Brose boys and Vinten girls as they begin their last semester at Rift Valley Academy. Thanks to all for having me along.

stacy

sorry, that was a long hiatus, and still i don't really feel inspired to write anything of consequence. one excuse is that i've been traveling quite a bit and have not frequently been able to connect. despite the fact that my travel should have afforded me ample subject matter for written reflection, en lieu of more substantial food for your thoughts, i'll leave you with my friend stacy. perhaps you've met her before. she went swimming for her first time last weekend when i brought her and a gang of our burundian friends to spend the day at saga resha, a most wonderful beach located an hour's drive south of bujumbura. she calles me brandoni because it's difficult for a native speaker of kirundi to end words on a consonant. that makes me feel italian, and makes her even cuter.

Less

My friend Matt and I were discussing the paradox of how even modern measures to reduce waste can have harmful effects in excess of the that of the garbage they aim to decrease. Not only can recycling programmes be harmful through the use of highly toxic chemicals or massive amounts of energy, so too can they reinforce the modern idea that we can simply use and dispose. And that’s something we’ve become quite good at: we use, then when we’re done, we throw away. And then we do it again. And again. And again, ad infinitum. We’re quite highly trained.

What? Am I saying that recycling is a bad thing? I’ll bet you didn’t expect that. But, if the simple act of recycling absolves our consciences of the guilt of over-consumption and unnecessary waste creation, then indeed, in that way recycling is a bad thing and could be causing more harm than good. That’s tipping the scales even before one takes into account those nasty chemicals and all that energy.

I’m not suggesting we stop recycling, because it’s certainly not all bad. What I’m suggesting is that we stop wasting. We need to stop thinking that our waste is someone else’s problem, and that they’ve got it covered. Because they don’t.

For starters, let’s stop buying those convenience foods that are packaged six times over. And how’s about we try not to choose items whose packaging will outlast them by decades or centuries. We could also do well to spend a few dollars more on things made with quality, things that will not soon require replacing.

Or better yet would be to simply buy less, but that’s maybe pushing things too far.

Change

I'm going to start a short series on environmental stewardship. For those entirely uninterested, please read; this is for you. I promise I won't prolong your tedium too much.

Let’s begin by being honest with each other: when thinking about such massive issues as climate change or world poverty, it’s very easy to become discouraged. It’s easy to have no clue how an individual can make a difference, however much one would want to. Swimming against the current is particularly difficult to do, especially when the proverbial current is the entirety of the culture in which we live. And what’s the point, if nothing less than a sea change of culture will make any difference? Perhaps the beast we now ride is too elephantine to steer clear of the destruction toward which we are headed. Maybe the masses will require comprehensive quantitative evidence, the type that will only be compiled after it is too late. Or could it be that such evidence exists and we are too hexed by comfort and security to see that the legacy of our overexploitation will be an intractable curse on the next generation and all who follow?

Some still refute the apparent scientific consensus on the contribution of human activities to global warming, and it could be true that our part is less influential than others would suggest. But I’d like to invite you to come here and observe a distribution of emergency food relief to poor subsistence farmers whose crops have been wiped out by relentless rains, and who have been eating dirt to feel their stomachs full. Or afterward to watch the old widow who didn’t receive anything, who dives to the ground for the five beans emptied from a colleague’s shoe. She was one of the lucky (?) ones who survived last year’s drought. These aren’t normal conditions, friends.

I don’t write this from the security of philanthropic righteousness or environmental innocence; I am guilty just the same. I merely invite you to see, to experience, and then to return to Disneyworld. Where every space is climate-controlled.

Climate Change

Isn't this issue decided upon yet? Seriously. How can we still be so arrogant and senseless to think that the prohibition of one man being able to marry another man is more important than dealing with the fact that the world's rich- including Christians- are contributing to the killing tens of thousands of poor people every single day due to our insatiable consumption?

I'm not sorry for taking this time to rant, because the entire reason why I am in Burundi, surrounded by undignified poverty, is to help mitigate the effects of changing weather patterns and otherwise deteriorating environmental conditions, caused in large part by global warming. Last year in Burundi, thousands and thousands of people died of starvation when the country was struck by drought in the main producing regions. And so we prayed for rain. This year, we're getting rain: relentless rain that has so far destroyed 50-80% of the country's crops. Hundreds of people have died hunger-related deaths already, and the food shortage has only just begun. In the West, we have the resources to adapt, but here that is not the case. Thus, the poor majority are the ones who suffer the most when the rich minority can't curb their consumption.

