Fender Bender Blues

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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