Ellesmere Port, England, January 10th 2016 - LIFE AFTER TRACK
Enclosed in a jumper and blanket, I find myself back in England and back in Winter. I came home to a house where I couldn't remember where the light switches were, or what went in each cupboard, and found myself quite disoriented as this was also the place I'm supposed to be most rooted in the world. I have twenty-one months worth of memories, of friendships, of photographs and of baggage (both literally and not). Throughout it all I've made effort to be vocal with my travels, through this blog and other mediums, and I've been encouraged to hear from people who have followed this journey, especially those who shared our passion for Status:Welcomed. In continuation of this, I thought it only fair to share where I find myself now, not simply geographically but with my plans for the future. After all, that's the question everyone asks first.
I'm happy to be back in the UK, living with my parents in Ellesmere Port and grateful that last time I was home properly, I built some roots here. I deliberately have very few plans before April. Thanks to the continuous generosity of my supporters/sponsors, I was able to budget and save money for these first months of January so that I could be home without needing to work straight away. Instead, I'm prioritising just a few things: resting and sleeping, finding debriefing and counselling, and catching up with those I'm fond of here. I'm such a fan of routine and the lack of it within travelling wore on me after a while. Now, I'm enjoying adding routine to my life again. I'm exploring ways to 'apply to brakes' (so to speak) to slow down my days here, spending large chunks of time reading has proven really thorough there. Some of the baggage I've come back with is a view of the world that is tainted with bleakness and cynicism. I hope to spend some time thinking through what I've seen, asking some of the hard questions and dwelling on where true hope can be found.
A few people have been asking how long I'll be around for, to which I answer, "A while". I'm anticipating to continue with YWAM in Autumn this year, so I'll enjoy being home until then. My sister and sister-in-law both have baby boys on the way and I'm thrilled to be around to play the doting auntie for a while. Even though I feel a bit worn out, I often find myself thinking of countries and dreaming of where to go next. I have a birthday next month and with some airmiles spare, I think that's a great excuse for a wee adventure. I also hope to carry on practicing photography, branching into film photography, and saving towards a new camera.
I'm happy to be back in the UK, living with my parents in Ellesmere Port and grateful that last time I was home properly, I built some roots here. I deliberately have very few plans before April. Thanks to the continuous generosity of my supporters/sponsors, I was able to budget and save money for these first months of January so that I could be home without needing to work straight away. Instead, I'm prioritising just a few things: resting and sleeping, finding debriefing and counselling, and catching up with those I'm fond of here. I'm such a fan of routine and the lack of it within travelling wore on me after a while. Now, I'm enjoying adding routine to my life again. I'm exploring ways to 'apply to brakes' (so to speak) to slow down my days here, spending large chunks of time reading has proven really thorough there. Some of the baggage I've come back with is a view of the world that is tainted with bleakness and cynicism. I hope to spend some time thinking through what I've seen, asking some of the hard questions and dwelling on where true hope can be found.
A few people have been asking how long I'll be around for, to which I answer, "A while". I'm anticipating to continue with YWAM in Autumn this year, so I'll enjoy being home until then. My sister and sister-in-law both have baby boys on the way and I'm thrilled to be around to play the doting auntie for a while. Even though I feel a bit worn out, I often find myself thinking of countries and dreaming of where to go next. I have a birthday next month and with some airmiles spare, I think that's a great excuse for a wee adventure. I also hope to carry on practicing photography, branching into film photography, and saving towards a new camera.
Mareeba, Australia, December 13th 2015 - TRACK STATS, THE FINAL COUNT
After travelling across six continents for the last twenty-one months and keeping tallies of the random and repetitive parts of our backpacking routines,
is my pleasure to tell you the final count of my Track statistics. Without much further ado, here at the end of our Around the World Track are my total stats…
Total days spent on Track: 613
Total photo count(the amount of photos I’ve kept): 21,872
Total countries: 22
Canada, USA (Buffalo, Hawaii, Washington), India, Thailand, Myanmar, Cambodia, Vietnam, Israel, Palestine, Jordan, Greece, England, South Africa, Kenya, Paraguay, Argentina, Brazil, Bolivia, Curaçao, Ireland, New Zealand, Australia
Total times I've packed: 62
Total beds: 66 (including one couch, one cave and one tent)
Total flights: 55
Total flights nearly missed: 3
Total airports: 48
Total time spent flying: 218.15 hours (a little over 9 days)
Total time spent in layovers: 158.32 hours (a little under 7 days)
Longest flight: 14.35 hours (Vancouver to Auckland)
Shortest flight: 52 minutes (Dublin to Manchester)
Longest sleep on a plane: 9 hours straight
Total lost luggage: 2.5
Different types of transport: 24
Car, taxi, bus, sleeper bus, mini bus, airport shuttle, motorbike, moped, bicycle, plane, train/sky train/metro, tourist train, tram, ferry/speedboat, tuk-tuk, auto-rickshaw, rickshaw with bicycle, songtow, sherut, matatu, safari van, cable car, elephant, camel
Total flat tires: 3
Distance driven on our New Zealand road-trip: 2919 miles (4698km)
Distance driven on our Australia road-trip: 3872 miles (6232km)
Experiences I've crossed off my bucket list: 14
Go below the equator, ride a camel, ride a horse, see a super moon, go in a hot air balloon, go to Canada, go to Kenya, go to New Zealand, bungy jump, ride a moped, see volcanic lava, drive in another country, go to Niagara Falls, swim in the rain
is my pleasure to tell you the final count of my Track statistics. Without much further ado, here at the end of our Around the World Track are my total stats…
Total days spent on Track: 613
Total photo count(the amount of photos I’ve kept): 21,872
Total countries: 22
Canada, USA (Buffalo, Hawaii, Washington), India, Thailand, Myanmar, Cambodia, Vietnam, Israel, Palestine, Jordan, Greece, England, South Africa, Kenya, Paraguay, Argentina, Brazil, Bolivia, Curaçao, Ireland, New Zealand, Australia
Total times I've packed: 62
Total beds: 66 (including one couch, one cave and one tent)
Total flights: 55
Total flights nearly missed: 3
Total airports: 48
Total time spent flying: 218.15 hours (a little over 9 days)
Total time spent in layovers: 158.32 hours (a little under 7 days)
Longest flight: 14.35 hours (Vancouver to Auckland)
Shortest flight: 52 minutes (Dublin to Manchester)
Longest sleep on a plane: 9 hours straight
Total lost luggage: 2.5
Different types of transport: 24
Car, taxi, bus, sleeper bus, mini bus, airport shuttle, motorbike, moped, bicycle, plane, train/sky train/metro, tourist train, tram, ferry/speedboat, tuk-tuk, auto-rickshaw, rickshaw with bicycle, songtow, sherut, matatu, safari van, cable car, elephant, camel
Total flat tires: 3
Distance driven on our New Zealand road-trip: 2919 miles (4698km)
Distance driven on our Australia road-trip: 3872 miles (6232km)
Experiences I've crossed off my bucket list: 14
Go below the equator, ride a camel, ride a horse, see a super moon, go in a hot air balloon, go to Canada, go to Kenya, go to New Zealand, bungy jump, ride a moped, see volcanic lava, drive in another country, go to Niagara Falls, swim in the rain
Cairns, Australia, December 4th 2015 - TWENTY TWO BOOKS LATER
Thanks to spending hundreds of hours in the air or on layovers, I've enjoyed finding time to read on our travels. I'm working my way through my Kindle's free library and in doing so I discovered that I adore the classics. I'm having fun finding authors that I prefer.
Below, you'll find a very biased list of books I've read these last twenty months, ordered from my favourite to my least.
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
I have dubbed this my favourite book of all time (so far). I really enjoy how Charlotte Bronte writes
Long Walk to Freedom by Nelson Mandela
I quoted this book a lot whilst I was reading it. I love biographies and this one was my favourite
Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas
I'd really recommend reading Bonhoeffer, especially if you don't know much about his life. His story is one worthy of being remembered
A Tale of Three Kings by Gene Edwards
This too I coin one of my favourites - I intend to read it many more times. It's a short book looking at leadership via the storytelling of three kings of the Bible
Amazing Grace by Eric Metaxas
I'm passionate about the prevention of slavery and enjoyed learning about why the transatlantic slave trade was once accepted
Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers
I found this a great fictitious portrayal of how the sex trade influences identity
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
I'd heartily recommend reading this, even if you've seen one of the films
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson
I really enjoyed this short story and its bizarre twist - I imagine it's most fun to read if you don't know what will happen
The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde
I've enjoyed reading Oscar Wilde's writings and will deliberately seek out other books by him. This one had dark themes of self destruction
Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson
I found this book a lot of fun - it's a famous fictitious story of pirates. I read it on a Caribbean island which perhaps enhanced my enjoyment
The Professor by Charlotte Bronte
Oh I love Charlotte Bronte. I really enjoyed the characters in this book and liked the principles they championed
The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde
This one is a script and I confess that I wasn't always sure what was going on, but generally I found it lighthearted, whimsical and fun
Night by Elie Wiesel
Elie Wiesel won a nobel peace prize and survived the Holocaust as a Jewish boy - this short book tells his story
7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Steven R. Covey
I find this book title thoroughly off-putting but it's seven explained principles helped me understand my own behaviour and other's. I think most should read it
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
I enjoyed the creativity of this story, but found the main characters selfish and felt delivered to a disheartening ending
The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis
I haven't read all of Lewis' Narnia series, but I enjoyed this depiction of the new creation and found it drew me to worship God
Humility by Andrew Murray
I'd recommend this short read on humility - though I do confess that I can't overly remember the main points
Boundaries by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend
I enjoyed learning about the importance of personal boundaries within relationships, but this book is far down on this list because I felt the authors were too wordy
Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift
I finished these tales purely out of stubbornness to finish, although that said I did enjoy the author's clever analogies of the sizes of foreign artefacts
Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
Perhaps if I read this again I'll change my mind, but I found this book quite long and slow paced, although it did end it the way I wanted it to
Orthodoxy by G. K. Chesterton
I enjoyed a few of the author's analogies, although I confess that for the majority of the book I didn't know what was being discussed, nor the people referred to
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
I found this book so boring - apologies to the fans. I particularly didn't enjoy the religious themes of judgement and shame
because I wholeheartedly disagree with that theology
Below, you'll find a very biased list of books I've read these last twenty months, ordered from my favourite to my least.
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
I have dubbed this my favourite book of all time (so far). I really enjoy how Charlotte Bronte writes
Long Walk to Freedom by Nelson Mandela
I quoted this book a lot whilst I was reading it. I love biographies and this one was my favourite
Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas
I'd really recommend reading Bonhoeffer, especially if you don't know much about his life. His story is one worthy of being remembered
A Tale of Three Kings by Gene Edwards
This too I coin one of my favourites - I intend to read it many more times. It's a short book looking at leadership via the storytelling of three kings of the Bible
Amazing Grace by Eric Metaxas
I'm passionate about the prevention of slavery and enjoyed learning about why the transatlantic slave trade was once accepted
Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers
I found this a great fictitious portrayal of how the sex trade influences identity
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
I'd heartily recommend reading this, even if you've seen one of the films
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson
I really enjoyed this short story and its bizarre twist - I imagine it's most fun to read if you don't know what will happen
The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde
I've enjoyed reading Oscar Wilde's writings and will deliberately seek out other books by him. This one had dark themes of self destruction
Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson
I found this book a lot of fun - it's a famous fictitious story of pirates. I read it on a Caribbean island which perhaps enhanced my enjoyment
The Professor by Charlotte Bronte
Oh I love Charlotte Bronte. I really enjoyed the characters in this book and liked the principles they championed
The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde
This one is a script and I confess that I wasn't always sure what was going on, but generally I found it lighthearted, whimsical and fun
Night by Elie Wiesel
Elie Wiesel won a nobel peace prize and survived the Holocaust as a Jewish boy - this short book tells his story
7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Steven R. Covey
I find this book title thoroughly off-putting but it's seven explained principles helped me understand my own behaviour and other's. I think most should read it
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
I enjoyed the creativity of this story, but found the main characters selfish and felt delivered to a disheartening ending
The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis
I haven't read all of Lewis' Narnia series, but I enjoyed this depiction of the new creation and found it drew me to worship God
Humility by Andrew Murray
I'd recommend this short read on humility - though I do confess that I can't overly remember the main points
Boundaries by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend
I enjoyed learning about the importance of personal boundaries within relationships, but this book is far down on this list because I felt the authors were too wordy
Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift
I finished these tales purely out of stubbornness to finish, although that said I did enjoy the author's clever analogies of the sizes of foreign artefacts
Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
Perhaps if I read this again I'll change my mind, but I found this book quite long and slow paced, although it did end it the way I wanted it to
Orthodoxy by G. K. Chesterton
I enjoyed a few of the author's analogies, although I confess that for the majority of the book I didn't know what was being discussed, nor the people referred to
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
I found this book so boring - apologies to the fans. I particularly didn't enjoy the religious themes of judgement and shame
because I wholeheartedly disagree with that theology
Brisbane, Australia, November 21st 2015 - OUR AUSTRALIA TOUR
Between spending hours on the road (if we're lucky, accompanied by good music and sugar) and staying at places with no wifi, it's been a while since you've heard from me. Here, I'll give you a catch-up on where my team geographically is, where we our in our Tour and how things are going. Let's start with the latter.
Things are going well. We are happy living alongside each other, feeling encouraged about the value of our Tour and doing our best to recharge whilst constantly on the move. We are enjoying everything 'Status:Welcomed' about our Tour. The times we've spoken have felt worthwhile and at every venue we've had feedback from at least one person who has felt moved towards action. Those people make it all count. We've each found our groove with our presentations, becoming well practiced at what we say. After each time we speak we open up for questions and those times have proven to be unique and interesting opportunities to hear what people are asking and to notice themes in people's queries and doubts.
Where are we now? Precisely, we are in Brisbane where we'll be for a few days - half way up Australia's East coast. We've already had stops in Melbourne, Heathcoat, Sydney and Byron Bay. We're diligently jotting down our miles/kilometres ready to impress you at the end of our Tour. Coming up in the next few weeks, we'll head to Noosa (our next stop), to Townsville, to Cairns and eventually to Mareeba - that's where Cat's family lives. We'll stay with her family until mid-December when I fly home.
Thanks for following our journey so faithfully. Though there are four of us on the road, we're in regular contact with our wider Status:Welcomed family over in North America and we're cheered on by hundreds who believe there is something worthwhile about what we're doing. It's quite the humbling honour.
Things are going well. We are happy living alongside each other, feeling encouraged about the value of our Tour and doing our best to recharge whilst constantly on the move. We are enjoying everything 'Status:Welcomed' about our Tour. The times we've spoken have felt worthwhile and at every venue we've had feedback from at least one person who has felt moved towards action. Those people make it all count. We've each found our groove with our presentations, becoming well practiced at what we say. After each time we speak we open up for questions and those times have proven to be unique and interesting opportunities to hear what people are asking and to notice themes in people's queries and doubts.
Where are we now? Precisely, we are in Brisbane where we'll be for a few days - half way up Australia's East coast. We've already had stops in Melbourne, Heathcoat, Sydney and Byron Bay. We're diligently jotting down our miles/kilometres ready to impress you at the end of our Tour. Coming up in the next few weeks, we'll head to Noosa (our next stop), to Townsville, to Cairns and eventually to Mareeba - that's where Cat's family lives. We'll stay with her family until mid-December when I fly home.
Thanks for following our journey so faithfully. Though there are four of us on the road, we're in regular contact with our wider Status:Welcomed family over in North America and we're cheered on by hundreds who believe there is something worthwhile about what we're doing. It's quite the humbling honour.
Dunedin, New Zealand, October 27th 2015 - BACKPACKER'S TRICKS
Following my post Backpacker’s Tales I wanted to write advice that I’d give to future travellers (or to my travelling self 19 months ago). These tips are all highly biased towards my own nature and preferences as a traveller and would be most relevant to someone embarking on a longer, budget travel trip. Enjoy!
Before you travel
If you’re from the UK, check out gov.uk for the entry requirements of where you’re going. Different countries have different quirks, like visas, needing empty passport pages or passport photos or proof of injections or cash to pay arrival costs
Unlock your phone so that you can use local sims
Have the address of where you’re staying on your phone – you’ll need it for the custom’s forms
Do you need US Dollars (USD)? In Asia, Africa and South America I’ve been able to pay arrival fees in USD. In Cambodia, USD is acceptable across the country alongside their local currency. It might be worth travelling with some USD in cash, around $50 should be enough
Download a currency conversion app ahead of time – I’ve been using the app ‘XE-Currency’
Luggage/Packing
Know what your bag looks like. If your bag gets lost in transit, you’ll need to describe the fabric, the brand, the colour and the shape to the airline to help them find it
Essentials: duct tape (it fixes everything), universal adapter, mesh laundry bag, string/washing line, zip-lock bags (great for controlling shampoo explosions in transit) and painkillers (buying painkillers overseas in unfamiliar brands or foreign languages is tricky)
Not essential: a raincoat/umbrella (I found that I didn’t have these items in my day-bag whenever I actually needed it)
Use a traveller's backpack if: you expect to carry your luggage a lot (i.e. if you may need to walk/hike to where you’re staying). If you’re travelling to multiple destinations a backpack will be easier to fit into car boots
Use a suitcase if: you expect to live out of your bag long-term. A backpack can be a pain to live out of as everything is stored in a pillar shape
Don’t travel with masses of toiletries. Most places sell even the same brands of soaps and shampoos so you can easily replenish your supply on the go
Use a bar of soap and not shower gel, it’s lighter and smaller to pack
At most, you’ll need three pairs of shoes: footwear to walk/hike in, gummy flip-flops (I’ve worn these for 90% of the past 19 months and you can wear them in the shower at hostels) and shoes that are a bit fancier (in some cultures gummy flip-flops are perceived as house/bathroom shoes and are improper to wear to Church or a social event)
Travelling with lots of underwear can mean doing laundry less
As you travel, collect plastic bags. They can be used as trash bags, they can separate dirty shoes/items on travel days and you can unpack into them to keep your stuff tidier in a place that has no draws/storage
If you enjoy reading, I’ve adored travelling with a kindle
Airports/Flying
Fly with essentials in your hand luggage. I’m not talking about underwear or toiletries (these are pretty easy to locate and are cheap to buy in new countries) but instead things like chargers for devices and camera batteries
Planes and terminals are cold, layer up. Some long-haul planes don’t provide blankets
If travelling with a backpack, plan a little extra time for check-in. Sometimes they require you to take your bag to a separate drop-off and this can mean a separate queue
Generally, airports are more lenient with your carry-on than with your checked baggage (although this is not true for budget airlines or domestic flights)
Budget airlines will weigh your carry-on and your checked bags
US domestic flights make you pay an additional fee for any checked bags
Travel through an airport with an empty bottle; most airports have drinking fountains for you to use. If you can, take water on the plane with you – then it doesn’t matter if you sleep and miss the free drinks
You can ask for more than one free drink at a time on a plane
If you get travel sick, take a sick bag from the airplane to keep in your purse as you travel
If time isn’t an issue when getting from one country to another, prefer the cheaper flights that have the longer flight-routes. Long layovers aren’t really that bad and you might be able to explore a new city
I only worry about jet-lag when I arrive in a country. If I want to sleep on a plane, I sleep; if I want to watch movies all night, I do that. Once you’re in a new country, try to stay awake until past 8/9pm local time. On an arrival day, don’t nap without setting an alarm!
Money
Travel with a card that doesn’t charge you for international use – it makes life so much cheaper
Check each ATM’s individual fee, sometimes there are branches that are free that you can stick to using
When travelling between countries, don’t take out too much of one currency, you lose money exchanging it from one currency to another should you have too much
Break large notes (some ATMs give very large notes) down to smaller ones as soon as you can and travel with lots of small change. Sometimes venders or taxi drivers don’t have change and you could be caught out paying more than you agreed because you don’t have smaller change
If you’re arriving by plane, you don’t need to worry about arriving with the local currency because there’ll likely be an ATM in the arrivals lounge, or your transport to where you’re staying can include finding an ATM
If you’re not arriving by plane (crossing the border), I would really recommend thinking ahead about the local currency as well as border crossing costs and the currencies they accept
If you’re from the UK, don’t decide whether something is cheap by converting the price to the British Pound – the likelihood is that it will be cheaper than prices in England, but you could still be paying far more than locals pay. Instead, try and figure out how expensive something is compared to what the locals pay/buy. I often compare a price to how many cokes it could buy in that country
Save money where you can so that you can afford to do at least one of the country’s once-in-a-lifetime activities
Notes in foreign currencies make good bookmarks
Soon after arriving
Get a local SIM if you can (having a number is helpful, even sometimes just to access free wifi)
Meet up with friends, or even friends of friends. The best introduction to a city or country is alongside one of the locals
Try and figure out cultural taboos before or once you’re in a new country, particularly if you’re in a new continent. Locals can help with advice there
Generally, dress like the locals. Women, cover up if other women are, it saves attracting unwanted attention
Learn a few words in the national language. With some dramatised gestures these phrases can get you a long way: ‘hello/how are you?/I’m fine/okay/thanks/beautiful/what’s your name?’. Ask taxi drivers how they are in their own tongue before haggling a price – it differentiates you from other tourists
Advice I wish I’d heard
Early on, start a theme of collecting/doing/photographing something. I took photos of all the beds I slept in as well as photos of my feet standing on different surfaces. My friend sent a postcard to the same person from every country she travelled to and another friend collected magnets. Some people collect Starbucks mugs. I wish I’d collected postcards with names of countries and cities on them
If you leave a country for the day (across a land-border), make sure you get your re-entry stamp when you return to the former country
Miscellaneous
Before you leave, add Skype credit to your account (if you’re about to travel and don’t have Skype, get it!). Countless times I’ve needed to ring somebody and not had a local sim-card (to sort travel insurance/lost luggage/flight changes etc.) – having Skype credit frees you to make those emergency phone calls and it’s usually not that expensive
Keep a tissue/a pack of tissues in your purse. So many countries either don’t use toilet paper or don’t prioritise replenishing it in public stalls
Buy gifts as you see them
Don’t do risky/adventurous things close to travel days. Sorting an injury and travel insurance would be a real hindrance
If travelling with a camera, wear a loose scarf (regardless of the temperature) to cover up the camera and its strap when you’re not taking photos to avoid attracting unwanted attention
Piercings make great souvenirs
Before you travel
If you’re from the UK, check out gov.uk for the entry requirements of where you’re going. Different countries have different quirks, like visas, needing empty passport pages or passport photos or proof of injections or cash to pay arrival costs
Unlock your phone so that you can use local sims
Have the address of where you’re staying on your phone – you’ll need it for the custom’s forms
Do you need US Dollars (USD)? In Asia, Africa and South America I’ve been able to pay arrival fees in USD. In Cambodia, USD is acceptable across the country alongside their local currency. It might be worth travelling with some USD in cash, around $50 should be enough
Download a currency conversion app ahead of time – I’ve been using the app ‘XE-Currency’
Luggage/Packing
Know what your bag looks like. If your bag gets lost in transit, you’ll need to describe the fabric, the brand, the colour and the shape to the airline to help them find it
Essentials: duct tape (it fixes everything), universal adapter, mesh laundry bag, string/washing line, zip-lock bags (great for controlling shampoo explosions in transit) and painkillers (buying painkillers overseas in unfamiliar brands or foreign languages is tricky)
Not essential: a raincoat/umbrella (I found that I didn’t have these items in my day-bag whenever I actually needed it)
Use a traveller's backpack if: you expect to carry your luggage a lot (i.e. if you may need to walk/hike to where you’re staying). If you’re travelling to multiple destinations a backpack will be easier to fit into car boots
Use a suitcase if: you expect to live out of your bag long-term. A backpack can be a pain to live out of as everything is stored in a pillar shape
Don’t travel with masses of toiletries. Most places sell even the same brands of soaps and shampoos so you can easily replenish your supply on the go
Use a bar of soap and not shower gel, it’s lighter and smaller to pack
At most, you’ll need three pairs of shoes: footwear to walk/hike in, gummy flip-flops (I’ve worn these for 90% of the past 19 months and you can wear them in the shower at hostels) and shoes that are a bit fancier (in some cultures gummy flip-flops are perceived as house/bathroom shoes and are improper to wear to Church or a social event)
Travelling with lots of underwear can mean doing laundry less
As you travel, collect plastic bags. They can be used as trash bags, they can separate dirty shoes/items on travel days and you can unpack into them to keep your stuff tidier in a place that has no draws/storage
If you enjoy reading, I’ve adored travelling with a kindle
Airports/Flying
Fly with essentials in your hand luggage. I’m not talking about underwear or toiletries (these are pretty easy to locate and are cheap to buy in new countries) but instead things like chargers for devices and camera batteries
Planes and terminals are cold, layer up. Some long-haul planes don’t provide blankets
If travelling with a backpack, plan a little extra time for check-in. Sometimes they require you to take your bag to a separate drop-off and this can mean a separate queue
Generally, airports are more lenient with your carry-on than with your checked baggage (although this is not true for budget airlines or domestic flights)
Budget airlines will weigh your carry-on and your checked bags
US domestic flights make you pay an additional fee for any checked bags
Travel through an airport with an empty bottle; most airports have drinking fountains for you to use. If you can, take water on the plane with you – then it doesn’t matter if you sleep and miss the free drinks
You can ask for more than one free drink at a time on a plane
If you get travel sick, take a sick bag from the airplane to keep in your purse as you travel
If time isn’t an issue when getting from one country to another, prefer the cheaper flights that have the longer flight-routes. Long layovers aren’t really that bad and you might be able to explore a new city
I only worry about jet-lag when I arrive in a country. If I want to sleep on a plane, I sleep; if I want to watch movies all night, I do that. Once you’re in a new country, try to stay awake until past 8/9pm local time. On an arrival day, don’t nap without setting an alarm!
