Step By Step

Dichotomies

2012-01-14T14:11:00.000+02:00

Di-chot-o-my: noun {pl. –mies} a division into two especially

mutuallyexclusive or contradictorygroups or entities.

The last week has offeredchallenges and perspectives.

As I was about my days inMaseru I was observing. Peoplewere going about their lives. Young men walking down the streets appeared as young men to elsewhere;confident, self-assured, strong. Somewhat older men in another part of town dressed in shirts and ties -business men, government officials - appearing capable, purposeful, and incharge. Teenagers hanging aroundthe mall in the latest tacky gangsta garb – cool, confident, in control. I was reminded of a scene in the movie,“The Last King of Scotland” where Idi Amin’s character is berating the whitedoctor about coming to Uganda, and thinking he could make a difference.

Might that be what thesegroups think of me? Do theywelcome or appreciate what I and others offer? They appear to possess the capacity, capability andconfidence to run their lives and their country. Many are well educated. Dothey resent white foreigners who might think they are being helpful?

Later in the week I andone of the Mustard Seed members traveled to a village. We had run into a snag in the schoolbursary application of one of our Mustard Seed girls who lives in the villageand needed to collect a document. We arrived for what I thought would be a twenty minute hello, get whatwe needed, and go. But is seems thevillagers had been waiting for the ‘white man’ to show up. He, they believed, would help them withthe process of applying for school bursaries.

Together with my MustardSeed colleague we explained and shared the information on applying for thegovernment school bursary. Weadvised of what the Mustard Seed could provide and what we expected families tocontribute. We provided travel funds so that one Nkono (grandmother) couldobtain the needed documents and then travel to the appropriate governmentoffice to apply for the bursary. (She was successful in submitting an application!)

I was struck and saddenedby the contrast. These too werecapable and concerned individuals, but somehow they were outside the loop. How was it that they were reliant on a white foreigner to provide theinformation and encouragement to access opportunities for their children. So much potential, so much desire, where was the help, information and support of the seemingly competent and capable groups.

I have read that one ofthe biggest challenges of development is getting the help to those who trulyneed it. In this village andhundreds of such villages across Lesotho, where poverty is the deepest, whymust human potential languish until some white guy shows up? A division, a divide. One group - capable, able,confident - in whose presence Ifeel superfluous and intrusive. Another group, in contrast, who look to a periodic white visitor forinformation, hope and opportunity. This divide is not right.

One positive on this trip was that I met a local community councilor. While she too had been waiting for me, it was to obtain information so that shecould become the source of information and encouragement for her village andother villages in her area. Thisfeels better, though it is still sad that she needed to wait for a foreign white guy toget the information she wanted about a Lesotho government program.

Another divide that hasbecome clearly apparent this year is the gulf between the aspirations of girlsand the commitment of many caregivers.

One of the girls we willhelp this year completed grade seven - primary school. (Primary school is provided free.) When funds were not available for her tocontinue on to high school, she went back to grade seven. The next year, funds still were notavailable to attend high school. Determined, back to grade seven she went again. This year fortunately she is moving on to high school, thanks to a specific donation from Canada, though she could have qualified for the bursaryfor double orphans. While she was determined, hercaregivers were not. Getting the necessary paperwork and documents together wasnot enough of a priority for them, and the application deadline has been missed. Another girl we are working with thisyear appeared almost in tears when it looked as if her application would not becompleted in time. It was, but hersister’s was not; in part because there was not a family member who made it apriority to obtain what was needed.

I am in dismay at thewaste of potential. If thedivides, the dichotomies, within the country could be bridged, what a brighterand more prosperous future more people might enjoy. Wendy's and my time here in Lesotho will end some day. Before that happens, I look forward to seeing members of the Mustard Seed becoming the ones that a village looks forward toseeing, bringing hope and information that may begin to bridge thedivides.

~ Benno ~

Some Few Minutes

2012-01-12T12:12:00.000+02:00

December and January havebeen busy times at the Mustard Seed. As everywhere, most folks leave things to the last minute. We have had numerous last minuterequests for support, as well as have been finalizing the school funding applications for others. In between it has beencollecting report cards where girls have no guardians, and that is where ‘somefew minutes’ has relavence.

In mid-December one of theboard members and I traveled to pick up a report card on the precribed date. I though we would arrive late and missthe initial rush, but when we arrived a meeting was in progress. Concerned parents are active in thisschool, and before the release of the student reports, a parent school meeting wasin progress, in Sesotho. Beforeentering the meeting I inquired, "Would it be long?" I was assured the meeting had been running for some time and it would be just ‘some few minutes’ and it would conclude.

The board member and Ientered, and sat down. The meetingwas being conducted in Sesotho, so I understood very little of what was being said, but Idid realize that among these parents were ones keenly interested in theschooling of their children. Questions from the floor were often preceded by a five to ten minutepreamble. ‘Some few minutes’stretched to thirty and then forty five, and after an hour I excused myself andattended to some other matters I could do. A further thirty minutes later the meeting finally came toan end and reports were available for pick up.

Without a staff memberthis year I am working with one of the board members finalizing what we can getdone before the school funding application deadline. We run into barriers and frustrations, sometimes seeminglywithout rational, and lots of waiting. I need to remember to take a book to read during the waits and to learn from my colleague who neverseems to be rushed or bothered by the waits. It just is something that has to be done, just some furtherfew minutes.

~ Benno ~

A Day at the "Beach"

2011-12-12T14:32:00.001+02:00

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

2011-11-29T15:37:00.001+02:00

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

2011-11-14T08:48:00.001+02:00

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

One of our girls lives at a mission in a village about athirty-minute drive from Maseru. Her school teachers have spoken of what they sense as her lostness. She has aunts and uncles somewhere buttheir struggles are such that they have little to offer her and she, in a realsense, is abandoned. It was a pleasureto 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 Seedgirls. We do not get out to seeher often, but it seems that when we do, she truly feels connected and partof something.

Another girl, faced with some medical problems, the kind agirl wants to talk with her mother about, was able to connect with her MustardSeed big sister. She had someoneshe could turn to, someone who appropriately passed the need along to me, so thatwe (the Mustard Seed) could get her to a medical clinic. A young girl with no parent norcaregiver to turn to, but who had a Mustard Seed big sister that made adifference.

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

Another family, another grandmother. Her granddaughter has missed a year ofschool 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 granddaughterbut not knowing where to turn. I did my best to explain what the Mustard Seedcould offer and what was needed to apply for the school bursary fororphans. She was so grateful - during thenext 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 isgetting together the documents that will allow us to submit an application for funding andhopefully see her granddaughter in school. She also has a grandson ready to enter high school, andwhile the Mustard Seed does not work directly with boys, the applicationprocess is the same, and we will make sure his application for high schoolfunding also gets submitted.

A final example: the grandmother and caregiver of one of ourgirls recently died. The girlis attending a boarding school. She had no money to pay the transport to get home to her village toattend her grandmother’s funeral. She had no one else to turn to other than the MustardSeed. We will make sure shegets home for the funeral, and a number of Mustard Seed members will alsoattend. The girl now faces a muchmore uncertain future. We will tryto connect with other family members who might support her. However, without the grandmother, itmay be that the Mustard Seed will now become the primary source of support andconnection for another girl.

When I am tempted to wonder if the Mustard Seed really makesa 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 weserve and truly does make a difference. I want to thank each of you who have contributed in some way to theMustard Seed. Whether you havecontributed words of encouragement, financial support from time to time, or apersonal visit to Lesotho, together, as God’s hands, we are making a differencein the lives of girl orphans in this small corner of the world. Thank-you.

~ Benno ~

Conversations

2011-11-11T15:19:00.001+02:00

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

Chomsky raises questionsabout the disquieting efforts by the west to maintain economic advantage overother parts of the world. Livinghere in Africa and on the edge of the Republic of South Africa a question thatoften 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 toquestion my western ‘birthright’. Should I be questioning how it is that I have so much, or do I justaccept 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 towonder. Wondering about the courseof history and whether we as Christians will be known in this stage of historyas mere pawns or non-entities. … Do we really yearn for another Kingdom and take the time to thinkthrough what it would entail? Arewe complicit in the great injustice of our time? Yes. Are wecomplicit of believing in a doctrine of scarcity and in so doing hoarding inexcess and calling it "prosperity" to the detriment of others? Yes. Have we baptized competition and conquest as a noble andnecessary means of human interaction rather than wrestling with the harder toenforce (because you can't!) doctrine of compassion, generosity, andcooperation?”

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

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

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

“Alot of people get rich on the back of others. … The cry of people who’ve beenexploited … God hears.”

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

Do I have the willingness tohear 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 somethingdifferent? It is easy to talk thetalk. Walking the talk, questioning my birthright and being willing to live financially where I need totrust 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 foundat http://www.crossroadschurch.ab.ca/sermons/2011-09-18-FaithThatMakesADifference2.mp3

Down by the River

2011-11-06T17:11:00.000+02:00

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

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

Sometime thatmorning, either folks from a nearby village or travelers on the road hadnoticed 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 alsomust have been a quiet day at the local police detachments.

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

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

I will surelyhave to find the chief of the area before I return and make sure he knows I amdown there by the river. It is abeautiful little spot and when the rains come and the river is again flowing itwill 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

2011-11-04T12:17:00.002+02:00

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

Wedding inLesotho vary, but like funerals here, many speeches by family and others areoften 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 wasa former student of Wendy’s. He is also a current board member at the MustardSeed. We also had the delightof hosting a couple of his former classmates in our home who were back fromuniversity 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 onthe invitation was 9:00 a.m. Thequestion 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 werethere 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 whomshould 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’sentry, but we were there for her entry, even though we were two and a halfhours late.

Dancing the groom into the ceremony.

The ceremony ranit course, and included the aspects of Basotho weddings that I reallyenjoy. These are not somber, downto the smallest detail, scripted events. There is dancing in the aisles, spontaneous cheering and applause duringthe ceremony, more dancing and singing.

The bride and groom leading a song.

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

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

Ready for the ice cream run.

By thetime dinner was over it is getting late in the afternoon and things seemed tobe winding down. I left and droveone our entourage to their village before arriving back at home around sixexpecting to find Wendy there. Nope! She didn’t get homeuntil about 10:00 p.m. I hadmissed 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 secondwedding I was asked to chauffer the groomsmen to the venue and back. So I was committed for theduration. At a brief meetingbefore the wedding though, I got the impression the groom was determined runcloser to schedule. Inever did get the official start time, but I think it was 10:00 a.m. The bride and groom had both arrived atthe wedding venue by about 10:30. Unfortunately most of the guests were only beginning to arriveso the bride patiently waited in her car for about 30 minutes as a processionof guests passed by. She finallywas able to walk down the aisle at about 11:00.

This ceremony wasmore focused, and the fewer speeches entailed fewer words, much fewer. Even with the dancing and singing inthe audience all was wrapped up in about an hour. Again I was taken surprized by the cheering and applauseafter 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 commandeeredto 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 speecheswere longer, but everything, including the after dinner activities and cleanup, was wrapped by late afternoon. I was there to almost the end, helping the groomsman load tablesand chairs for transport before drving them back to the city. Once wewere all back in Maseru they sent me home while they did the last of theunloading.

I was home by6:00 where Wendy had spent the day marking and preparing for an expedition toThabo Bosiu, a small mountain plateau. The next day she was leading a group of about 60 students and teachers on a hike andweiner roast. She had developedquite a following of hiking and weiner roast devotees, but that is her story totell.

~ Benno ~

Lesotho: Back Home

2011-10-07T16:12:00.000+02:00

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

But, as long asthe earth endures, summer and winter, seedtime and harvest will never cease,and spring has arrived. Evenamidst the dust and smoke and dirt the peach blossoms had been heralding thatwinter would end, and the early spring showers arrived right on cue to settlethe dust, clear the smoke, and encourage the green blades of grass pushing upfrom the parched earth. Theshowers did bring cooler weather and a late frost the first week October, butnow there is no stopping the arrival of summer.

Compounding thedust woes when we arrived was road upgrading that is occurring in theneighborhood. The trucks andequipment added more dusk to the air, but the positive is that at sometime inthe future we should have a tarred road right to our house. With the dust came daily water outagesas the road construction necessitated burying many of the water lines deeperunder the road. It has meant someadjustments, like making sure the laundry get started early, and planning whatis on the supper menu so that vegetables can be washed before the water goesoff in the morning. Even when thewater doesn’t come on until the evening, I am just thankful that at least itcomes on, most evenings, and I find myself dancing a little jig of joy eachtime 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 ofmy life. It has been good toreconnect with our Basotho friends and the girls of the Mustard Seed. Through them God has again reminded meit is his work. I am along tolearn 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 thelocal Mustard Seed families to encourage them and help them to understand God’sdesires for them. A couple of ourgirls who had been making poorer choices are choosing better paths. One is behaving very responsibly andhas become a considerable support and help to her caregivers at a time whenthey had a significant need.

Another youngwoman, one of Wendy’s former students, who has patiently waited on God toprovide a university opportunity received a call the first Wednesday ofOctober. The bus was leaving formedical school in Zimbabwe on Saturday. What a flurry of activity it was for her getting paper work and packingdone, and goodbyes said. But todayshe is realizing her dream as she adjusts to a new country and situation andback to being a student. Our rolein the lives of these, and others, has been little more that to just believe inthem and walk with them. Godweaves the story. And how heweaves.

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

How the next yearunfolds, I do not know, but I know that I am back where I am supposed tobe. The women on the board at theMustard Seed are dreaming God sized dreams. The men’s group will lead who knows where. We will sharewith 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 schoolyear. Rude welcome back or not, Iam looking forward to experiencing what God has planned in my life and thelives of others in the year ahead here in Lesotho.

~ Benno ~

Washington D.C.

2011-10-06T17:34:00.001+02:00

On our return trip to Lesotho in August we stopped inWashington 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 meboth fascinated and unsettled.

The U.S. Capital

Washington Monument

My first impression was amazement at the size of some of themonuments. The massive pillars andhuge stone blocks caused me to wonder if America sought to imitate the grandeurof empire that was Rome.

