A Day at the "Beach"

A day at the beach.  I have often talked about what we take for granted in our western culture.  A day at the beach is one of them.  


In Lesotho, there are few places where children can run free without having to worry about stepping on rubbish, stones or glass, or tripping over rough surfaces.  There are no grassy parks or playgrounds where children can run and play.  In addition, within the culture here, a day at the beach or a day at the park with one's children is foreign to most families.  For those parents with the inclination, the rigours of life and financial limitations means most children do not know the joys of a day at the beach.


Recently we enjoyed a wonderful day at the beach with friends and their children.  We visited the same beach where not so long ago my quiet had been repeatedly interrupted by curious policemen.  This time we left the vehicles parked clearly in the open and attracted no unexpected attention.  


For me it was a delightful and heart warming time, watching children enjoy the simple joys of a day at the beach.  It didn't take the children long to abandon first their footwear, then their trousers.  There was water again in the river, muddy and brown from recent rains, and though they were a bit tentative of the river at first, once over their initial apprehension, they were leading the way.  And a long expanse of clean sand provided space for lots of fun and activity. 

Leading the way.
Three year old Bohlokoa showed no fear.

Shorty after this, the jeans came off!

Father and daughters.

They're off!!

The open sand.

Catch me if you can.

This is my favorite picture - little Bohlokoa in full stride.  The joy of the open 'road' - sand.  Nothing to impede her joy.  She was living her day to the full.  

Even now, I am still left with a warm feeling, thinking of the fun had, not just by the children, but by the adults.  (Out of the corner of my eye, I had witnessed one of the adults skipping and dancing along the sand beside the river).  This family had been given an opportunity to enjoy some openness and a clean place to just be and let their spirits smile.  We are blessed to be a blessings to others, but with the endorphins released, even now thinking of the fun this family enjoyed, I still think I may have been the most blessed.  

~ Benno ~

Acknowledgements:  One of Wendy's former students, BK, was along with us.  Most of the photos are to his credit, including the clouds below.

Clouds.

Faces

Many of the Mustard Seed girls were together recently for a Cherish Day.  They talked about challenges and temptations they face, they ate, and they played games together.  Simple little things, but things that bring them together and allow them to create their own little community.  

The food - after one Cherish Day one girl commented, her first time attending, that they even got fruit.  Something I take so for granted was a special treat for them.  At any rate, I thought I would capture the girls on camera so that you could meet, in pictures, many of the girls of the Mustard Seed.  So while they were playing at games, I was trying to catch a smile.

Getting a smile out of this one is never easy!

While these two ....     

... never stop smiling.

H'mmm, I wonder how my picture will turn out?

A chance to just be a girl, and a break from being a mom to her siblings. 

Do I want to play this game?

Similar to games we played, stay alert and in rhythm or get
bumped to the end of the line.  

Friends.

~ Benno ~ 

Making a Difference - In Small Ways

Sometimes I would like to be able to share stories of what great things God is doing at the Mustard Seed.  Yet, maybe it is in the little things that differences are truly made.  Over the last few weeks, a number of incidents have reminded me that it is in little things that the Mustard Seed is truly serving the girls that we work with, especially those who do not have an adult caregiver.

One of our girls lives at a mission in a village about a thirty-minute drive from Maseru.  Her school teachers have spoken of what they sense as her lostness.  She has aunts and uncles somewhere but their struggles are such that they have little to offer her and she, in a real sense, is abandoned.  It was a pleasure to visit her at school one day recently.  I was warmed by her delight and seeming joy that someone came to see HER. Someone came to ask about how she was doing in school.  Someone came to invite her to spend a day with the other Mustard Seed girls.  We do not get out to see her often, but it seems that when we do, she truly feels connected and part of something.

Another girl, faced with some medical problems, the kind a girl wants to talk with her mother about, was able to connect with her Mustard Seed big sister.  She had someone she could turn to, someone who appropriately passed the need along to me, so that we (the Mustard Seed) could get her to a medical clinic.  A young girl with no parent nor caregiver to turn to, but who had a Mustard Seed big sister that made a difference.