Money
Travel with a card that doesn’t charge you for international use – it makes life so much cheaper
Check each ATM’s individual fee, sometimes there are branches that are free that you can stick to using
When travelling between countries, don’t take out too much of one currency, you lose money exchanging it from one currency to another should you have too much
Break large notes (some ATMs give very large notes) down to smaller ones as soon as you can and travel with lots of small change. Sometimes venders or taxi drivers don’t have change and you could be caught out paying more than you agreed because you don’t have smaller change
If you’re arriving by plane, you don’t need to worry about arriving with the local currency because there’ll likely be an ATM in the arrivals lounge, or your transport to where you’re staying can include finding an ATM
If you’re not arriving by plane (crossing the border), I would really recommend thinking ahead about the local currency as well as border crossing costs and the currencies they accept
If you’re from the UK, don’t decide whether something is cheap by converting the price to the British Pound – the likelihood is that it will be cheaper than prices in England, but you could still be paying far more than locals pay. Instead, try and figure out how expensive something is compared to what the locals pay/buy. I often compare a price to how many cokes it could buy in that country
Save money where you can so that you can afford to do at least one of the country’s once-in-a-lifetime activities
Notes in foreign currencies make good bookmarks
Soon after arriving
Get a local SIM if you can (having a number is helpful, even sometimes just to access free wifi)
Meet up with friends, or even friends of friends. The best introduction to a city or country is alongside one of the locals
Try and figure out cultural taboos before or once you’re in a new country, particularly if you’re in a new continent. Locals can help with advice there
Generally, dress like the locals. Women, cover up if other women are, it saves attracting unwanted attention
Learn a few words in the national language. With some dramatised gestures these phrases can get you a long way: ‘hello/how are you?/I’m fine/okay/thanks/beautiful/what’s your name?’. Ask taxi drivers how they are in their own tongue before haggling a price – it differentiates you from other tourists
Advice I wish I’d heard
Early on, start a theme of collecting/doing/photographing something. I took photos of all the beds I slept in as well as photos of my feet standing on different surfaces. My friend sent a postcard to the same person from every country she travelled to and another friend collected magnets. Some people collect Starbucks mugs. I wish I’d collected postcards with names of countries and cities on them
If you leave a country for the day (across a land-border), make sure you get your re-entry stamp when you return to the former country
Miscellaneous
Before you leave, add Skype credit to your account (if you’re about to travel and don’t have Skype, get it!). Countless times I’ve needed to ring somebody and not had a local sim-card (to sort travel insurance/lost luggage/flight changes etc.) – having Skype credit frees you to make those emergency phone calls and it’s usually not that expensive
Keep a tissue/a pack of tissues in your purse. So many countries either don’t use toilet paper or don’t prioritise replenishing it in public stalls
Buy gifts as you see them
Don’t do risky/adventurous things close to travel days. Sorting an injury and travel insurance would be a real hindrance
If travelling with a camera, wear a loose scarf (regardless of the temperature) to cover up the camera and its strap when you’re not taking photos to avoid attracting unwanted attention
Piercings make great souvenirs
Wellington, New Zealand, October 15th 2015 - WHAT I OWE TO TRACK
My teammates will tease me for how many sentences I begin with, "In hindsight...". Sometimes I feel like I'm not great at living life, perhaps I forget that none of us have done this before. I consequently enjoy opportunities to recollect and learn and take unwritten notes for future reference. I hope over the years that my character gets sanded down and shaped towards one that is mindful of the other, genuinely preferring another's ideal over mine.
We are nineteen months through our twenty-one months of travel and I've found myself thinking a lot about our experience and trying to notice what I've learned and gained and given. Slightly tainted by tiredness, I find it easy to dwell on what Track has cost me, the ways I feel it has worn me down and evoked cynicism in me. As our school embarks on its final chapter ('Tour') I need to be careful that these thoughts don't steal from me the opportunity to notice what Track has given me, not simple what it has taken away.
Track has given me friendships of the highest quality. I've genuinely never built relationships with people that look like that ones I have with my teammates. They have been my classmates, my housemates, my travel companions, my company on days off and with whom I both work and play. Together we've had deadlines and needed to be productive and together we've been exhausted and found pockets of rest. For the majority of my life I've surrounded myself with people who are similar to me and who I find it incredibly easy to be around. Because of that, I never felt the need to learn how to resolve difficulties or deal with conflict in a healthy way. I'm fortunate that I find myself similar to Cat and Idun in a number of ways and I genuinely enjoy doing life this closely with them. All that to say, on Track, it hasn't been realistic to expect to upkeep healthy, outward-looking relationships without having harder talks and occasionally making each other cry before hugging and making up. Track will always be the place where I learned to love within friendships that run deeper than I'm used to.
Track will also always be the place that introduced me to countries on an around-the-world scale. Over the last six years I've enjoyed seizing every opportunity to travel overseas but most of the time it has been in one-country doses where I've left from England and returned there. On Track though I've been to eighteen countries (nineteen if you ask me in three weeks) and have enjoyed new continents and calling new places my home. I've flown completely around the world, albeit it via a weird route, from Toronto airport to India, to Thailand, to Cambodia, to Vietnam then via Japan and the States before arriving back in Toronto. Track introduced me to the Southern Hemisphere, to new constellations and allowed me to cling to summer-like weather for eleven months straight. Track taught me that my desire to travel remains steadfastly insatiable even whilst on the road and has shown me that I still dream of future trips and adventures even whilst I'm within one. Because of Track I know that I find it hard to pack lightly and that I enjoy unpacking ten times more than I enjoy packing. Fifty flights later, I find airports somewhat predictable and feel quite at home with their quirks and procedures. I've enjoyed setting up camp in various terminals, wandering around in my socks and reclining on usually about three chairs.
And so, whilst I feel easily able to type about what Track has taken away from me, but I mustn't forget what it has given me, all for which I am grateful.
We are nineteen months through our twenty-one months of travel and I've found myself thinking a lot about our experience and trying to notice what I've learned and gained and given. Slightly tainted by tiredness, I find it easy to dwell on what Track has cost me, the ways I feel it has worn me down and evoked cynicism in me. As our school embarks on its final chapter ('Tour') I need to be careful that these thoughts don't steal from me the opportunity to notice what Track has given me, not simple what it has taken away.
Track has given me friendships of the highest quality. I've genuinely never built relationships with people that look like that ones I have with my teammates. They have been my classmates, my housemates, my travel companions, my company on days off and with whom I both work and play. Together we've had deadlines and needed to be productive and together we've been exhausted and found pockets of rest. For the majority of my life I've surrounded myself with people who are similar to me and who I find it incredibly easy to be around. Because of that, I never felt the need to learn how to resolve difficulties or deal with conflict in a healthy way. I'm fortunate that I find myself similar to Cat and Idun in a number of ways and I genuinely enjoy doing life this closely with them. All that to say, on Track, it hasn't been realistic to expect to upkeep healthy, outward-looking relationships without having harder talks and occasionally making each other cry before hugging and making up. Track will always be the place where I learned to love within friendships that run deeper than I'm used to.
Track will also always be the place that introduced me to countries on an around-the-world scale. Over the last six years I've enjoyed seizing every opportunity to travel overseas but most of the time it has been in one-country doses where I've left from England and returned there. On Track though I've been to eighteen countries (nineteen if you ask me in three weeks) and have enjoyed new continents and calling new places my home. I've flown completely around the world, albeit it via a weird route, from Toronto airport to India, to Thailand, to Cambodia, to Vietnam then via Japan and the States before arriving back in Toronto. Track introduced me to the Southern Hemisphere, to new constellations and allowed me to cling to summer-like weather for eleven months straight. Track taught me that my desire to travel remains steadfastly insatiable even whilst on the road and has shown me that I still dream of future trips and adventures even whilst I'm within one. Because of Track I know that I find it hard to pack lightly and that I enjoy unpacking ten times more than I enjoy packing. Fifty flights later, I find airports somewhat predictable and feel quite at home with their quirks and procedures. I've enjoyed setting up camp in various terminals, wandering around in my socks and reclining on usually about three chairs.
And so, whilst I feel easily able to type about what Track has taken away from me, but I mustn't forget what it has given me, all for which I am grateful.
Auckland, New Zealand, October 3rd 2015 - THIS TOUR THING
Today's blog post comes to you courtesy of layovers and long waits on my way to New Zealand. I am still functioning with a blend of disbelief and shock at the thought that we really are quite near the end of our school. Now, we head for our last quarter, our last continent and our last stage of Track: Tour. For those of you who have been following my journey along the way, I want this blog to be a wee recap of what this part of Track will look like.
Tour is what Track is all about. This school was created to give those passionate about justice an outlet to be confronted with world issues - a bridge between compassion and action. Photography has been a central part of our travels, but the truth is that photography was always a means to an end - a means of communicating injustice to willing listeners. My team has spent eighteen months fumbling around parts of the globe seeking to better understand refugees. My innate and childish sense of justice has been constantly sparked as I see displacement wreak years of disruption and destruction on people's lives when they personally did nothing to provoke it. It just doesn't seem fair. We have created a pro-hospitality response to what we’ve seen that we’ve called Status:Welcomed and through our Tour we’ll promote that response. In ways Track has broken me down somewhat as I carry questions about hope and humanity, but I anticipate Tour bringing closure as we'll have the opportunity to not only process what we've seen but to share it with others.
In New Zealand we will spend a month of road-tripping within the North and South Islands, speaking at events and venues that Cat has diligently been lining up for us. We'll speak in Churches, small groups, youth groups, cafés and to some YWAM communities. We have a suitcase literally brimming with Status:Welcomed merchandise that we'll sell to raise money to give to refugee aid organisations. We'll travel with an exhibition too of twelve of our favourite photos.
Our last week in Canada was tear-filled and full. We’ve spent nearly nine months together in Brantford, Ontario and said bye to our house, our street, our Church, our friends and our school leaders. We chose to cut short our time in Hawaii so that we could spend a final stretch in Canada and it's a decision none of us regret. Now, onwards and upwards as we embark on Tour.
Tour is what Track is all about. This school was created to give those passionate about justice an outlet to be confronted with world issues - a bridge between compassion and action. Photography has been a central part of our travels, but the truth is that photography was always a means to an end - a means of communicating injustice to willing listeners. My team has spent eighteen months fumbling around parts of the globe seeking to better understand refugees. My innate and childish sense of justice has been constantly sparked as I see displacement wreak years of disruption and destruction on people's lives when they personally did nothing to provoke it. It just doesn't seem fair. We have created a pro-hospitality response to what we’ve seen that we’ve called Status:Welcomed and through our Tour we’ll promote that response. In ways Track has broken me down somewhat as I carry questions about hope and humanity, but I anticipate Tour bringing closure as we'll have the opportunity to not only process what we've seen but to share it with others.
In New Zealand we will spend a month of road-tripping within the North and South Islands, speaking at events and venues that Cat has diligently been lining up for us. We'll speak in Churches, small groups, youth groups, cafés and to some YWAM communities. We have a suitcase literally brimming with Status:Welcomed merchandise that we'll sell to raise money to give to refugee aid organisations. We'll travel with an exhibition too of twelve of our favourite photos.
Our last week in Canada was tear-filled and full. We’ve spent nearly nine months together in Brantford, Ontario and said bye to our house, our street, our Church, our friends and our school leaders. We chose to cut short our time in Hawaii so that we could spend a final stretch in Canada and it's a decision none of us regret. Now, onwards and upwards as we embark on Tour.
Brantford, Ontario, September 13th 2015 - Between a Rock and a Hard Place
I want you to pay a lot of attention to the title of this post for I’ve never found a metaphor more fitting for a refugee. A refugee’s story is just that: between a rock and a hard place. They go from circumstances of threat, loss and trauma into a transition that can be difficult and lonely in an alien country. In fact, that is best-case scenario. That’s if the person or family survives the journey to their final destination, that’s if they have the official documentation to apply for refugee status and that’s if their story is believable and their status approved.
A refugee, by definition, has been forced to leave their country to save their life or to preserve their freedom. They have no protection from their own state and sometimes the threat of persecution can come from their own government. An asylum seeker, on the other hand, is one who is applying to become a refugee but whose status has not been definitively evaluated. Unless they are granted refugee status, an asylum seeker is required to return to the country that they came from.
The best piece of advice I can give if you are lost in wondering how you can respond helpfully to the refugee crisis is this: whatever level of involvement you have a the moment, do a little bit more. That might sound naïve or cliché or ill thought through, I assure you it is at least not the latter. Seeing photos of people assisting boat arrivals on Greek shores, or hearing of people offering their homes in Iceland can make you feel paralysed if you’re new to being aware about these immediate needs. A natural response to seeing these high-commitment actions is to be paralysed or to feel numb. That is also the worst response.
If you are new to hearing about international refugee issues, that’s fine, you can work from there. Start by gaining familiarity with what’s going on in your city, in your country, in your continent. If you’re already aware of how your country is responding to the refugee crisis, think about whether you agree with their stance. Lobby to MPs or allow it to influence how you vote. If you’re motivated enough to get involved but don’t know how, get familiar with organisations local to you that aid refugees. Be creative in thinking of how you can help there – volunteer your time, or offer a skill you have, or bake a cake to give to the staff to encourage them in their work. Anything. If you know of refugees, asylum seekers or migrants in your community, be intentional to get to know them. Be a friend. Offer practical help. Give your contact number or offer rides or draw a map of your town pointing out important places like ATMs, the post office and the doctor’s office.
The words of Bonhoeffer come to mind as I fervently type this last paragraph: to not act is to act. I implore you, whatever you’re doing to respond to the heartbreaking stories of each refugee, don’t be stagnant; do something. I honestly think that if we each choose to step-up our interest and actions by one notch in response to the refugee crisis, a movement will start. I’ve found that as I chose to be interested in small ways (I began with regularly reading BBC News’ international refugee stories), I began to care and I later began to be passionate. I’d like to end with this: a refugee doesn’t have to go from a rock to a hard place. You can be a part of bettering their transition; you can be a positive influence on their story.
A refugee, by definition, has been forced to leave their country to save their life or to preserve their freedom. They have no protection from their own state and sometimes the threat of persecution can come from their own government. An asylum seeker, on the other hand, is one who is applying to become a refugee but whose status has not been definitively evaluated. Unless they are granted refugee status, an asylum seeker is required to return to the country that they came from.
The best piece of advice I can give if you are lost in wondering how you can respond helpfully to the refugee crisis is this: whatever level of involvement you have a the moment, do a little bit more. That might sound naïve or cliché or ill thought through, I assure you it is at least not the latter. Seeing photos of people assisting boat arrivals on Greek shores, or hearing of people offering their homes in Iceland can make you feel paralysed if you’re new to being aware about these immediate needs. A natural response to seeing these high-commitment actions is to be paralysed or to feel numb. That is also the worst response.
If you are new to hearing about international refugee issues, that’s fine, you can work from there. Start by gaining familiarity with what’s going on in your city, in your country, in your continent. If you’re already aware of how your country is responding to the refugee crisis, think about whether you agree with their stance. Lobby to MPs or allow it to influence how you vote. If you’re motivated enough to get involved but don’t know how, get familiar with organisations local to you that aid refugees. Be creative in thinking of how you can help there – volunteer your time, or offer a skill you have, or bake a cake to give to the staff to encourage them in their work. Anything. If you know of refugees, asylum seekers or migrants in your community, be intentional to get to know them. Be a friend. Offer practical help. Give your contact number or offer rides or draw a map of your town pointing out important places like ATMs, the post office and the doctor’s office.
The words of Bonhoeffer come to mind as I fervently type this last paragraph: to not act is to act. I implore you, whatever you’re doing to respond to the heartbreaking stories of each refugee, don’t be stagnant; do something. I honestly think that if we each choose to step-up our interest and actions by one notch in response to the refugee crisis, a movement will start. I’ve found that as I chose to be interested in small ways (I began with regularly reading BBC News’ international refugee stories), I began to care and I later began to be passionate. I’d like to end with this: a refugee doesn’t have to go from a rock to a hard place. You can be a part of bettering their transition; you can be a positive influence on their story.
Brantford, Ontario, September 7th 2015 - BACKPACKERS' TALES
Travelling from country to country (sometimes via plans created with little thought) exposes you to an array of experiences that you wouldn’t necessarily want to endure again but that sure make good stories. We’ve been writing these stories on journal pages called 'Do Not Forget', mostly recorded because the funny story involves somebody else on the team. Because travelling has been such a big part of our school, I want this blog to be home to some of the backpacker tales and lessons. Let’s start with the tales.
We got head lice. To this day we’re still not certain where from, it’s a toss up between a Thai bus ride that had fabric headrests on the seats, or a Thai extremely budget guesthouse with mattresses that didn’t seem to have fresh bedding – Mae Sot, Thailand
A rat ran across my foot in India leaving a black dirt smear – Kolkata, India
We were paddle boarding and could see a fin bobbing up and out of the water. Convinced it was a shark and hyperventilating accordingly, we found it was actually a large manta ray flapping at the surface – Big Island, Hawaii
Eric shook a mango tree to try and catch a mango to eat, instead shaking fire ants onto and into his shirt – Chiang Mai, Thailand
Cat, Idun and I had a mouse in bed with us. We were sharing a thin mattress on the floor of an orphanage, and although we could hear mice scurrying in our room at night, we thought we were protected by our mosquito net that was thoroughly tucked in. We weren’t. The mouse ran across Cat’s forehead and down my arm – Battambang, Cambodia
I packed skittles in my ukulele case and learned that in an airport scan it looks like I have pills hidden in an instrument – Chicago, USA
We spent the day in Argentina visiting a wonder of the world and when re-entering Paraguay we were elated that the border’s customs didn't seem to be open so we wouldn't have to queue. When we left Paraguay we were each charged a $50 fine for lacking this entry stamp. Ouch - Ciudad del Este, Paraguay
I got handed sweets out of a car window by an old man that I’ve never met. Needless to say, Cat and Idun were freaked out – Ontario, Canada
We stayed in a hostel in Jerusalem where our dorm constantly had new people coming in and out. One night I heard a guy sleep talk in Spanish – Jerusalem, Israel
A gecko fell from the ceiling onto my head whilst we were interviewing somebody – Chiang Mai, Thailand
A taxi driver dropped us off at an unfamiliar entrance to Kolkata’s biggest market, at the meat market portion. We entered past rats that worryingly weren’t timid, blood flowing through drains and live chickens being weighed on scales – Kolkata, India
We hiked Table Mountain on one of the hottest days, midday, with one bottle of water each – Cape Town, South Africa
I packed hardboiled sweets to give to the children who beg in India. The humidity soon melted those sweets so I threw them out, but beyond that point I had constant streams of ants marching to and from my bag. This continued for months - Kolkata, India
In taking photos for an anti-slavery art exhibition in Kenya, I had to go to a butchers to buy blood, I had to buy legal drugs from a vendor and I had to get a stranger to hold condom packets whilst I took photos – Nairobi, Kenya
One day I had chips for breakfast, lunch and dinner – Cape Town, South Africa
We were fed an Indian dessert that was so greasy that oil dripped down our hands. I had to pretend to look out the window to hide my gagging and discovered a small hole in the window that was the same size as this dessert, I was grateful. The host wanted to honour us as guests and mouth-fed Eric and Hannah the last two pieces – Kolkata, India
An organisation took us to visit the homes of the people they work with. Afterwards they took us to a cricket farm and then asked us spontaneously lead a Bible study – Phnom Penh, Cambodia
We played Bingo on a reserve in Brantford and I won $100CAD – Ontario, Canada
Ants crawled out of my keyboard each time I would open my laptop – most countries
Our bedroom at the orphanage was the pastor’s office and we would wake up to see children peeking through the doorway, watching us sleep – Battambang, Cambodia
We frequented a restaurant in India where the waiter seemingly avoided taking anyone’s order. One time we waited an hour before we could get his attention – Kolkata, India
I wanted to take my team to a turtle-filled beach in Hawaii but forgot the way. We ended up hiking for a long time over lava rock, getting grazed – Big Island, Hawaii
In Kenya our taxi driver got a flat tire and whilst he was gone sorting how to fix it, we had to push his car three times in a parking lot to allow people out of their spaces – Nairobi, Kenya
Metal fell off a truck on the highway and hit our car. We got two flat tires and rode in a police car to get to a safer place – Ontario, Canada
We got head lice. To this day we’re still not certain where from, it’s a toss up between a Thai bus ride that had fabric headrests on the seats, or a Thai extremely budget guesthouse with mattresses that didn’t seem to have fresh bedding – Mae Sot, Thailand
A rat ran across my foot in India leaving a black dirt smear – Kolkata, India
We were paddle boarding and could see a fin bobbing up and out of the water. Convinced it was a shark and hyperventilating accordingly, we found it was actually a large manta ray flapping at the surface – Big Island, Hawaii
Eric shook a mango tree to try and catch a mango to eat, instead shaking fire ants onto and into his shirt – Chiang Mai, Thailand
Cat, Idun and I had a mouse in bed with us. We were sharing a thin mattress on the floor of an orphanage, and although we could hear mice scurrying in our room at night, we thought we were protected by our mosquito net that was thoroughly tucked in. We weren’t. The mouse ran across Cat’s forehead and down my arm – Battambang, Cambodia
I packed skittles in my ukulele case and learned that in an airport scan it looks like I have pills hidden in an instrument – Chicago, USA
We spent the day in Argentina visiting a wonder of the world and when re-entering Paraguay we were elated that the border’s customs didn't seem to be open so we wouldn't have to queue. When we left Paraguay we were each charged a $50 fine for lacking this entry stamp. Ouch - Ciudad del Este, Paraguay
I got handed sweets out of a car window by an old man that I’ve never met. Needless to say, Cat and Idun were freaked out – Ontario, Canada
We stayed in a hostel in Jerusalem where our dorm constantly had new people coming in and out. One night I heard a guy sleep talk in Spanish – Jerusalem, Israel
A gecko fell from the ceiling onto my head whilst we were interviewing somebody – Chiang Mai, Thailand
A taxi driver dropped us off at an unfamiliar entrance to Kolkata’s biggest market, at the meat market portion. We entered past rats that worryingly weren’t timid, blood flowing through drains and live chickens being weighed on scales – Kolkata, India
We hiked Table Mountain on one of the hottest days, midday, with one bottle of water each – Cape Town, South Africa
I packed hardboiled sweets to give to the children who beg in India. The humidity soon melted those sweets so I threw them out, but beyond that point I had constant streams of ants marching to and from my bag. This continued for months - Kolkata, India
In taking photos for an anti-slavery art exhibition in Kenya, I had to go to a butchers to buy blood, I had to buy legal drugs from a vendor and I had to get a stranger to hold condom packets whilst I took photos – Nairobi, Kenya
One day I had chips for breakfast, lunch and dinner – Cape Town, South Africa
We were fed an Indian dessert that was so greasy that oil dripped down our hands. I had to pretend to look out the window to hide my gagging and discovered a small hole in the window that was the same size as this dessert, I was grateful. The host wanted to honour us as guests and mouth-fed Eric and Hannah the last two pieces – Kolkata, India
An organisation took us to visit the homes of the people they work with. Afterwards they took us to a cricket farm and then asked us spontaneously lead a Bible study – Phnom Penh, Cambodia
We played Bingo on a reserve in Brantford and I won $100CAD – Ontario, Canada
Ants crawled out of my keyboard each time I would open my laptop – most countries
Our bedroom at the orphanage was the pastor’s office and we would wake up to see children peeking through the doorway, watching us sleep – Battambang, Cambodia
We frequented a restaurant in India where the waiter seemingly avoided taking anyone’s order. One time we waited an hour before we could get his attention – Kolkata, India
I wanted to take my team to a turtle-filled beach in Hawaii but forgot the way. We ended up hiking for a long time over lava rock, getting grazed – Big Island, Hawaii
In Kenya our taxi driver got a flat tire and whilst he was gone sorting how to fix it, we had to push his car three times in a parking lot to allow people out of their spaces – Nairobi, Kenya
Metal fell off a truck on the highway and hit our car. We got two flat tires and rode in a police car to get to a safer place – Ontario, Canada
Brantford, Ontario, August 30th 2015 - HERE I CALL HOME
Last week I had the privilege of flying home for six days. Thankfully, the time went slowly and felt full, satisfying and happy. Some highlights were getting to know my nephew better and hearing him say my name, being a small part of a dear friend's wedding, catching up with my family over good food/wine/games, dancing mutually goofily with my siblings at the wedding, going to Church where I saw many familiar faces, unpacking, repacking and eating cheese and crackers. I also enjoyed travelling back to Canada with English treats for the girls, obviously including tea, chocolate and jaffa cakes. Whilst my time home lacked on offering enough sleep, I had a flight that was delayed overnight in Ireland where I was able to rest in a peaceful hotel room on my way back.