Jefferson Memorial

Library of Congress

A tourguide at the Capital building later commented that the American founding fathershad been purposeful in pursuing this Roman link in establishing the American“republic”. The founding fatherspurposed to follow the republican model of Rome and that vision came to bereflected in the grandeur of buildings and monuments and the many quotations inand on those building, monuments, and elsewhere.

Interior of the Capital

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

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

Lincoln Memorial (early morning before the hordes)

Great and noble thoughts that inspired a nation have becomeordinary. Just as we too oftentake for granted our material blessing in the west, it seems we may alsotaking for granted our various heritages of freedom and commitment to humanliberty, equality and dignity. Our heritages risk becoming lost amidst the din of populations preoccupied with thepursuit of excitement, spectacle and excess, … if not happiness. We, in the west, are wealthy in so manyways, yet seem oblivious to what we risk losing if we lose connection with ourroots.

~ Benno ~

Good Times in Canada

2011-09-19T09:25:00.016+02:00

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 ~

Charity

2011-09-13T08:49:00.002+02:00

During our trip back to Canada I was reminded anew of how blessed I am. How is it that, due to nothing that I ever did, but solely as my seeming birthright at being born in a place like Canada, I have so much? How I have taken for granted blessings that others only dream about. I have become habituated to what I have and I view them as common, even with distain. In light of this abundance of things and opportunities I was challenged to consider my lack of generosity and charity towards others.

Charity can transcend being concerned for and responding to the physical needs of others. My lack of charity has been my diminished generosity of goodwill to others. How is it that surrounded by so much, I am sparing in my goodwill to and consideration for others.

Life consists of daily interactions with other people. Sometimes I am irked by the behaviors, past or present, of others. It is not that I display ill will towards them (at least not knowingly) as a result, rather, my tendency is to be misery in extending them goodwill. As a result, in the midst of plenty, I withhold what should be so easy to share. Absurd isn’t it.

Another aspect of my miserliness is the times I fail to express gratitude and appreciation to those whose lives enrich mine. My life is filled with individuals and families who truly bless and enrich my life and my experience. I know how I appreciate kind words from time to time, and I am sure others are not a lot different.

This summer I made a point of trying to bring a more gracious and open attitude to the many people with whom I crossed paths with, whether it was a family member, friend, store clerk, stranger, even the driver who may have cut me off. I didn’t always succeed, but where I did I experienced a more deeply satisfying connection with the other.

Many years ago I watched a video featuring a fellow named Dewitt Jones. I was struck by an idea, included almost as an aside in his presentation. He stated “I find I’m approaching the world from an attitude of abundance rather than scarcity, from cooperation rather than competition.”¹ We have an abundance of material things in our western world. I wonder, might it not be an even better world if I, and others, sought to make goodwill and gratitude equally abundant?

~ Benno ~

1 http://www.dewittjones.com/resources/seeing_the_ordinary.htm

Work

2011-09-09T11:05:00.006+02:00

One of the joys of our trip home to Canada was the opportunity to walk with, listen to, and share ideas and thoughts with friends and family members. Early in our time in Canada we met with a friend over breakfast in the beauty of her back yard. During the course of our conversation she make a statement. One of the first tasks that God set before mankind was the opportunity to work. However, she was not referring to the “by the sweat of your brow” curse that so many of us can recite. Rather the opportunity to work, our breakfast hostess pointed out, was God offering mankind the opportunity to join with Him in stewarding His creation.

The second chapter of Genesis recounts a summary of creation. Here is recorded the observation that creation included “no man to work the ground”. God’s response to this void was to form man, to create a living being, whom he “put in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.” God offered mankind the opportunity to share with him in caring for and enhancing his glorious creation. One writer has offered that mankind was initially placed in the Garden “to be stewards of the garden and function as God’s Vice-regents.”¹ As mankind fulfilled this responsibility, God walked with him in the garden. Somehow work is intrinsic to our well being and dignity as beings, created in the image of God.

In the midst of the Great Depression of the 1930’s President F.D. Roosevelt declared …..

From the F.D.Roosevelt Memorial in Washington D.C.

Maybe this ethic or world view of work providing us with moral worth and dignity as we join with God in stewardship of His creation, has been a blessing of greater worth than we realize or imagine.

Those countries, Canada included, whose histories include some form of this ethic seem to have thrived and been blessed, despite our tendency to pervert stewardship of God’s creation into exploitation. The same author who referred to our roles as vice-regents offers that the traditional African mindset, or worldview, has yet to transcend the curse of “by the sweat of your brow.” He offers that this mindset that work is a curse², especially for the African male, may be one of the factors at the root of Africa’s seemingly intractable brokenness, hopelessness, and despair.

Awed and overwhelmed with how much we have in Canada, I reflected upon our friend’s words and Lesotho’s stark realities. I was intriqued by the possibilitiy that whether we acknowledge God or not, to the degree that we individually or as societies live out God’s ways, we are blessed, and in Canada, beyond measure.

~Benno~

1 Miller, Darrow L. et al, Hope for Africa, Samaritan Strategy Africa Working Group, 2005. pg. 20

2 Ibid. pg. 41

O Canada

2011-09-09T10:38:00.004+02:00

I have been away from writing for a long time. First it was getting things wrapped up before heading back to Canada, then it was traveling, and finally it has been being out of the practice of writing. I will try to get back into the practise.

Our trip home to Canada felt different this time.

Western Canada is an incredibility beautiful place, and not just the landscapes. We landed on July 1, and the Alberta prairie was wall to wall green. The roads as we drove from Calgary to Red Deer to Ponoka were wide and smooth; maintained and effortlessly channeling the traffic. As we drove through Red Deer and Ponoka - the beautiful houses, the flowers and lush green lawns, the absence of garbage – I simply soaked in the sights with wonder. I am so blessed. What twist of fate, of happen stance, of God’s undeserved grace, that I was born in the time and place that I was. As I observed and benefited from the vast infrastructure of roads and avenues and services I thought, “May I never complain about paying my taxes again.” I truly receive so much in return.

I attended to certain business matters that needed consideration. Invariably I received helpful and courteous service, (courteous even from the one agency telling me they could no longer be helpful). Clerks, officials, receptionists, whomever, volunteered help and information so that I could make informed decisions and choices. If I remotely approached a sidewalk, all traffic ceased and I was beckoned to cross. Friends, family, acquaintances, welcomed and hosted us with open and gracious generosity. I am blessed beyond description.

Throughout our time and travels we met young people we had met in our past. Invariably they were driving a nice vehicle. They owned a house. They were beginning a family. They had jobs and careers, and many, on the side, had started businesses. They live in a land of opportunity, a land flowing with milk and honey.

Today, weeks later and back in Lesotho, as I write and reflect back on what I experienced in Canada, I am again humbled and awed and overwhelmed. I come from a land of incredible wealth and opportunity. Truly, I am blessed beyond measure to be able to call Canada, “home”.

~ Benno ~

Mariha in Lesotho

2011-05-30T14:13:00.004+02:00

The rains have finally let up, and we are enjoying some of the glorious days that mariha (winter) in Lesotho can bring. Bright sunny days; cool yes, but great for going for a walk.

Wendy and I have found a way through a nearby village that does not feel like we are walking through peoples houses. Village areas can be quite intimate. Running water tap means running, or walking, to get it, and it is not uncommon to see women in their pajamas or house coats walking to a nearby tap. With houses that have only one room the visiting takes place outside. So when we walk through a village area we are often walking through a men’s card game or gambling session. Or women doing the family laundry. I am often uncomfortable, feeling that I am wandering through someone’s private space. So when we can find a way through a village that actually follows a road I no longer feel like an intruder. At any rate, on the other side of this village, is a mountain, and a most enjoyable hike it is.

The mountain from our house.

Once through the village we only meet curious folks wondering why two lekhooa (white people) are clambering over the rocks and picking their way up a small trail. The mountain, like so many in Lesotho, is actually a plateau, and on top is a planted forest of gum and pine trees. In this land of few trees, I love the wind sighing in the pines up top - a reminder of home, and warm sunny days wandering along forest trails in the mountains of Alberta. The flat terrain up top also allows one to wander away from the plateau edge and there amidst the trees, the sights and sounds of the city recede; a place to relax, reflect, and let time stand still for a moment. I find it a wonderful place to spend a warm and sunny winter day.

Another mountain seen from our house that is also a fun hike.

Back down in the city and in our house winter is another matter. I have previously mentioned that the warmth of the shorter winter days is not sufficient to drive the cold of the winter nights from the houses. Our living space consists of two rooms that we keep heated, the kitchen and the bedroom. So the open space of the mountain top also provides a welcome respite to the reduced space down below.

Early morning frost, mariha in Lesotho.

Looking forward to summer in Canada, before returning to Lesotho for spring.

~ Benno ~

Shades of Joy

2011-05-15T18:56:00.003+02:00

Joy comes in many shades...

A few weeks back it presented itself in many gorgeous shades of green and earth tones of brown as we headed way out into the rurals of Lesotho to visit a young gal from Holland who has recently married a Mosotho. It was joyous to see this young and courageous couple tackling all the challenges of their new life together, trusting God. So lovely to view the rolling mountain upon mountain and valley upon valley with all the tiny villages perched throughout.

Then, better yet, to view pure blackness strewn with shining white specks: a pure night sky full of stars. No electricity does have a few benefits! And quiet! Did I mention the sound of absolute crystal pure stillness that just fills a soul with peacefulness... What colour is stillness? What colour is peace? I think it is the most gentle powder blue imaginable. Wonder... Wonder full...Wonderful! A wonderful weekend it was!

Then, on Thursday last, joy came in mud-brown ;-) and the great fun of another hiking trip (kind of...) with the IB 1's. I decided that we'd never get around to hiking trips if a)I wait for them to plan or b)I wait for the rain to stop, so I suggested that we do a Tuesdays for Two thing where we do a two-hour small hike up the little knoll in town every Tuesday just to get in condition, have a chance to discuss plans for longer hikes, gauge who's up for longer hikes, and slowly build their mandatory 50 hours of activity they need to graduate with their diploma. (Two hours a week DOES add up, over time!)

Anyway, we couldn't go last Tuesday because I had Parent/Teacher meetings so we scheduled for Thursday. Of course, Thursday comes and it's pouring all day but those crazy kids are packed into my classroom ready to go--no less than twenty-five of them! I say, "Oh, you guys, it's raining. This is crazy. You guys are crazy. You don't want to do this, do you (hoping...)?" Yep, they did. So I stalled them until at least the rain let up, then we headed out for what was actually a three-hour hike since, of course, there were slower ones.

All-in-all it was such good fun and a highlight of the week. Having to help very reticent young adults who were really quite fearful of a couple of scramble spots but convincing them that they COULD do this was rewarding. (Considering Basotho ARE mountain people, most of the ones I've met aren't! They are very fearful of heights or anything close and I've had some express that we white people do crazy things like climbing mountains just because... ;-)

But it WAS fun! The kids all got to the top and started singing and dancing! Then we headed down...(Did I mention, it had started raining again!) A good part of the way home we were jumping puddles and trying to avoid too much mud, and then these kids started singing and dancing again for most of the way home. I was just absorbing their joy! Some of the tunes I recognized but with one I was just chuckling when they were singing ... Sesotho, Sesotho... something something....Wendy...something... Yeh, that's the only word I could understand, so I laughed and told them it was creepy to hear them singing when the only word I recognized was my name ;-) (I also thought it was quite funny that they'd decided somehow that they should call me Wendy versus Mrs. Fath which is what they normally call me ;-) Anyway, the song was about conquering the mountain with me ;-) Oh, yes, I get my rewards! Joy--muddy, rain-soaked joy!

~ Wendy ~

Heros

2011-05-09T16:20:00.005+02:00

On a weekend in early May we traveled deep into a part of Lesotho that was new to us. We traveled past the rocky desolation of the Mafeteng area, beyond the desert succulents of Quthing, over lofty mountain passes enveloped in cloud, and back down to the Senqu River into Qacha’s Nek district, near Lesotho’s southern border with South Africa. Unlike some other trips, this one was on tarred roads (of varying quality) that wound through the landscape for 355 kilometres, and six hours. We traveled with an Australian friend, and he did the driving so I got off easy. We were off to visit the first room-mate Wendy and I shared a house with when we arrived in Lesotho four years ago.

Four years ago she was a volunteer at Beautiful Gate. She was one of many wonderful people we have met from the Netherlands, and we shared the Beautiful Gate staff house with her. Later she joined YWAM (Youth With a Mission) Lesotho, committed to living and serving in Lesotho. Some 6-8 months ago she married a Mosotho man. It was his home village of Tebellong, where they live, that was our destination. To reach there home there was one last barrier to cross.

They lived across the Senqu, the largest river in Lesotho, at a location where there was no bridge. We paid the boatman our fare, and he rowed us, not to the netherworld, but to a land of fields and villages.

The boatman.

Wendy, always on the lookout for a prospective student.

This one, at the landing, in front of a month's supply of groceries.

We had another fare to pay however, to get to these Elysian fields. This time the fare was for a truck to bounce us and our hosts and their months worth of groceries up, and up, out of the river valley to the fields and villages lying on a plateau above the river.

Ready for the ride up a very steep and rough road.

By the time we arrived it was getting late and it was straight off to a ‘guest’ house where we were served a simple Basotho meal, before heading to our beds. Dark, no electricity, no heat, so bedtime under, toasty warm blankets was barely past seven. (The couple we were visiting lived in a one room house, with no room for visitors.)

The next morning I was up early and thoroughly enjoyed a ninety minute hike up a mountain behind where we stayed. A perfect before breakfast hike it was, pushing my aerobic abilities while providing intriguing route finding challenges through a couple of cliff bands. It was the kind of exertion that leaves one feeling that it is great to be alive. It is a place I hope to return to, just to spend a full day or two exploring the mountains. After a breakfast of lesheleshele and bohobe, it was a 45 minute walk back to spend an enjoyable visit with our hosts.

The view over the fields (and cows) from our accommodation.