When people have a need here, the cultural practice in terms of asking for something, is most often, indirect.  It has taken me a while to realize that there is often more than just a conversation happening.  I am learning there are times I must listen for the request inferred in the conversation.  Recently one of our girls called.  She reported that on the same day she had a school exam and the need to take her younger brother to a medical appointment.  I am also learning that if I will listen patiently or just ask the girls how I might help, the girls will share a plan they have thought out.  She had a plan, and no, it was not for me to write her test.  She couldn’t get both things done on her own, but with a bit of outside support she had a plan to complete both tasks on the same day.  We confirmed my part in her plan, and her life is just a bit easier because someone was there.

Another family, another grandmother.  Her granddaughter has missed a year of school because there were no funds to pay school fees.   The grandmother is a poor woman, caring for three of her grandchildren, wanting the best for her granddaughter but not knowing where to turn.  I did my best to explain what the Mustard Seed could offer and what was needed to apply for the school bursary for orphans.  She was so grateful - during the next visit she had me sitting on a blanket to cushion the chair she offered, while she sat on the bare cement floor.  With the little direction the Mustard Seed was able to offer her, she is getting together the documents that will allow us to submit an application for funding and hopefully see her granddaughter in school.  She also has a grandson ready to enter high school, and while the Mustard Seed does not work directly with boys, the application process is the same, and we will make sure his application for high school funding also gets submitted.

A final example: the grandmother and caregiver of one of our girls recently died.  The girl is attending a boarding school.  She had no money to pay the transport to get home to her village to attend her grandmother’s funeral.  She had no one else to turn to other than the Mustard Seed.   We will make sure she gets home for the funeral, and a number of Mustard Seed members will also attend.  The girl now faces a much more uncertain future.  We will try to connect with other family members who might support her.  However, without the grandmother, it may be that the Mustard Seed will now become the primary source of support and connection for another girl.

When I am tempted to wonder if the Mustard Seed really makes a difference, these stories remind me that while it may be small things we do, and for only for a small number of girls, what we do is important to those we serve and truly does make a difference.  I want to thank each of you who have contributed in some way to the Mustard Seed.  Whether you have contributed words of encouragement, financial support from time to time, or a personal visit to Lesotho, together, as God’s hands, we are making a difference in the lives of girl orphans in this small corner of the world.  Thank-you.

~ Benno ~

Conversations

One of my delights as a father have been conversations that I get to be part of with my sons.  They are wonderful and caring young men who thoughtfully consider their world and their place in it.  Recently I have had some correspondence with one of them based on our reading of an essay written by Noam Chomsky¹. 

Chomsky raises questions about the disquieting efforts by the west to maintain economic advantage over other parts of the world.  Living here in Africa and on the edge of the Republic of South Africa a question that often comes to my mind is, “Had I been born in South Africa during apartheid, would I have opposed it or just accepted it as the way things were.”  Chomsky’s essay had challenged me to question my western ‘birthright’.  Should I be questioning how it is that I have so much, or do I just accept it as the way things are?  Am I part of a culture that has exploited others to my material benefit?  Below are a couple of exchanges between one son and I as we contemplated these issues.

“It leaves one to wonder.  Wondering about the course of history and whether we as Christians will be known in this stage of history as mere pawns or non-entities. …  Do we really yearn for another Kingdom and take the time to think through what it would entail?  Are we complicit in the great injustice of our time?  Yes.  Are we complicit of believing in a doctrine of scarcity and in so doing hoarding in excess and calling it "prosperity" to the detriment of others?  Yes.  Have we baptized competition and conquest as a noble and necessary means of human interaction rather than wrestling with the harder to enforce (because you can't!) doctrine of compassion, generosity, and cooperation?”

“A term that has come to my mind often, of late, a play on past references to 'godless communism', is 'godless capitalism'.  In the end, godless capitalism may be more insidiously suffocating and destructive to the Christian church than the ruthless, overt persecution of godless communism.”