The reason I rant is because Dr. James Dobson of Focus on the Family, a conservative Christian ministry with widespread following, has written a formal letter to the National Evangelical Association attacking their recent stance, a stance which united tens of millions of (American) Christians in agreement that action to counter global warming must be taken soon, and that it's a major moral issue of our time. What follows is a statement from Dobson's letter, and a rebuttal posted on the blog of Jim Wallace, the leader of Sojourners, a major non-partisan movement founded on social justice for home and abroad.

Dobson:

"More importantly, we have observed that Cizik [of the NEA] and others are using the global warming controversy to shift the emphasis away from the great moral issues of our time, notably the sanctity of human life, the integrity of marriage and the teaching of sexual abstinence and morality to our children."

He goes on to suggest, “he be encouraged to resign his position with the NAE.”

Wallis:

That is indeed the key criticism, and the foundation for the real debate. Is the fact that 30,000 children will die globally today, and everyday, from needless hunger and disease a great moral issue for evangelical Christians? How about the reality of 3 billion of God’s children living on less than $2 per day? And isn’t the still-widespread and needless poverty in our own country, the richest nation in the world, a moral scandal? What about pandemics like HIV/AIDS that wipe out whole generations and countries, or the sex trafficking of massive numbers of women and children? Should genocide in Darfur be a moral issue for Christians? And what about disastrous wars like Iraq? And then there is, of course, the issue that got Dobson and his allies so agitated. If the scientific consensus is right - climate change is real, is caused substantially by human activity, and could result in hundreds of thousands of deaths - then isn’t that also a great moral issue? Could global warming actually be alarming evidence of human tinkering with God’s creation?

Or, are the only really "great moral issues" those concerning abortion, gay marriage, and the teaching of sexual abstinence? I happen to believe that the sanctity of life, the health of marriages, and teaching sexual morality to our children are, indeed, among the great moral issues of our time. But I believe they are not the only great moral issues, and Dobson says they are.

And further,

A statement last year by the Evangelical Climate Initiative, signed by 86 national evangelical leaders, including 39 Christian college presidents, noted that “we are convinced that evangelicals must engage this issue without any further lingering over the basic reality of the problem or humanity's responsibility to address it.”

mcc.org

Hey! Sorry this isn't much of a post, but you should all check out mcc.org for March's feature page on MCC's involvements in Burundi, which includes the feature documentary video on Help Channel Burundi and our Food-For-Work reforestation projects "Burundi: Trees of Hope". Click the title to go there.

Honestly

Honestly. Little girl at Nemba refugee camp, East Province, Rwanda.

What can be said? Must one elaborate on a face so beautiful, or are there words eloquent enough to better explain a life so obviously precious? Such would be the case regardless of context; yet, to mention that this little girl is a refugee, living with her family under a small plastic sheet in a country they do not know, one is able to perceive much more in the glimmer of her eyes or in her infectious smile. Need one portray the pitiful conditions in which she lives? For, surely that would be providing part of the truth that her face does not betray. But no- the truth is that this girl has nothing other than what one can see in her face: she has Hope. And if she has Hope, after what she has encountered in her few short years, there isn’t anything that will be able to take it away.

If you come to visit, don't expect to leave with your heart intact.

Click here to see photographs, or here to see Ed and Ed's blog of the trip.

Meet Emmanuel

Emmanuel is my Burundian roommate. He is 30 years old and has a wife who is currently several months pregnant. She has been pregnant in the past, but due to complications they haven’t yet been able to have a child. Because of the importance of having children in Burundian culture, we are all hoping and praying that they will this time be successful. His wife lives in their home upcountry, while during the week Emmanuel comes to the city for work; due to lack of employment outside the city, many Burundians do likewise. Emmanuel graduated from the university as a civil engineer, and is always busy drawing up plans for houses and buildings. He is presently responsible for a large building project of the Scripture Union, with whom he is also employed as a contributing author and editor for various Christian publications. One of my favourite moments in Burundi so far was watching Emmanuel laugh hysterically to the film ‘The God’s Must Be Crazy,’ which in a very humorous way depicts the strangeness of both ‘Western’ and African cultures when they encounter each other. Indeed, there have been some interesting moments in our own cross-cultural encounters, and my friendship with him has been important to help me gain access and understanding in regard to Burundi and its people.

mcc.org

Hey again! Check out mcc.org for their February feature slideshow featuring my photographs! Go to www.mcc.org and click on the slideshow thumbnail in the right sidebar, or click here.

mcc.org

Hey! Check out an audio interview and slideshow with yours truly at mcc.org! Click here to go there.