She continues to adapt from a western lifestyle to a much simpler, though more labour intensive lifestyle. He has spent the last number of years learning and practicing conservation agriculture (CA), and is developing a market garden and sharing CA practices with other interested farmers. Together they share their Christian faith within their community, seeking to serve and lead by lifestyle and example. After visiting for the day, as we walked back to our lodging for the night, I thought about her choices. She loves Lesotho, and its people, and was willing to give up a western lifestyle to be with and serve them.

I was trying to get the coordination correct to work this zero tillage planting device.

It was like rubbing one's head and patting one's stomach at the same time.

The next day we trekked back to their home to say our good-byes and then it was down to the river. Our trip across the river was as uneventful as the initial crossing, and we were soon on our way back over the mountains, past the aloe succulents, and towards home. We had one more stop; to visit another young couple. She is from Canada, he from Ireland. They met in Lesotho, and are building a life together here. She caring for orphans and other vulnerable children, he helping to construct buildings for NGOs serving orphans and other children. They recently relocated to a small city in the south west of Lesotho, where she will be managing a children’s centre intended to provide short term care for needy children. They have two delightful little Basotho girls that they have adopted.

Again I reflected on the commitment of this young couple, eschewing the opportunities and comforts of home to make a difference in a place more needy. It is one thing for someone like me with the security of a pension, and some savings, to think of going to another country, but these couples. Their commitment is to being Jesus’ hands and feet to others first, rather than their own comfort and security. They, and others like them, are my heros.

From Holland to here.

~ Benno ~

Fender Bender Blues

2011-04-24T19:41:00.004+02:00

One of the things I most worry about here in Lesotho, is how to access services that are out of the ordinary. One of the things out of the ordinary would be vehicle trouble on the road or an accident. There is no AMA (AAA) equivalent in Lesotho. Last week I was involved in a fender bender.

We were driving into one of the villages which form part of Maseru; driving home one of Wendy's former students who had been visiting. As we came up a hill with a sharp turn at the top, coming down was a Toyota pick-up, ... pulling a BUS!! The two vehicles were connected with a long tow bar and as they came around the corner and down the hill, the weight of the bus began to push the back of the pick-up into my lane. The driver could not compensate as that would have meant steering into my lane. In slow motion, the bus pushed the pick-up sideways and into my lane. I was not fast enough to get my vehicle into reverse and out of the way before contact was made.

I sat in my vehicle frustrated and upset. The damage to my vehicle was minor and only cosmetic, but I was thinking of the bother that I would have to go through to find an autobody shop and arrange for repairs. ... And insurance. In Lesotho, vehicle insurance is optional, even public liability, and as I was soon to learn the other driver, of course, had none. As I got out of the vehicle I recalled, or God brought to mind, some of the things I had been recently reading about His ways - that every detail of my life is in his hands, even this crazy situation. And crazy it was.

In Lesotho, a vehicle accident draws a crowd. In minutes we were engulfed in a crowd of 50-70 curious spectators. Wendy helped keep the mood light, as she couldn't stop chuckling about the absurdity of the situation and the little truck towing the big bus. And, what would we have done without Wendy's student? While I walked around shaking my head, inspecting the damage to my vehicle, and trying to appreciate this God given "detail", she was engaging the other driver and dealing with the crowd.

In the end the driver offered to meet me the next day and take me to a panel beaters (auto body shop) where he knew the proprietor. The other driver was a man of his word and met me the next day as arranged. We visited his friend the panel beater, received a quote, and the driver offered to pay the full amount of the repairs. The panel beater, meanwhile was anxious to get started. The next morning, a day and a half after the mishap, I had my vehicle back looking ... well not quite like new, but certainly acceptable.

I am left thinking of the lesson I was given. In truth, I really didn't even have time to get into worrying and fretting about the situation. It was just a little detail in God's perspective. My fears and anxieties and worry about repairs and finding a shop had been for naught. God knew what was needed and he provided. I still shake my head in amazement. The more likely scenario would have been for the other driver to blame me, or never show up for the arranged meeting and to just disappear. But that didn't happen. In the future, I hope I will remember God's grace in this situation, and Jesus words in Luke 12:22-31. He cares about the details in my life, and if I but trust him*, he can bring good from whatever comes my way.** .

~ Benno ~

*1 Peter 5:7
**Romans 8:28

Weather Talk

2011-04-23T16:49:00.004+02:00

April has been a quiet month. Nothing exciting. Nothing remarkable. I am left to talk about the weather.

Fall has arrived - an unusually wet fall. Normally by this time on the year in Lesotho the rains have diminished and we enter that period of endless Indian summer, but not this year. So instead of warm days and cool nights, it is mostly cool rainy days and cooler nights. We are layering up and have already pulled out the heaters to keep at least parts of the house warm.

Wendy has moved into the kitchen. It has a door shutting it off from the rest of the house, which means a confined space. A confined space we can easier heat so she, and I, spent a lot of time in the kitchen where we can keep the temperature cosy. I envision that we will become exceedingly familiar with our kitchen as the temperatures drop further, though we do have a couple of windows elsewhere in the house where we can sit and warm ourselves on sunny mornings.

I don’t know if I will ever adjust to southern hemisphere seasons. The cool weather makes it feels so much like October. This week we even had our first frost. Rather than Easter, it seems time to start thinking of Christmas. Ah, but this year we will get a break. We are heading back to Canada for a couple of months of summer there, and will skip out on two months of winter here. Wendy is committed to teaching one more year at least in Africa, maybe more, so we will be heading back, arriving for the beginning of spring.

We will then see what unfolds over the next year and decide what and where life and God will lead. I am already working with the Mustard Seed leadership team to develop the structures to enable them to feel comfortable carrying on with me supporting them from a distance. With the Internet there is much that can be done from a distance to provide support.

We will arrive in Canada on July 01, Canada Day. We are looking forward to seeing family and friends again, including our wonderful sons. There life adventures continue. Jared, we will possibly see less of as he expects to be working in the Northwest Territories with the Geological Survey of Canada. He has completed his degree in B.Sc. Geology, has been admitted to a Masters in Geology at Simon Frazer University and will be beginning his program there in the fall. Dylan will be back in Central Alberta after eight months in Nova Scotia where he has completed the first year of a Masters program. I may have to don coveralls and rubber boots when we visit him as he will be spending his summer working on an organic dairy farm west of Red Deer. Byron may be the one we can catch up with the easiest, visiting him in his own house, complete with dog, in Wainwright. But, even with him things could change should he be sent off on some further training.

We are looking forward to seeing many of you again, and will have a busy two months traveling in Alberta and British Columbia. On our return flight to Lesotho, we are stopping off in Washington D.C. to spend a few days with Wendy’s sister Chris and her husband.

While we are experiencing early winter weather here, I notice that winter is reticent to depart there, with late snow storms in much of Alberta and even in parts of B.C. Gee, maybe I can get used to southern hemisphere seasons when I see minus degree temperatures in late April in Alberta.

Stay warm.

~ Benno ~

Recognition and Dreams

2011-03-21T13:18:00.008+02:00

In an attempt to encourage the Mustard Seed girls to pursue excellence in school, for the past two years we have held a School Performance Recognition trip for those who have done particularly well, or showed marked improvement during the previous school year. In mid-March we held the trip for those who did well in the 2010 school year.

This year we again traveled within Lesotho. One of our goals for the trip is to allow the girls to experience something of Lesotho that they may only hear about, things us tourists see, but which locals might never see in their lifetime. The down side continues to be traversing what constitutes roads here in Lesotho. We traveled to Semonkong, a 120 km, but three and a half hour, drive.

Semonkong is a place I have written about in a previous post. A place where life has a different rhythm, where horses still hold sway. The main street is lined with tethered horses, and young and old, male and female seem comfortable on the back of a horse. Horses as transport means “on horse back”, not riding in a horse drawn wagon. Balanced in front of the rider might be a groceries, a propane cylinder, windows for a construction project, a child, or a case of beer. It is an atmosphere I find engaging and intriguing. The location high in the mountains also means wheat and crops other than the ubiquitous maize that one sees in the lowlands. As during out previous visit, we witnessed here and there a ‘letsema’, a group of people working together to harvest a field. The men cutting the wheat, the women tying the wheat into bundles, and together carrying the bundles to a nearby stack to await threshing.

The first goal for the girls however, was to visit the Malutsenyane Falls, a single drop waterfall of 194 metres. They were game. I am often amazed at what individuals here often undertake without hesitation. Off we went, a pleasant walk through fields for the first hour and then down the steep path to the river, for the girls sometimes on their bottoms.

The weather threatened, but we arrived at the falls without incident and enjoyed lunch. On the way out the weather did more than threaten, and at one point we were looking pretty bedraggled before the sun came out and provided for a beautiful last 40 minutes of our walk back. Well, most of us were looking bedraggled. One of our girls, who always seems to be dressed smartly, continued to look like she had when she first just stepped out of her house that morning. I don’t know how she does it.

The short one is the chaperone.

Rain, with some hail.

But sunshine for the final walk home.

Tired, but happy, after a long day.

The next day the girls were introduced to rock climbing. Again, they did not hesitate. Although once on the rope and clinging to a cliff face, there were some second thoughts.

Ready to rock!

Tough feet!! They all climbed barefoot.

The highlight for me, not necessarily the girls, was when our chaperone led the girls in a discussion about their dreams and goals, steps they need to take to reach their goals, and who they hadto support them. The part of the discussion I witnessed was intense and the girls were very focused. It was rewarding to hear of their goals to serve their country as nurses and teachers. For me it was also gratifying to know that we at the Mustard Seed are playing a part in helping these girls have dreams, and to believe that they can realize their dreams.

On the drive home we followed a rainstorm, making the drive out 4 hours. We arrived home later than expected, in the dark, but safely. The girls had a wonderful time. My hope and prayer is that they have been encouraged, and will hang on and not lose sight of their goals as they cope with the many day-to-day challenges they return to. I hope too, that they may realize God’s desire for them, his desire to give them hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11).

~ Benno ~

Do you believe we can speak our realities into being?

2011-03-07T18:46:00.003+02:00

Yes and no, I think. I'm not sure. Of course, people's lives have mitigating circumstances--bad things do happen to good people. On another level, however, part of me believes that, yes, out ATTITUDE can predict our outcome. No doubt. Attitude is so important.

Take, for instance, one of my former students... She's sitting out of university this year because the government here has dramatically reduced funding and she just didn't get admission into a program that the government would fund. It was devastating, there is no doubt, but dear Moholi is a very resilient gal. She is tough (and yet so sweet). Nothing is going to stop that gal. She is exploring every possible angle. She is doing so much to help bring her future into being. She wants to be a doctor but maybe she'll not make the very small quota granted to Lesotho citizens into South African universities, so what is she doing? Checking for every possible overseas scholarship into medicine, talking to people in various related health professions and getting advice and encouragement from them. She's also keeping connected with fellow students. She's staying positive and proactive. She's speaking her future into being, I think.

Yesterday Benno, Moholi, another student, and I went to track down a student with whom I'd lost touch. I have been very worried about him. He also did not get university admission this year. I've watched him fall apart over past disappointments and I was just so worried that he'd be wallowing in depression. I couldn't get in touch by phone so the only option was to go track him down out in the rurals ... We found him and, hey, once again I am chastised for being a worrier and not believing in the inherent strength of my wonderful students. He too is a survivor. He's working at a school and has done the research and is working on a Plan B to get into a related health profession. He'll apply again this coming year. I hope it works. He'll be great.

These are examples of two young people who are choosing to stay positive and I am sure their futures will BE positive.

On the other hand, it seems that we can speak our negative realities into being too. I just heard a story about another young gal--not one of my students--who is obviously struggling with what she believes about herself. She has been caught, on numerous occasions, stealing. Why, I wonder? There is so much more to LOSE than to gain by what she is doing. I can't help but wonder what she is speaking into herself. "I'm not worth it?" "I have no future, so I might as well ..." I don't know, but she is certainly forming a very negative reality for herself. Her sister and brother-in-law just don't know what to do with her and will probably send her back to the village. What future will she have there? Probably not a good one ...

Then there's another young gal who has done very poorly in school and has struggled. She's just had her second child which has placed a huge huge burden on her orphaned family. What messages has she given herself? "I'm not worth it..." I wonder... When people have asked her about her future plans, she has absolutely no answer. What is she speaking into her life? Nothing.

Sometimes I even find it hard to stay positive here when I see the tremendous challenges people face. How can one keep speaking positive messages to themselves? But then again, I just finished reading a book by Kevin Connolly entitled Double Take. Wow! That's one inspiring guy. You know, he has a few challenges in life--maybe even more than a lot of people here. But as I read through his story I was just struck with how positive and empowered he seems. As I read, I don't get the impression of some guy who's sitting around feeling sorry that he was born with no legs. Instead I read the words of a very bright, funny, thoughtful and courageous--very courageous--young man who has way more ABILITIES than disabling conditions.

So, yes, people here do have lots of disabling conditions--lots of reasons to explain why they can't succeed in life--but I'm changing my view. I'm choosing to consider Moholi and Moshoeshoe and Kevin Connolly and say that we can remain positive and speak our POSITIVE realities into being. The other thing that I am really reminded of is that WE can encourage people to speak positive things into their lives too. The thing is that the people around Kevin Connolly, and then he, himself, have obviously spoken positive messages into his life. No wonder he's succeeded.

So what am I saying in all of this? I think the BIG idea is that our WORDS have tremendous, tremendous power to influence--to influence others and ourselves. As we speak positive things to others, we can empower them and encourage them to feel that way about themselves. We also are wise to speak positive things into our own lives--to dwell on the positive--and chances are, that's what we will get.

- Wendy -

Cows and Conundrums

2011-03-07T16:06:00.002+02:00

Africa. A clash of experiences. Some things slow and slightly humorous; other things slow to progress and deeply disheartening.

In the last few weeks livestock have slowed life down and provided moments of levity - if one is not in a rush. I marvel that there is not more road carnage here, but as a local police officer once remarked; people and livestock have the right of way here, even if most drivers drive as if this is not the rule.