“I'm looking for that conviction; to be willing to stand up to the gates of hell in defiance. To yearn for, trust in, and act out another Kingdom other than the one of the world. One of justice, righteousness, love, peace, hope, forgiveness, compassion, humility.”

Pastor Dan Cochrane at CrossRoads church in Red Deer, recently offered some similar thoughts².

“A lot of people get rich on the back of others. … The cry of people who’ve been exploited … God hears.” 

“As a Christian I must always be in a position financially where it’s impossible to live without trust in God.”

Do I have the willingness to hear what God hears and the courage to question my supposed birthright and how much of it is derived "on the back of others"?  Am I willing to stand for something different?  It is easy to talk the talk.  Walking the talk, questioning my birthright and being willing to live financially where I need to trust God, do I have the faith and courage to go there?

~ Benno ~ 

1 Noam Chomsky’s essay can be found at http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/opinion/2011/09/201192514364490977.html 

2 Pastor Dan’s full message from 18 Sept. 2011 can be found at http://www.crossroadschurch.ab.ca/sermons/2011-09-18-FaithThatMakesADifference2.mp3

Down by the River

At the encouragement of a good friend, I have been again trying to take the first day of the month for a time of solitude and reflection.  In early October, rather than climbing a mountain, I took a drive on unfamiliar roads and found myself at a beautiful spot alongside a clear and quietly running river.  I thought that I would return in November, which I did.  But things were not the same.

I parked in a slightly different spot, tucking the vehicle in behind some trees for shade.  Then when I walked down to the river I found the river was dry.  (After the promise of spring rains, with three nice showers in late September, there has been only wind and dust and the word drought forming on the lips of concerned Basotho.)  Despite no water it was a quiet spot where I could enjoy the sun or the shade.  I had even brought a lawn chair and so set to making myself comfortable. The quietness did not last. 

Sometime that morning, either folks from a nearby village or travelers on the road had noticed my vehicle tucked in behind the trees and had became suspicious.  Or maybe they became suspicious of me clearing out some undergrowth to make a more comforable space to sit in the shade of the trees.  It also must have been a quiet day at the local police detachments. 

The first police vehicle showed up to investigate about two hours after I arrived.  They had received calls about a suspicious and possibly stolen vehicle.  The officers were good natured and polite and after a brief discussion they left me to my quietness.  I settled back into some reading.  About thirty minutes later I hear another vehicle arrive.  Another police vehicle it was, from a bit more distant detachment.  These officers too were polite and good natured.  They asked if I was not afraid being there alone, and insisted that I take the phone number for the detachment before returning to their vehicle.  As I turned to walk back to my chair in the shade, yet another vehicle arrived, with another two policemen, from an even further detachment.  They also had received calls.  Not once did any of the police suggest I leave or that I was doing something improper, mostly they just asked about what I was doing there alone.  Two groups took my address and phone number.  Back I went to my chair and back to reading in Proverbs.

The section I was reading made reference to being prudent.  As I was rereading the section wondering what I was to learn, my car alarm went off.  Most likely a fly bussing around inside had set off the motion sensor, I thought, but by this time I was beginning to think that maybe what I was to learn this day was to practice being prudent and maybe just leave.  I gathered up my things.  Back at the vehicle it had been just a fly or something such that had set off the alarm.  There was no one there. I departed in peace.

I will surely have to find the chief of the area before I return and make sure he knows I am down there by the river.  It is a beautiful little spot and when the rains come and the river is again flowing it will also be a great spot for a picnic.  But on this day, it was not the spot for me to read and reflect.

~ Benno ~

Weddings

It is spring in Lesotho, and as in Canada, it seems spring is wedding time.  We were invited to three weddings in October.  You don’t need a specific invite here.  You attend church and the invitation is to all who are there, as well as those interested from the community.  (How families plan for food I don’t know.)  In one case we actually did receive a special invitation card. There seems to be some expectation that one responds to the blanket invitation.  I was pointedly asked a couple times why I did not attend the one wedding that I missed.