I booked this journey home in March and since then, in some way, I have been anticipating this trip and looking forward to it. Within August as the weeks passed I began to feel the pressure to get my life together somewhat. Something about going home made me feel that I needed to be somewhat established in knowing what I was learning, what was being accomplished and (the dreaded question) what was coming next. I'd add that this pressure was introduced by no tangible source - I don't have parents that bear strict expectations of what my life should look like, nor do I feel judged by the other people around me. Nonetheless, it felt as though I should have more of a handle on my life when the truth is, most of the lessons this Track has offered still feel very undercooked. I think of the analogy of interrupting heart surgery part way through and it looking like a massacre. For me, I feel premature in making conclusions on what God has been up to in me. I still carry questions about suffering and hope that feel heavy at times. I still feel young and naïve in the face of imagining (let alone leading) helpful responses to injustice. I still look around at qualifications and degrees and wonder why my life has looked so different.
I guess this particular blog post has evolved into the ramblings of a twenty something Christian who by no means has life figured out. Life feels messy and incomplete, it evokes questions and reminds me that I'm often out of my depths. For some reason, at the moment I find it quite daunting to look ahead to a schedule that is unplanned (our Track finishes mid-December later this year). Often British small talk will gravitate to future-related questions, the "What's next?" and "What are you going to be?" and "How are you going to get there?". A good friend of mine has similarly been away with YWAM (Youth With A Mission) for nearly a year and said that she'd been asked these questions by the curious when she came home. She said to me that she doesn't have much to say in answer, but if people ask her what she's learned and seen from her past year, then she can talk. I want to be more deliberate about the questions that I ask. I helped lead a youth group back home and I was awesome at pestering each of them about their dreams for the future. My motivation was one of genuine interest and wanting to spur them on, but I think I can take some practice in valuing what people are going through now, or what they've already learned. I know that I have hundreds of stories of moments on Track that have made me cry and laugh and mourn and need counselling and remember the goodness of God's character. I can't talk so much about what God has for me next year, but I can talk about the richness of what God has shown me so far, and the countries that have played host.
I booked this journey home in March and since then, in some way, I have been anticipating this trip and looking forward to it. Within August as the weeks passed I began to feel the pressure to get my life together somewhat. Something about going home made me feel that I needed to be somewhat established in knowing what I was learning, what was being accomplished and (the dreaded question) what was coming next. I'd add that this pressure was introduced by no tangible source - I don't have parents that bear strict expectations of what my life should look like, nor do I feel judged by the other people around me. Nonetheless, it felt as though I should have more of a handle on my life when the truth is, most of the lessons this Track has offered still feel very undercooked. I think of the analogy of interrupting heart surgery part way through and it looking like a massacre. For me, I feel premature in making conclusions on what God has been up to in me. I still carry questions about suffering and hope that feel heavy at times. I still feel young and naïve in the face of imagining (let alone leading) helpful responses to injustice. I still look around at qualifications and degrees and wonder why my life has looked so different.
I guess this particular blog post has evolved into the ramblings of a twenty something Christian who by no means has life figured out. Life feels messy and incomplete, it evokes questions and reminds me that I'm often out of my depths. For some reason, at the moment I find it quite daunting to look ahead to a schedule that is unplanned (our Track finishes mid-December later this year). Often British small talk will gravitate to future-related questions, the "What's next?" and "What are you going to be?" and "How are you going to get there?". A good friend of mine has similarly been away with YWAM (Youth With A Mission) for nearly a year and said that she'd been asked these questions by the curious when she came home. She said to me that she doesn't have much to say in answer, but if people ask her what she's learned and seen from her past year, then she can talk. I want to be more deliberate about the questions that I ask. I helped lead a youth group back home and I was awesome at pestering each of them about their dreams for the future. My motivation was one of genuine interest and wanting to spur them on, but I think I can take some practice in valuing what people are going through now, or what they've already learned. I know that I have hundreds of stories of moments on Track that have made me cry and laugh and mourn and need counselling and remember the goodness of God's character. I can't talk so much about what God has for me next year, but I can talk about the richness of what God has shown me so far, and the countries that have played host.
Brantford, Ontario, August 16th 2015 - A HALF WAY MARK
e are just about half way through our three months of preparing for Tour. Our time so far has been one of routine, poutine (once...), reunions, office hours, editing, family dinners, smoothies, sunburn, cider, decisions, meetings, ice cream, early mornings, coffee dates and baking. Every week Idun, Cat and I have individual deadlines of tasks that we want to get done in preparation for our time in New Zealand and Australia (our 'Tour'). Often I find myself focusing on September's final goal of getting absolutely everything done, I think I've missed valuing the little victories we have as we tick off our to-dos week by week. I also miss in telling you how our plans are unfolding...
So far, we have a website that is well under way. Every working day of the week our website is being pruned and tweaked ready to be launched to the world in September. We have a name and we have a logo. Idun is thoroughly gifted in design and has created not only our logo but also our business cards, magnets, tees and tote bags. We've chosen and edited the photos that we want to use. A lot of these photos will be on our website, but others we'll print as postcards and large-scale prints for a travelling exhibition that we'll use on Tour. We'll have an Instagram too that we're preparing to host a handpicked selection out of the thousands(!) of photos that our travels have given us. I've been working on writing a collection of pieces that tell of the injustices we've come across. Cat is busy editing our video, wading through hours and hours of footage. We'll put some videos on our site as well as having others that we'll show to groups on our Tour. She is also communicating with Churches and cafés all over New Zealand and Australia, mapping out our ten week road-trip. We have a car for our time in Australia which is very exciting - it'll be the first time on Track that we have our own car. Finally, we're starting to write speeches and sketch out our presentations. We spend a lot of time clarifying what we want our Tour to ignite and thinking practically of what that will look like.
P.s. I'm coming home next week, from the 20th-26th of August. It will be a flying visit (literally) that lets me go to the wedding of dear friend, Natalie. It'll be sweet to be back for sure!
So far, we have a website that is well under way. Every working day of the week our website is being pruned and tweaked ready to be launched to the world in September. We have a name and we have a logo. Idun is thoroughly gifted in design and has created not only our logo but also our business cards, magnets, tees and tote bags. We've chosen and edited the photos that we want to use. A lot of these photos will be on our website, but others we'll print as postcards and large-scale prints for a travelling exhibition that we'll use on Tour. We'll have an Instagram too that we're preparing to host a handpicked selection out of the thousands(!) of photos that our travels have given us. I've been working on writing a collection of pieces that tell of the injustices we've come across. Cat is busy editing our video, wading through hours and hours of footage. We'll put some videos on our site as well as having others that we'll show to groups on our Tour. She is also communicating with Churches and cafés all over New Zealand and Australia, mapping out our ten week road-trip. We have a car for our time in Australia which is very exciting - it'll be the first time on Track that we have our own car. Finally, we're starting to write speeches and sketch out our presentations. We spend a lot of time clarifying what we want our Tour to ignite and thinking practically of what that will look like.
P.s. I'm coming home next week, from the 20th-26th of August. It will be a flying visit (literally) that lets me go to the wedding of dear friend, Natalie. It'll be sweet to be back for sure!
Brantford, Ontario, August 9th 2015 - I FEEL GRATEFUL
One of the reasons I love to travel is because I love to be reminded that I am not normal. The way I see the world, the way I make decisions, the way I view my relationships, even the way I prefer to eat and rest and work and play, are all shaped by my culture and upbringing. My version of what is normal is by no means everyone else's, particularly noticable when I change continents. Therefore, I have much to learn from other people's worldview and routines. It is humbling to be encircled by cultures that have perfected hospitality, celebration and respect of their elders far more than I've ever known. When I'm living in England, I find it incredibly (incredibly) easy to slip into a life littered with luxuries. I have copious amounts of belongings that I have accumulated which I can resort to or replenish at my own leisure. In those times, I wonder how I have ever lived out of a suitcase or with bucket showers or no hair straighteners. This Track has been, so far, sixteen months of being reminded that I can find life full, easy and satisfying when living in versions that look so different to my English lifestyle. I have learned to be grateful for things that I routinely take for granted.
Without much further ado, here in Brantford I am grateful for...
Without much further ado, here in Brantford I am grateful for...
- Living in a house. We team share a house (with other tenants) and enjoy the independence of sharing rooms, being able to unpack into a few draws and putting fairy lights up on the walls
- Our house has a laundry machine. No more collecting quarters or walking down the street with a bag of dirty washing
- We cook for ourselves here. After three months of volunteering in Africa and South America, followed by three months living on a campus, we do our own food shopping and have our own kitchen here. The novelty definitely has not worn off yet
- We can bake here. All of our kitchenware and furniture was donated to us and sometimes it feels like we're living in a thrift store. We enjoy the humour and challenge of baking with limited utensils. Did you know, cling film can be a rolling pin, a cardboard egg tray can be a drying rack and a blender can grind coffee beans (that last one was a bit of a push...)
- Our school leaders Jon and Layne have a new office apartment just down the road from where we live. There, we Track have a room that is completely ours for us to do our Tour preparations. I am so grateful to have separate spaces for work and for play
- Our home has wifi. The times we were in places without wifi was probably the hardest adjustment to make and life is really easy when we don't need to hunt for places with wifi or buy a coffee to get online
- Jon and Layne let us borrow their car. We've been travelling for sixteen months and have never had access to a car - we've been finding rides for sixteen months. It's novel and fun to make plans that are further than walking distance. Ontario is our oyster
- Someone lent us fans for the summer - whoever you are, we are grateful
- Preparing for Tour has added rhythm and routine to life again, within which I flourish. I regularly find time to read, which I love
- We needed extra Bible-class credits towards our Associates Degree (earned within this Track) and it means I get to teach a Bible class to the girls. I love this motivation to study and write teachings each week
- Finally, with it being our third time living in Brantford, it has been fun to go to familiar places that I haven't seen for seven months. I'm a big fan of revisiting places and love gaining a sense of 'home' in locations spattered across the world
Brantford, Ontario, July 26th 2015 - STATUS:WELCOMED
Introducing to you… Status:Welcomed. We’ve spent months (literally) toying around with words and synonyms in hope to name our project in a fitting way. We’ve disagreed and we’ve changed our minds. We’ve dreamt up titles that describe the more negative side of what we’ve seen, like Uprooted And Displaced, and contrasted those with titles that speak of what we hope to see in response to these injustices. We sided with the latter. Here in Canada we’ve begun to notice breakthrough as over a years worth of stories/footage/questions have begun to feel stitched together and like they finally make collective sense. We have a vision for our project; for what we want Status:Welcomed to do, and I’d like to tell you the story of how we got there.
If you’ve been following my team’s journey you’ll know that early on, back in April 2014, we prayerfully decided to focus our travels on learning about refugee and displacement issues. Along the way we’ve been to countries that didn’t have predominant refugee influxes, and in those places we explored broader issues that are related to ‘home’. I’ve researched and photographed four slums within Africa and Asia, and my teammates have studied homelessness, people who live alongside train tracks and illegal migrants. I began to document the diverse versions of 'home' that we came across, varying from a railing and tarpaulin sheet to wooden one-rooms with holes for windows.
In South Africa (where we spent January 2015) we spent a month volunteering for an NGO that offers aid to refugees (Adonis Musati Project/AMP). As a team we grew in compassion as we learned of the specific hardships that a refugee can expect as part of their journey into another country. The times that we have heard refugees share their story with us the person retells and relives their tales of fear, loss and grief, sometimes speaking through tears, and their sacrificial willingness to share their pain has helped us to better understand their plight. Through AMP we heard of this NGO's ten weeks of free seminars offered to refugees/asylum seekers that gives practical aid covering topics like a refugee’s rights, free healthcare access, dealing with depression, grief, loss, forgiveness, and more. For the first time on Track I began to realise the overwhelming amount a refugee has to deal with, all the while attempting to build a new life in a new country, sometimes without an ability to speak the local language. We learned of some who died in this trial.
The refugee issue has been named the worst humanitarian crisis of our time. We team confess to having been left paralysed and doubting of how we can dream up any worthy response to such a worldwide issue. Eventually, one word came to mind and has led us ever since: hospitality. With the heavy multitude of problems that a refugee can expect in leaving their home and fleeing to another country, we’ve noticed how small acts of kindness can be a huge and hopeful part of their story. We’ve heard of people who haven’t eaten in over 24 hours being bought coffee by a kind stranger, and of some who offer rides or pieces of furniture or occasional meals to one in need. In a refugee’s bleak story, these small extensions of generosity become noteworthy to how that refugee tells their tale.
And so, we want to encourage communities to welcome refugees, to be aware of whether their local area houses refugees, and to cultivate environments where a refugee is noticed, heard, welcomed and assisted as they establish roots in a new place.
If you’ve been following my team’s journey you’ll know that early on, back in April 2014, we prayerfully decided to focus our travels on learning about refugee and displacement issues. Along the way we’ve been to countries that didn’t have predominant refugee influxes, and in those places we explored broader issues that are related to ‘home’. I’ve researched and photographed four slums within Africa and Asia, and my teammates have studied homelessness, people who live alongside train tracks and illegal migrants. I began to document the diverse versions of 'home' that we came across, varying from a railing and tarpaulin sheet to wooden one-rooms with holes for windows.
In South Africa (where we spent January 2015) we spent a month volunteering for an NGO that offers aid to refugees (Adonis Musati Project/AMP). As a team we grew in compassion as we learned of the specific hardships that a refugee can expect as part of their journey into another country. The times that we have heard refugees share their story with us the person retells and relives their tales of fear, loss and grief, sometimes speaking through tears, and their sacrificial willingness to share their pain has helped us to better understand their plight. Through AMP we heard of this NGO's ten weeks of free seminars offered to refugees/asylum seekers that gives practical aid covering topics like a refugee’s rights, free healthcare access, dealing with depression, grief, loss, forgiveness, and more. For the first time on Track I began to realise the overwhelming amount a refugee has to deal with, all the while attempting to build a new life in a new country, sometimes without an ability to speak the local language. We learned of some who died in this trial.
The refugee issue has been named the worst humanitarian crisis of our time. We team confess to having been left paralysed and doubting of how we can dream up any worthy response to such a worldwide issue. Eventually, one word came to mind and has led us ever since: hospitality. With the heavy multitude of problems that a refugee can expect in leaving their home and fleeing to another country, we’ve noticed how small acts of kindness can be a huge and hopeful part of their story. We’ve heard of people who haven’t eaten in over 24 hours being bought coffee by a kind stranger, and of some who offer rides or pieces of furniture or occasional meals to one in need. In a refugee’s bleak story, these small extensions of generosity become noteworthy to how that refugee tells their tale.
And so, we want to encourage communities to welcome refugees, to be aware of whether their local area houses refugees, and to cultivate environments where a refugee is noticed, heard, welcomed and assisted as they establish roots in a new place.
Brantford, Ontario, July 5th 2015 - WASHINGTON
We're back! We're back in Canada. As of tomorrow our school quarter will begin again, this time focused completely on preparing for our refugee awareness tour in New Zealand and Australia. I'll have plenty of time to fill you in about what that looks like (ideally after we ourselves figure that out) but for now I want to talk about our break-week in Washington. In a paragraph. Here goes...
Mountain hikes, late sunsets, river beaches, healthy food, unhealthy food, movie nights, late nights, sleeping in, convertible rides, air-con, reunions, goodbyes, see-you-laters, long drives, drive throughs, deer-hitting (so sad), "'MURICA", wild flowers, lightning storms, hot days, good friends, sweet rest.
Mountain hikes, late sunsets, river beaches, healthy food, unhealthy food, movie nights, late nights, sleeping in, convertible rides, air-con, reunions, goodbyes, see-you-laters, long drives, drive throughs, deer-hitting (so sad), "'MURICA", wild flowers, lightning storms, hot days, good friends, sweet rest.
Kona, Hawaii, June 21st 2015 - GOODBYE HAWAII
Can you believe it? My team's three month stint in Hawaii has ended; Canada calls. Time has truly sped by and I leave this tiny island reminded of how much I love this place. I think Big Island doesn't belong to the honeymooners or the rich folk at the Hilton hotels, it belongs to the adventurers. It belongs to the people who have the time and tendency to explore. With the help of local's tips and hitchhiking/trunk riding you can find the places that aren't signposted and that are hidden from the tourists. To me, this island hosts such wholesome and wholehearted fun: cliff jumping and finding where the turtles sleep and hiking to the shore from the highway and paddle boarding with dolphins and lazing at a friend's pool and watching countless sunsets and trekking over lava rock and stargazing above the clouds and reading books on beaches. One of the things I'm most grateful for about coming back here is that this time I have a fancy-pants camera and through taking photos I can better capture the essence of places that I love; places rich with fond memories.
So, What Now?
Now, our Track heads to Ontario, Canada for our next three months and for part two of our project-making. We'll prepare fully for our ending two months of tour - this will be in New Zealand and Australia, have I told you that yet? Preparations include creating our website, organising our gathered stories/footage ready for presentation, preparing speeches, designing our brand, ordering merchandise, printing photos and planning where we'll speak at during our road-trip tour.
Before then, we have a break until July 5th and I'm going to hide in Washington for a week before heading back to Canada.
I'll stay with Hannah's family (Hannah is one of our leaders who has been with us here in Hawaii) alongside Idun and Cat.
So, What Now?
Now, our Track heads to Ontario, Canada for our next three months and for part two of our project-making. We'll prepare fully for our ending two months of tour - this will be in New Zealand and Australia, have I told you that yet? Preparations include creating our website, organising our gathered stories/footage ready for presentation, preparing speeches, designing our brand, ordering merchandise, printing photos and planning where we'll speak at during our road-trip tour.
Before then, we have a break until July 5th and I'm going to hide in Washington for a week before heading back to Canada.
I'll stay with Hannah's family (Hannah is one of our leaders who has been with us here in Hawaii) alongside Idun and Cat.
Kona, Hawaii, June 14th 2015 - HOW TO BURN OUT AND LOSE HOPE
Did this posts’ uplifting and breezy title lure you in? I don’t want my blog to be full of fluffy tales of life, and I don’t want it to be solely filled with stories that describe only 'happy ending' parts. I find that such a temptation you know, to isolate and talk about the times when God provides money or miraculously helps me get a visa, neglecting to mention my whimpering faith in the process or my doubt in imagining how God could pull of this one. So here is a messy blog post. Here is an invitation into a time that I’m not so proud of and that doesn’t feel that pretty. Here, I write to you from a time where, beneath it all, I’m quite sad.
I am fourteen months into a travelling photography school. For our first year we travelled to places and searched out their issues. We researched the injustice going on and deliberately headed to harder places, like slums and townships and orphanages, to the homeless and to a refugee camp. Even to a genocide site. This globetrotting was supplemented with seeking to hear and record the forgotten stories of those suffering. We listened, we took photos, we interviewed people. Whilst I maintained a relationship with God throughout these months, praying to Him and enjoying learning about Him, there was a point when I stopped voicing the harder questions to Him. Honestly, I don’t know when this began and I don’t know why. I suspect I reached overload and stopped trying. I also stopped crying, and this too happened subtly for reasons I can’t pinpoint. (These are my two top tips for losing hope on the field: stop praying and stop crying.)
Here in Hawaii we have finished the ‘accumulating’ part of our travels and are now sorting through the footage and stories we have collected. Naturally, a time to pause and reflect has proven to each of us an opportunity to notice the effects the last year has had on us. For me, now is the time to cry. I’m built with a heavy dose of mercy and compassion for others and I can’t forget what I’ve seen or answer the questions that it brings up. It’s been a time of grieving over the sadness we’ve seen and I feel overwhelmed at the mention of new issues of injustice. I have a suitcase full of questions, some that shake me and some that I find confrontational to aspects of my faith. Based on what I’ve seen, I’m under the impression that suffering creates very stubborn taints on people’s lives that take years to heal. I want to know why it’s so hard. What has been most unsettling is that I have realised that my understanding (or theology) of hope really is quite childish. I know deep down that I have all the right in the world to hope; I belong to a religion that has rightfully claimed it, but at the moment I’ve forgotten why we hope. I feel feeble at defending it in the face of what I’ve seen.