The other day I was driving down a highway. I had to slow to nearly a full stop. A cow was crossing the road. Slowly. On three legs. How long would a three-legged cow survive in Canada I pondered? Here however, she remained someone’s valuable asset, though I did wonder for how long if she keeps crossing the highway. Another day, leaving the local mall; a new modern facility with a six screen Cineplex and a cow nonchalantly walking through the parking area ahead of her herd boy. Cows in southern Africa. They show up every where - on the roads, at the mall, on the beach.

Then there are sheep. I have seen sheep holding up traffic as they cascade across Maseru streets. Wendy was returning home from work recently and holding up traffic was not a flock, but a solitary sheep wandering down a busy thoroughfare. Not crossing the road, wandering straight down the road, in the middle of a lane with a transport truck crawling along behind her, her ‘herd boy’ for that moment. Witnessing these moments I often wonder how I would respond back in Canada. But here, such moments are just part of the ambience, a slower rhythm that I enjoy.

Other things, advancing glacially, are also part of life here. They however, are a source of frustration and exasperation, not rhythm and ambience.

One of the Mustard Seed girls completed her high school education last year. While considering her future, she wants to work. She has found opportunity, even in the 40% unemployment here in Lesotho. Her youth and vitality have stood her in good stead. One factory hired her for a short-term stint, and would hire her again, but there is a catch. The principal identifying document here in Lesotho is a passport. For ongoing employment, the factory that had hired her requires her to present her passport. Ah, but obtaining a passport … .

A passport application can languish amidst a pile of other applications for one, two, three, or even more YEARS. (Though with the right connections, one can get their passport within days.) I am convinced that multiple applications are literally lost amidst piles of other applications; stacked, overlooked, and gathering dust on desks, in cabinets, or on the floor. This girl has been waiting for a couple of years since her application. Today, with a passport, she could be back working in that factory. Without it, … an energetic, capable young woman languishes. When opportunity is denied, what then? How does one sustain hope, aspiration, ambition?

Another girl. Another story. Another life, … languishing. She sort of snuck into the Mustard Seed program. She is a delightful young girl, though not a double orphan, and she takes part in our non-school related activities. Her mother has died, but she has a father – himself uneducated, unskilled, unemployed. Since she has a father, we cannot apply on her behalf for the high school bursary we pursue for our other girls. She lives with a grandmother, who, on her $50Cdn per month pension, supports herself, the girl, and sometimes the father. The family simply has no money to send this girl to school. Unlike primary school, which she completed last year, high school comes with tuition costs, costs beyond the reach of $50 per month. Another bright, eager young girl languishes.

I can rationalize and say she is just one of hundreds, nay thousands, of children languishing here in Lesotho - their futures ebbing and fading away. But I have witnessed first hand her tears and pain at not being able to continue in school. She is no longer just a number or statistic, but a face, a person with ability and potential and capacity, her hopes and dreams fading under the glare of inequity within Lesotho, in Africa, and across the world. Financial inequity yes, but that will always persist. It is the inequity of opportunity that I find the most disheartening and difficult to accept. Without opportunity, I don’t wonder that people struggle with despair, and stop dreaming and hoping.

Cows and conundrums. I am grateful for the absurdity of a cow, or sheep, holding up traffic, giving life here a lighter perspective and rhythm. They do provide a needed diversion from the conundrum and absurdity of structures, meant to help people, that bury individual hope and initiative beneath inefficiency, ineptitude, and inequity.

~ Benno ~

Tapestries

2011-02-21T12:23:00.003+02:00

God creates masterpieces. Barb dropped in yesterday. She was excited. Puleng had talked. Something had happened in Puleng’s life that she wanted to share with Barb and for the first time Puleng initiated a conversation with Barb - in English, no less.

I met Barb shortly after we arrived in Lesotho. I needed to check some info and was given her name. Barb is one of the driving forces behind another project that provides opportunity to orphans here in Lesotho. We have stayed in touch. Our paths cross. One family the Mustard Seed has been working with is also connected to the project Barb is part of.

In a previous entry I mentioned the girl who was severely injured when part of a building collapsed resulting in the girl losing the lower part of one leg. This girl, Puleng, is one that Barb works with. It was Barb, with a bit of direction from us at the Mustard Seed, who was able to pull together the documents needed to apply for the school bursary on Puleng’s behalf. And it was God who worked a small miracle so that Puleng was approved for the bursary as an exceptional situation even after all the funds for orphans had apparently been spent. Now, we at the Mustard Seed have added Puleng to our list of participants and will be providing her with other supports. One such other support was to invite Puleng to be part of a group, Cherish, where we bring our girls together every second month to encourage and support each other. The first meeting for this year was held on Saturday, Feb. 19, and Puleng was there.

It is often hard to know how things impact someone here in Leostho. Language is a barrier. For a Mosotho, even one who speaks fairly good English, putting abstract thoughts into English can be difficult. Barb noted how her conversations with Puleng were not easy. Barb even wondered whether Puleng could understand much English at all, much less speak in English. Their times together was mostly Barb doing a bit of talking. The day after Puleng attended Cherish was different.

The first opportunity Puleng had alone with Barb after the Cherish day, Puleng initiated a conversation - in English! Barb listened amazed. The quiet, subdued girl she had know, was excitedly talking, relating to Barb her experience being part of the Cherish group. I wasn’t at the Cherish event other than to take a few pictures at the end of the day, so I can’t say what went on, but Puleng had experienced something special for her. Barb mentioned that part of Puleng’s excitement was that she came away with a sense of belonging and of being accepted in a larger group.

Someone has said that we see what we look for. Maybe that can be said of me, but what I see in this situation is an orchestration; people and circumstances brought together resulting in a young girl given new hope and encouragement, and a volunteer saying that Puleng, initiating a conversation, has been an encouragement to carry. I see a God who cares about his children, who brings people and circumstances together to hearten and encourage and uphold them. I am also reminded that it is not for me to question why, but to faithfully carry on with what I understand God is asking of me. He is the master designer and he is working all things together for good.

I know the days ahead of me will include difficult situations and circumstances. I know how easy it is in such times for me to question and doubt. During those coming difficult days, I hope I will remember the little masterpiece God created in the last few days, and just trust that He is working on another.

Puleng and the Cherish girls.

This tapestry is not finished either. Wendy has a past student who is trying to understand God’s direction for her in terms of a career. A student who just so happens to be tutoring some of the Mustard Seed girls in Maths, and happens to know Puleng. Through the connection with Barb, Wendy has learned that there is, in fact, a physio and occupational therapy unit at the Maseru Hospital - careers her student has been considering. So, in a couple of days this student will be visiting the physio and occupational therapy unit of the hospital with Barb and Puleng. Where this story will end or mesh with another ... , I guess that is all part of God's greater story.

~ Benno ~

Wild Things

2011-02-16T15:44:00.013+02:00

We are blessed. Living in Africa we see things that truly enrich our experiences and our perspectives on life.

Wendy had a week off of school so we made a quick trip to a part of South Africa where we have not been. It was an experience. We traveled to the ‘Wild Coast’ with many sights along the way – a goat holding up traffic as it crossed a major highway intersection; cattle grazing the green spaces of a modern university within a major city; six men – three on each side of the road, marching almost in unison, swaying side to side like members of a marching band, swinging their whipper snippers, cutting the grass on the edge of the road... How many miles a day did they cover, I wondered?

The Wild Coast is in a part of South Africa that was declared a homeland under apartheid, and was given semi-autonomy. This homeland, Transkei, covered a very large area, including the coast line. It is a part of South Africa that provides a glimpse of how things might have been. In the rural areas that in the past had been designated as white only, one travels through vast tracks of countryside with nary a house in sight. The white farms are thousands of acres in size with one white homestead somewhere and a few homes for the farm workers.

As we traveled to the Wild Coast, through the former Transkei, though, across almost

every hill top were

scattered huts and homes--brightly coloured homes painted pink, yellow, lime green, or robin egg blue.

These homelands leave the plateau and wind their way down...down...down, twisting toward the sea, as the landscape transitions from farmland to verdent jungle. The Wild Coast derives its name in part from the ancient lavas that run down to the sea. The lava is heavily eroded into steep hills and narrow valleys, swathed in jungle. The coastline is mostly waves crashing onto black rock, small beaches here and there tucked away in small bays and coves: a sailor’s dread – home to shipwrecks from the time the first sailors rounded the Cape, to the ocean going steamers of the modern era.

We arrived in the small coastal community of Port St. Johns. On the wild coast it was the white people we saw who appeared, well, wild. Many of the whites we saw looked like left over hippies from the sixties: long hair, beards, beads (one guy with feathers), and tumble down and cluttered residences. I wonder if, during the height of apartheid, when it was against the laws for whites to meet with blacks in public meeting, even in a church, whether some “conscientious objectors” simply drifted to the homelands where they were less bound by such laws. They stayed and never did become the yuppies of North American culture. Or maybe as one website described them they are just aging beach bums. At any rate we saw a number of very unique white folks on the wild coast.

Out on the rocks we also met a Xhosa fellow. He was harvesting mussels, darting in and out on the rocks, always keeping a wary eye on the surf, pulling up the mussels in between the surging of the waves. We were reminded not only by his wary glances at the sea, but also by memorial plagues high on one hill, that the sea has it own rhythm. Unexpected, rogue waves, had swept a number of fishermen from the rocks to their demise in the surging sea.

"Mussel" Man

Maiden of the mist.

The steep hills and narrow valleys, swathed in jungle, left this prairie lover, who needs the long view to feel relaxed, just a bit claustrophobic.

Our accommodation, though, set on a hill, rose above it all with a wonderful view out over the jungle to a small beach and bay ...

... a beach we found ourselves sharing with some unique others: beach bovines. It may have been the sea breeze keeping the flies at bay, but from morning till late afternoon a herd of cattle made the beach their own.

What's your BEEF, eh?

Watching the surf carry out certain droppings, shall I say, did not invite me in for a swim.

Beach BULL

The house we shared with others, too: geckos. We were in a jungle and insects found their way everywhere including into the house and the geckos followed - larger ones (about 10 cm), tiny ones (maybe 2 cm), pink ones, beige ones, brown ones, black ones. And anything they eat … well like the cows on the beach, countless geckos left their mark on the floors, on the counters, on the tables, dropping on my book as I was sitting reading... Fortunately their droppings were not messy; a broom swept them away.

Blessed. Enriched. Such is what our time in Africa has been. Places and, more so, people, who have blessed and enriched our lives, our experience, and our opportunity to see life and the world with new eyes.

~ Benno, and ... ~

Jungle Jane

Busy and Frustrating

2011-01-31T15:24:00.002+02:00

Busy and frustrating, has been the month of January.

When Wendy and I were home a couple of years back I had some business to complete and on the chosen day I set aside a few hours to complete the tasks - stops at a couple of banks and some other places. I was pleasantly surprised when I had completed my tasks in under an hour, having received not only friendly, but helpful service. I was reminded that I was back in Canada, not in Lesotho. The last month here has been a reminder that I am back in Lesotho.

At the Mustard Seed we have a number of girls we are assisting to apply for the government school bursary for the first time. We had much of the preliminary work completed - the hard work we thought, getting birth certificates and death certificates. Our support worker showed up with some of our applications in November. The applications for double orphans, we had been advised, may be submitted at any time. She was assured the applications were in good order, one needed a school acceptance letter, otherwise all looked well, BUT could she come back in January. Back she went in January, and was told, “Oh, but we don’t accept those schools.” (To our knowledge there is no list of approved schools available.) So, thinking we were ahead of the curve, we found ourselves behind the curve, not an uncommon experience.

A friend trying to obtain a certificate at one government office related that when applying, the official pointed out that he was missing something and sent him away - away being an expensive bus ride back to his village. He returned with the missing document, and was advised, “Oh, but this other one is not completed correctly.” Back to the village again. Three back to the village trips later, he had everything in order. Why, our friend asked, would the official not go through all the documents the first time and point out all the errors, rather than sending him back and forth, back and forth. To make matters even more frustrating, is the sometimes interminable wait in long queues to obtain a service. Such is the common refrain here in Lesotho, and our Family Support Worker has not been immune to these frustrations applying for services on behalf of our girls.

So a busy time of getting girls into school with the attendant shopping for uniforms and school supplies has been made more stressful with the challenges of bureaucracy. Another challenge is that more and more schools and individuals are aware of the program (a good thing) but the dollars are limited (not such a good thing), and the limited availability of funds may mean one of our single orphans, the whereabouts of her father being unknown for about ten years, may not be approved. Not only a busy month, it has been our biggest spending month ever. Uniforms for a new student can run to over $100 Cdn and when the cost of school shoes is added it can be even more. I hope in a couple months time we will have photos of most of our girls and can share with you the variety of school uniform they wear.

A busy, and sometimes frustrating month, but it is rewarding to see young women having an opportunity for education that they may not otherwise have had. Also a time of gratitude to those you have supported the efforts of the Mustard Seed Society here in Lesotho, making it possible to do what we have been doing. Thanks.

~ Benno ~

Paradoxes and Pula*

2011-01-30T20:13:00.000+02:00

The rains came after a long, dry spell, and then they continued…

Ironically—paradoxically--we’ve had LOTS of water, but we have a water shortage. We have been without water in the city for a week now. That’s a slight exaggeration, but close enough. You see, after four days of monsoon-type rain, the city’s water system buckled; it simply was not designed to handle the pressure of the water running through it, let alone all the silt that clogged major water pipes.

As a result, last Sunday night I received a phone call from my Headmaster at the school warning me that there would be no water. How fortuitous, that phone call! Had it not been for that warning and the chance it gave us to fill up all sorts of water containers, we’d be very dry right now.

A slight reprieve on Tuesday also helped out, since the water works were repaired briefly and we could do a quick refill of some containers. We even gave some water away thinking that we had lots. Unfortunately the ‘fix’ did not last. The problem with the water system worsened--a major pump broken, amongst other difficulties resulted in a shut off of the water once again.