Meet Stacy

Stacy, if you weren’t able to surmise from the photo, is the most precious four-year-old girl that has yet existed. Stacy latched onto me from the very beginning, enamoured by a strange new light-coloured friend. Every time she sees me, no matter how far away she is, she yells "muzungu!" or her attempt at my name, then runs and jumps into my arms. And I might as well not even bother trying to let her down. Stacy is hilariously exuberant, and very quickly has me bent double in laughter. If ever I succeed to let her down from my arms, she promptly plunges herself into an over-zealous portrayal of traditional Burundian dance or runs off with an object she’s pilfered from my pocket.

Stacy’s mother is a young, orphaned relative of Cassien. At the same time as trying to put her daughter through school, she also is finishing her studies. Because of all the challenges they face, Stacy hasn’t been able to go to a good school. Until today. Someone who has been captured by this little child has eagerly committed to take responsibility for the school fees, school food costs, and uniforms for her to attend a good school, and Monday, today, is her registration.

Let’s remember all the other children in Africa who still aren’t able to go to school at all, and who don’t have parents to care for them. The future of these children is in God’s hands; the future of this continent is in the balance. If anyone is interested, I’m sure I could easily find a little cutie for you to assist in this way.

Thoughts On Running

I blame it on the elevation. And on the heat. And of course, on the humidity, because you can’t veritably breathe in water and expect to be able to do much more than drown. I expect there’s something about the food I’m eating too. And I’m sure there’s more, all working in synergy to constrain my attempt at running to a mere saunter. But, against all adversity, I’ll persevere, because if nothing else, I’m certainly getting the intended exercise.

Initially, I thought I would be the only one out on the roads in Burundi running for exercise, but I was surprised to observe many other joggers, old and young alike. This is especially the case on weekends. I’m told the observance of weekend exercise by city dwellers originates from the time of the war, so that civilians would be in good form if they were required to augment the military’s numbers in the event of a rebel incursion. There are also the usual footballers or military groups on their training circuits, and certain associations whose members run and sing loudly to raise awareness for one cause or another.

In any case, running in Burundi is invariably an interesting experience. In the mornings before the garbage fires start and myriad inefficient diesel engines infuse the air with that distinctive ‘developing world’ aroma, I’m able to distinguish the scent of the many blossoming trees and of the fresh breeze off the lake. In the evenings before the sun goes down, people bathe or wash their prized bicycles in the ditches, sorry-looking figures rummage through piles of trash, and long-horned cattle block the road on their way to better pastures. In one sense it’s a rest from the unceasing begging, as (most) people realize that I wouldn’t be carrying money during exercise. In another sense it only serves to reinforce the dichotomy of my existence here: I run not only to be in shape, but also because I eat more than I need, whereas, many people who greet me as I pass might not eat at all that day.

Seen in that light it becomes apparent that the obstacles I face in attempting to ‘find my lungs’ are hardly real obstacles at all.

Meet Gaspard

Gaspard is a thin, quiet man whose continuous smile is contagious. He lives in Kirundo, northern Burundi, with his wife and nine children. Last year during the famine, Gaspard was especially concerned about his youngest daughter who was sick from malnourishment. He was worried that he would have to leave his home and travel to Rwanda to find employment to provide for himself and his family. Thankfully, he was approached by the director of a new Help Channel Burundi-sponsored tree nursery in his community and was given employment. He was also thankful for the food that he received in payment for his labour: cans of lean turkey meat provided by Mennonite Central Committee and flour purchased with funds from American Friends Service Committee. With this food he was able to nourish his daughter and have her discharged from the malnourishment centre, and he could provide for the rest of his family as well. With employment in his own commune, he is able to remain living at home with his family, and is meaningfully contributing to the restoration of the surrounding environment through the growing and planting of trees. Having worked hard, he has been able to save up and sell enough extra cans of turkey to purchase a small plot of coffee that will be a sustainable source of revenue. He hopes that his efforts at the nursery will help to ensure food and water security in the future so that he and his commune will not experience another famine like last year. He also hopes that the food-for-work program will continue until there is a greater measure of food security in his province.