Dear friends, if you’ve made it this far in the post, well done. I won’t leave you on this low note. I write describing this posture of sadness that has become familiar to me because I believe that God is the kind of God to make something beautiful out of it, out of what I now call my mess. Although there has been an undercurrent of sadness during this time of Track, God has been faithful to provide such a safe environment for me to carry these questions. Our Track staff Hannah is with us as well as our school leaders visiting, both offering wisdom and Track-related insight. I have been surrounded by people who I look up to and who have given me their time to listen or to hear some of my questions. There is free counselling available on this campus and there I’m able to talk through some of the harder memories of Track, finding answers and closure. Finally, I’m very expectant that, through this, my naïve understanding of hope will one day be outgrown and be replaced by a more mature theology, one that isn’t based on Christian clichés.
I am fourteen months into a travelling photography school. For our first year we travelled to places and searched out their issues. We researched the injustice going on and deliberately headed to harder places, like slums and townships and orphanages, to the homeless and to a refugee camp. Even to a genocide site. This globetrotting was supplemented with seeking to hear and record the forgotten stories of those suffering. We listened, we took photos, we interviewed people. Whilst I maintained a relationship with God throughout these months, praying to Him and enjoying learning about Him, there was a point when I stopped voicing the harder questions to Him. Honestly, I don’t know when this began and I don’t know why. I suspect I reached overload and stopped trying. I also stopped crying, and this too happened subtly for reasons I can’t pinpoint. (These are my two top tips for losing hope on the field: stop praying and stop crying.)
Here in Hawaii we have finished the ‘accumulating’ part of our travels and are now sorting through the footage and stories we have collected. Naturally, a time to pause and reflect has proven to each of us an opportunity to notice the effects the last year has had on us. For me, now is the time to cry. I’m built with a heavy dose of mercy and compassion for others and I can’t forget what I’ve seen or answer the questions that it brings up. It’s been a time of grieving over the sadness we’ve seen and I feel overwhelmed at the mention of new issues of injustice. I have a suitcase full of questions, some that shake me and some that I find confrontational to aspects of my faith. Based on what I’ve seen, I’m under the impression that suffering creates very stubborn taints on people’s lives that take years to heal. I want to know why it’s so hard. What has been most unsettling is that I have realised that my understanding (or theology) of hope really is quite childish. I know deep down that I have all the right in the world to hope; I belong to a religion that has rightfully claimed it, but at the moment I’ve forgotten why we hope. I feel feeble at defending it in the face of what I’ve seen.
Dear friends, if you’ve made it this far in the post, well done. I won’t leave you on this low note. I write describing this posture of sadness that has become familiar to me because I believe that God is the kind of God to make something beautiful out of it, out of what I now call my mess. Although there has been an undercurrent of sadness during this time of Track, God has been faithful to provide such a safe environment for me to carry these questions. Our Track staff Hannah is with us as well as our school leaders visiting, both offering wisdom and Track-related insight. I have been surrounded by people who I look up to and who have given me their time to listen or to hear some of my questions. There is free counselling available on this campus and there I’m able to talk through some of the harder memories of Track, finding answers and closure. Finally, I’m very expectant that, through this, my naïve understanding of hope will one day be outgrown and be replaced by a more mature theology, one that isn’t based on Christian clichés.
Kona, Hawaii, June 7th 2015 - ADVOCATE
We spent fifteen hours last week talking and thinking about advocacy. This last year has seen me progress from unfamiliarity with that word, to being within an organisation that overly uses that word, to affiliating myself with that word, to now beginning to grasp its meaning. If you want me to get all fancy on you, Oxford Dictionaries defines advocacy as ‘the publically supporting or recommending of a particular cause or policy.’ Stuff like raising awareness, speaking on another’s behalf and movement building. What’s shocked me most from last week is to realise this: through advocacy you can humanise and through advocacy you can exploit.
I am shamed to agree and realise that, perhaps despite best intentions, advocacy campaigns can be a tool to dehumanise people. They can create distance between you, between me, and the issue at hand. Perhaps this distance is an efficient way to coax more money for an appeal; the notion that we in our abundance can afford to spare a little for the lowly in their despair. The truth is, we’re all humans. I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking that the last thing we need in an effort towards justice is to add to this notion of separation. We as humankind are well adjusted to indifference and to living alongside suffering. I have the capacity to hear about H&M’s bad reputation for sweatshops and yet I still go and buy their clothing. I think I am pretty good at feeling like my choices don’t affect very much. I am good at feeling separate and I’m good at believing that my actions are too small and measly to make a difference any way. Part of the problem is that there is such a distance created between me and you and these injustice giants that survive age to age, they become issues and not people, statistics and nameless faces.
The best advocates are the ones that have a relationship with those they appeal for. They know the people; they stand shoulder to shoulder with them. They know the history and thus they know the people’s story. Examples like the Apostle Paul, and Grey Boyles who works with gangs in LA. The best advocates work towards showing the humanity of others, allowing others to connect with them. They help people to see their face in another’s, to see that really, beneath it all, we’re all human. We’re all people that are products of what life has given to us. These advocates, the best ones, ignite compassion that is more sincere than pity; a compassion that seeks to understand. That’s the kind of advocate I want to be.
This has got me thinking: my team are creating a collaborative project, an appeal if you will, that we'll represent for two months as we tour to raise awareness. Based on this week’s reflections, placed before my team are two choices: we can prioritise the aesthetic impressiveness of our project or we can prioritise using our media to humanise an issue. The first comes with a heavy dose of prideful temptation. In this we would use the very best of our photos and video, disregarding whether the individual person would want to be shown in that light, for the sake of our project's appearance. Or, we can deliberately only use the photos that we'd be proud to show each individual despite these not necessarily being our strongest shots.
I want the last one; I don't want to have travelled for a year believing in the value of humanity and fall at the final hurdle by creating a product that came as the expense of certain people, costing their dignity and disregarding their value.
I am shamed to agree and realise that, perhaps despite best intentions, advocacy campaigns can be a tool to dehumanise people. They can create distance between you, between me, and the issue at hand. Perhaps this distance is an efficient way to coax more money for an appeal; the notion that we in our abundance can afford to spare a little for the lowly in their despair. The truth is, we’re all humans. I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking that the last thing we need in an effort towards justice is to add to this notion of separation. We as humankind are well adjusted to indifference and to living alongside suffering. I have the capacity to hear about H&M’s bad reputation for sweatshops and yet I still go and buy their clothing. I think I am pretty good at feeling like my choices don’t affect very much. I am good at feeling separate and I’m good at believing that my actions are too small and measly to make a difference any way. Part of the problem is that there is such a distance created between me and you and these injustice giants that survive age to age, they become issues and not people, statistics and nameless faces.
The best advocates are the ones that have a relationship with those they appeal for. They know the people; they stand shoulder to shoulder with them. They know the history and thus they know the people’s story. Examples like the Apostle Paul, and Grey Boyles who works with gangs in LA. The best advocates work towards showing the humanity of others, allowing others to connect with them. They help people to see their face in another’s, to see that really, beneath it all, we’re all human. We’re all people that are products of what life has given to us. These advocates, the best ones, ignite compassion that is more sincere than pity; a compassion that seeks to understand. That’s the kind of advocate I want to be.
This has got me thinking: my team are creating a collaborative project, an appeal if you will, that we'll represent for two months as we tour to raise awareness. Based on this week’s reflections, placed before my team are two choices: we can prioritise the aesthetic impressiveness of our project or we can prioritise using our media to humanise an issue. The first comes with a heavy dose of prideful temptation. In this we would use the very best of our photos and video, disregarding whether the individual person would want to be shown in that light, for the sake of our project's appearance. Or, we can deliberately only use the photos that we'd be proud to show each individual despite these not necessarily being our strongest shots.
I want the last one; I don't want to have travelled for a year believing in the value of humanity and fall at the final hurdle by creating a product that came as the expense of certain people, costing their dignity and disregarding their value.
Kona, Hawaii, May 31st 2015 - BONHOEFFER
This quarter we were requested to choose and read a book about one of the greats; a world changer. There are many of whom I plan to fill my life with reading about, but this time I chose to learn of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. This was through Metaxas' biography: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy, and I couldn't recommend this book more. For those who are less familiar with the life of Bonhoeffer, he was a German theologian who partook in failed conspiracies to assassinate Hitler during the Second World War. I knew nothing more about this man and read the book eagerly, surprised each time the story unfolded in a new direction. My biggest motivation for reading this book was being interested in opinions regarding war and pacifism and I wanted to hear how this particular pastor theologically arrived at the point where he was willing to work towards the death of somebody else. Now that I think about it, this book didn't give me many answers in that regard, though it impacted me greatly nonetheless.
I'm going to rewind a few years within my own life. I studied the Bible in Hawaii, pouring through each verse avidly and being introduced to truth afresh. Of these nine months of study, my favourite chunk was studying the prophets. In the time where Israel and Judah were led by kings and dynasties, God raised up men as His prophets to speak His words to the people. Classically, these words were of utmost importance for the wellbeing of the people and often they fell on deaf ears. As well as this portion of Scripture being a beautiful and awe-inspiring insight into the relentless heart of God for His people, and as well as it being an example of God's grace superseding though not negating His judgement, to me one of the most remarkable themes was the life of the prophets themselves. In them I was introduced to a life of servitude before God that I'd never known before. Honestly, I was shocked to hear of the lifestyles of those who walked in obedience to God. Some of the prophets were ostracised, punished, abused, ridiculed, abandoned and humiliated. Jeremiah was my favourite of the prophets (he weeps and he's poetic, what a stud) and a great example of this. In my living for God, in my many prayers proclaiming that I sought to obey Him and that I wanted His will for my life, I never expected that it could look like this. I realised how shallow and naive my prayers had been and how little I knew of what I was signing up for. Through the prophets, I began to walk towards a more genuine and informed declaration of my life for God, trying with His help to be willing for this to look like the life of Jeremiah's if it needs to be.
I find that in Christian circles the term prophet is used quite a lot, usually referring to someone vibrant, passionate and filled with the Holy Spirit. I don't deny that God speaks to people, for this plays an influential part in my own life, but I think that the terms prophet and prophetic have been blurred somewhat. I think God speaks prophetically to people, informing them with content of their future and the future, but I myself don't feel I know many who live like the prophets of the old. As I read Bonhoeffer, I realised that his story reminds me of one of the prophets; his story could quite naturally slot alongside those in the Bible. You see, Bonhoeffer lived with convictions firmly rooted in the Word of God. Surrounded by the masses who celebrated Hitler and his party's promise of restoring the greatness of Germany from the rubble of the Versailles treaty, Bonhoeffer and his family beheld suspicion and discomfort for Hitler's rise to power. When the masses of the German Church succumbed to the political definitions and explanations of Church, led by the Nazi regime, Bonhoeffer stood as part of a Church that clung to God's definitions, being bold to be publicly separated despite national pressures. Bonhoeffer chose to remain in Germany, knowing that it likely would dictate and shorten his lifespan, because of his conviction that he must be part of the Church's resistance of the crimes of the Second World War. He lived selflessly and was an example and encouragement to those around him, even within prison and literally to his dying day. In his example, I'm inspired. To end I'll leave you with a few of his words,
'Silence in the face of evil is evil itself... Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.'
I'm going to rewind a few years within my own life. I studied the Bible in Hawaii, pouring through each verse avidly and being introduced to truth afresh. Of these nine months of study, my favourite chunk was studying the prophets. In the time where Israel and Judah were led by kings and dynasties, God raised up men as His prophets to speak His words to the people. Classically, these words were of utmost importance for the wellbeing of the people and often they fell on deaf ears. As well as this portion of Scripture being a beautiful and awe-inspiring insight into the relentless heart of God for His people, and as well as it being an example of God's grace superseding though not negating His judgement, to me one of the most remarkable themes was the life of the prophets themselves. In them I was introduced to a life of servitude before God that I'd never known before. Honestly, I was shocked to hear of the lifestyles of those who walked in obedience to God. Some of the prophets were ostracised, punished, abused, ridiculed, abandoned and humiliated. Jeremiah was my favourite of the prophets (he weeps and he's poetic, what a stud) and a great example of this. In my living for God, in my many prayers proclaiming that I sought to obey Him and that I wanted His will for my life, I never expected that it could look like this. I realised how shallow and naive my prayers had been and how little I knew of what I was signing up for. Through the prophets, I began to walk towards a more genuine and informed declaration of my life for God, trying with His help to be willing for this to look like the life of Jeremiah's if it needs to be.
I find that in Christian circles the term prophet is used quite a lot, usually referring to someone vibrant, passionate and filled with the Holy Spirit. I don't deny that God speaks to people, for this plays an influential part in my own life, but I think that the terms prophet and prophetic have been blurred somewhat. I think God speaks prophetically to people, informing them with content of their future and the future, but I myself don't feel I know many who live like the prophets of the old. As I read Bonhoeffer, I realised that his story reminds me of one of the prophets; his story could quite naturally slot alongside those in the Bible. You see, Bonhoeffer lived with convictions firmly rooted in the Word of God. Surrounded by the masses who celebrated Hitler and his party's promise of restoring the greatness of Germany from the rubble of the Versailles treaty, Bonhoeffer and his family beheld suspicion and discomfort for Hitler's rise to power. When the masses of the German Church succumbed to the political definitions and explanations of Church, led by the Nazi regime, Bonhoeffer stood as part of a Church that clung to God's definitions, being bold to be publicly separated despite national pressures. Bonhoeffer chose to remain in Germany, knowing that it likely would dictate and shorten his lifespan, because of his conviction that he must be part of the Church's resistance of the crimes of the Second World War. He lived selflessly and was an example and encouragement to those around him, even within prison and literally to his dying day. In his example, I'm inspired. To end I'll leave you with a few of his words,
'Silence in the face of evil is evil itself... Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.'
Kona, Hawaii, May 24th 2015 - SPOT THE TRAFFIC
I want to write advice for how to respond to human trafficking.
Did you know that there are more people trapped in human trafficking now than were enslaved in the trans-Atlantic slave trade? Human trafficking is the fastest growing global crime in the world. The UN reports that some trafficking groups are switching their cargo from drugs to human beings in a search of high profits at lower risk. Slavery is still high in demand in our world, today, in our countries and in our cities. Whilst you may not employ a slave yourself, aspects of your lifestyle might depend on it. This is quite a heavy start to a blog post, right? Perhaps you're wondering what right a twenty-something photo student has to get on my blog-shaped soapbox and preach about trafficking. Valid. As ever, I feel keen to speak about issues that make me passionate until someone better comes along.
Honestly, when I hear about trafficking I am paralysed and quite quickly convinced that I can do nothing to help or even to respond. Whilst I've been seeking to learn about this industry for the past five years, my advice for how to respond was maintained as being seemingly weak. Stuff along the lines of prayer and giving - praying for the issues and giving to NGOs that world against the issue. Don't get me wrong, these are great responses and sweet places to start. I've been mulling for weeks about what other advice I'd give to persuade someone to see that there are many ways that they can personally and actively work against the demand of human trafficking. Here goes:
- Research - Human trafficking is hosted and facilitated in every city in our world. What is going on in your city? Researching what the issue looks like in your local area is a great/horrifying/eye-opening place to start. I'm from a relatively white, middle-class city in England (Chester) and through research I learned that the first case of human trafficking found in the UK was in my county, in Cheshire.
- Learn definitions - Knowing what human trafficking is is essential to knowing how to spot it. Whilst there has been a rise in trafficking awareness over the last decade, the focus tilts more towards trafficking for sexual exploitation. Human trafficking targets men, women, boys and girls. It is also in demand for labour, for domestic servitude, for drug transportation, for organs and for many more reasons. What are the highest demands for slavery in your country?
- Keep your eyes peeled - I've learned to hate the phrase ignorance is bliss. Ignorance may be comfortable but it provides the perfect environment to facilitate crime. Look out for hints of trafficking in your area. Are there people working in manual labour that arrive very early in the morning and leave after dark? Is there a house nearby that has a constant stream of guests throughout the day, or that wakes up at night? Is there a building with its blinds constantly closed, or are there surveillance cameras in odd places? Stopthetraffik has a great list of how to notice the subtle signs of trafficking, you can find that list here: www.stopthetraffik.org/spot
- Be observant in school communities - A former trafficker referred to a school ground as a 'buffet,' literally as a place to take your pick of vulnerable teenagers. Ask questions, find out how aware school teachers are about how to notice the signs a pupil will show when they are being groomed towards trafficking.
- Be a friend - Mentor! Be engaged with the youth in your community. Be the person to encourage high self-esteem and to be a positive influence to teens, they are a highly vulnerable age group.
- Volunteer - Are there any local outreach teams, anti-trafficking NGOs or after-care facilities in your local area? Volunteering would naturally enable you to become an expert on the issue in your local area.
- Read - I read a book called Trafficking, written by the first discovered case of a British citizen trafficked out of the UK. It corrected my prejudice of the types of people who are vulnerable to trafficking as well as gave me insight as to what life is like for victims once saved from slavery.
In the past few years I've been to red light districts in India, Thailand, Mongolia, volunteering and learning about the issue. I was challenged to not believe I had to travel so far afield in pursuit of my passion for justice in this area. Within England (when I was home in 2013/14) I began to pray and I began to research. This snowballed into me and a friend finding a brothel in our city which we visited every week. We'd stand outside it, notice the details and small changes, talk to the staff, offer gifts and offer prayer. We observed fervently in suspicion that human trafficking contributed to the functioning of this brothel, eventually contacting a local anti-trafficking organisation who took the research further than we could. The house we'd go to every week was one I'd walked past all my life. I had photos of that street on my phone and had no idea of the businesses that were functioning behind those walls. Learning of that house made Chester uglier to me, and shocked me that I could claim to be passionate about anti-trafficking whilst having my eyes so closed to what was going on around me. Friends, open your eyes.
Did you know that there are more people trapped in human trafficking now than were enslaved in the trans-Atlantic slave trade? Human trafficking is the fastest growing global crime in the world. The UN reports that some trafficking groups are switching their cargo from drugs to human beings in a search of high profits at lower risk. Slavery is still high in demand in our world, today, in our countries and in our cities. Whilst you may not employ a slave yourself, aspects of your lifestyle might depend on it. This is quite a heavy start to a blog post, right? Perhaps you're wondering what right a twenty-something photo student has to get on my blog-shaped soapbox and preach about trafficking. Valid. As ever, I feel keen to speak about issues that make me passionate until someone better comes along.
Honestly, when I hear about trafficking I am paralysed and quite quickly convinced that I can do nothing to help or even to respond. Whilst I've been seeking to learn about this industry for the past five years, my advice for how to respond was maintained as being seemingly weak. Stuff along the lines of prayer and giving - praying for the issues and giving to NGOs that world against the issue. Don't get me wrong, these are great responses and sweet places to start. I've been mulling for weeks about what other advice I'd give to persuade someone to see that there are many ways that they can personally and actively work against the demand of human trafficking. Here goes:
- Research - Human trafficking is hosted and facilitated in every city in our world. What is going on in your city? Researching what the issue looks like in your local area is a great/horrifying/eye-opening place to start. I'm from a relatively white, middle-class city in England (Chester) and through research I learned that the first case of human trafficking found in the UK was in my county, in Cheshire.
- Learn definitions - Knowing what human trafficking is is essential to knowing how to spot it. Whilst there has been a rise in trafficking awareness over the last decade, the focus tilts more towards trafficking for sexual exploitation. Human trafficking targets men, women, boys and girls. It is also in demand for labour, for domestic servitude, for drug transportation, for organs and for many more reasons. What are the highest demands for slavery in your country?
- Keep your eyes peeled - I've learned to hate the phrase ignorance is bliss. Ignorance may be comfortable but it provides the perfect environment to facilitate crime. Look out for hints of trafficking in your area. Are there people working in manual labour that arrive very early in the morning and leave after dark? Is there a house nearby that has a constant stream of guests throughout the day, or that wakes up at night? Is there a building with its blinds constantly closed, or are there surveillance cameras in odd places? Stopthetraffik has a great list of how to notice the subtle signs of trafficking, you can find that list here: www.stopthetraffik.org/spot
- Be observant in school communities - A former trafficker referred to a school ground as a 'buffet,' literally as a place to take your pick of vulnerable teenagers. Ask questions, find out how aware school teachers are about how to notice the signs a pupil will show when they are being groomed towards trafficking.
- Be a friend - Mentor! Be engaged with the youth in your community. Be the person to encourage high self-esteem and to be a positive influence to teens, they are a highly vulnerable age group.
- Volunteer - Are there any local outreach teams, anti-trafficking NGOs or after-care facilities in your local area? Volunteering would naturally enable you to become an expert on the issue in your local area.
- Read - I read a book called Trafficking, written by the first discovered case of a British citizen trafficked out of the UK. It corrected my prejudice of the types of people who are vulnerable to trafficking as well as gave me insight as to what life is like for victims once saved from slavery.
In the past few years I've been to red light districts in India, Thailand, Mongolia, volunteering and learning about the issue. I was challenged to not believe I had to travel so far afield in pursuit of my passion for justice in this area. Within England (when I was home in 2013/14) I began to pray and I began to research. This snowballed into me and a friend finding a brothel in our city which we visited every week. We'd stand outside it, notice the details and small changes, talk to the staff, offer gifts and offer prayer. We observed fervently in suspicion that human trafficking contributed to the functioning of this brothel, eventually contacting a local anti-trafficking organisation who took the research further than we could. The house we'd go to every week was one I'd walked past all my life. I had photos of that street on my phone and had no idea of the businesses that were functioning behind those walls. Learning of that house made Chester uglier to me, and shocked me that I could claim to be passionate about anti-trafficking whilst having my eyes so closed to what was going on around me. Friends, open your eyes.
Kona, Hawaii, May 17th 2015 - FAREWELL ERIC
Over the past week it has been time for us to say bye to Eric. Maybe you're here for the juicy details of why this has happened, and for that I'll leave you disappointed. Instead of painting the picture of why we faithful team of four are becoming a team of three, I want to talk about our last year as a four, as a family; our last year travelling with Eric.
Eric has been a quarter of our Track team for 13 months, being the only male as well as the only American. With him we've travelled, laughed, cried, cooked, prayed and have been collectively jet-lagged. To me he has been, "bro/dude/Derek/Erik Ramuels" and to him we've been E-Doon, Cat and Bethie/missy. We've done assignments together, shot team photo-stories together and coordinated video interviews together. We've watched Bollywood, watched documentaries and watched flight films. We've had many-a movie night, generally choosing one of two extremes: a film similar to Mean Girls, or to Django Unchained. We've been to countries that none of our toes have touched before, and we've been to cities where some of us can show the rest around. We've bumped into friends all over this world and have made friends together along the way. We have diligently recorded team quotes from the last year, mainly a collection of miscalculated thoughts that present themselves in embarrassing and audible statements. I have declared Portugal to be the capital of Spain, Eric has asked about Norway's chocolate vineyards, Idun states 'ELS' instead of 'ESL' (English as a Second Language) and Cat has proclaimed that she doesn't want chocolate, she wants sugar. We have learned each other's strengths and better adjusted to living alongside each other as a collective. Eric will sit in the front seat of our car journeys, revelling in his extravert-ness and enjoying asking questions and meeting somebody new (us girls/the introverts will gratefully sit silently in the back). Cat is the communications queen, she's amazing at finalising details and liaising with contacts from across oceans. Idun is the traveller; the expert, she's backpacked and hostel-ed more than us all and has this peace when she travels that seems to be unfazed by the inevitable complications. I've had some friends along the way that have been really helpful to our team, showering us with cultural pointers, generosity and unnecessary (though very much welcomed) treats.