…It has been an enlightening experience watching this capital city manage. Life carries on as if…well, as if nothing is really that different. The thing is, the majority of people here do not have indoor plumbing. They rely on pit latrines and hauling household water from (relatively) nearby wells. Small amounts of water are the norm of consumption, so, mainly it is we ‘developed world’ types and major services that are feeling parched…although this really is a major exaggeration I guess. At least for the first few days, people seemed to be just carrying on, but it’s not a good situation. People washing clothes in muddy streams, walking along the streets with empty buckets that have nowhere to be filled… Obviously people ARE feeling it, but life IS carrying on. I do like that about here, though. Things that would be major catastrophes in North America and such places just seem to be dealt with so much more calmly here. We just carry on as best we can. Again, I do NOT want to trivialize this situation. It IS a major health risk to have so many people without potable water. And this is NOT just Maseru proper since quite a few outlying areas have been impacted as well. But we are managing.

Today, for the first time, I see news bulletins on the posts along the street: Water Crisis Continues, so I do a quick u-turn and head into town to pick up the paper. This is the first news of any kind that we have received, partly perhaps because we don’t understand Sesotho! The article gives the shocking news of the extent of the problem: “Five districts run dry” and hundreds of thousands of people have been impacted.

Later today, we hear better news, that some parts of the city have had water restored. Maybe tomorrow I can ululate, celebrate, dance and sing in the shower!

*Sesotho for rain

January Reflections

2011-01-12T14:44:00.004+02:00

January. A New Year is here, with all the opportunities it may offer. As well, it is a time of reflection as I consider the year that is past. As I reflect on the past year, I have been again reminded that God is at work. In the midst of my frustration and disappointment last year it was easy to lose sight of God’s hand at work. But today, looking back I need to be grateful. Things certainly are not perfect with the girls involved with the Mustard Seed, but God is at work in lives and I need to accept that as with me, God is not yet finished with others either.

The school year ended in late November. Amidst some disappointment, there were some glowing successes. I have shared Moselentja’s story and how her focus had shifted from just surviving each day to having a hope for her future. I will share a couple of other stories, and in sharing them I do not want to pretend that everything is perfect in these girls lives, but I suppose that the transformation God brings to our lives does not happen overnight.

We have had our first girl complete her high school education. Two years ago she was a new single mom who through determination and effort had completed her tenth grade. However now, with a child, she had little hope of proceeding any further. With help with formula costs and child care costs this young woman was able to return to school. Today, two years later, she is the first Mustard Seed participant to write her final year exams. Now we are awaiting the release of the exam results to learn how well she has done, and to begin to plan with her how to support her her next steps.

Another girl, whom many doubted and who certainly was a cause of concern, completed her school year with “merit” marks, meaning her average in her best five subjects (of eight) was above 80%. This was after a somewhat tumultuous year when she struggled with peer pressure and making wise choices. I want to believe that it was God’s grace and the support of the Mustard Seed and others during those difficult times, that enabled her to recover her way and achieve the success she did. I enjoyed being at her school recently in preparation for the new school term and watching her interaction with her teachers. All her teachers I met were supportive and encouraging and ‘on her side’, believing in her and expecting the best of her. With support like that and God’s grace, I can be optimistic that life can only continue to get better for her.

Apart from school, last year we held a four day workshop for the girls that focused on self concept, God’s concept, and making wise choices relating to sex and relationships. When I learned of some of the participants’ behaviours subsequent to that ‘Cherish’ workshop, especially that one was pregnant, I was so discouraged. Yet, when I take the time to listen and watch, I am learning that the workshop has had an impact. A couple of the girls have shared with our staff member how much they valued the Cherish workshop. For one, faced with pressures from boys, it provided her a foundation from which to make better and wiser decisions. Additionally she had a framework from which to openly and frankly discuss with her caregiver and our staff member the challenges she was facing and to seek their support. Another, there, by her bed for easy access, in her one room house was her ‘Cherish’ manual. The workshop was not in vain. Again I was reminded that God is at work, I just need to appreciate His timing and His pace may be different than what I am expecting.

Now 2011 is here and I am looking forward to what the year might bring. I am encouraged by the financial support that came in late in 2010. The Mustard Seed will be starting 2011 from a position of strength relating to finances. If the need were to arise we almost have enough extra to build a house, though I need to await what God, and one of our board members, have in mind. One of our founding board members, a woman passionate about the needs of girl orphans, will shortly be returning from her village, allegedly with enough new applications to nearly double the number of girls we might serve in 2011. Wow! One of our goals as an organization was to provide supports to girl orphans in villages where supports were limited, and with the enthusiasm and dedication of our members, it looks like the time has come to take our services on the three hour road trip to the little village of Ha Tsokotsa. Maybe I had best not be contemplating another house quite yet, but I do need to trust that God will continue to provide whatever it is that we will need in 2011.

On another note, there may be some of you wondering why the focus on girl orphans and not orphans in general. Below are a number of links that talk about the powerful and positive impact enabled women have on their communities. Simply put, girls are a better investment when seeking to help a community move forward. (A special thanks to Shirley for connecting me with the ‘in your face’ Girl Effect website.)

~ Benno ~

http://www.oxfordleadership.com/girl_effect

http://www.businessweek.com/globalbiz/content/apr2009/gb2009048_644459.htm

http://www.igniteexcellence.com/index.php/Conference.html

http://www.care.org/getinvolved/girleffect/learnmore.asp

http://www.businessweek.com/careers/managementiq/archives/2009/01/the_girl_effect.html

http://www.girleffect.org/

A Hard Life

2011-01-10T10:01:00.008+02:00

It’s a hard life.

This Christmas we had the blessing of family visiting from Canada. Part of our time spent with them was taking the traditional tourist pony trek into the mountains. I was not sure what to expect, and I think I got more than I anticipated.

Yes, I had the expected saddle sores and stiff walking, but what stood out for me as we passed village after village travelling deeper and deeper into the mountains was the daily grind of life faced by those Basotho who live where few roads run.

For many women, laundry day is still a trip to a near by stream.

And cooking dinner means bringing home the fire wood before the cooking begins.

Grinding corn for one's daily maize meal is a donkey trip to the nearest mill, which in the deep mountains may be a day trip to get there and back.

Last fall’s peas have been harvested, and now this elderly woman was carefully sorting through them, separating the dirt and chaff from the peas.

Oxen were in use everywhere in the fields, plowing and cultivating, as were villagers with their hoes.

Gum boots, blanket, and a stick, in this case with a thong of leather tied to its end: the uniform of the herd boys who spend their days enduring the heat or cold, wind and rain, pasturing and watering their herds and flocks.

The ubiquitous blanket - everyone has their own to ward off any chill.

… even the tiny ones.

It is one thing to hear about walls and floors spread with cow dung and mud. It was quite another thing to witness a woman out in the cattle kraal early one morning collecting the dung. It wasn’t dried out dung she was collecting, she was out in her bare feet and bare hands with a container collecting the fresh dung after the cattle had been taken out to graze. The dung would be mixed with soil and water and then spread out on a floor (or wall) that needed redoing.

Preparations to re-“wax” a floor, fresh dung and dirt.

Drinking water is often collected from a nearby spring, and while not the all day walk undertaken by women in other parts of Africa, it still includes carrying the water home on one’s head.

This “dweeb” was the butt of some village laughter for engaging in a “woman’s” work. The spring is down by the dark trees on the right of the picture, and no, I did not carry the water all that way on my head.

As we travelled through the mountains, it was hard not to ask myself by what good stroke of fate or chance I was born where I was, when I was. I could just as well have been born deep in the mountains of Lesotho, or in any multitude of locales where life would have been hard and short. How is it that I was blessed to be born when and where I was? I have been given so much, essentially as a birth right. Again I am reminded that I must be ever thankful for all God has given me, even though I still struggle and do not understand why others must get by with so much less.

~Benno~

Photo Credits: All photos courtesy of Robert Greig

More than we could ask...

2011-01-03T18:15:00.007+02:00

One of the recurring motifs of life in Lesotho has been housing moves. Just the thought of it makes me cringe. We were really blessed to be able to house sit for an Mission Aviation Fellowship family for eight months and then to end up living in that same house for another four months. Unfortunately, once again, that house was needed for arriving missionaries and our hunt began again.

This time, out of desperation, I decided to put a small add in our local Internet news line since all other leads were running thin. A couple of days later we got a call from a lady who had a friend who’d seen our ad. She had advised,”Maybe you should give them a call and try renting your house on your own” since she’d had bad experiences with the rental agency and past renters. A few days later we went to have a look. When I first walked into this house I just thought, “Wha…” and then my next thought was … “immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine…” (Ephesians 3:20). That’s just what kept running through my head as I walked from room to room and just chuckled to myself.

This is a pretty overwhelmingly ‘glitzy’ kind of house and while my first thoughts were in the WOW category, my next thoughts, upon reflection were…

- This is too much. How will I feel comfortable in this?
- This is too pink! Whew! Pink? And apricot!
- What will we do with all of our furniture (since our landlady wanted to rent the house furnished so she wouldn’t have the cost of storage)?

Surprisingly, we really did deliberate over this for a few days, but then decided we’d be crazy not to… We made arrangements for our furniture and…

Now, we’ve moved in. I’ve moved around things enough so that it feels homey for me. We’ve adjusted quite easily, and already it’s proven a great house for company with having my sister, bro-in-law and niece over for Christmas holidays.

I’m just feeling so thankful to the lovely Masotho lady I refer to as ‘our patron saint’ ;-) and to God for this, another marvelous provision.

OUR SNAZZY MASTER BEDROOM BATHROOM -- A 'SWIMMING POOL' BATHTUB

OUR KING SIZED MASTER BEDROOM (WE HAVE TWO OTHER BEDROOMS ;-)

AH, MY FAVORITE ROOM -- THE KITCHEN IS SO, SO NICE!

MY GOOD FRIEND AND PAST STUDENT BK AND I CHRISTMAS BAKING IN THE KITCHEN

Malachi 3:10 states, “’Test me in this,’ says the LORD Almighty, ‘and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it.’”

Just to put things a bit in perspective... (Maybe I'll send a few more of these pics later...)

OUR NEIGHBORHOOD ;-)

Mamokete

2010-12-02T15:48:00.004+02:00

I have become inured to the pain an orphan must feel at being alone. I work with orphans almost daily. Yes, I see the struggles they face, life is not easy, but they seem to survive. Some have relatives, others neighbors, to ease the hunger and loneliness. Recently I was reminded of my callousness.

Mamokete is a young girl, 16 years old, with no parents, no family – at least none interested in her well-being. She lives at an Anglican Mission in a little village, some distance out of Maseru. She has not been past primary school. She had no one to pay her school fees nor to help her apply for the bursary available to orphans. So she taught herself to weave with grass and earns some income selling Basotho hats and other things she has created.

Attached to the Anglican Mission is a school. It is the school that our friend, ‘M’e Malibuseng, has spent the last year doing her teaching practicum. ‘M’e Malibuseng, one of the Mustard Seed board members, is a gentle and compassionate soul. To those in need around her, she reaches out with warmth and comfort. Her practicum placement is over, and yesterday, I was out to pick her up and bring her and her things back to Maseru. Mamokete was there to say goodbye.

Mamokete kept herself busy helping to load things into the vehicle and then with other mundane things. I thought nothing of it until it was time to wave good bye and I realized she was struggling with emotion. As we began to pull away, she could contain her sorrow and sadness no longer. Tears gave way to sobs, and then to wails as she collapsed to the ground. Someone who had taken the time to love her, to support her, and to encourage her was leaving, and she could not contain her anquish and loss and the loneliness of being without a family who cares. We stopped and ‘M’e Malibuseng returned to console and comfort a 16 year old girl facing her world alone, ... well not quite alone.

Through ‘M’e Malibuseng's efforts, Mamokete has become one of the girls the Mustard Seed will support. It will mean another distant village to travel to, but how can we turn away. It was Ausi Moselentja who recently reminded me of why we cannot turn away from those that God specifically brings across our paths.

Ausi Moselentja was over one day recently, and with Wendy, we sat under the cool of the grape arbour and visited. Ausi, with her broad smile, was talkative and she shared a bit of her journey of the past year. She told us of the year before she became a part of Mustard Seed. No food, no safe and dry home, no hope. At the age of sixteen she was plagued with the worries of how to care for and feed her three younger siblings. Should she try to work as a domestic somewhere? Anywhere? She had fretted about where and how one even begins to look for work. She told how in her despair she escaped her fears and desperation by immersing herself in television. Certain friends and neighbors had television, and there she would spend her time, in mindless entertainment. Her school work left undone, she failed her year.

Today she has a different challenge. Those same friends and neighbors now harass her for not spending time with them watching television. “Who does she think she is now?” they ask her. “Does she think she is better them them or something?” Moselentja doesn't think she is better. Rather, now she spends her evenings at home working on her school work and caring for her siblings. She has hope and a dream. She envisions being a teacher. What made the difference? The folks from a little organization who told her she mattered by being there, by providing a few dollars a month to cover basic food needs, and by helping her with a little house of her own.

It is with a humble and grateful heart I say thank-you to those who have supported the work of the Mustard Seed in little and bigger ways. They have enabled us to make a difference - in the life of Moselentja and in the days ahead, in the life of Mamokete. Mamokete and Moselentha remind me that I am right where I am supposed to be, and I am grateful to each of you who have chosen to be a part of what I am involved with. Thank-you.

~ Benno ~

It will be missed ...

2010-11-28T19:51:00.016+02:00

We are in the midst of moving again. Our time in our current house has come to an end, and we are moving on to another place. The house that had been home for the past year has left us with many, many wonderful memories. The house was near to down town and very accessible, and it provided a never ending string of visitors.

Together with them we enjoyed the house and the yard.

It was a place of fun and many memories.

No house was truly home unless Wendy had had a batch of her students over for a meal.

And no such meal was truly complete until Wendy had had her guys in the kitchen helping with the dishs.

Spring time peach blossoms. We will miss the peach harvest this year. We almost missed the apricot harvest. One young woman was enjoying green apricots and we had to shoo her away from the tree so that we could enjoy some ripened fruit.

The swings always drew attention, and action. The garden behind provided lots of work, but also fresh veggies.