Wedding in Lesotho vary, but like funerals here, many speeches by family and others are often part of the protocols, making for a long, sometimes very, long day.  Wendy and I both attended one of the weddings.  We know the couple well, the groom was a former student of Wendy’s.  He is also a current board member at the Mustard Seed.  We also had the delight of hosting a couple of his former classmates in our home who were back from university for the wedding.  Another thing about this wedding day was that we now share an anniversary date.  The day was our thirty fourth anniversary..

The start time on the invitation was 9:00 a.m.  The question is always, “So when will it really start?”  There is never a definitive answer.  Since we were helping with some small things for he set up, and being good ‘westeners’, we were there before 9:00.  Little things came up where something needed to be picked up, and someone’s transportation didn’t work so I was running here and there.  I was finally heading back to the venue at 11:20, and whom should I pass on the road, the wedding entourage!  I arrived just ahead of them with the guest with transport woes, and while parking they got back in front of us.  We didn’t have a seat for the bride’s entry, but we were there for her entry, even though we were two and a half hours late. 

Dancing the groom into the ceremony.

The ceremony ran it course, and included the aspects of Basotho weddings that I really enjoy.  These are not somber, down to the smallest detail, scripted events.  There is dancing in the aisles, spontaneous cheering and applause during the ceremony, more dancing and singing.  

The bride and groom leading a song.

By the time the ceremony had run its course, two and a half hours later, even members of the wedding party had run out of energy.  

There was a break for photos, we and the crew we were with headed off for ice cream, and then back for the reception dinner.  

Ready for the ice cream run.

By the time dinner was over it is getting late in the afternoon and things seemed to be winding down.  I left and drove one our entourage to their village before arriving back at home around six expecting to find Wendy there.  Nope!  She didn’t get home until about 10:00 p.m.  I had missed out on another two and a half hours of singing and dancing and speeches, after which Wendy had been driving individuals to there various homes before calling it a day.

The second wedding I was asked to chauffer the groomsmen to the venue and back.  So I was committed for the duration.  At a brief meeting before the wedding though, I got the impression the groom was determined run closer to schedule.  I never did get the official start time, but I think it was 10:00 a.m.  The bride and groom had both arrived at the wedding venue by about 10:30.  Unfortunately most of the guests were only beginning to arrive so the bride patiently waited in her car for about 30 minutes as a procession of guests passed by.  She finally was able to walk down the aisle at about 11:00.

This ceremony was more focused, and the fewer speeches entailed fewer words, much fewer.  Even with the dancing and singing in the audience all was wrapped up in about an hour.  Again I was taken surprized by the cheering and applause after each of the couple said their vows.  I can’t imagine such a joyous response in Canada.  

The wedding entourage dancing their way out.

Photos followed.  At the last minute I was commandeered to take photos as one of the photographers had failed to show.  The photo session was organized, and went quickly.

A quiet moment for the bride and groom.

The pre-dinner speeches were longer, but everything, including the after dinner activities and clean up, was wrapped by late afternoon.  I was there to almost the end, helping the groomsman load tables and chairs for transport before drving them back to the city.  Once we were all back in Maseru they sent me home while they did the last of the unloading. 

I was home by 6:00 where Wendy had spent the day marking and preparing for an expedition to Thabo Bosiu, a small mountain plateau.  The next day she was leading a group of about 60 students and teachers on a hike and weiner roast.  She had developed quite a following of hiking and weiner roast devotees, but that is her story to tell.


~ Benno ~

Lesotho: Back Home

I found our return home to Lesotho was a more difficult experience this time.  It is the dry season and the end of winter.  The hills, never verdant at the best of times, were brown and dusty.  Livestock had chewed the dry grass down to the ground and with no grass to hide it, the garbage seemed everywhere. The sky was filled with smoke; from heating fires, veld fires, and distance cane fires.  It was bleak and drab and dirty.  After the lush green and beauty of Canada, it was a rude welcome back.