I think in many ways, as me, Cat and Idun finish the final stretch of this Track (around 6 months to go), we'll be travelling as a team of four that is missing our teammate. Eric is a part of the stories we'll tell just as we are; he was there too, hearing them and recording them through film and photo. He's in our memories, the ones that are hard to relive as well as the ones that demand laughter upon retelling. To each of us, he's still a friend, and with hearts full of love and gratitude, we wish him the best with what he goes on to do.
Eric has been a quarter of our Track team for 13 months, being the only male as well as the only American. With him we've travelled, laughed, cried, cooked, prayed and have been collectively jet-lagged. To me he has been, "bro/dude/Derek/Erik Ramuels" and to him we've been E-Doon, Cat and Bethie/missy. We've done assignments together, shot team photo-stories together and coordinated video interviews together. We've watched Bollywood, watched documentaries and watched flight films. We've had many-a movie night, generally choosing one of two extremes: a film similar to Mean Girls, or to Django Unchained. We've been to countries that none of our toes have touched before, and we've been to cities where some of us can show the rest around. We've bumped into friends all over this world and have made friends together along the way. We have diligently recorded team quotes from the last year, mainly a collection of miscalculated thoughts that present themselves in embarrassing and audible statements. I have declared Portugal to be the capital of Spain, Eric has asked about Norway's chocolate vineyards, Idun states 'ELS' instead of 'ESL' (English as a Second Language) and Cat has proclaimed that she doesn't want chocolate, she wants sugar. We have learned each other's strengths and better adjusted to living alongside each other as a collective. Eric will sit in the front seat of our car journeys, revelling in his extravert-ness and enjoying asking questions and meeting somebody new (us girls/the introverts will gratefully sit silently in the back). Cat is the communications queen, she's amazing at finalising details and liaising with contacts from across oceans. Idun is the traveller; the expert, she's backpacked and hostel-ed more than us all and has this peace when she travels that seems to be unfazed by the inevitable complications. I've had some friends along the way that have been really helpful to our team, showering us with cultural pointers, generosity and unnecessary (though very much welcomed) treats.
I think in many ways, as me, Cat and Idun finish the final stretch of this Track (around 6 months to go), we'll be travelling as a team of four that is missing our teammate. Eric is a part of the stories we'll tell just as we are; he was there too, hearing them and recording them through film and photo. He's in our memories, the ones that are hard to relive as well as the ones that demand laughter upon retelling. To each of us, he's still a friend, and with hearts full of love and gratitude, we wish him the best with what he goes on to do.
Kona, Hawaii, May 10th 2015 - PUBLIC SPEAKING
For two weeks our class times have been filled with all things related to public speaking. I wonder what response this topic provokes in you? A slight shudder? An embarrassing memory? The pull towards a tempting challenge? Some people confess that they would much rather die than stand before a crowd of faces with a microphone in hand. When I was introduced to God properly and began to excitedly live for Him, around my mid-teens, I heard some teaching about needing to burst out of our comfort zones. I decided that I would embrace opportunities that I didn't want to do, more rather that scared me, in order to persuade my comfort zone to be a little less dictating. This meant saying yes to opportunities to speak in public, to sharing testimonies at Church or doing small teachings on my travels. I eventually started to really enjoy the opportunities I'd get to speak. I'd start to search them out a little bit more. I'd joke that I liked having a microphone in my hand. When I was younger I remember hating not feeling listened to, and naturally now I quite like different platforms I get to share and to be heard.
Don't let me fool you, I did not ace our Public Speaking class by any means. I found that in ways I may have got a little bit worse, although I hear that that's okay and will free me to get better, some day. Over two weeks we covered the content that would fill a term in university. We daily had speeches to prepare and present and we each improved in the ten days of class that we had. Twice I read President Bush's 9/11 speech, my team finding it oh so hilarious to hear me say, "And God bless America." I wrote a speech about a person of inspiration, sharing my thoughts on Mandela and how he allowed himself to be influenced by the indignities that surrounded him. For an informative speech I spoke about Christian disciplines (prayer, Bible reading and such) and looked at why we are asked to do them. We had two impromptu speeches where we picked topics out of a hat and had three minutes to prepare a three minute speech - that one was perhaps the most fun as well as nerve-wracking. I spoke on 'dressing culturally appropriate' and 'forests.' For our final project we did a half-hour presentation on refugees as a team. We were rather mortified to see more than three people show up, but grateful for an opportunity to share stories from some of the refugees that we have met in the last year.
As a kid I remember, whenever I had to read something aloud in public, I'd be told by masses of adults the same advice: speak slowly. It turns out, public speaking is a bit more that that. We have learned about four ways that we use can our voices deliberately: altering the pace of our speech, changing up the tones, speaking in different volumes to emphasise our point and using choice words. We too learned that 90% of speech isn't actually contained in our words but rather in our body language, speaking of gestures, posture, attire, facial expressions, eye contact and our movement within the space that we have. We filmed ourselves speaking and deliberately noticed our (bad) habits as speakers. Me, I'm a swayer, I get shaky hands and I'll wander quite a lot all over the place.
Honestly, these weeks have been a lot of fun (albeit embarrassing too). As a team I think we are so much more prepared for our tour. For two months, to end our school, we'll tour together and host events to raise awareness about refugees. This week it feels like we've been given a tool kit to use when we prepare our talks and messages, and for that I'm really grateful.
Don't let me fool you, I did not ace our Public Speaking class by any means. I found that in ways I may have got a little bit worse, although I hear that that's okay and will free me to get better, some day. Over two weeks we covered the content that would fill a term in university. We daily had speeches to prepare and present and we each improved in the ten days of class that we had. Twice I read President Bush's 9/11 speech, my team finding it oh so hilarious to hear me say, "And God bless America." I wrote a speech about a person of inspiration, sharing my thoughts on Mandela and how he allowed himself to be influenced by the indignities that surrounded him. For an informative speech I spoke about Christian disciplines (prayer, Bible reading and such) and looked at why we are asked to do them. We had two impromptu speeches where we picked topics out of a hat and had three minutes to prepare a three minute speech - that one was perhaps the most fun as well as nerve-wracking. I spoke on 'dressing culturally appropriate' and 'forests.' For our final project we did a half-hour presentation on refugees as a team. We were rather mortified to see more than three people show up, but grateful for an opportunity to share stories from some of the refugees that we have met in the last year.
As a kid I remember, whenever I had to read something aloud in public, I'd be told by masses of adults the same advice: speak slowly. It turns out, public speaking is a bit more that that. We have learned about four ways that we use can our voices deliberately: altering the pace of our speech, changing up the tones, speaking in different volumes to emphasise our point and using choice words. We too learned that 90% of speech isn't actually contained in our words but rather in our body language, speaking of gestures, posture, attire, facial expressions, eye contact and our movement within the space that we have. We filmed ourselves speaking and deliberately noticed our (bad) habits as speakers. Me, I'm a swayer, I get shaky hands and I'll wander quite a lot all over the place.
Honestly, these weeks have been a lot of fun (albeit embarrassing too). As a team I think we are so much more prepared for our tour. For two months, to end our school, we'll tour together and host events to raise awareness about refugees. This week it feels like we've been given a tool kit to use when we prepare our talks and messages, and for that I'm really grateful.
Kona, Hawaii, April 26th 2015 - PAYING FOR THIS TRACK
One of the most recurring questions we Track students are asked is how we are paying for this school. Usually, upon describing the around the world nature of Track, someone jokes saying, "Gosh that sounds expensive!" and we nod along with wide eyes and serious faces. Today I want to take the time to address that question to this larger audience, mainly because my answer is not a secret. I think my being here on this Track after a year of fees and flights is no short of a miracle, and surely a tale worth telling.
First things first, my wee team of four are all funding our Track slightly differently. We cover the spectrum of living from savings, to living from savings and additional support, to living from support alone and to living by faith and seeing the money come in quarter by quarter. I like that we all have different financial versions of this Track. I like that God is helping us along in individual, tailor-made ways. I like that faith looks differently for each of us, and that we each learn from the challenges of figuring out budgeting money for a 21 month stretch.
For me, I pay for these travels from a combination of money that I saved (I worked for about a year and a half pulling pints in a pub) as well as money that is given to me monthly by regular givers. In Christian circles we call this 'support,' and to non-Christians I describe this as being sponsored. In honesty, I have no idea if this combined flow of money will be enough to tide me over until the end of Track. Frankly, I think God's cool without me knowing. What I do know is that God has been so faithful to me in the past, that I've been able to do dauntingly priced things because He has always provided. He's good at that, and I know that He values me finishing what I've started. Something that I find both humbling and praise evoking is when I think back to life before Track. This school seemed like the most ridiculously impossible school to prepare for, mainly financially. It was almost comical telling people how much it costed, and I'd say that generally people responded without knowing how I/God would pull this off. How good is He that I've been able to pay for 13 months of studies and travel, 40 flights down the line!
My supporters are like my family. They're a group of people who know me well and who are unified in spurring me on within God's will. Last time I was in Hawaii (2012) God first told me that He would provide for me through supporters in the future. It was sure easier to listen to and agree with than to actually put into practice. I hosted a 'vision' evening where I invited friends and the curious to come and hear what I'm about. The fact that people even came was a big deal to me. I told my story of gaining passion for justice in the sex trade and described as best I could why I felt God wanted me to study photography and advocacy. Prayerfully, families and individuals committed to giving me varying amounts, the most common being on a monthly basis. For me, this family of supporters isn't full of financial figures, it is full of people who are impressively committed to me, who see something in me worth investing in and who are examples to me of faithfulness and generosity. I can't begin to enunciate how special it has been on this Track to know that I'm not doing it alone. There have been quiet moments in foreign corners of the world that I have felt weary and the encouragement of the presence of my supporters has motivated me. It continuously reminds me that there are reasons bigger than me for my being on this school.
First things first, my wee team of four are all funding our Track slightly differently. We cover the spectrum of living from savings, to living from savings and additional support, to living from support alone and to living by faith and seeing the money come in quarter by quarter. I like that we all have different financial versions of this Track. I like that God is helping us along in individual, tailor-made ways. I like that faith looks differently for each of us, and that we each learn from the challenges of figuring out budgeting money for a 21 month stretch.
For me, I pay for these travels from a combination of money that I saved (I worked for about a year and a half pulling pints in a pub) as well as money that is given to me monthly by regular givers. In Christian circles we call this 'support,' and to non-Christians I describe this as being sponsored. In honesty, I have no idea if this combined flow of money will be enough to tide me over until the end of Track. Frankly, I think God's cool without me knowing. What I do know is that God has been so faithful to me in the past, that I've been able to do dauntingly priced things because He has always provided. He's good at that, and I know that He values me finishing what I've started. Something that I find both humbling and praise evoking is when I think back to life before Track. This school seemed like the most ridiculously impossible school to prepare for, mainly financially. It was almost comical telling people how much it costed, and I'd say that generally people responded without knowing how I/God would pull this off. How good is He that I've been able to pay for 13 months of studies and travel, 40 flights down the line!
My supporters are like my family. They're a group of people who know me well and who are unified in spurring me on within God's will. Last time I was in Hawaii (2012) God first told me that He would provide for me through supporters in the future. It was sure easier to listen to and agree with than to actually put into practice. I hosted a 'vision' evening where I invited friends and the curious to come and hear what I'm about. The fact that people even came was a big deal to me. I told my story of gaining passion for justice in the sex trade and described as best I could why I felt God wanted me to study photography and advocacy. Prayerfully, families and individuals committed to giving me varying amounts, the most common being on a monthly basis. For me, this family of supporters isn't full of financial figures, it is full of people who are impressively committed to me, who see something in me worth investing in and who are examples to me of faithfulness and generosity. I can't begin to enunciate how special it has been on this Track to know that I'm not doing it alone. There have been quiet moments in foreign corners of the world that I have felt weary and the encouragement of the presence of my supporters has motivated me. It continuously reminds me that there are reasons bigger than me for my being on this school.
Kona, Hawaii, April 19th 2015 - IDENTITY // WHO AM I?
This week we've spent all our class time talking about identity. We mused that small-talk introductions are usually filled with asking people where they're from and what they do. The thing is, some people don't enjoy what they do, and some people don't identify with where they're from. We give people quite a limiting opportunity to present themselves via these classic questions. How about asking people what they're interested in or what they're passionate about, allowing that to characterise them. It's got me thinking about what people put their identity in. For Christians, we can look at it like having a primary and secondary identity - our primary one being what God says about us (we're accepted, loved, forgiven...) and our secondary one being titles like mother, wife, journalist etc; the things that make each of us different. Life has such a capacity to surprise us with unexpected and uncomfortable turns. Using the above examples, a mother can experience the loss of her children, a wife can become a widow and a journalist can become somebody unemployed. An understanding and confidence in our primary identity will allow us to stand less shaken when our labels inevitably change. Regardless of what life throws at us, we are still redeemed by Christ, adopted into His family, we still come under His entity and we still are inheritors in the Kingdom of God.
When it comes to 'secondary' identity stuff, I'm such a wriggler. It feels more comfortable to disagree with labels, particularly the affirming ones, because I fear I'll disappoint high expectations of me. I've become a bit of a shrugger, even in regards to things that I inwardly affiliate myself with. I like art, but won't call myself an artist. I like writing, but I won't refer to myself a writer. Most days out of the past year I've worn my camera like a necklace, but I still don't feel like a photographer. Frankly, enough is enough right? I aspire to grow in confidence of how I'm made, being self-aware as well as knowing that all credit goes to the Maker, it's not really my place to boast nor feel prideful. Who wants to write to me in six months and ask me how it's going?
For now, here's a little bit about myself:
I'm one of those people who loves studying. In some capacity or another, I hope to study this whole life of mine.
I'm built to long for justice. I can't imagine a life for me that doesn't heavily lean towards pursuing justice for others.
Something in me always sides towards mercy for other people, much rather than them getting what they deserve. I'm a real rooter of the underdog.
I grew up in a Christian family and pretty familiar with God, although for the most-part of my life I was under the impression that God didn't need me nor want to use me in His plans. When I learnt that I was wrong (so wrong), I was filled with such a immense joy and gratitude that kind of never ran out. I still credit the passion I have for serving God down to this.
I get really passionate about things. I'm quite an excitable person and I think both of these help me feel satisfied with life.
I cry a lot.
I really enjoy nature. Sometimes I wonder if it makes me a bit weird, and perhaps it does, but most days are made better because I notice a small bright flower, or I feel the cool breeze, or I see a sunbeam interrupt a line of clouds.
I play left-handed guitar/ukulele despite being right-handed. It might be because I broke my right arm when I was younger, who knows.
I love to sing. I'll wake up with a song in my head, and most of the time when I walk by myself I'll be singing to myself.
I was born in England to a Welsh mum and a Dutch dad. I'm still not completely certain what that makes me, although I do think it influenced me to not feeling overly rooted to England. I blame my current and previous travels on the latter.
I think I'm a good writer. I think God gave me love for linguistics, for reading and for speech. I know I have more to learn, but I adore how I feel free and unbound when I write.
I'm not a foody. Sometimes I reluctantly eat and sometimes I'd rather skip a meal if it means spending the money on some other adventure. Or on sweets.
The more I have travelled, the less I can picture where I will live in the future. I couldn't even guess the continent right now.
When it comes to 'secondary' identity stuff, I'm such a wriggler. It feels more comfortable to disagree with labels, particularly the affirming ones, because I fear I'll disappoint high expectations of me. I've become a bit of a shrugger, even in regards to things that I inwardly affiliate myself with. I like art, but won't call myself an artist. I like writing, but I won't refer to myself a writer. Most days out of the past year I've worn my camera like a necklace, but I still don't feel like a photographer. Frankly, enough is enough right? I aspire to grow in confidence of how I'm made, being self-aware as well as knowing that all credit goes to the Maker, it's not really my place to boast nor feel prideful. Who wants to write to me in six months and ask me how it's going?
For now, here's a little bit about myself:
I'm one of those people who loves studying. In some capacity or another, I hope to study this whole life of mine.
I'm built to long for justice. I can't imagine a life for me that doesn't heavily lean towards pursuing justice for others.
Something in me always sides towards mercy for other people, much rather than them getting what they deserve. I'm a real rooter of the underdog.
I grew up in a Christian family and pretty familiar with God, although for the most-part of my life I was under the impression that God didn't need me nor want to use me in His plans. When I learnt that I was wrong (so wrong), I was filled with such a immense joy and gratitude that kind of never ran out. I still credit the passion I have for serving God down to this.
I get really passionate about things. I'm quite an excitable person and I think both of these help me feel satisfied with life.
I cry a lot.
I really enjoy nature. Sometimes I wonder if it makes me a bit weird, and perhaps it does, but most days are made better because I notice a small bright flower, or I feel the cool breeze, or I see a sunbeam interrupt a line of clouds.
I play left-handed guitar/ukulele despite being right-handed. It might be because I broke my right arm when I was younger, who knows.
I love to sing. I'll wake up with a song in my head, and most of the time when I walk by myself I'll be singing to myself.
I was born in England to a Welsh mum and a Dutch dad. I'm still not completely certain what that makes me, although I do think it influenced me to not feeling overly rooted to England. I blame my current and previous travels on the latter.
I think I'm a good writer. I think God gave me love for linguistics, for reading and for speech. I know I have more to learn, but I adore how I feel free and unbound when I write.
I'm not a foody. Sometimes I reluctantly eat and sometimes I'd rather skip a meal if it means spending the money on some other adventure. Or on sweets.
The more I have travelled, the less I can picture where I will live in the future. I couldn't even guess the continent right now.
Kona, Hawaii, April 11th 2015 - PEOPLE AND PLACES
Oh my, I'm back in Hawaii! Big Island (Hawaii's closest island to America's west coast) was my home for nine months in 2011/2012, it was where I turned 21. Now, my travelling school has settled (somewhat) as we enter half a year of being taught and guided on topics relating to advocacy. This first week we have studied God as a Communicator. Now, I write from a posture of slight disbelief and continuous joy at the fact that I am back here.
Most of my memories of Hawaii, through the years, have simmered down to being ones of the island's geography, of the exploring did and the adventures had. Last time this place provided a faithful supply of fun to allow rest from days filled with study. I remember Big Island like a play ground, a place where our lack of money didn't stop us from hitchhiking from beach to beach. I remembered the flat tires, the hikes where we got lost, the sunsets, the sunrises, the sunburn, the pool parties, the road trips, the McDonalds runs, the cliff jumping, the cramming into car boots with mutual desire to go to the beach at the cost of comfort. Being back here, specifically back on campus, I have been reminded of something more. I'm reminded of the times I was exposed to God here.
Perhaps there's a lesson in this for me to be more faithful to remember the works that God has done. An immediate response I muster is that there are too many; He has been so committed to working on me as I permit Him, how could I keep count? My favourite part of being here so far, more than catching up for friends that I thoroughly love, has been to be reminded of the lessons God had me working on when I was last here. For me, this place is drenched with memories of God's goodness. I can pass the physical place where I stood and heard God tell me about a photography school that would take me around the world. There's a plaque reading 'Mongolia' that I once wandered mindlessly to and felt that God wanted me to go. There's the room where I would study the Bible as the sun rose, daily distracted by the scene before me. I am reminded that those years ago God answered my desire (my pestering Him) to understand Scripture and exposed me to knowing Him in a way that I hadn't gained in my first 20 years. Through the Bible, this was the place that I was first properly introduced to God. I fell in love with Him in a way that I could explain and I grew in confidence in the different aspects of His character.
And so, whilst I spend no time denying that it is good to be back here because of the island's promise of beach, beauty and adventure, so far it has been most fun to be reminded of God here.
Most of my memories of Hawaii, through the years, have simmered down to being ones of the island's geography, of the exploring did and the adventures had. Last time this place provided a faithful supply of fun to allow rest from days filled with study. I remember Big Island like a play ground, a place where our lack of money didn't stop us from hitchhiking from beach to beach. I remembered the flat tires, the hikes where we got lost, the sunsets, the sunrises, the sunburn, the pool parties, the road trips, the McDonalds runs, the cliff jumping, the cramming into car boots with mutual desire to go to the beach at the cost of comfort. Being back here, specifically back on campus, I have been reminded of something more. I'm reminded of the times I was exposed to God here.
Perhaps there's a lesson in this for me to be more faithful to remember the works that God has done. An immediate response I muster is that there are too many; He has been so committed to working on me as I permit Him, how could I keep count? My favourite part of being here so far, more than catching up for friends that I thoroughly love, has been to be reminded of the lessons God had me working on when I was last here. For me, this place is drenched with memories of God's goodness. I can pass the physical place where I stood and heard God tell me about a photography school that would take me around the world. There's a plaque reading 'Mongolia' that I once wandered mindlessly to and felt that God wanted me to go. There's the room where I would study the Bible as the sun rose, daily distracted by the scene before me. I am reminded that those years ago God answered my desire (my pestering Him) to understand Scripture and exposed me to knowing Him in a way that I hadn't gained in my first 20 years. Through the Bible, this was the place that I was first properly introduced to God. I fell in love with Him in a way that I could explain and I grew in confidence in the different aspects of His character.
And so, whilst I spend no time denying that it is good to be back here because of the island's promise of beach, beauty and adventure, so far it has been most fun to be reminded of God here.
Willemstad, Curacao, April 3rd 2015 - THE ONE YEAR COUNT
Today I am writing to you from within one of our quarterly breaks where I am hiding on a small Caribbean island called Curaçao.