The grape arbour was a cool place to sit and relax, out of the sun,

and in season, the grapes were great.

Wendy often thought the yard was too big to manage, but these guys were enjoying the space and an opportunity to kick about a ball.

The yard also provided a great place for a braii (barbecue) ...

... and for water fights ...

... which the dogs unwittingly got in on from time to time.

Night time shenanigans.

There were those who would just 'drop in', but

who never hesitated at an offer for something to eat.

But in return, they offered to wash the car, now and then, ...

... if you call this washing the car.

Most of all, I think they dropped in just to say hello and to share their lives with ours. We have been so blessed.

So while we will miss very much our past home, I just need to believe that as we move to a new place, there too, God has a purpose and plan for us.

~ Benno ~

Aversion Therapy

2010-11-21T18:13:00.013+02:00

There was a time when I was accused of practising hiking aversion therapy on family and friends. Someone would ask to go hiking with (Uncle) Benno and I would pick out some enjoyable, little, hike. 'Enjoyable' and 'little' however, being very subjective. Unfortunately, my enthusiasm often resulted in less than enthusiastic interest in doing any more hikes, at least not with Uncle Benno. Now Wendy has taken on the practice; only she sets them up on the first hike.

Wendy has a group of students that have formed a hiking club - a way to work off their activity hours, a requirement for their IB diploma. She took a small group of them on a delightful little hike up a mountain here in Maseru. They had a wonderful time. It took six hours going as slow or as fast as the students wanted, and sprinkling in long relaxing breaks. Wendy and her hike must have gotten rave reviews as the interest in the next hike was off the chart with way more students interested than she could possibly take. If only they had known where she was taking them! Or, maybe she was just wanting to thin future ranks.

Wendy's crew, 28 students, and our goal,

... the peak left of center.

She picked Thaba Machache. A difficult eight to nine hour climb with significant elevation gain. I was along for technical support (technical support that was lacking as it turned out). We hit the trail at 8:00 a.m. The first ninety minutes or so we followed trails over pleasantly rolling terrain, past numerous little rural villages. Then the trail started up, ... and up, ... and up, over a rock and boulder strewn trail. The rest breaks began to almost equal the hiking time, including an extended break assisting one girl with leg cramps. Undetered, we continued on.

Weary walker, "Aren't we there yet?"

After the boulder strewn climbing there followed a short easy stretch. Then, it was onto a narrow little path, and up, up, up again. This was where the technical support became confused. At a critical saddle he led right, when the summit was left. It was disappointing to have not reached the real summit, after all the effort expended. However, in hindsight we may not have gotten everyone down if we had tackled the real summit. As it was, it was getting past 2:00 p.m. when we reached the top of a lower summit, and a few of the hikers didn't make it that far.

The summit we reached was the third bump in the distance.

Tired, ... with sore feet, at the top.

The trip out was the usual struggle to keep those "still going strong" connected with those "tired and weary". Pretty soon we were strung out with more than two kilometers between the front runners and the stragglers. Wendy tried to find a middle position and I brought up the rear. I had a number of very weary walkers with me. What had been an enjoyable stroll in, over rolling terrain and past quaint villages, seemed an interminal trudge out. One student started experiencing severe leg cramps and another simply ran out of blood sugar. Luckily someone still had most of a chocolate bar and by coaxing them to get some sugar into their systems and to drink the last of their water we were able to continue.

It was 6:30 p.m., and the sun had set, when we finally straggled out to the where the others were waiting. While some in my group were vowing never to go hiking with Mrs. Fath again, some of the earlier arrivers had found their second wind and were dancing to the beat of music blaring from one of the taxis.

Line dancing after almost ten hours on the trail.

Along on this trip was a guest hiker - an intrepid, 69 year old world trekker, whose trekking has included routes in the Himalayas and the Andes, as well as the Kokoda Trail in Papua New Guinea. His comment on Wendy's little hike, "I have never been so knackered at the end of a day."

I told Wendy she owes it to her squad to take them on a gentle and enjoyable trip. They have earned something less daunting, and more enjoyable.

Resilience. Three weeks later there were students asking,

"When is the next hike, Mrs. Fath?"

~ Benno ~

"Doing my Duty" - Reflections

2010-11-07T19:56:00.008+02:00

"Doing My Duty" was a difficult blog entry to write. Today some random thoughts and reflections subsequent to writing it.

Some days after writing, I was still arguing with God and a piece by Elizabeth Elliot. She wrote that while to some "it is a very bad thing to question God. ... [it] depends ... on whether it is an honest search, in faith, for his meaning, or whether it is a challenge of unbelief and rebellion."1 Humph, I thought, God is able to deal with even my moments struggling with unbelief and questioning. Somehow though, my contemplation of her statement led to a feeling of conviction - I need to live out in my life what I was accusing God of not doing.

I was accusing God of being distant and remote, not near and supportive, as I struggled with failure and disappointments. But where had I been when the Mustard Seed girls were struggling? I was discouraged and had distanced myself. I wallowed in self pity and was neither near nor supportive of them.

Job ... I thought. I would check out Job. He had been through a lot. He questioned God. What I learned about Job was that, when confronted by God, Job responded, "I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted. ... Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know."2 God's plans, his intentions, in his timing, are too wonderful for me to grasp.

Later, I was reading a bit of the Stephen Lungu story. In 1962 Stephen was an angry, violent, young black man in a township near Harare in what was then Rhodesia. On 14 May 1962, with members of his gang, he had entered a missionary tent meeting armed with petrol bombs, bent on destruction and mayhem. While his gang members did do their best to create mayhem, Stephen Lungu met God amidst the mayhem and confusion. He left, transformed.

Thirty years later, having preached all over Africa and around the world, Stephen Lungu was called as a last minute, guest speaker at a Methodist Church outside of Durban in South Africa. That evening, as he was relating his story, the church service was disrupted by two little old white ladies. Leaving their seats, they approached the pulpit and pressed an old Bible into Stephen's hands, open to a page where in faded, hard to read ink, were the word's "14 May 1962 - Lord Jesus, will you save one gang leader tonight."3 One of the old women explained, "We were housewives in Durban. But we knew about the Dorothea Mission's meetings in Highfield Township outside of Harare, and so we were praying. We asked God for a gang leader."4 Thirty years later, God had arranged for them to meet with his answer to their short and simple prayer.

In response to this 'reunion', Stephen Lungu wrote, "Each one of us is called to be a witness to Christ, and so each one of us will find ourselves helping in someone else's faith chain. God will use you, in no matter how small or indirect a way. Your prayers, your faithfulness in doing your bit, are all that matters."5

Another day, ... listening to the pastor of our local church. He talked of seeds. We are called to sow. Some seeds produce a harvest within weeks, he noted, and then the harvest is over. Other seeds, and he used the examples of a grape vine and an olive tree, need to planted and tended, a scion grafted on, and then, maybe five, six, seven, years later, the first harvest. But the harvest, like that of those Durban housewives, continues for years, and decades; sometimes even generations.

Yes, there can be, there will be, discouragements and disappointments, but I need to hang on to Stephen Lungu's words. My prayers, my faithfulness; doing my bit - 'doing my duty' - is all that matters. What God will do with my bit is something I may never know nor understand, something that may be "too wonderful for me to know".

Thank-you to those of you who have been doing your bit, whatever it may be, to help me along my faith walk.

~ Benno ~

1 Elliot, Elizabeth. On Asking God Why. Grande Rapids, MI: Fleming H. Revell, 1989 (pg. 18)

2 Job 42:2,3 (NIV)

3 Lungu, Stephen with Commes, Anne. Out of the Black Shadows. Oxford, UK: Monarch Books. 2001 (pg. 236)

4 Ibid (pg. 236)

5 Ibid (pg. 238)

Canadians

2010-10-29T09:45:00.009+02:00

Canadians are wonderful folks, don't you think. I suppose I may be a bit biased, but ...

In September and October we had guests from Canada. It was a delight to share your home and time with them.

In August of 2009, when we were back in Canada, we met a couple from the Vancouver area. At the time we met, their hopes to adopt a Mosotho baby had just been dashed. They had been matched with a baby but then things happened here, and it just did not work out. However, they did not give up, and when in Lesotho in September of this year it was to be united with their children, a brother and sister. I think their wait has been worthwhile, the brother and sister are a most delightful pair.

Delightful you say? ... her? Humph!

The folks, Garry and Tracy, along with an older son (Tyler), were staying in a guest house in Lesotho.

Garry and Tracy, and their children.

But a guest house, even a nice once is still only a step up from a motel, and we tried to have them over often to give the children a place to run, and them a place to hopefully relax a bit. (Maybe Tracy would not say "relaxed" when she thinks of the day we dragged her and Tyler and the two little ones up a mountain.) The days were hot, and the water hose helped the children cool off. They had a sandbox to dig in; Tsepiso, the boy, did his best watering the garden and helping light the braii (charcoal barbecue); and he and Reitumetse, the sister, knew exactly where our toy box was and what was in it.

...delightful??? You bet I am!

What contributed to the "wonderful" designation was how the family made themselves at home. After a meal, Tracy would be up and in the sink washing the dishes. She never asked, she just quietyl made our home, her home. We did not have to entertain. Wendy and I could just 'be' and that made for wonderful times together.

Then a few weeks later we had guests over from our home church in Canada. No busy little ones this time, but we had G-POP . Check him out on U-Tube. It was a busy week, sharing with them our lives in Lesotho, and introducing them to our friends here. Again, what contributed to making their visit wonderful was that they quietly made themselves at home. Both Wendy and I tended to be busy or away in the mornings. No problem! George figured out the coffee maker right quick, it didn't take Esther long to sort out what was where in the kitchen, and Anton found his role in the sink washing up. They had their own little routine for breakfast and even when I was home, I just stayed out of the way.

When they weren't fending for themselves we enjoyed good fellowship together as we traveled about, shared meals together, and chatted and talked about life and things and the God we serve.

Nkono (grandmother) was very excited to have

guests from Canada visit her home.

Memories of Lesotho.

Both visits have left me with a warm and comforable feeling. Some might say it is just latent desires to return home to Canada, or that there is something special in connecting with compatriots, and they may be right to a point, but I also say that Canadians know how to make themselves comfortably at home, away from home, ... at least these Canadians did and that made our time with them that much more relaxing and enjoyable.

Yeah, Canadians.

Cameras always draw excited attention.

~ Benno ~

Ho Haha - Reprise

2010-10-16T15:23:00.003+02:00

Here is a further update on Ausi Moselentja's house and family.

I was out to the home on Friday to pick up the last of the tools the Machabeng volunteers had used when they created the garden plots. I picked up a few packets of garden seeds to take along.

When I arrived at the house, Ausi Moselentja's younger brother, Lehlohonolo, was forlornly wandering about the yard with a hoe hacking at weeds and grass here and there. The garden plots were ready, we had had a nice rain, and he was ready and wanting to get to planting their garden. But there were no seeds. Moselentja related how he had been asking when they might get some seeds. I spent M70, (about $11 Cdn) on the seeds. A paltry sum by Canadian standards, but an amount which would have been out of the reach of Ausi Moselentja. Anyways, when I arrived with the seeds it was almost like Christmas.

As he brought each seed packet from the shopping bag, Lehlohonolo would whoop with delight and show it to Moselentja, just like a child at Christmas might show another the gift he had just unwrapped. Then he was off and back in a few moments with a knotted piece of string and a couple of sticks with which he staked out a straight line and he was planting his seeds. I got to enjoy seeing his broad smile as I helped him with planting the corn/maize, then he was onto the pumpkin and beet-root while I was loading the vehicle.

Meanwhile Moselentja was busy waxing the floor and the steps to her house. She has also been busy adding some other touches, making her tiny house a home. What a pleasure it has been for me to be part of this project and witness the delighted smiles on the faces of Ausi Moselentja and her siblings. So little, really, has brought so much hope and delight to this little family.

~ Benno ~

Ho Haha

2010-10-14T15:32:00.008+02:00

Ho haha - 'to build', in Sesotho. Something I though I might never do was build a house, but I have had the joy of seeing a little house built for Ausi Moselentja, the young girl whose house was flooded, whose family and life was split between a number of neighbors. I have written about her situation before, and now I can provide a delightful update.

In writing about our life in Lesotho, surrounded by so much need, I try not to specifically solicit support for projects or situations. So when funds do come, it must be God. That is what has happened with the house for Moselentja. A person here in Lesotho was aware of her need, and that started the process. There was a time when the funds committed would barely get the house built, but as an organization the Mustard Seed decided we would proceed and then other funds came in. The last donation truly was God reminding me that he is our provider.

I was writing a letter. I was sharing about Moselentja's house and though at that time we had enough funds to build the house, there were no funds for extras like painting the interior and having the city water brought on to her site. I wanted to hint in my letter that it would be nice to be able to do that for Moselentja, but the little promptings in the recesses of my mind said not to. So I didn't. The very next day I received an e-mail from friends saying they were sending some funds to use as we chose, but they then suggested maybe the funds could be used to add a few extras for Moselentja's house. God had truly provided.

The building site. Unfortunately Moselentja's garden had to go.

The old hut that would come down.

The preparations began in August, getting materials quotes, and lining up the workers. First was to bring down an old hut on the site and the initial materials were paid for and delivered on August 17. Then we were delayed about a week waiting for the bricks to be made, but by the end of August we were under way.

Laying the foundation.

We hit a snag when one of our workman, a small time contractor, was offered a contract elsewhere. I like to think that God blessed him. Even, though he had not been working, he had a tough time coming on board with our little project at the rates we could pay him. But he said he would do it for the sake of helping an orphan family. Well, just after they got the floor poured he received a contract offer to do painting at the new national hospital being built (another story for another entry). There he has about three months of work for him and about seven other men from his community.

The walls going up.

That left us with our friend Ntate Kuena, the helper, not the trained builder, but he struggled along for a couple of days on his own, and then God provided again. Through our new staff member, some unemployed, but accomplished builders, offered to assist. Up went that little house. They even asked to do the painting, which we now had the funds for.