But, as long as the earth endures, summer and winter, seedtime and harvest will never cease, and spring has arrived.  Even amidst the dust and smoke and dirt the peach blossoms had been heralding that winter would end, and the early spring showers arrived right on cue to settle the dust, clear the smoke, and encourage the green blades of grass pushing up from the parched earth.  The showers did bring cooler weather and a late frost the first week October, but now there is no stopping the arrival of summer.

Compounding the dust woes when we arrived was road upgrading that is occurring in the neighborhood.  The trucks and equipment added more dusk to the air, but the positive is that at sometime in the future we should have a tarred road right to our house.  With the dust came daily water outages as the road construction necessitated burying many of the water lines deeper under the road.  It has meant some adjustments, like making sure the laundry get started early, and planning what is on the supper menu so that vegetables can be washed before the water goes off in the morning.  Even when the water doesn’t come on until the evening, I am just thankful that at least it comes on, most evenings, and I find myself dancing a little jig of joy each time it comes back on, or when I find it on when I thought it would be off.

Despite the dust, and drab, and water woes however, I am back where I belong for this season of my life.  It has been good to reconnect with our Basotho friends and the girls of the Mustard Seed.  Through them God has again reminded me it is his work.  I am along to learn the lessons he has for me.  Things have happened and it wasn’t me.  In one area a church group has begun to meet weekly with the local Mustard Seed families to encourage them and help them to understand God’s desires for them.  A couple of our girls who had been making poorer choices are choosing better paths.  One is behaving very responsibly and has become a considerable support and help to her caregivers at a time when they had a significant need. 

Another young woman, one of Wendy’s former students, who has patiently waited on God to provide a university opportunity received a call the first Wednesday of October.  The bus was leaving for medical school in Zimbabwe on Saturday.  What a flurry of activity it was for her getting paper work and packing done, and goodbyes said.  But today she is realizing her dream as she adjusts to a new country and situation and back to being a student.  Our role in the lives of these, and others, has been little more that to just believe in them and walk with them.  God weaves the story.  And how he weaves.

The need for a men’s group has been on my thoughts for many months.  Working with the church we attend, a home group for men has been started in our house.  The second week a new fellow attended.  He was hurting and had contacted our church and been directed to our group.  He shared his hurt.  His marriage has failed.  He is caring for his two children and struggling with his small business.  As we talked more the next week, I learned that his wife is someone I know, the woman who three years ago helped me find a house for an orphan family.  She also attends our church.  I don’t want to presume God’s plans, but I wonder at what weaving of family reconciliation he might accomplish in this family, and in the family of another man who has attended.

How the next year unfolds, I do not know, but I know that I am back where I am supposed to be.  The women on the board at the Mustard Seed are dreaming God sized dreams.  The men’s group will lead who knows where. We will share with our Basotho friends good times and difficult.  The school year is winding down for our Mustard Seed girls, and we have another 4-6 applications to add to our number in the next school year.  Rude welcome back or not, I am looking forward to experiencing what God has planned in my life and the lives of others in the year ahead here in Lesotho.

~ Benno ~

Washington D.C.

On our return trip to Lesotho in August we stopped in Washington D.C. to visit Wendy’s sister and brother-in-law.  It was my first visit to the U.S. capital city.  What I saw left me both fascinated and unsettled.

The U.S. Capital

Washington Monument

My first impression was amazement at the size of some of the monuments.  The massive pillars and huge stone blocks caused me to wonder if America sought to imitate the grandeur of empire that was Rome.  

Jefferson Memorial

Library of Congress

A tour guide at the Capital building later commented that the American founding fathers had been purposeful in pursuing this Roman link in establishing the American “republic”.  The founding fathers purposed to follow the republican model of Rome and that vision came to be reflected in the grandeur of buildings and monuments and the many quotations in and on those building, monuments, and elsewhere.