April 3rd is officially the Track’s one year anniversary - 365 days ago I flew to Canada embarking on an adventure I was both desperate for and could barely picture. As we've travelled we have all been keeping tallies of the random and repetitive parts of our backpacking routines. Here, after one year of Track, is
where my stats are up to so far…
Total Track countries: 19
Total flights: 36
Total airports: 33
Total times packing: 36
Total beds: 36
Total flights nearly missed: 3
Total time spent flying: 154 hours (a little over six days)
Total time spent in layovers: 90 hours (a little under four days)
Total photos taken (and kept): 11,892
Different types of transport: 24
Car, taxi, bus, sleeper bus, mini bus, airport shuttle, motorbike, moped, bike, plane, train/sky train/metro, tour train, tram, ferry/speedboat, tuk-tuk, auto-rickshaw, rickshaw with bike, songtow, sherut, matatu, safari van, cable car, elephant, camel
Times our transport has got a flat tire: 3
Total lost luggage: 1
Items stolen: 0
Items lost: lens cap, tweezers, soap, pita bread, two scarfs
Items I've regretted packing: emergency blanket, rain jacket, key rings, five pairs of shoes
Traveller’s Rites of Passage (Track experiences that make me feel like I qualify as a traveller)
Head lice, Delhi belly, mice in my bed, ants crawling out my keyboard, water and electricity shortages, packing on the day of a flight, hotel losing our booking and rearranging our stay elsewhere, staying in a hostel’s mixed-dorm, hearing a dorm-mate sleep-talk in a different language, crossing the border for a day, buying a flight I didn’t use, taking liquids through customs, waiting with the cabin crew at our gate, watching my bag get thrown into the plane’s cabin, sitting in the exit seat on a plane, lost luggage, having someone wait at the airport with my name written on paper
Things That I’ve Gotten Used To (things that, at some point on Track, felt very normal)
Not flushing toilet paper, not drinking from the taps, not drinking out of a glass, drinking water from the bathroom tap, not unpacking properly, never standing on carpet, not wearing socks, not locking our room door, sleeping in a sleeping bag, sleeping with the light on, sleeping with an eye-mask on, not using a pillow, reading words spelt with American English, fifteen minutes of daily wifi allowance, sharing one adapter between three people,
wearing bug-repellant every day, water shortages, power cuts
April 3rd is officially the Track’s one year anniversary - 365 days ago I flew to Canada embarking on an adventure I was both desperate for and could barely picture. As we've travelled we have all been keeping tallies of the random and repetitive parts of our backpacking routines. Here, after one year of Track, is
where my stats are up to so far…
Total Track countries: 19
Total flights: 36
Total airports: 33
Total times packing: 36
Total beds: 36
Total flights nearly missed: 3
Total time spent flying: 154 hours (a little over six days)
Total time spent in layovers: 90 hours (a little under four days)
Total photos taken (and kept): 11,892
Different types of transport: 24
Car, taxi, bus, sleeper bus, mini bus, airport shuttle, motorbike, moped, bike, plane, train/sky train/metro, tour train, tram, ferry/speedboat, tuk-tuk, auto-rickshaw, rickshaw with bike, songtow, sherut, matatu, safari van, cable car, elephant, camel
Times our transport has got a flat tire: 3
Total lost luggage: 1
Items stolen: 0
Items lost: lens cap, tweezers, soap, pita bread, two scarfs
Items I've regretted packing: emergency blanket, rain jacket, key rings, five pairs of shoes
Traveller’s Rites of Passage (Track experiences that make me feel like I qualify as a traveller)
Head lice, Delhi belly, mice in my bed, ants crawling out my keyboard, water and electricity shortages, packing on the day of a flight, hotel losing our booking and rearranging our stay elsewhere, staying in a hostel’s mixed-dorm, hearing a dorm-mate sleep-talk in a different language, crossing the border for a day, buying a flight I didn’t use, taking liquids through customs, waiting with the cabin crew at our gate, watching my bag get thrown into the plane’s cabin, sitting in the exit seat on a plane, lost luggage, having someone wait at the airport with my name written on paper
Things That I’ve Gotten Used To (things that, at some point on Track, felt very normal)
Not flushing toilet paper, not drinking from the taps, not drinking out of a glass, drinking water from the bathroom tap, not unpacking properly, never standing on carpet, not wearing socks, not locking our room door, sleeping in a sleeping bag, sleeping with the light on, sleeping with an eye-mask on, not using a pillow, reading words spelt with American English, fifteen minutes of daily wifi allowance, sharing one adapter between three people,
wearing bug-repellant every day, water shortages, power cuts
Santa Cruz, Bolivia, March 20th 2015 - IN THIS CONTINENT
2015, I like you. This year I have been formerly introduced for the first time to the Southern Hemisphere, to Africa and to South America. Since my mid-teens I've been dreaming of going to both of these continents, and yet instead I have been perpetually placed on teams heading to Asia. With the desire to greet Africa, to explore Kenya, to see the Amazon and to venture to Ecuador, instead I've gone to India, Thailand, Mongolia, South Korea, Cambodia, Myanmar, Vietnam, Israel, Palestine, Jordan and India and Thailand again. Don't get me wrong, boy do I love Asia. There are some ways that I feel more at home in Asian cultures than I've come across before. I love how they prioritise honour, hospitality, generosity and celebration. Someone mentioned to me once that maybe God has been taking me to Asia before I wind up in another country that I fall in love with and don't want to leave. Rather unhelpfully, I haven't yet disliked a country I've been to. Each one I have left vowing/pleading/planning to return when I next get the opportunity. These last few weeks have allowed me to see Paraguay, Argentina, Brazil and, now, Bolivia. They are no exception.
We have spent two weeks in Paraguay already and now we're in our final two weeks of volunteering in Bolivia. I'd love to paint a picture for you of how our time has been/is being spent. In Paraguay we arrived in the capital, Asuncion, where we spent a few days before bussing East to the Paraguay/Brazil border. There we lived in one of my favourite places so far: with a community of 200 Ache people, one of Paraguay's remaining indigenous groups (numbering 2000 in total). Their story is one I'm excited to share as a part of this Track's final product. In short, they have a history of being captured, sold and displaced. Their rainforest land no longer exists as it was destroyed and portions were sold to Brazilian farmers. Now, the tribe still communally adjusts to life without the rainforest. We lived in a wooden cabin, daily having the Ache kids hang out, re-tune our ukuleles and come swim in the river with us. We took photos and video of an Ache school for our missionary contacts. We wandered around the village and met members of the tribe, feeling particularly honoured to meet the older generation who were from the days of living in the forest. Our final days in Paraguay were spent in its second biggest city, Ciudad del Este. There we stayed at a YWAM base with the family of my good friend, Arlette, who I roomed and studied with in Hawaii in 2012. We were welcomed and spoiled by their family, truly. We also squeezed in a day trip to Argentina and to Iguazu Falls, one of the natural wonders of the world.
In Bolivia we are spending our whole time in Santa Cruz, working with a YWAM ministry called Operation Restoration. Here, too, we have felt so welcomed. The house we're staying in has small details that I've learned to highly value the more we travel: fans, mosquito grates on the windows, tap-water we can drink and a laundry machine. Operation Restoration provides homes for the street children of Bolivia - South America's poorest country. They have a girl's home and a boy's home and provide a place to live and the means for the kids to go through High School and University - we've been really impressed with the standard of life that these kids have. We're splitting our time between these two homes, taking photos for the ministry to blog with and to send to supporters. So far it has been a lot of fun to hang out with the girls, to play with two of the toddlers/children there and to help out with chores.
Classically, our next few weeks host a new batch of change (a break-week before moving to Hawaii) but it's encouraging to still be enjoying Track at this point; to not feel burnt out and to still love the family that I'm travelling with.
We have spent two weeks in Paraguay already and now we're in our final two weeks of volunteering in Bolivia. I'd love to paint a picture for you of how our time has been/is being spent. In Paraguay we arrived in the capital, Asuncion, where we spent a few days before bussing East to the Paraguay/Brazil border. There we lived in one of my favourite places so far: with a community of 200 Ache people, one of Paraguay's remaining indigenous groups (numbering 2000 in total). Their story is one I'm excited to share as a part of this Track's final product. In short, they have a history of being captured, sold and displaced. Their rainforest land no longer exists as it was destroyed and portions were sold to Brazilian farmers. Now, the tribe still communally adjusts to life without the rainforest. We lived in a wooden cabin, daily having the Ache kids hang out, re-tune our ukuleles and come swim in the river with us. We took photos and video of an Ache school for our missionary contacts. We wandered around the village and met members of the tribe, feeling particularly honoured to meet the older generation who were from the days of living in the forest. Our final days in Paraguay were spent in its second biggest city, Ciudad del Este. There we stayed at a YWAM base with the family of my good friend, Arlette, who I roomed and studied with in Hawaii in 2012. We were welcomed and spoiled by their family, truly. We also squeezed in a day trip to Argentina and to Iguazu Falls, one of the natural wonders of the world.
In Bolivia we are spending our whole time in Santa Cruz, working with a YWAM ministry called Operation Restoration. Here, too, we have felt so welcomed. The house we're staying in has small details that I've learned to highly value the more we travel: fans, mosquito grates on the windows, tap-water we can drink and a laundry machine. Operation Restoration provides homes for the street children of Bolivia - South America's poorest country. They have a girl's home and a boy's home and provide a place to live and the means for the kids to go through High School and University - we've been really impressed with the standard of life that these kids have. We're splitting our time between these two homes, taking photos for the ministry to blog with and to send to supporters. So far it has been a lot of fun to hang out with the girls, to play with two of the toddlers/children there and to help out with chores.
Classically, our next few weeks host a new batch of change (a break-week before moving to Hawaii) but it's encouraging to still be enjoying Track at this point; to not feel burnt out and to still love the family that I'm travelling with.
Ciudad del Este, Paraguay, March 9th 2015 - PARAGUAY IN A PARAGRAPH
Team times, Track reunions, jet-lag, movie nights, surprise parties, night buses, Western Paraguay, Eastern Paraguay, rural life, tribal living, broken English, Spanish attempts, washing-lines, washing dishes, dirt dyed feet, thunder storms, four wheel drive, starry nights, moon gazing, power cuts, electric fans, fresh honey, good coffee, local beer, mate tea, sugarcane snacks, French toast, French braiding, no-bakes, left-overs, river dips, ukulele loaning, kids' company, bumpy roads, humid days, exotic bites, wasp stings, ants on my pillow, ants on my laptop, ants on our bread, bathroom toads, roosters crowing, dog fights, dog threats, early mornings, Ache Church, best week.
Nairobi, Kenya, February 24th 2015 - THIS WILD MONTH
I’m writing to you on the cusp of leaving Kenya. Would it be too soon to call it my home from home? As this solo-outreach comes to an end, my team are meeting together for our final month of gathering stories, photos and footage relevant to our displacement vision. We head to South America for two weeks in Paraguay and two weeks in Bolivia. After then we have a six month internship gathering together all we’ve collected and making something beautiful out of it.
I fly from Nairobi slightly reluctant to leave. This month has been liberating, adventurous, worthwhile, encouraging, heartbreaking and eye opening. This month has included exploring, night buses, power cuts, water shortages, French toast, photo shoots, new people and a safari. Contrary to my expectation to only see Nairobi, I’ve had the opportunity to go with friends to Maasai Mara, to the coast and to Mombasa.
Whilst here I have written articles for HAART, photographed trafficking awareness and victim’s support workshops, edited more photos than I can count and modified artist biographies (including my own) for Arts to End Slavery (A2ES). I have met victims of trafficking and heard stories that silence me. I have interviewed a lady from a tribal minority that is treated as a refugee and not as a Kenyan national. I’ve learned more about the slums here, visiting three, and how they host land loss issues and displacement.
One of my most memorable opportunities has been to contribute a piece of art for the A2ES exhibition alongside thirty other professional artists. Each artist is freed to create a piece according to their own style, communicating three trafficking elements: recruitment, transit and exploitation. My own piece is a series of eight photos titled The Tools of Male Slavery. A consequence of creating this piece, as well as interning for HAART, has been that I am often referred to as an artist or a photographer. In reality, habit has taught me to identify with neither titles. This tendency has been challenged and I’ve been constantly encouraged in my creativity by those around me here. It’s revived me.
I fly from Nairobi slightly reluctant to leave. This month has been liberating, adventurous, worthwhile, encouraging, heartbreaking and eye opening. This month has included exploring, night buses, power cuts, water shortages, French toast, photo shoots, new people and a safari. Contrary to my expectation to only see Nairobi, I’ve had the opportunity to go with friends to Maasai Mara, to the coast and to Mombasa.
Whilst here I have written articles for HAART, photographed trafficking awareness and victim’s support workshops, edited more photos than I can count and modified artist biographies (including my own) for Arts to End Slavery (A2ES). I have met victims of trafficking and heard stories that silence me. I have interviewed a lady from a tribal minority that is treated as a refugee and not as a Kenyan national. I’ve learned more about the slums here, visiting three, and how they host land loss issues and displacement.
One of my most memorable opportunities has been to contribute a piece of art for the A2ES exhibition alongside thirty other professional artists. Each artist is freed to create a piece according to their own style, communicating three trafficking elements: recruitment, transit and exploitation. My own piece is a series of eight photos titled The Tools of Male Slavery. A consequence of creating this piece, as well as interning for HAART, has been that I am often referred to as an artist or a photographer. In reality, habit has taught me to identify with neither titles. This tendency has been challenged and I’ve been constantly encouraged in my creativity by those around me here. It’s revived me.
Nairobi, Kenya, February 19th 2015 - THIS UGLY GIANT
I want to write about why I hate human trafficking. Dear friends, I don't profess to be the best person to share definitions and statistics, actually this last month has taught me that much of what I understood about trafficking was biased or incomplete, but as ever on this blog, I'm happy to speak up until somebody more eligible does.
For me, the trade of humans and the sexual exploitation industry went hand in hand. Whenever I referred to my specific passions for justice, I would refer to these two things simultaneously: trafficking and prostitution. A result was that my own awareness of trafficking began to get quite specific, my ears only perking when issues regarding prostitution were discussed. I've been happy to see that I am no alone in a growing uneasiness with modern day slavery (a term given to human trafficking) and notice momentum amongst other people around me too regarding the desire to see justice. Whilst women and young girls are targeted for this accelerating industry, so are men and young boys. The trafficking of humans has many outlets, the sex industry being just one of them. Another, potentially the most common demand in Kenya, is trafficking for labour. This includes domestic work, farming, fishing and construction. Classic characteristics are inhumane working hours, little to no pay and a lack of safety in the workplace. Another form of trafficking is for the gaining of organs. Often, the victims don't survive the procedures involved. Some organs stolen are corruptly siphoned into hospitals and to specific people in need. There too are myths that albino body parts bring an assortment of healing, including the healing of AIDS, thus making albinos vulnerable to being targeted for organ trafficking. Every part of their body is valuable to a witch doctor. Whilst these are the three main groups of trafficking, there's a collection we'll call 'miscellaneous.' This includes child marriage, recruitment for carrying drugs or arms, recruitment for forced crime, recruitment for gangs, and child soldiers. Whilst I am volunteering for HAART (haartkenya.org) I have been given the opportunity to contribute an art piece that explains a certain aspect of trafficking. Liberated to be passionate about more than just freedom for women in prostitution, I have chosen to focus on men that are trafficked.
So, why to hate human trafficking? There are many factors that permit and encourage the continuation of the trade of humans, and the trafficking industry feeds and thrives from an array of components: lack of awareness, poverty and desperation. What angers me is that you don't need all three of these factors to be vulnerable to trafficking. In fact, you can have awareness of the risks of trafficking; the risks of accepting a promising international job opportunity (although trafficking is not always across borders; it can be just across the street), but if you are hungry and have no means to survive day to day, declining any offer of work is a luxury. It was brought to my attention that, for some, trafficking might actually be an improvement to their state of life. If there is a child working all day for their family and has no food, a trafficking job might just provide food alongside the gruelling labour it demands. The phrase between a rock and a hard place hauntingly comes to mind. Whilst trafficking can be as black and white as somebody being kidnapped, more often there is relationship that involves a complete abuse of trust. I've been surprised to hear of people who were trafficked by their grandparent and by their childhood friend. Which leads me to share something new that I've learned: anybody can be trafficked. I naively picture this niche group, subconsciously demeaning those trafficked to surely be foolish or impulsive. In working with HAART I've met recovering/freed victims of trafficking and have felt surprised at the diversity of the people recruited. Some men, some women, some well educated, some fluent in English, some with degrees.
Finally, the lack of risk for traffickers (corruption, manipulation and threat all contribute to very few traffickers being reported and charged) compared to the financial gain is a pretty unbalanced scale. Trafficking can involve a network of people (although not exclusively) that each take care of small details: building relationships, the forgery of identification documents, driving transit vehicles, corrupt border officials. My fear is that in and of themselves these jobs don't provoke a feeling of great responsibility or guilt and thus there are many people facilitating the fluid functioning of trafficking with little exposure to its devastating consequences.
For me, the trade of humans and the sexual exploitation industry went hand in hand. Whenever I referred to my specific passions for justice, I would refer to these two things simultaneously: trafficking and prostitution. A result was that my own awareness of trafficking began to get quite specific, my ears only perking when issues regarding prostitution were discussed. I've been happy to see that I am no alone in a growing uneasiness with modern day slavery (a term given to human trafficking) and notice momentum amongst other people around me too regarding the desire to see justice. Whilst women and young girls are targeted for this accelerating industry, so are men and young boys. The trafficking of humans has many outlets, the sex industry being just one of them. Another, potentially the most common demand in Kenya, is trafficking for labour. This includes domestic work, farming, fishing and construction. Classic characteristics are inhumane working hours, little to no pay and a lack of safety in the workplace. Another form of trafficking is for the gaining of organs. Often, the victims don't survive the procedures involved. Some organs stolen are corruptly siphoned into hospitals and to specific people in need. There too are myths that albino body parts bring an assortment of healing, including the healing of AIDS, thus making albinos vulnerable to being targeted for organ trafficking. Every part of their body is valuable to a witch doctor. Whilst these are the three main groups of trafficking, there's a collection we'll call 'miscellaneous.' This includes child marriage, recruitment for carrying drugs or arms, recruitment for forced crime, recruitment for gangs, and child soldiers. Whilst I am volunteering for HAART (haartkenya.org) I have been given the opportunity to contribute an art piece that explains a certain aspect of trafficking. Liberated to be passionate about more than just freedom for women in prostitution, I have chosen to focus on men that are trafficked.
So, why to hate human trafficking? There are many factors that permit and encourage the continuation of the trade of humans, and the trafficking industry feeds and thrives from an array of components: lack of awareness, poverty and desperation. What angers me is that you don't need all three of these factors to be vulnerable to trafficking. In fact, you can have awareness of the risks of trafficking; the risks of accepting a promising international job opportunity (although trafficking is not always across borders; it can be just across the street), but if you are hungry and have no means to survive day to day, declining any offer of work is a luxury. It was brought to my attention that, for some, trafficking might actually be an improvement to their state of life. If there is a child working all day for their family and has no food, a trafficking job might just provide food alongside the gruelling labour it demands. The phrase between a rock and a hard place hauntingly comes to mind. Whilst trafficking can be as black and white as somebody being kidnapped, more often there is relationship that involves a complete abuse of trust. I've been surprised to hear of people who were trafficked by their grandparent and by their childhood friend. Which leads me to share something new that I've learned: anybody can be trafficked. I naively picture this niche group, subconsciously demeaning those trafficked to surely be foolish or impulsive. In working with HAART I've met recovering/freed victims of trafficking and have felt surprised at the diversity of the people recruited. Some men, some women, some well educated, some fluent in English, some with degrees.
Finally, the lack of risk for traffickers (corruption, manipulation and threat all contribute to very few traffickers being reported and charged) compared to the financial gain is a pretty unbalanced scale. Trafficking can involve a network of people (although not exclusively) that each take care of small details: building relationships, the forgery of identification documents, driving transit vehicles, corrupt border officials. My fear is that in and of themselves these jobs don't provoke a feeling of great responsibility or guilt and thus there are many people facilitating the fluid functioning of trafficking with little exposure to its devastating consequences.
Nairobi, Kenya, February 5th 2015 - WHY KENYA?
I want to tell the tale of why, out of every country in the world, I chose to go to Kenya for this solo month of Track. To me, it’s a story I hold dear. I’ll tell it in chronological order.
I’ve mentioned before that I grew up under the impression that God didn’t intend to use me in anyway; that I was somewhat of an accident. I say this not to hope that you will pull out your violin, instead I say it brimming with gratitude that God lured me out of this inward-focused belief. He truly freed me to know His love for me, and the extent that this means to my day-to-day life. A side effect of my childhood/teenage thoughts was that I coasted through high school, not particularly excelling or failing, feeling rather un-passionate about everything. All this is true except something that happened when I was sixteen (ish, those years are pretty cloudy). I met monthly with a few of my Church’s leaders to pray with them, to learn how to pray. Each month we would pray for some topic that seemed very large to me, like for presidents or nations or over news articles. One particular meeting we prayed over one particular article. It was about Kenya and was titled: ‘Kenya’s Divided Tribes’, telling of the animosity and division between Kenya’s separate tribes. As we prayed, I wept. In a short space of time I felt so deeply saddened about what I was reading, and I was truly confused as to why I was responding so expressively, to an extent I never had before. It was explained to me that God was showing me how He felt, or in Christian lingo, breaking my heart for what breaks His. I don’t enjoy seeming dramatic, but I think I left that room changed in a way that I never fully recovered from. I kept that article, printed on a piece of paper, and I still have to this day. It has travelled with me, been hung on walls in different continents, and is now worn and taped at the edges.
I began to pray for Kenya everyday, going on to maintain this habit for years. To those of you who are unfamiliar with God or to the concept of God speaking to us, this will likely sound bizarre, but I felt that God spoke to me about Kenya. He would speak about His hopes for Kenya as a nation. I would paint and sketch pictures portraying what I understood of Kenya. I often felt foolish for caring so much about a country that I’d never been to, but as one who perceived myself to be unintentionally made by God, having one thing to be passionate about gave me a sense of identity and purpose. I think it activated my relationship with God where it otherwise may have easily been extinguished in my high school days.
A few years after this, I had a conversation with my dad where he mentioned that it was a Kenyan man who is the reason him and my mum are together. Exceedingly interested by this and by why I’d never heard this before, dad told the story of his relationship with my mum beginning over long-distance and in a time where it was easy to be discouraged, a Kenyan friend from college encouraged them both towards the relationship. I felt such gratitude for hearing this, and was liberated that I now have a reason to owe something to Kenya. Years later I was unpacking a box of collected and random items from my childhood. I came across the wooden sign I’m holding in the picture of this post. It reads 'Jambo, Bethan, 1991'. I’d never knowingly come across this gift (from my Grandparents after their trip to Kenya) and within seconds it became one of my favourite possessions.
Finally, throughout my many times of pestering God asking Him whether I love Kenya because He simply wants me to pray for it, or because He wants me to go there, I heard an answer when I was eighteen years old in India. He promised to me that Kenya would play a part of my next five upcoming years. Honestly, I’d forgotten about this last one until I was leaving Cape Town a few weeks ago. As I remembered His promise to me, and dwelled on how it was never certain that this Track would allow me to come here, and I was overwhelmed with a momentary understanding of God’s faithfulness to me; of His faithfulness to His promises.
I’ve mentioned before that I grew up under the impression that God didn’t intend to use me in anyway; that I was somewhat of an accident. I say this not to hope that you will pull out your violin, instead I say it brimming with gratitude that God lured me out of this inward-focused belief. He truly freed me to know His love for me, and the extent that this means to my day-to-day life. A side effect of my childhood/teenage thoughts was that I coasted through high school, not particularly excelling or failing, feeling rather un-passionate about everything. All this is true except something that happened when I was sixteen (ish, those years are pretty cloudy). I met monthly with a few of my Church’s leaders to pray with them, to learn how to pray. Each month we would pray for some topic that seemed very large to me, like for presidents or nations or over news articles. One particular meeting we prayed over one particular article. It was about Kenya and was titled: ‘Kenya’s Divided Tribes’, telling of the animosity and division between Kenya’s separate tribes. As we prayed, I wept. In a short space of time I felt so deeply saddened about what I was reading, and I was truly confused as to why I was responding so expressively, to an extent I never had before. It was explained to me that God was showing me how He felt, or in Christian lingo, breaking my heart for what breaks His. I don’t enjoy seeming dramatic, but I think I left that room changed in a way that I never fully recovered from. I kept that article, printed on a piece of paper, and I still have to this day. It has travelled with me, been hung on walls in different continents, and is now worn and taped at the edges.
I began to pray for Kenya everyday, going on to maintain this habit for years. To those of you who are unfamiliar with God or to the concept of God speaking to us, this will likely sound bizarre, but I felt that God spoke to me about Kenya. He would speak about His hopes for Kenya as a nation. I would paint and sketch pictures portraying what I understood of Kenya. I often felt foolish for caring so much about a country that I’d never been to, but as one who perceived myself to be unintentionally made by God, having one thing to be passionate about gave me a sense of identity and purpose. I think it activated my relationship with God where it otherwise may have easily been extinguished in my high school days.
A few years after this, I had a conversation with my dad where he mentioned that it was a Kenyan man who is the reason him and my mum are together. Exceedingly interested by this and by why I’d never heard this before, dad told the story of his relationship with my mum beginning over long-distance and in a time where it was easy to be discouraged, a Kenyan friend from college encouraged them both towards the relationship. I felt such gratitude for hearing this, and was liberated that I now have a reason to owe something to Kenya. Years later I was unpacking a box of collected and random items from my childhood. I came across the wooden sign I’m holding in the picture of this post. It reads 'Jambo, Bethan, 1991'. I’d never knowingly come across this gift (from my Grandparents after their trip to Kenya) and within seconds it became one of my favourite possessions.