On October 01, the house was ready for Moselentja to move in. She is so happy to have a place of her own. It is tiny, the size of a bedroom in Canada, 12' x 10.5', but it is hers and her family's. She shared how they all snuggle together in their bed and chat happily, together, before drifting off to sleep.

Moselentja and her brothers and sister in front of their new home.

(With a little visitor in the corner.)

Then another blessing. Students at Wendy's school need to do service hours. So for three days we had five of them, under Ntate Kuena's supervision. They cleared stones and debris, and needed to wield a pick axe to dig into the baked, hard packed ground. As with any group of volunteers, Ntate Kuena's assessment was that two worked very hard, two did some work, and the fifth student's role was to entertain the others with her non stop chatting. Nonetheless, today, waiting for the rains and a few seeds, are three little Lesotho garden beds that would have taken Moselentja untold days to develop.

Thank-you to those who have prayed for this project, and others who supported it. The water installation fees have been paid and now it will be waiting for a couple of months for the installation. And there are a few funds remaining to add another one or two more touches to the inside of of the house.

Ho haha. It was a lot of work and a learning curve for me. My pencil is not as sharp as the Australian woman who provided the plans and materials list. Nonetheless, amidst the struggles and challenges I referenced in my last entry, it has been a joy to seen Moselentja in her own home.

Jehovah-jireh; the LORD Will Provide.

~ Benno ~

Doing My Duty

2010-10-04T09:46:00.008+02:00

I would like to say that I have not been adding to the blog for the past six weeks because I have been busy. Yes, I have been busy, however my lack of writing reflects more my reticence to write about the struggles of my soul.

I left Canada three years ago. I remember even then part of the struggle. In leaving Canada was I just "doing my duty"?1 At that time that was how I sometimes felt. I even considering calling our blog, "Just Doing Our Duty." The passage in Luke1 is a tough one, inferring I serve a demanding master who seems disinterested in my needs and burdens. Following God 'step by step' sounded more of an adventure, not as mundane and uninspiring as just 'doing my duty'. The last six weeks has been struggling to come to grips with a God who promises no recognition or reward, who expects that I just "do my duty".

A number of the girls the Mustard Seed serves have been making poor life choices. They have not had the strength and courage to follow the narrow way, but have followed the crowd. We talk of peer pressure in Canada, but I think it is even harder here, in a culture that demands greater compliance with group expectations. So we have one girl stealing, another dabbling in drugs, a third pregnant, another couple - I'm not sure I want to know what they have been up to. My response was to question God. I am still smarting from the Amy Carmichael story and it was easy to question his plan and purpose when things seemed to be going wrong.

I had thought I was following God 'step by step', that the people and situations he brought across my path were not coincidences but part of his direction for my life. Now seeing the behaviour of the girls it all seemed to have been so in vain. Allegations of a lack of integrity concerning one of our board members added to my disappointment and discouragement. Maybe I had not heard God. Maybe I was just using His name in vain, suggesting that 'coincidences' were anything more than just that, coincidences. I felt let down by God. I had completed my part in leaving home and friends and family, and what had he done. Not much it appeared. I argued with God.

I was not just questioning God, I was angry at him. I still have not resolved the story of Amy Carmichael, and it was easy to let my anger at God's seeming injustice in her life be rekindled.

So God, I left Canada, seeking to follow you one step at a time, and after three years of trying to understand and obey your desires this is all I get, failure.

You promise to hear my prayers.2 Well I have been praying for the Mustard Seed girls. Is your arm to short to save and protect them?

You promise life to the full3, but what do I get, discouragment and disappointment and questions.

On one hand you say that I am fearfully and wonderfully4 made but more often you remind me of my worthlessness5 and unrighteousness. An unworthy servant expected to just do my duty6.

You call me friend7, but it seems always conditional8. What kind of friend is that? Where is the friend that "always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres"9?

God, if you do not exist or cannot change situations, then life is truly a chasing after the wind10, pointless and futile, where the one with the most toys wins. Is this all that life is?

How does God speak? When do we hear the voice of God? A day came when I was confronting God with my questions. "Jesus you said, your sheep hear your voice."11 I had sought to hear and understand his voice and to obey it, yet all around me seems to be failing. I was discouraged. If what I was doing is just chasing the wind, I wanted to quit. How does God speak? In the midst of my muttering and bemoaning it was like I caught a phrase from an over heard conversation, "I am not finished yet." Was it my imagaination? Was I grasping at straws? Yet there was something in the words that compelled me to listen. I opened my Bible, I was reading in Matthew, and I prayed, "Lord give me something more, something in addition to a barely audible, 'I am not finished yet.'"

That day I was reading in Matthew 14. John the Baptist, the man who had boldly proclaimed of Jesus, "Behold the Lamb of God",12 was now cast aside, in a prison for declaring the word of God, about to be executed. This John who had boldly proclaimed Jesus' messiahship was struggling with doubt and uncertainty. He had sent his disciples to ask of Jesus, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?"13 John died in prison, never having heard Christ's final cry, "It is finished!"14 John had went about in rough clothing, living on what he could, and never saw the finish. Who was I then, to demand that I see the finished result of God's work in and through my life. And as if to tempt me at that moment I received a phone call telling me of another disappointing decision of one of our girls. "God," I wondered, "are you just playing games with me?"

A couple days later as I continued to struggle, I thought of Paul the apostle. How must he have felt at times? Flogged, beaten, imprisoned, shipwrecked, toiling without sleep or food, and carrying the concern of the churches.15 What am I experiencing compared to Paul's struggles?

I can't say that since that day, all has been well. I continue to struggle with setbacks, and discouragements. But, I have let go of some of my anger and distrust of God. John the Baptist's picture of what Jesus, the messiah, would accomplish must have been very different that what occured, causing John to question. My challange is to let go of what I expect God to accomplish and to trust that he has a finish planned for what he has begun.16 There are good things happening, and I need to not let the discouragements cloud the good things. (We finished the house for Ausi Moselentja and her siblings. There are some God things in that story that I will share in a later entry.)

I will leave the last work to Solomon. "A man's steps are directed by the LORD. How then can anyone understand his own way?" Proverbs 20:24

~ Benno ~

1 Luke 17:7-10; 2 Matthew 7:13, 14;

3 John 10:10; 4 Psalm 139:13-16;

5 Romans 3:10-12; 6 Luke 17:7-10;

7 John 15:15; 8 John 15:14;

9 I Corinthians 13:7; 10 Ecclesiastes 2:17;

11 John 10:3 (KJV); 12 John 1:29;

13 Matthew 11: 2,3; 14 John 19:30;

15 II Cor. 11:23-28; 16 Philippians 1:6

Travelogue 2010

2010-08-11T20:19:00.017+02:00

In late July/early August, Wendy and I took a brief holiday into South Africa and Swaziland. It was a relaxing, though at times challenging, ten days. For those interested, here are a few pictures and a day by day account of our travels.

Day 1: It is winter, the dry season here, in this part of southern Africa. Everything is brown and dusty. Rain has not fallen for over two months. Fire in the veld is a constant threat, and beautiful views are marred or obscured by the ever present smoke. Smoke from farmers and homeowners burning fire breaks; smoke from the widefires that often appear to have consumed whole mountains; and smoke brought on the wind from further east where the sugar cane fields are burnt in preparation for harvet.

At the end of our first day we stayed at a guest house in the shadow of the Drakensburg. We hiked on the high veld, and enjoyed the vistas of the mountains. In this area a few wild animals still roam free including the Africa's largest antelope, the elusive eland. Our host was a gentle farmer, and the eland must have known this as one has taken to browsing on his trees. We were treated to the presense of a bull eland, not twenty metres away.

The fuel that feeds the fires.

Day 2 & 3: A bit of a break in the smoke and a beautiful morning view of the high veld. It was the last time we saw the horizon clearly on our trip.

Morning sun on the Drakensburg.

The second day we traveled east and north through beautiful and sometimes not so beautiful landscapes. The big hills of the high veld covered in grass, I though beautiful; the hills strewn with rocks and acacia trees, or covered in bush veld, I recoiled from.

Wendy had chosen a guest house just into Mpumalanga province to stay for out second night. The owner was an artist and teacher who works in warmed glass. Wendy's intent was to take a class the next day and since two warm bodies were required I found myself learning about working in warm glass. (Despite all the reference to warm it was quite cool there on the high veld.)

The next day, after a wonderful hike in the surrounding hills, was spent in a chilly, warm glass studio. I managed to squeeze a few creative juices out of my cranium and came up with what looks like a child's drawing. Wendy on the other hand was captivated by the possibilities of the medium. Before we left, she had booked us back in for another two days on the return trip.

An example of warm glass artistry.

Day 4: Day four took us though mountain plantation tree farms, mostly pine forests on our way to Swaziland. Miles and miles and miles of plantation forest. We stopped at one private plantation (there was an art studio there that Wendy wanted to check out), and I spent some time chatting with the owner. A pine tree comes to harvest maturity in 40 years, about half the time as in Canada. Tree farming (he called himself "just a farmer") is a long term prospect.

His family were harvesting about 240 hectors per year. Somewhere back 40-45 years ago someone in the family - father or grandfather - decided on tree farming and began the transformation of what was maybe marginal pasture/ranch land, into forest. Forty years at 240 hectors a year is nearly 10,000 hectars or 100 square kilometers of plantation forest.

By far the biggest players are the forest company plantations and like the smaller private plantations, what they fear during the dry season is fire, fire that can wipe out years of planting and nurturing and investing in a harvest 40 years in the making. In 2007 one wild fire destroyed something in the range of 23,000 hectares just across the border in Swaziland.

Swaziland was a most interesting contrast with Lesotho. We arrived in the mountainous western part of the country, leaving the plantation forests of South Africa for the plantation forests in Swaziland; forests that provide industry, jobs, and income; forests that are conspicuously absent from the mountains of Lesotho other than a few small, small lots.

That night we spent in a novel abode, a traditional bee hive hut upgraded for us tourists with a cement floor and modern bath room facilities attached. Part of the enjoyment was watching a group of Swazi women completing the rethatching of one of the huts. The traditional family hut was apparently much small than the tourist version where we spent a night.

A bee hive hut under renovation.

Another delight at this stop was seeing some different widelife. Wendy had a tough time believing a crocodile was not a plactic or cement creation. It lay absolutely still, nary blinking an eye, blending into the grass.

A still life??

We also had a view of one of the most dangerous animals in Africa1. Boring they are, lounging in a pool with maybe their eyes and ears joining their noses above the water line. But when agitated, hippos apparently "can outrun a human" and "the bellowing of the bull hippo measures an ear-splitting 115 decibels, sounding like the roar of a lion."2

Hippos: exciting, they were not.

Day 5: The plantation forests were not the only notable difference between the Kingdom of Swaziland and Lesotho. The tourist and craft industry is much more highly developed in Swaziland. I especially enjoyed the locations where a number of crafts were highlighted at a single location with artisans on site showcasing their craftsmanship. Baobab Batik and Swazi Candles were highlights in terms of watching the artists demonstrate their craft. Then there were the carvers and their giraffes.

The carved giraffes are ubiquitous in craft markets here in Africa, but in Swaziland I had opportunity to watch the men who craft them. I marveled as, with just a hatchet, the craftsman hewed out the one on the left in the picture below. A single chisel takes the giraffe to the next level (on the right). Then it is sandpaper, and more sandpaper, next painting each spot on by hand, and then polishing with what I think was floor wax.

Simple tools of the trade.

The finished product.

Day 6: Day 5 had ended with Wendy taking me on a drive on the wild side. She had booked our accommodation deep within one of the Swazi game parks in the east of the kingdom. When driving in game parks and watching for animals their comes a time when one start seeing animals in odd rocks and tree stumps. On the way in I was seeing rhinos in the rocks. On our way out a glance to our left and I thought, "Oh, more rhino rocks." But we stopped anyways, and backed up for a closer look.

Rhino rocks, they had both been lying down when we first saw them.

Up close and personal with a rhino rock.

Day 6 continued through more of eastern Swaziland and I was again impressed with the diversification. In the west were forest plantations. Then we had passed though fields of pineapples, and now in the east we were passing though miles of sugar cane plantations; commercial farming on a big scale. The contrast with Lesotho continued to be so evident. Unlike Lesotho, Swaziland appears to have an economy built on more than government services, and subsistance farming. Yes it is still a poor country, but there is a vibrancy I sensed that Lesotho does not have. It seems that the forestry, tourism and craft industries, as well as the commercial farming add enough to the economy to bring a bit more optimism and joy, ... and money, the Swazi GDP per capita at $4400 USD is more than twice the Lesotho per capita GDP of $1700.3

KFC is another ubiquitous icon in Southern Africa, and the Swazis show some of their zest in their advertizing for the Colonel's chicken.

A unique and eye catching bill board.

While we enjoyed out morning motoring through Swaziland, I found the afternoon in South Africa dispiriting. Yes, we travelled through prosperous plantations of oranges, avocadoes, bananas, nuts and sugar cane, but the lingering image was the endless miles of housing in what was an apartheid era homeland.

I don't know why the bananas are bagged on the tree.

The map showed a few towns scattered along our route but the reality was miles of housing, endlessly strung out over marginal land. Some of the homes were quite nice, but after traversing the lush plantations I could not help thinking about the past when people were forced to move from their land, land that offered at least subsistance farming, to this distant, heavily populated, and seemingly inhospitable tract that seemed to go on and on and on.

We spent the night just beyond the homelands area. It was reinvigorating to be away from the congestion. We were high on a hill side, away from the lights and housing, though our view was obscured by the smoke. The stars were bright in the dark sky and in our host I found some one who was finally able to point out the southern cross constellation and how to use it to approximate the direction south.

Which came first, the termite or the tree?

Day 7: The next morning we were heading back the direction we had come but some distance to the west. What a difference thirty kilometres can make.

The former homelands are located in the low veld on the edge of the northermost reach of the Drakensburg escarpment. The return drive was up on the escarpment. Here the land had more value. The endless miles of housing were replaced by endless miles of plantation pine forest interspersed with small settlements. At times I could have imagined myself driving through the lodgepole pine forests of the Alberta foothills. The imagery was reinforced later when the wiff of a pulp mill, (as in Hinton, AB) assailed our nostrils.