Interior of the Capital

Quotations and references - drawn from enlightenment thinkers, biblical authors, ancient Greece and Rome, as well as more modern figures – adorned the architecture and statues; quotations extolling freedom, equality, liberty, and reason.

I paused and wondered. Is there today a similar commitment to the lofty ideals expressed?  Are these same ideals revered today, even thought about?  The stairs of the Lincoln memorial were strewn with joggers running its stairs, and other exercisers doing push-ups or step-ups. Not really an environment conducive to reflecting on “government of the people by the people for the people”.  Traffic roared past a quiet little park honoring a poet’s work reflecting on life.  The wealth of accumulated wisdom reflected in monuments and building seemed lost on even Washington legislators, caught up in partisan politics, who daily walk under and past great thoughts and ideals but seem incapable of acting on them.  Or, maybe likes hordes of others, they no longer bother to notice them.

Lincoln Memorial (early morning before the hordes)

Great and noble thoughts that inspired a nation have become ordinary.  Just as we too often take for granted our material blessing in the west, it seems we may also taking for granted our various heritages of freedom and commitment to human liberty, equality and dignity.  Our heritages risk becoming lost amidst the din of populations preoccupied with the pursuit of excitement, spectacle and excess, … if not happiness.  We, in the west, are wealthy in so many ways, yet seem oblivious to what we risk losing if we lose connection with our roots. 

~ Benno ~

Good Times in Canada

Our time in Canada was not all contemplation and reflection. We enjoyed wonderful times with family and friends. Below are some of our memories, and I regret that I could not include pictures of you all.

Near the beginning and the end there were birthdays to celebrate.

My mother, at 80, is an awesome example of someone

who lives each day to the full.

In mid-August, Wendy and I got to hang out on our birthdays with some very special guys.

I did say special, didn't I, ... in many ways.

Hiking is always part of any trip back to Canada. This year was no different.

This little hike looked easy, but was more than I expected ...

... and, I think, more than my hiking buddy expected.

I couldn't forgo taking this shot of him. It made this old fellow feel pretty good to be still standing while this youngster was on the ground. (But in fairness, I should add that he had just completed a rotation of night shifts at his work.)

There was no outdoing these two, however, on our hike into

the Myra tunnels and trestles on the old Kettle Valley Railroad.

With Wendy's sister and family he were able to get up into the ice and snow. A three hour drive, followed by an hour on their quads, left an easy two hour hike to the top.

Taking every precaution to cut the morning chill we would

encounter riding the quads.

Our destination.

On top.

Our travels also took us by sites of past hikes and rekindled old memories. We drove the Icefields Parkway south of Jasper, and stopped at the Athabasca Glacier. It was an interesting moment for me. Whatever the cause, the glaciers of the Rockies are retreating, and the majestic glacier I once explored is considerably shrunken, and in retreat; more than 100 metres back from when I had last visited in the 1980s.

But looking up at a familiar peak (below), I still felt the sense of awe and accomplishment I experienced when I reached the top some 25 odd years ago.

Mount Athabasca

Below are a few more of the many memorable moments and folks that were part of our travels.

Two delightful sweethearts we had last seen when they

left Lesotho with their adoptive parents.

The littlest merman???

Driftwood denizen.

Don't mess with those prairie gals!!

A forest friendly.

Trying hard to appear "not so friendly"?!?

Cowboys.

Fishing derby fun.

Extreme bocce action.

Red Deer's very own, Masotho Man!!

Prairie belle.

And one more, our sons - from sea to shining sea. We were so grateful to be able to be together with them though it was brief. Jared only returned from a field expedition in the high Arctic with the Geological Survey of Canada on August 7, and we managed one weekend all together. Now, they are scattered again, from sea to sea - Dylan back to Nova Scotia on the Atlantic; Jared in the Vancouver area on the Pacific; and Byron somewhere in between, currently Quebec City for a training course before returning to Wainwright.

Them's my boys.

~ Benno ~