Finally, throughout my many times of pestering God asking Him whether I love Kenya because He simply wants me to pray for it, or because He wants me to go there, I heard an answer when I was eighteen years old in India. He promised to me that Kenya would play a part of my next five upcoming years. Honestly, I’d forgotten about this last one until I was leaving Cape Town a few weeks ago. As I remembered His promise to me, and dwelled on how it was never certain that this Track would allow me to come here, and I was overwhelmed with a momentary understanding of God’s faithfulness to me; of His faithfulness to His promises.
Cape Town, South Africa, January 27th 2015 - STORIES FROM SA
It seems quite often that I’m writing a blog post that comes on the brink of changing countries - one of the inevitables of this Track. Can I speak more highly of this country? The beauty of Cape Town’s coastal landscape is confrontational and an easy target for our cameras. Muizenberg (the surf-town we’ve been staying in) hugs the coast and as soon as you step off the train you smell the sea breeze and feel the cool wind. There is even a local shark alarm to alert the swimmers of passing great whites (oh my goodness). I have no ambition when it comes to sharks and only braved ankle-deep in those waters. Now, our time in South Africa has come to an end as we each, for the first and only time as a part of this school, head off to stay in different countries for a month: our solo outreach.
For me, my next stop is Nairobi, Kenya, a country that I’ve dreamt of going to for a while now. For now, I want to write some of the stories we learned whilst being here. Our whole ethos as a travelling team is to gather stories, using photo and video as our means of recording them, to be used to paint a greater picture about a particular issue of injustice. If you haven’t heard me or the others say it yet, our focus is on displacement and issues that refugees and undocumented migrants face. On a wider spectrum, we’ve too been hearing across different countries from people who are homeless as well as surviving in precarious living situations, such as along the edges of train tracks, in slums and in Townships.
We have met a homeless community who live in downtown Muizenberg. An older lady has lived on these streets since she was under ten years old, when she was orphaned. She has brought up two children on these streets and, now, with the option of joining those children in living in a home, she constantly regresses back to these streets as her preference because it’s home to her. Through this community we met an older man covered in tattoos, much like a notepad covered in doodles. Our half-hour conversation is one that I’m sure I’ll remember for much of my life. This man had been in prison for twenty four years and had advanced to being the leader of one of Cape Town’s three infamous prison gangs: 27. This gang deals with ‘matters of blood’ and this position is reserved for those who successfully stab the head prison guard (who was injured but not killed in the process). Each of the man’s tattoos bore great significance to him and he told us of the time he spent on Robben Island when Nelson Mandela too was there. Although they were kept in separate divisions due to different crimes, they were together in times of exercise. Mandela had told him, “You must fight for equal rights and justice for all.”
In working for Adonis Musati Project (AMP, www.adonismusatiproject.org), my passion for justice for refugees has been persuaded some more. On this Track, I’ve gone from not really caring at all (on a scale of exposure, I was extremely unfamiliar with refugee issues, unable to define the difference between a refugee, an asylum seeker and an undocumented migrant) to gaining more aware of the lack of human rights that a refugee can expect. We have heard about xenophobia in South Africa (a fear of the unknown) and consequential attacks on foreigners for fear that they are stealing jobs from the nationals. People are leaving countries that are engaged in war, escaping being hunted, searching for work as a life or death pursuit, travelling hidden in the back of trucks, hopeful for a better life, or, at a minimum, hopeful to survive longer than they would in their home countries. From this posture of devastation and distress, we’ve heard about how their hardships won’t necessarily cease as new struggles include staying alive from day to day and applying for documentation via foreign regulations and in a foreign language, all whilst recovering from loss, grief and trauma. Adonis Musati (who AMP is named after) was a asylum seeker from Zimbabwe who died of starvation in Cape Town whilst queuing for two weeks to apply for his immigration papers.
For me, my next stop is Nairobi, Kenya, a country that I’ve dreamt of going to for a while now. For now, I want to write some of the stories we learned whilst being here. Our whole ethos as a travelling team is to gather stories, using photo and video as our means of recording them, to be used to paint a greater picture about a particular issue of injustice. If you haven’t heard me or the others say it yet, our focus is on displacement and issues that refugees and undocumented migrants face. On a wider spectrum, we’ve too been hearing across different countries from people who are homeless as well as surviving in precarious living situations, such as along the edges of train tracks, in slums and in Townships.
We have met a homeless community who live in downtown Muizenberg. An older lady has lived on these streets since she was under ten years old, when she was orphaned. She has brought up two children on these streets and, now, with the option of joining those children in living in a home, she constantly regresses back to these streets as her preference because it’s home to her. Through this community we met an older man covered in tattoos, much like a notepad covered in doodles. Our half-hour conversation is one that I’m sure I’ll remember for much of my life. This man had been in prison for twenty four years and had advanced to being the leader of one of Cape Town’s three infamous prison gangs: 27. This gang deals with ‘matters of blood’ and this position is reserved for those who successfully stab the head prison guard (who was injured but not killed in the process). Each of the man’s tattoos bore great significance to him and he told us of the time he spent on Robben Island when Nelson Mandela too was there. Although they were kept in separate divisions due to different crimes, they were together in times of exercise. Mandela had told him, “You must fight for equal rights and justice for all.”
In working for Adonis Musati Project (AMP, www.adonismusatiproject.org), my passion for justice for refugees has been persuaded some more. On this Track, I’ve gone from not really caring at all (on a scale of exposure, I was extremely unfamiliar with refugee issues, unable to define the difference between a refugee, an asylum seeker and an undocumented migrant) to gaining more aware of the lack of human rights that a refugee can expect. We have heard about xenophobia in South Africa (a fear of the unknown) and consequential attacks on foreigners for fear that they are stealing jobs from the nationals. People are leaving countries that are engaged in war, escaping being hunted, searching for work as a life or death pursuit, travelling hidden in the back of trucks, hopeful for a better life, or, at a minimum, hopeful to survive longer than they would in their home countries. From this posture of devastation and distress, we’ve heard about how their hardships won’t necessarily cease as new struggles include staying alive from day to day and applying for documentation via foreign regulations and in a foreign language, all whilst recovering from loss, grief and trauma. Adonis Musati (who AMP is named after) was a asylum seeker from Zimbabwe who died of starvation in Cape Town whilst queuing for two weeks to apply for his immigration papers.
Cape Town, South Africa, January 21st 2015 - GOD'S FAITHFULNESS
I want to give a shout-out to God’s faithfulness, but first, I’m going to level with you. This time a few weeks ago I was not too excited about coming here. Since April last year our Track has rotated from class to outreach to class to a field trip to outreach again. When I was home in England for Christmas I had a rich time of seeing people that I love and I couldn’t help wishing time would go slowly, struggling to muster up excitement to leave again. (This feeling, upon thought, made me feel rather seasick, as I couldn’t imagine what staying at home would look like either.) Even days before my flight I felt I had more reservations about flying to an outreach than excitement for it. I don’t mean to sound spoilt at turning my nose up at a flight to another continent. God knows, I think often about how bizarre and beautiful this honour is to travel throughout parts of our world. I think the greatest contributor was that I was still nursing some battle-wounds from our last outreach. The nature of going to a country with the intent to find out its struggles, injustices, crime and corruption has proven to be a weighty task. The pace of moving on from one place to another allows for only pockets of room to process, and I’ve found that as my backpack is filled with dirtier and more worn clothes, it is also becoming filled with unanswered questions and unsettled disappointments.
I’m not going to stop writing here; to stop with dwelling on my fears from this last month. It wouldn’t be fair to not share about how good God has been to me and to my team. Before I left I sent a hurried prayer request that I’d find our first few weeks of outreach encouraging. My enthusiasm needed persuading a little and I wanted help with that. God stepped up. So far our time in Cape Town has been so fun. This past year there have been times when my team has functioned more as business partners than as friends, using our time together to discuss logistics and assignments and travel plans. Despite being susceptible to this tendency, here we have had the room to have such fun together. Cape Town is honestly one of the most beautiful places that I’ve ever been to and the vast and wild nature provides a playground for days off. We’ve hiked a mountain, wandered to Africa’s tip, beached with penguins, dined well, had wee road trips and boated out to Robben Island for one of the best history lessons I’ve ever had. A family we were introduced to back when our school started has since moved here and it has been so enjoyable to spend time with them... hanging out in a home, cooking in a kitchen and babysitting. The organisation we have been volunteering for (Adonis Musati Project/AMP, www.adonismusatiproject.org) have taken us seriously in giving us a video project to work on for their website. I’d much rather someone expect more of me than less and AMP have honoured our team with their expectations, but also with their help planning interviews/opportunities and driving us to locations where they’d like footage to be taken.
I am within a country that I don’t desire to leave anytime soon and for that I’m really grateful. My hope in our team has been kindled and I feel certain that I’ll remember this month in South Africa fondly. God is faithful.
I’m not going to stop writing here; to stop with dwelling on my fears from this last month. It wouldn’t be fair to not share about how good God has been to me and to my team. Before I left I sent a hurried prayer request that I’d find our first few weeks of outreach encouraging. My enthusiasm needed persuading a little and I wanted help with that. God stepped up. So far our time in Cape Town has been so fun. This past year there have been times when my team has functioned more as business partners than as friends, using our time together to discuss logistics and assignments and travel plans. Despite being susceptible to this tendency, here we have had the room to have such fun together. Cape Town is honestly one of the most beautiful places that I’ve ever been to and the vast and wild nature provides a playground for days off. We’ve hiked a mountain, wandered to Africa’s tip, beached with penguins, dined well, had wee road trips and boated out to Robben Island for one of the best history lessons I’ve ever had. A family we were introduced to back when our school started has since moved here and it has been so enjoyable to spend time with them... hanging out in a home, cooking in a kitchen and babysitting. The organisation we have been volunteering for (Adonis Musati Project/AMP, www.adonismusatiproject.org) have taken us seriously in giving us a video project to work on for their website. I’d much rather someone expect more of me than less and AMP have honoured our team with their expectations, but also with their help planning interviews/opportunities and driving us to locations where they’d like footage to be taken.
I am within a country that I don’t desire to leave anytime soon and for that I’m really grateful. My hope in our team has been kindled and I feel certain that I’ll remember this month in South Africa fondly. God is faithful.
Cape Town, South Africa, January 10th 2015 - The Lessons of a Patient Nation Changer
Within autumn last year my team were back in Brantford and we each chose a book to write a report on. Anticipating our upcoming time in South Africa, I read and wrote about Nelson Mandela’s autobiography: Long Walk to Freedom. He became one that I daily quoted to my teammates as I poured over the pages with enthusiasm. In many ways, his life inspires me. Now that we’re in Cape Town I want to publish some thoughts from my Book Report, it began like this…
Where to begin? The role before me is to summarise a book that rivals the Bible in its weight and tells, in detail, of a freedom fighter’s eight decades of life. Although my ignorance regarding history/world events/tragedies is one of my greatest shames, I do enjoy the small benefit of learning stories of the past with a fresh and unbiased posture. This was the case with Nelson Mandela’s story. I knew that he played a significant part in South Africa and I could readily picture his warm and smiling, albeit aged, face, but that was all. Thus, I read the tale of a man who richly affected the lives of many (so, so many) as I had little ability to predict how the plot would turn. As a means of tracing the story of Madiba (Mandela’s Xhosa clan name, affectionately used to refer to him) I recorded the significant quotes from this autobiography and from speeches that he gave within the courtroom. This soon became a ten-paged document - he has much wisdom to share! As I traced through this book and searched for quotable insights I realised that I was actually tracing a greater theme. I wanted to find out how this man came to be the nation changer that he is now recognised to be. I wanted to learn from the lessons that he learned. And so, that is what I intend to do; I intend to write about the lessons of a patient nation changer.
Here are some of my favourite and pivotal inserts from Mandela’s book (in chronological order) :
Where to begin? The role before me is to summarise a book that rivals the Bible in its weight and tells, in detail, of a freedom fighter’s eight decades of life. Although my ignorance regarding history/world events/tragedies is one of my greatest shames, I do enjoy the small benefit of learning stories of the past with a fresh and unbiased posture. This was the case with Nelson Mandela’s story. I knew that he played a significant part in South Africa and I could readily picture his warm and smiling, albeit aged, face, but that was all. Thus, I read the tale of a man who richly affected the lives of many (so, so many) as I had little ability to predict how the plot would turn. As a means of tracing the story of Madiba (Mandela’s Xhosa clan name, affectionately used to refer to him) I recorded the significant quotes from this autobiography and from speeches that he gave within the courtroom. This soon became a ten-paged document - he has much wisdom to share! As I traced through this book and searched for quotable insights I realised that I was actually tracing a greater theme. I wanted to find out how this man came to be the nation changer that he is now recognised to be. I wanted to learn from the lessons that he learned. And so, that is what I intend to do; I intend to write about the lessons of a patient nation changer.
Here are some of my favourite and pivotal inserts from Mandela’s book (in chronological order) :
- ‘She was an extraordinarily clever and gifted person, whose potential was limited because of her family’s meager resources. This was an all too typical South African story. It was not lack of ability that limited my people, but lack of opportunity.’
- ‘I was beginning to realise that a black man did not have to accept the dozens of petty indignities directed at him everyday.’
- ‘The campaign had a great effect on me. In a small way, I had departed from my role as an observer and become a participant. I found that to march with one’s people was exhilarating and inspiring.’
- ‘At the university, teachers had shied away from topics like racial oppression, lack of opportunities for Africans, and the nest of laws and regulations that subjugate the black man. But in my life in Johannesburg, I confronted these things every day. No one had ever suggested to me how to go about removing the evils of racial prejudice, and I had to learn by trial and error.’
- ‘When he (an African in South Africa) grows up…his life is circumscribed by racist laws and regulations that cripple his growth, dim his potential, and stunt his life.’
- ‘I had no epiphany, no singular revelation, no moment of truth, but a steady accumulation of a thousand sights, a thousand indignities, a thousand unremembered moments, produced in me an anger, a rebelliousness, a desire to fight the system that imprisoned my people. There was no particular day on which I said, From henceforth I will devote myself to the liberation of my people; instead, I simply found myself doing so, and could no do otherwise.’
- ‘The inferiority complex, he affirmed, was the greatest barrier to liberation.’
- ‘Apartheid was a new term but an old idea. It literally means “apartness” and it represented the codification in one oppressive system of all the laws and regulations that had kept Africans in an inferior position to whites for centuries…The premise of apartheid was that whites were superior to Africans, Coloureds, and Indians, and the function of it was to entrench white supremacy forever.’
- ‘We frequently encountered prejudice in the court itself…Working as a lawyer in South Africa meant operating under a debased system of justice, a code of law that did not enshrine equality but its opposite.’
- ‘"We, the people of South Africa, declare for all our country and the world to know that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, black and white, that no government can justly claim authority unless it’s based on the will of the people. That our people have been robbed of their birthright to land, liberty and peace by a form of government founded on injustice and inequality. That our country will never be prosperous or free until all our people live in brotherhood, enjoying equal rights and opportunities."’
- ‘In South Africa, to merely achieve fairness, one had to destroy apartheid itself, for it was the very embodiment of injustice.’
- 'Over and over again, I saw men as bright and talented as my companion resort to crime in order to make ends meet.’
- ‘Three million whites owned 87 percent of the land, and relegate the eight million Africans to the remaining 13 percent.’
- ‘The wife of a freedom fighter is often like a widow, even when her husband is not in prison.’
- ‘I have always believed that to be a freedom fighter one must suppress many of the personal feelings that make on feel like a separate individual rather than a part of a mass movement. One is fighting for the liberation of millions of people, not the glory of one individual.’
- ‘After three years of silence, banning and internal exile, I looked forward to the chance to speak out before the people attempting to judge me [referring to when in court].’
- ‘In a single morning, I discovered that Egyptians were creating great works of art and architecture when whites were still living in caves [referring to when Mandela visited Egypt].’
- ‘I hate racial discrimination most intensely and in all its manifestations.’
- ‘More powerful than my fear of the dreadful conditions to which I might be subjected in prison is my hatred for the dreadful conditions to which my people are subjected outside of prison throughout this county.’
- ‘The lack of human dignity experienced by Africans is the direct result of the policy of white supremacy. White supremacy implies black inferiority.’
- ‘Equal opportunities is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.’
- ‘The campaign to improve conditions in prison was part of the apartheid struggle.’
- ‘Old women who had waited half a century to cast their first vote saying that they felt like human beings for the first time in their lives.’
- ‘I reminded people again and again that the liberation struggle was not a battle against any one group or colour, but a fight against a system of repression.’
Chester, England, January 2nd 2015 - HOME SWEET HOME
I write to you as our third Track break comes to an end. Every three months or so my team are released and encouraged to find a country to nestle in and to rest in before the next quarter begins. This Christmas break has been a special one for me because it's the first time I have ever come home partway through an overseas commitment. I am so so thoroughly pleased to have spent these days back with family, bumping into friends and in a place of familiarity and ease. Despite being quite reluctant to engage in planning out how I'd spend each day here, this time home has felt full, worthwhile and well spent. In a world that is naturally separate from all things 'Track' I've been dwelling a lot on how the first half of Track has gone. If you will, I'd like to share these musings and what being home has brought for me.
Firstly, weddings are excellent contexts for reunions. My brother Josh got married a few days after I returned home and us Uitterdijk's gained a new member to our family: Lisa. It was so very convenient to have my family gathered together in one place, to see some of the Dutchies again and to meet a few new additions, like my cousin's new baby boy. Other special things were attending my sending-Church, dining with old and steadfast friends, befriending my nephew Micah and seeing my sister and brother-in-law in full swing of parenthood, catching up with my Church's youth group family as well as some friends from the pub I used to work in, having my own room, giving random gifts from various countries and eating lots of cheese. With a lot of expectation placed on these two weeks at home I prayed that the days would go slowly and God was faithful to help me feel that I've been able to do a lot of what I'd hoped to.
I've been so humbled to hear from people who both faithfully or occasionally read this blog, as well as encouraged by plenty who have shared that they enjoy the photos that I take. Honestly, it has been quite a surprise to hear that I am taking good photos; I guess travelling as photography students, we naturally learn to be quite self-critical. I've too experienced people being kindly interested in how I've found these travels so far, and am grateful that I've been asked more questions rather than few. For the most-part I found that questions were based on the assumption that I'm having the time of my life, something like, "So I bet you're loving it, right?". I found this really interesting and still can't quite pinpoint what part of my past year makes the masses confidently assume that it has been amazing. Perhaps it is the excessive or even indulgent amount of travelling my team have crammed into nine months. I enjoyed graciously agreeing where appropriate, but also correcting people's assumptions that my experience has been good, adding that it has been good but it has sure been hard too. Whilst travelling I went through waves of learning to hate the things that I've always loved; things that are intrinsic to how I understand myself: my love for exploring and creativity. Photography became a grind and travelling lost its luxurious façade and became a reality of packing, unpacking, sweating and smelling.
Honestly, I find this Track hard, perhaps I've not voiced that enough here. But I am learning to train my mind not to associate hard with bad. I don't actually think hard is bad at all, and I don't think that God has a problem with me going through what I deem to be hard. In fact, I think hard is a sweet environment to learn, to evoke and to grow rather quickly. So folks, I am happy to be on this Track, to reembark on the next stint of our adventure and to be having an experience that persuades me to rely on God as well as to check my heart.
Firstly, weddings are excellent contexts for reunions. My brother Josh got married a few days after I returned home and us Uitterdijk's gained a new member to our family: Lisa. It was so very convenient to have my family gathered together in one place, to see some of the Dutchies again and to meet a few new additions, like my cousin's new baby boy. Other special things were attending my sending-Church, dining with old and steadfast friends, befriending my nephew Micah and seeing my sister and brother-in-law in full swing of parenthood, catching up with my Church's youth group family as well as some friends from the pub I used to work in, having my own room, giving random gifts from various countries and eating lots of cheese. With a lot of expectation placed on these two weeks at home I prayed that the days would go slowly and God was faithful to help me feel that I've been able to do a lot of what I'd hoped to.
I've been so humbled to hear from people who both faithfully or occasionally read this blog, as well as encouraged by plenty who have shared that they enjoy the photos that I take. Honestly, it has been quite a surprise to hear that I am taking good photos; I guess travelling as photography students, we naturally learn to be quite self-critical. I've too experienced people being kindly interested in how I've found these travels so far, and am grateful that I've been asked more questions rather than few. For the most-part I found that questions were based on the assumption that I'm having the time of my life, something like, "So I bet you're loving it, right?". I found this really interesting and still can't quite pinpoint what part of my past year makes the masses confidently assume that it has been amazing. Perhaps it is the excessive or even indulgent amount of travelling my team have crammed into nine months. I enjoyed graciously agreeing where appropriate, but also correcting people's assumptions that my experience has been good, adding that it has been good but it has sure been hard too. Whilst travelling I went through waves of learning to hate the things that I've always loved; things that are intrinsic to how I understand myself: my love for exploring and creativity. Photography became a grind and travelling lost its luxurious façade and became a reality of packing, unpacking, sweating and smelling.
Honestly, I find this Track hard, perhaps I've not voiced that enough here. But I am learning to train my mind not to associate hard with bad. I don't actually think hard is bad at all, and I don't think that God has a problem with me going through what I deem to be hard. In fact, I think hard is a sweet environment to learn, to evoke and to grow rather quickly. So folks, I am happy to be on this Track, to reembark on the next stint of our adventure and to be having an experience that persuades me to rely on God as well as to check my heart.
Athens, Greece, December 17th 2014 - WEEK THREE // three weeks three capitals
We made it through our most compact three weeks of Track; our three weeks of three capitals! We've journeyed on mopeds, trains, ferries, planes, camels, in taxis, in cars and in buses. We've walked up more hills than I can count, for the most part in flip flop footwear. We've seen more ancient ruins than I've ever seen in my life and have enjoyed warmth in winter and sunset lookouts. Our toes have touched the Mediterranean Sea and walked the paths that hosted Jesus and the apostles. We've had days of pita and hummus for breakfast, lunch and dinner and have been regulars at juice stalls, shawarma take-outs and bakeries. We've spent Euros, Jordanian Dinars and Israeli Shekels and have fumbled around speaking Hebrew, Arabic and Greek. We've photographed people's portraits, night scenes, sunrises, hilltop views, alley cats and selfies. We've studied the Bible in bedrooms, on rooftops, in hostel halls and in Ancient Corinth. We've been bitten by mosquitos and bed bugs. One of us even slept-talked about falafels.
All of the above has been totally worthwhile. Our week in Greece absolutely sped by as we enjoyed more quality time with our teachers Joni and Caleb. They have added so much to our trip, everything from wisdom to joy. In the middle of this week we spent a few nights on Aegina Island, a Greek Island renowned for maintaining its 'Greekness' with slow-paced fisherman towns. We rented mopeds and spent over eight hours driving all the winding roads and stopping where we pleased. It was one of my favourite days of these three weeks. I've enjoyed being in Greece for the first time, a country that made it onto my bucket list. I like the hustle and busyness of Athens and the graffiti that covers much of the walls. Most of our travelling family find Greece to be their favourite country of all three. Israel may just out-do it for me.
Finally, I'm coming home! As of the 18th of December to the 3rd of January I will be back in England with my family. I am oh so excited for a time of mini-reunions, coffee dates, for seeing my brother get married, meeting my cousin's week-old baby and having time to adore my favourite nephew Micah who is no longer as pocket size as when I left him. I love the Church that I am a part of and feel happy that this (kind-of) halfway point of Track allows me to come home to that Church again. I feel so full when I think of the friendships that are held within England and have been impatient to not have long-distance dictate much of these relationships. I am so happy to come home for these weeks. Perhaps I'll see you there.