Meet Cassien

Cassien is the director of Help Channel Burundi, the non-profit, Burundian NGO to whom I am seconded from MCC. Cassien is my neighbour and close friend. He is also a big businessman here in Burundi, although he has relinquished prosperity and instead works for the benefit of the poor. With the revenue from their various businesses, Cassien and his wife, Beatrice, care for 40 relatives orphaned from the war or from HIV/AIDS. He strives to ensure that each has food and clothes, can attend school, and can remain in the house of their parents. On top of all of that, I have just learned that Cassien is also building three schools in the east of the country; I don’t doubt there is more. Cassien has a wonderful laugh and a good sense of humour, and is very fun to spend time with. Even though it is very fun to spend time with him, it is always very humbling. How is it that I find myself in Africa, surrounded by undignified poverty, and in the presence of people like Cassien who have renounced false security to live for something truly worthwhile, and yet I am still selfish? Sure, in a sense I have given up comfort and security, and have dedicated the next several years to become somewhat like Cassien, but it is such a slow process and daunting in scope. Do I have what it takes to let go of ‘me’ and so to truly realize the potential of who I am meant to become? Honestly, I don’t know; but I am glad to have a friend like Cassien whose life is a constant encouragement to ambitiously pursue the good of those in need. I would like very much for you to meet him someday.

“Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 10.39)

a new look

hey- a new year, a new look. maybe i should get a haircut, too; i'm not sure i like either. perhaps more change is in order.

click on the title to check out my friend sara's site. she's posted some more photographs of the holidays and other happenings here in bujumbura.

also, please check out brian and erin's site (rowaans in africa), allowing you to follow them as they traipse extensively across the continent. it was most excellent to have old friends here during the holidays.

a new year

sunset in kigoma

Christmas in bujumbura was a wonderful holiday celebration, and a welcome escape from the consumerist frenzy that most of us are accustomed to getting sucked into, including myself, despite our yearly resolutions to behave otherwise. i am very encouraged by my friend joseph, who, rather than making an extensive list of current gadgets of desire, told everyone that he only wanted for them to donate trees through mcc on his behalf, in order to help reforestation projects in environmentally poor countries such as burundi. thanks joseph. on Christmas eve, a number of people gathered at the brose's house after church to celebrate. in the morning on Christmas day, together with doug, deanna and maddy hiebert, as well as brian and erin rowaan, who are at the midway point of their extensive four-month tour of africa, we exchanged a few small gifts and ate a wonderful breakfast. in the afternoon, we returned to the brose's for an incredible turkey dinner that was perhaps even more elaborate than i would have had with my extended family at home!

after Christmas, the hieberts, the rowaans, and i travelled to kigoma, tanzania, to spend new year's at a beach front guest house on lake tanganyika. more so than any place i've been yet, it was paradise. a secluded, cinnamon- sand beach on a crystal clear, salt-less ocean. we shared it only with the monkeys and the occasional monitor lizard. beyond the sandy beach stretched kilometres of rocky coastline, offering boulders and cliffs from which to jump into the water. we ate our fill of fresh fish each afternoon and evening, and consumed an alarming number of pineapple (better than any i've ever had before, purchased in town for about $0.09 each!)

so, it's difficult to miss home when you are in paradise, but i was often thinking about you, my friends and family, and how it would have been even more enjoyable had i been able to experience these things with you. perhaps one day i will get to show you some of the wonderful places i've discovered. thank you to everyone who has been sending emails; it is a gift to be reminded that friends and family are remembering me, especially during the holiday season.

Christmas blessings to each of you as we begin this new year.

here are some photos of the holidays:deanna and maddybrian and erinsettlers at the brose's on Christmas evegift exchange game at the brose's on Christmas evedoug showing us how it's done in kigomabrian and erin watch the sunset atop a mammoth boulder on new year's eve in kigoma