High on the escarpment.

The low veld is obscured in the haze.

Alberta's foothills??

We ended that day in the area of Nelspuit, the provincial capital of Mpumalanga. We spent the night at a delightful guest house on a small private game reserve. where we had kudo, nyala, and wildebeast wandering near our cabin. The owner has a most remarkable house. He chose to build his house around the granite boulders on his property rather than blast or bulldoze them away. These were massive boulders, up to two stories high, incorporated into the architecture of the house. The main entry opened into a narrow corridor between two massive granite megaliths. He was a game guide and hunter. The corridor opened, and his hunting trophies, mounted on a massive granite wall, left a spectacular impression - notwithstanding one's view of game hunting.

Day 8: By this time I was getting a bit weary of travel, so Day 8 involved a short trip into Nelspuit. I had picked up a side wall puncture somewhere along the way. It was a slow leak, but the tire needed replacing. So, while Wendy did some shopping at a modern, upscale mall, I hung out at a tire shop. I confess. Between getting the tire fixed and joining Wendy at our prearranged meeting spot I managed to hit the mall's South African equivalent to Mountain Equipment Co-op.

The afternoon was spent at Sudwala caves, apparently the oldest know cave system in the world. Our guide led us 600 meters undergrown into a cave system that once held 3000 (yes, three thousand) Swazi men, women and children AND their 500 cattle. They had used the caverns as a safe refuge during an ongoing conflict between two brothers vying for the kingship of the Swazi people.

Our guide showing the ingenious torch used by the cave refugees.

The branches of a certain bush were pounded to form a tuft

which when dipped in beeswax or animal fat made a great torch.

The Scream??

In the cave we met Dr. Adam Sheeva, a family physician from High River, Alberta. He had left South Africa many years ago, and while back to visit family he came upon us fellow Albertans ... in a cave. And, we with a little luck we could have met another Albertan. Upon arriving back home we learned that a friend from Red Deer had traveled almost the same route as us through Swaziland and Mpumalanga a few days earlier than us.

That evening it was back to the cabin with the kudo, nyala and wildebeest.

Day 9 & 10: Wendy was in her element the next two days as we were back, surrounded by quiet hills, in an tranquil valley, with a nearby warm-glass art studio to indulge her creative energies. She thinks maybe she has found her calling for her retirement years, whenever that might be.

Day 11: A long day of driving, but we arrived safely back home, grateful that the actual driving part of our trip was uneventful but for the slow leaking side wall puncture. As for me, I have had enough driving for a while. Yes, to see and experience all the things we did requires putting on many miles, but after this trip and the earlier trip to Katse, I was ready to put up my feet and leave the roads to others.

~ Benno ~

1 http://goafrica.about.com/od/africasafariguide/tp/dangerousanimals.htm

2 http://didyouknow.org/animals/hippo/

3 https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/index.html

Doctor, Doctor

2010-08-11T07:05:00.003+02:00

Like a fluttering sparrow or a darting swallow,

an undeserved curse does not come to rest.*

One Mosotho has commented on his countryman in comparision to citizens of New Zealand. If a New Zealander sees his neighbor buy a new car he will redouble his efforts to keep up with his neighbor until he can buy an even nicer new car. If a Mosotho sees his neighbor with a new car, in jealousy he will sneak in at night and break the windows, smash the headlights, and slash the tires. Another form of the story is that if a Mosotho woman sees her neighbor with a nice new outfit, she will wait for an opportunity to find it on the clothes line, when she will then take a knife or sissors and cut it into stips. Jealousy, a consuming passion that destroys rather than builds up. Even jealousy about who one has as friends.

We have a Mosotho friend. Others are jealous, among other things, that she has friends who are makhooa (white). One of her work mates would subtly abuse her at work, pushing her, stepping on her feet, any little thing to make her day less pleasant. When this did not get whatever result the work mate was desiring she turned to a sangoma, a traditional diviner or doctor, to place a curse on our friend. Our friend responded by continuing to rest in Jesus, and placing her trust in Him.

After many months circumstances have resulted in our friend being blessed in her career, and her agitator being dismissed from her job. The traditional doctor has apparently advised the jealous workmate that our friend must have hired an even more powerful doctor. The traditional doctor's strongest curses had no affect, our friend was healthy and prospering when the traditional doctor expectd her to be gravely ill.

For me the best part of the story is our friend's response. While she is rejoicing in her 'doctor' and his protection, she is also praying that her antagonist would recognize the power and protection of this 'doctor', and take Him as her 'doctor', too.

How great is your goodness [O Lord],

which you have stored up for those who fear you,

which you bestow in the sight of men

on those who take refuge in you.

In the shelter of your presence you hide them

from the intrigues of men;

in your dwelling you keep them safe

from accusing tongues.

Psalm 31:19,20

~ Benno ~

* Proverbs 26:2

Mariha

2010-08-10T07:51:00.003+02:00

Mariha - winter. Mariha is getting its last bite of the season in. We have been having very nice weather, but a cold front blew in early this week, winter's last blast. We had just returned from a short trip to South Africa and Swaziland where it was even warmer. We arrived home to a forecast that said cold was on the way.

Now, our nice coal heater had left us. Its owners had returned from the U.S., and with three little children, including a three month old baby, they needed it more in their new house than we. So we would be using electic heaters for the last few weeks of winter. With the cold front forecast I headed out to stock up on electricity units. Ah, my surprize and dismay to learn that while we were on vacation the electricity company had been advertizing forthcoming upgrades to its vending system and that no electricity would be sold from Aug. 6-8. Just back from vacation we had enough units to easily cover a week or more of regular use, but electric heaters eat a lot of electricity. We would be able to use them only sparingly until we could but more units. It would be a cold few days, but rather an extra layer or two than to be without hot water or lights.

A day or so later, the folks who had taken their coal heater kindly lent us a propane heater. Ah, welcome heat, though I knew my propane tank was low. On the coldest morning of the last four weeks it all came together. We had went out to buy electicity units, but the new system was down. Now, on that cold morning the propane ran out. Aeeii, it was a cold morning in the house. Staying snuggled under that extra blanket was where I would have liked to stay. BUT we did have hot water, and still enough electricity units for the basics for another few days. As well, the local corner store was open early so I was able to pick up propane. In addition, I am sure the new vending system will be up later today. We will be warmer and more comfortable soon enough.

This brief experience has again reminded me of how blessed we have been here. For most of the winter we had the coal heater which made our house so comfortable. I was also reminded of what is normal for our Basotho friends. Every morning they get up to no heat, very often no electric lights, and no hot water. In a cold house they get up and light a candle or lamp. Next is to light a paraffin heater to warm water to bathe. This is the routine for each of our girls in the Mustard Seed program, and sometimes there is no parrafin to heat the water. Yes, my life is so comfortable and I have so much to be grateful for, ... even in mariha.

For those interested, I will post a travelogue on our trip in the next week or so.

~ Benno ~

Mountain Passes and other Engineering Marvels

2010-07-22T11:02:00.014+02:00

In July the Mustard Seed took our girls who last year successfully completed their school grade on a trip into the mountains. The trip was to visit a couple of sites that are part of the Lesotho Highlands Water Project. This water project transfers water from the Orange/Senqu River basin to the Vaal River basin, an inter-basin transfer that provides water demanding Gauteng Province - the industrial and population heartland of South Africa, including Johannesburg - with a additional water source. Along the way the water generates hydro-electricity for Lesotho. The project is considered a remarkable engineering feat, but it is something that many local Basotho never get to see. So on a Monday morning we loaded up our girls and headed for the hills.

The three scholars.

Our first stop was Katse Dam, until last year, the tallest concrete dam in all of Africa, though now second to a recently completed dam in Ethiopia. To arrive at the dam meant traversing a mountain pass. What I keep forgetting is that "mountain pass" has a different meaning in Lesotho. It is not a road through or between mountains, it is a road over the mountains.

Twisting and turning, snaking up grades in first gear, we arrived at a hair pin turn just before the final climb to the summit. It was an engineering feat. Before the road was built, the turn would have been air. On a tiny spur of the mountain the engineers had build castle sized retaining walls to hold enough rock and rubble to construct a turn out over what once had been air. This first pass was the worst (or most spectacular, depending on one's frame of reference).

The "pass" is just left of centre on the ridge line.

We topped out at 3090 metres with two other passes at 2650, and 2510 metres.

The top.

Looking down from the top of the pass.

It was a cold and windy day, with snow flurries (in July), so the tour of the dam was chilly until we got "inside". I didn't know that a concrete dam would have tunnels, pretty big tunnels, and I found it just a bit disconcerting wandering around "inside" a dam that was holding back billions of litres of water. "Don't these tunnels weaken the stucture?", was what I was thinking.

The dam face through snow flurries.

Our chaperone, with her six week old baby on her back.

Looking down the spillway.

The next day we were off to the power plant a considerable distance from the dam. (The water travels 45 kms via tunnel. We had to take the road). This road was not the twisting, snaking, ordeal of the previous day. After that drive, this was a pleasure. I was able to reach speeds of 80, 90, even 100 kms per hour. Ah ... , but I had to temper my exuberance and consider the others that I shared the road with - cars, taxis, slow moving trucks, pedestrians, fellows pushing wheelbarrows, cows, sheep, ox drawn carts.

The girls enjoyed the power station the most. Maybe it was the crazy ride in the back of open pick-up into the bowels of the earth to reach the power plant. The power plant is buried deep in the Clarens sandstone. The crazy ride took us some 600-700 metres into the mountain. By the standards of some of the giant hydro-electric projects in Canada it was small, but it was remarkable that the whole project was under ground.

We finished off the tour with a stop at a historic site. While I found this quite interesting the girls found it less exciting. Then it was back home. Two days, six hundred kilometres of paved road, and over 10 hours of driving. I was beat, but iI do admit I am looking forward to a future trip we hope to take into the mountains. That trip will take us over mountain passes that exceed 3200 metres.

A traditional kitchen.

4000+ year old San rock paintings.

The other 'guy' on the trip.

This is the little fellow who was born in a school classroom.

~ Benno ~

Mustard Seed Happenings

2010-07-05T15:21:00.007+02:00

It is past due to provide a couple of updates on what the Mustard Seed is doing. The last few months have been relatively quiet really. The school year is up and running, and our focus has been on implementing some plans that we had developed earlier. Things will get busier in the next couple of months as we will be winding up the society's fiscal year, and begin the process of planning for the next school year. But here is a bit of information on some of our recent activities.

Cherish Camp: This was a four day workshop we held at the beginning of April. Eight of our girls attended, actually seven of our girls. The eighth was someone from the community who was invited by one of our girls who was so excited about what she learned the first day she had to bring a friend, who has become a Mustard Seed associate.

Girls here face very similar challenges to girls anywhere I guess. They too have needs for acceptance and belonging, and they too have hormones and all that that entails. The focus of the camp was to invite the girls to accept themselves for the special creation they are in God's eyes, that they are valued and loved and complete in him, and that He has a plan for good in their lives. The workshop then invited them to make choices that would build positively on the special creation they are. It was a timely topic.

A number of our girls are struggling, like adolescents anywhere, to discover who they are and what they want. Then there are peer pressures, some good, but too many encouraging them to follow I life of living for the moment. But in the context of Lesotho, living for the moment, even briefly, often has life-long consequences from which it is difficult to recover - extreme poverty, abuse, illness, disease, and no hope for a future. Second chances are hard to come by, here. Our desire is to see our girls develop a dream for their future, a dream that will help them made better choices. One girl wants to be a lawyer, and I have been inviting her to picture herself in her robes before a magistrate. A more concrete dream that hopefully will better enable her to assess whether her choices are helping her move towards that dream or getting in the way of her dream.

Rapt attention for the facilitator, Ruth.

Food, part of any workshop, ...

... as is fun.

With their completion certificates.

One four day workshop is only a start however, and recently we got the girls together for a Cherish Day. Under the guidance of 'M'e Lerato, one of our Masotho board members, they talked about what they had learned at the workshop, how they were applying what they learned, and the challenges they faced in making wise choices. They had fun, but were also serious about seeking to encourage and support each other to choose wisely.

Maths Tutoring: A second major activity we are implementing is providing the girls with extra help with their Maths (here it is 'maths', not 'math'). It has been hit and miss to fit the tutoring sessions into their lives, but we are making progress, and now during the winter school break we are holding what we are calling Maths Camps.

One of Wendy's former students is working with a number of girls for four hours a day for four days, reviewing what they learned in the first half of the school year, and introducing them to some of the topics they will cover in the final months of the year. I am not sure how Maths is taught in the schools here, but most students struggle. It has been encouraging to see a girl, with some tutoring, increase her Maths marks from failing to passing grades and to see her joy and building confidence.

Meanwhile, God continues to provide and invite me to continue to trust him one step at a time. At the house we are currently in, and can stay in for another few months, we have been able to adapt space in one of the outside rooms into a classroom/meeting space. What a blessing this is. Our home is in a somewhat central location and this makes it much easier for the girls to get to this classroom than to the space we had used for a while. I continue to marvel at how God continues to provide what we need.

Ausi Moselentja: We still have not started building a little house for Ausi Moselentja and her family. Through some past work of 'M'e Lerato, Ausi is now living in an outside room at a near neighbor's, a room where she can have her three younger siblings with her, and where she can also cook. Now the family is not spread about with various neighbors with the place to cook at yet a another neighbor. I am having to trust that the roadblocks in getting started on the building of the house is in God's hand and in time, the right time, we will be able to move forward.

Ausi Moselentja continues to be source of inspiration. She has so little materially, she has so much in terms of responsibility, yet just knowing that there is some one thinking of her brings a huge smile to her face. If anyone has nothing it is she, and being able to bring a bit of encouragement and support into her life is good for the soul.

Thanks for your thoughts, and for those of you who pray for the Mustard Seed, thanks for your prayers. I also want to thank God for those who continue to provide funds now and then. Each day we have the resources we need to continue to serve girls here in Lesotho.

~ Benno ~