All of the above has been totally worthwhile. Our week in Greece absolutely sped by as we enjoyed more quality time with our teachers Joni and Caleb. They have added so much to our trip, everything from wisdom to joy. In the middle of this week we spent a few nights on Aegina Island, a Greek Island renowned for maintaining its 'Greekness' with slow-paced fisherman towns. We rented mopeds and spent over eight hours driving all the winding roads and stopping where we pleased. It was one of my favourite days of these three weeks. I've enjoyed being in Greece for the first time, a country that made it onto my bucket list. I like the hustle and busyness of Athens and the graffiti that covers much of the walls. Most of our travelling family find Greece to be their favourite country of all three. Israel may just out-do it for me.
Finally, I'm coming home! As of the 18th of December to the 3rd of January I will be back in England with my family. I am oh so excited for a time of mini-reunions, coffee dates, for seeing my brother get married, meeting my cousin's week-old baby and having time to adore my favourite nephew Micah who is no longer as pocket size as when I left him. I love the Church that I am a part of and feel happy that this (kind-of) halfway point of Track allows me to come home to that Church again. I feel so full when I think of the friendships that are held within England and have been impatient to not have long-distance dictate much of these relationships. I am so happy to come home for these weeks. Perhaps I'll see you there.
Amman, Jordan, December 11th 2014 - WEEK TWO // three weeks three capitals
We are precisely two-thirds through our three weeks of visiting three capitals: Jerusalem, Amman and Athens. We’ve adored having Jon and Layne travel with us and bid them farewell as they head home and as we head to Greece with our Bible teachers Caleb and Joni. Our time so far has been balanced between visiting Biblical sites, playing tourist, having Bible studies, eating local foods, exploring markets and bartering. In an effort to celebrate life’s small treasures as well as to become better at remembering occasions and opportunities, I’ve begun to write scruffy pages called ‘do not forget’ for each country that we go to. Often these pages share jots about profound lessons as well as the intensely funny moments that are inevitable when living in such close quarters. So, between Israel and Jordan's pages of
‘do not forget’…
We shared communion together in the Garden Tomb.
We floated in the Dead Sea, covered ourselves in mud and stood on the shore as a momentary lighting storm passed by.
Some of us ate ‘Saint Peter’s fish’ in Tiberias by the Sea of Galilee.
We ate our body weight in hummus and pita.
We waded through water for a 20 minute walk through Hezekiah’s tunnel.
We spent hours driving through Jordan’s beautiful landscape accompanied by sunsets and a full moon.
We skimmed stones on the Sea of Galilee in Capernaum and had a teaching on the location according to the Gospels.
Some of us woke up for the sunrise in Jerusalem and Amman.
We walked the Via Dolorosa, the supposed walk of Jesus as He carried the cross.
We explored Petra and some of us chose to ride camels for a short stretch of the journey.
We wandered through the ruins of the ancient city of Jerash, seeing temples for Artemis and Zeus.
We played the card game Dutch Blitz in a few unlikely and ancient settings.
We walked around the Old City of Jerusalem’s rampart walls.
We caught the end of sunset at ruins built by one of the Herod’s in Caesarea. Some of us dipped our toes in the Mediterranean Sea for the first time.
I added my own tears to Jerusalem’s Western Wall as I felt overcome that others were mourning whilst, I believe, the One they long for has already come.
We watched many an episode of Sherlock together in the evenings, eating pastries and baklava.
We enjoyed travelling with Jon and Layne and having them around.
We enjoy getting to know Caleb and Joni and sharing life with them for a while.
‘do not forget’…
We shared communion together in the Garden Tomb.
We floated in the Dead Sea, covered ourselves in mud and stood on the shore as a momentary lighting storm passed by.
Some of us ate ‘Saint Peter’s fish’ in Tiberias by the Sea of Galilee.
We ate our body weight in hummus and pita.
We waded through water for a 20 minute walk through Hezekiah’s tunnel.
We spent hours driving through Jordan’s beautiful landscape accompanied by sunsets and a full moon.
We skimmed stones on the Sea of Galilee in Capernaum and had a teaching on the location according to the Gospels.
Some of us woke up for the sunrise in Jerusalem and Amman.
We walked the Via Dolorosa, the supposed walk of Jesus as He carried the cross.
We explored Petra and some of us chose to ride camels for a short stretch of the journey.
We wandered through the ruins of the ancient city of Jerash, seeing temples for Artemis and Zeus.
We played the card game Dutch Blitz in a few unlikely and ancient settings.
We walked around the Old City of Jerusalem’s rampart walls.
We caught the end of sunset at ruins built by one of the Herod’s in Caesarea. Some of us dipped our toes in the Mediterranean Sea for the first time.
I added my own tears to Jerusalem’s Western Wall as I felt overcome that others were mourning whilst, I believe, the One they long for has already come.
We watched many an episode of Sherlock together in the evenings, eating pastries and baklava.
We enjoyed travelling with Jon and Layne and having them around.
We enjoy getting to know Caleb and Joni and sharing life with them for a while.
Jerusalem, Israel, December 4th 2014 - WEEK ONE // three weeks three capitals
We have just spent our first of three travelling weeks in Israel’s rich and beautiful city of Jerusalem. Right now, I’m not convinced on what I want my fingers to type. I could speak about how profound it has been to be in places that I’ve read about for years, or how I’ve found the climate of being in such a densely religious place, or how my expectations we’re both exceeded and disappointed at different times. The overwhelming notion I have is that these small reflections and lessons are rather uncooked. I think I’ll benefit from greater room to process and remember what I’ve seen, and I expect that for decades my future Bible study will be enhanced by being able to picture specific cities, seas and streets.
Ultimately, I’ve found that my deepest desire when travelling to Israel cannot be quenched; my longings are quite unreasonable. Since studying the Bible inductively, I’ve harboured the yearning to better visualise the stories and contexts that I read about. I want to be in them. Whilst it has certainly been worthwhile to be onsite, albeit two thousand years plus down the line, there are details that have been lost in history. The site that some perceive to be Golgotha, the place where Jesus was crucified, overlooks a functioning, bustling bus station. The Church supposedly built upon the site of Jesus’ birth was overcrowded with tours, impatience, flash photography and people cutting in line. We’ve joked together as a team that all the significant sites of Jesus’ life now have a Church built on top of them. Honestly, some of these Churches felt quite unremarkable and uninspiring to be in, although beautiful nonetheless. One of the more authentic-feeling places we went to was towards the end of our week, sharing communion together in the Garden Tomb (one of the two supposed locations of Jesus’ tomb and resurrection.) Our guide was an enthusiastic historian and Christian and his statement on our tour was my favourite thought from the week. He said, “Who knows if this is where Jesus died. It doesn’t matter most; what matters most is this: the tomb is empty.” This is what overwhelms me to dwell on from my time in Israel, my Saviour Jesus Christ came here and He lived and He died and He rose again.
Ultimately, I’ve found that my deepest desire when travelling to Israel cannot be quenched; my longings are quite unreasonable. Since studying the Bible inductively, I’ve harboured the yearning to better visualise the stories and contexts that I read about. I want to be in them. Whilst it has certainly been worthwhile to be onsite, albeit two thousand years plus down the line, there are details that have been lost in history. The site that some perceive to be Golgotha, the place where Jesus was crucified, overlooks a functioning, bustling bus station. The Church supposedly built upon the site of Jesus’ birth was overcrowded with tours, impatience, flash photography and people cutting in line. We’ve joked together as a team that all the significant sites of Jesus’ life now have a Church built on top of them. Honestly, some of these Churches felt quite unremarkable and uninspiring to be in, although beautiful nonetheless. One of the more authentic-feeling places we went to was towards the end of our week, sharing communion together in the Garden Tomb (one of the two supposed locations of Jesus’ tomb and resurrection.) Our guide was an enthusiastic historian and Christian and his statement on our tour was my favourite thought from the week. He said, “Who knows if this is where Jesus died. It doesn’t matter most; what matters most is this: the tomb is empty.” This is what overwhelms me to dwell on from my time in Israel, my Saviour Jesus Christ came here and He lived and He died and He rose again.
Brantford, Ontario, November 24th 2014 - TIME TO MOVE
You can't pause life, can you? You don't get to slow down the bits you want to stay in, nor speed up the moments you'd like to end quickly. The nature of our travelling school is just that, we travel. And so, despite adoring our second stint in Ontario, Canada, finding these six weeks incredibly brief, it is time to move on. This quarter (three month term) always had the promise of being packed and unique. It is shared between four countries, all accompanied by our favourite school leaders Jon and Layne. Folks, as of Wednesday the 26th of November, my team head to Israel, Jordan and Greece.
Our plan is to spend one week in Jerusalem, Israel (27th Nov - 4th Dec), a week in Amman, Jordan (4th-10th Dec), and a week in Athens, Greece (11th-18th Dec). We will travel with a married couple who will be our Bible teachers as we be tourists and visit Biblical sites together. Since I studied the Bible in Hawaii a few years ago I've harboured such a strong desire to go to the Middle East. I can't imagine being in the places that are geographically relevant to the Bible and so naturally this portion of our trip is one I am particularly excited for.
As of the 18th of December I will be home in a Chester for a few weeks (until January 3rd) spending Christmas with my family. My brother gets married shorty after I arrive home and I'm overjoyed to be able to be at his wedding. I anticipate lots of tiny reunions, for which I've been looking forward to for a while now!
Our plan is to spend one week in Jerusalem, Israel (27th Nov - 4th Dec), a week in Amman, Jordan (4th-10th Dec), and a week in Athens, Greece (11th-18th Dec). We will travel with a married couple who will be our Bible teachers as we be tourists and visit Biblical sites together. Since I studied the Bible in Hawaii a few years ago I've harboured such a strong desire to go to the Middle East. I can't imagine being in the places that are geographically relevant to the Bible and so naturally this portion of our trip is one I am particularly excited for.
As of the 18th of December I will be home in a Chester for a few weeks (until January 3rd) spending Christmas with my family. My brother gets married shorty after I arrive home and I'm overjoyed to be able to be at his wedding. I anticipate lots of tiny reunions, for which I've been looking forward to for a while now!
Brantford, Ontario, November 17th 2014 - WHY?
I’m a sucker for questions; I love them. In this Track we often talk about the whats and hows of our plans, discussing all the details, but in class this week we were posed one very simple question: Why? The simplicity of the question kind of silenced me and most certainly got me thinking. I mulled over the subtle but grand differences between these questions: Do I serve God? Why do I serve God? Do I want to serve God? Why do I want to serve God?
I found myself to be quite rusty and slow in thinking up my personal answers to these why questions. I initially reached for the dusty and classic answers, the kind you learn to regurgitate in Sunday School. But here goes, here’s the raw version of what been playing on my mind in answer to why.
Why do I want to serve God?
1. In the days when I didn’t really know God too well at all, somewhere pooled in the mid-teens, I harboured the belief that God didn’t intend to use me. I understood that He did use people and that there was a way to learn His will and join in with what He was doing in this world, but I also thought that I wasn’t ever going to be a part of it. As sad as accepting this made me, it created a pent-up yearning to be relevant to Him in some way. To cut a long story short, I was incredibly wrong about being God’s sorry exception. I learned that He can use me to partake in His remarkable will and that realisation still feels me with awe. I’m not sure if this awe and gratitude will continue to survive and motivate me until my dying days, but it’s been pretty strong since I gained it some six years ago.
2. Life to me feels like constant, ongoing lessons of who God is and what He has done. The only natural outlet and outflow I’ve come across is me wanting to serve Him with all I have in response and in worship.
3. Finally, I find life without God pretty dissatisfying. I’m built to not really feel content with the status quo but to want to think things through and find out why things are the way they are. I live feeling satisfied in this world all and only because of God.
Why am I doing this Track?
I just have one answer I’m afraid. Sure, there is the pull of travel and exploring and learning and adventure, but ultimately, why I’m on this Track boils down to one thing:
1. I have two passions in life: art and justice. It has never been proposed to me that my tendency to be creative can be relevant to the realm of preventing injustices. I always assumed that my artiness would either be my life’s pursuit and income or simply an occasional hobby. Just as much as I feel alive when I’m free to create, I feel alive when I’m challenged and working for a greater cause. I never dreamed that my heart to fight injustice could encompass my creativity. To be honest, I’m still not deeply convinced. But this school proposed the opportunity to use photography and media to raise awareness about injustice, and I hope to learn that these twin passions of mine can be married and strengthen each other. That lesson is still uncooked but one that has the potential to really steer where I head in life.
I found myself to be quite rusty and slow in thinking up my personal answers to these why questions. I initially reached for the dusty and classic answers, the kind you learn to regurgitate in Sunday School. But here goes, here’s the raw version of what been playing on my mind in answer to why.
Why do I want to serve God?
1. In the days when I didn’t really know God too well at all, somewhere pooled in the mid-teens, I harboured the belief that God didn’t intend to use me. I understood that He did use people and that there was a way to learn His will and join in with what He was doing in this world, but I also thought that I wasn’t ever going to be a part of it. As sad as accepting this made me, it created a pent-up yearning to be relevant to Him in some way. To cut a long story short, I was incredibly wrong about being God’s sorry exception. I learned that He can use me to partake in His remarkable will and that realisation still feels me with awe. I’m not sure if this awe and gratitude will continue to survive and motivate me until my dying days, but it’s been pretty strong since I gained it some six years ago.
2. Life to me feels like constant, ongoing lessons of who God is and what He has done. The only natural outlet and outflow I’ve come across is me wanting to serve Him with all I have in response and in worship.
3. Finally, I find life without God pretty dissatisfying. I’m built to not really feel content with the status quo but to want to think things through and find out why things are the way they are. I live feeling satisfied in this world all and only because of God.
Why am I doing this Track?
I just have one answer I’m afraid. Sure, there is the pull of travel and exploring and learning and adventure, but ultimately, why I’m on this Track boils down to one thing:
1. I have two passions in life: art and justice. It has never been proposed to me that my tendency to be creative can be relevant to the realm of preventing injustices. I always assumed that my artiness would either be my life’s pursuit and income or simply an occasional hobby. Just as much as I feel alive when I’m free to create, I feel alive when I’m challenged and working for a greater cause. I never dreamed that my heart to fight injustice could encompass my creativity. To be honest, I’m still not deeply convinced. But this school proposed the opportunity to use photography and media to raise awareness about injustice, and I hope to learn that these twin passions of mine can be married and strengthen each other. That lesson is still uncooked but one that has the potential to really steer where I head in life.
Brantford, Ontario, November 9th 2014
TWENTY TWO LESSONS OF A TRAVELLING PHOTOGRAPHY STUDENT
· Travelling through an airport with a ukulele gets you a lot on attention, love and new friends. Particularly with the airport staff.
(Be prepared to play a song on request)
· Pack lightly. Packing takes a long time when you have to be strategic and fit your stuff into every inch of your bag
· I didn’t need the emergency blanket that I brought, or the thermal top, or the keyrings to make my keys pretty
· Travelling with photographers means you get to feature in beautiful photos, but it also means that your yawns, lazy days, chewing food and
shocking travel outfits are documented and at their disposal
· Hard-boiled sweets melt in humidity and the ants will find them
· You don’t have to be a child to get head-lice
· What I’ve grown up calling normal can be extremely abnormal in another country (for example, toilet paper,
eating with cutlery and women driving)
· Generally, people are far more willing to let me take their photograph than I fearfully anticipate
· Even the things you absolutely love can begin to feel like a chore when they’re associated with school work
· Show people the photos you take of them, it adds a bit of personability to what can be a brief moment
· The best place for a history lesson is in the country of origin, told by the people of that country
· Mice can crawl under a mosquito-net den and into your bed
· Healthy friendships aren’t defined by their lack of crappiness/disagreements/confrontation. They’re defined by how you both deal with those clashes
· The art of shotting is helpful to avoid chewing an unbearable food that a host has given you
· Despite not liking High School language lessons and dropping Geography and History as early as possible, it turns out I do love these subjects.
I love to learn about cultures, to learn from history’s lessons and to fumble around learning new words and phrases in another’s language
· My camera can get quite wet without breaking
· Using my DSLR’s manual settings turned out to not be as scary as I thought. I can’t imagine taking a photo any other way
· Church leaders in other countries don’t have a problem with spontaneously asking you to preach/teach/sing/dance/do a drama.
Have something up your sleeve!
· Don’t take a photo when a person doesn’t want you to. No matter how perfect that setting or moment was,
you won’t be able to forget how selfish you were being when looking back at the photo
· Sometimes you have to be painfully deliberate and militant in making sure you carry on having fun.
Prioritise it; otherwise your teammates begin to feel like your business partners
· Sometimes you can be right but (because of how you’ve gone about it), still be in the wrong
· When in an environment with an overload of social injustice, learn to appreciate and celebrate the small things
(don’t fix your eyes on the big victories and get discouraged when they’re far-between)
(Be prepared to play a song on request)
· Pack lightly. Packing takes a long time when you have to be strategic and fit your stuff into every inch of your bag
· I didn’t need the emergency blanket that I brought, or the thermal top, or the keyrings to make my keys pretty
· Travelling with photographers means you get to feature in beautiful photos, but it also means that your yawns, lazy days, chewing food and
shocking travel outfits are documented and at their disposal
· Hard-boiled sweets melt in humidity and the ants will find them
· You don’t have to be a child to get head-lice
· What I’ve grown up calling normal can be extremely abnormal in another country (for example, toilet paper,
eating with cutlery and women driving)
· Generally, people are far more willing to let me take their photograph than I fearfully anticipate
· Even the things you absolutely love can begin to feel like a chore when they’re associated with school work
· Show people the photos you take of them, it adds a bit of personability to what can be a brief moment
· The best place for a history lesson is in the country of origin, told by the people of that country
· Mice can crawl under a mosquito-net den and into your bed
· Healthy friendships aren’t defined by their lack of crappiness/disagreements/confrontation. They’re defined by how you both deal with those clashes
· The art of shotting is helpful to avoid chewing an unbearable food that a host has given you
· Despite not liking High School language lessons and dropping Geography and History as early as possible, it turns out I do love these subjects.
I love to learn about cultures, to learn from history’s lessons and to fumble around learning new words and phrases in another’s language
· My camera can get quite wet without breaking
· Using my DSLR’s manual settings turned out to not be as scary as I thought. I can’t imagine taking a photo any other way
· Church leaders in other countries don’t have a problem with spontaneously asking you to preach/teach/sing/dance/do a drama.
Have something up your sleeve!
· Don’t take a photo when a person doesn’t want you to. No matter how perfect that setting or moment was,
you won’t be able to forget how selfish you were being when looking back at the photo
· Sometimes you have to be painfully deliberate and militant in making sure you carry on having fun.
Prioritise it; otherwise your teammates begin to feel like your business partners
· Sometimes you can be right but (because of how you’ve gone about it), still be in the wrong
· When in an environment with an overload of social injustice, learn to appreciate and celebrate the small things
(don’t fix your eyes on the big victories and get discouraged when they’re far-between)
Brantford, Ontario, November 3rd 2014 - A TALE OF VISION AND DIRECTION
I've always loved stories. A while ago I felt provoked to prioritise remembering, celebrating and telling the stories of what God has been up to in my life. Here goes. I was once one who would declare that I had no passions and that I had no vision for my future. Although I enjoyed studying, I cruised through high school without knowing the direction I wanted my life to face. Now, although I still have many unknowns, I do know that I want to work for the prevention of human trafficking. If you will, I'd like to tell the tale of how I got from A to B.
When I was eighteen I went on a week-long missions trip to Romania with a small team from my school. One evening my team were hosted by a group of Christian women as they invited us into their flat and cooked dinner for our team. We played games and the evening felt light-hearted. We we told, though, that some of these women grew up neglected by Romanian orphanages and as young teenage girls were forced by their circumstanced towards prostitution as a means of survival. The women sang a song for us as the evening ended, singing rawly and beautifully in Romanian. The room was thick at that moment, some of my team crying quietly as we listened.
That short trip confirmed to me something I'd already assumed: that I'm built to travel this globe. Going to Romania five years ago, I've volunteered for two different world missions organisations since. They've taken me to nine countries, none of which I chose myself but instead was placed on teams with pre-decided destinations. The work we've done has been out of my hands too, planned for me and my teams by our different leaders. Despite my years since high school feeling sporadic and diverse, I think God has been at work to weave a greater theme. Each missions trip I've gone on, my team has ended up exposed to organisations and businesses that work to free women from prostitution. My travels have taken me to red light districts in India, Thailand and Mongolia. We've stumbled across and prayed over un-advertised sex-selling areas, over strip clubs and over brothels. I've worked on building projects to expand businesses offering a dignifying alternative job to women who work on the streets. I've worked in production lines along side women who now have the dignifying job of making jewellery or sewing handbags. I helped paint a cafe which now employs ladyboys giving an escape from their jobs at the go go bars. I've handed out coffee to girls working the corners in the bitter cold.
It blows my mind that God has steered my years towards having a theme and a purpose. Honestly, I'm still in awe of God when I think about it. If I'd strived to plan the opportunities I've had, I think I'd have reached a lot of closed doors. It gets better though. That song the Romanian women beautifully sang to me and some friends, I heard it again in India being sung in Hindi. I heard it again in Thailand being sung in Thai. I heard it again in Mongolia being sung in Mongolian. I'm a cryer and I cried every time. All this to say, I think God patiently and deliberately used the past few years to show me the area which He wants me to serve in. Because it's how He has made me, working for the prevention of injustice is where I feel most captivated, most relevant and most alive. It is such a joy to work for God, the Maker, it really is.
When I was eighteen I went on a week-long missions trip to Romania with a small team from my school. One evening my team were hosted by a group of Christian women as they invited us into their flat and cooked dinner for our team. We played games and the evening felt light-hearted. We we told, though, that some of these women grew up neglected by Romanian orphanages and as young teenage girls were forced by their circumstanced towards prostitution as a means of survival. The women sang a song for us as the evening ended, singing rawly and beautifully in Romanian. The room was thick at that moment, some of my team crying quietly as we listened.
That short trip confirmed to me something I'd already assumed: that I'm built to travel this globe. Going to Romania five years ago, I've volunteered for two different world missions organisations since. They've taken me to nine countries, none of which I chose myself but instead was placed on teams with pre-decided destinations. The work we've done has been out of my hands too, planned for me and my teams by our different leaders. Despite my years since high school feeling sporadic and diverse, I think God has been at work to weave a greater theme. Each missions trip I've gone on, my team has ended up exposed to organisations and businesses that work to free women from prostitution. My travels have taken me to red light districts in India, Thailand and Mongolia. We've stumbled across and prayed over un-advertised sex-selling areas, over strip clubs and over brothels. I've worked on building projects to expand businesses offering a dignifying alternative job to women who work on the streets. I've worked in production lines along side women who now have the dignifying job of making jewellery or sewing handbags. I helped paint a cafe which now employs ladyboys giving an escape from their jobs at the go go bars. I've handed out coffee to girls working the corners in the bitter cold.
It blows my mind that God has steered my years towards having a theme and a purpose. Honestly, I'm still in awe of God when I think about it. If I'd strived to plan the opportunities I've had, I think I'd have reached a lot of closed doors. It gets better though. That song the Romanian women beautifully sang to me and some friends, I heard it again in India being sung in Hindi. I heard it again in Thailand being sung in Thai. I heard it again in Mongolia being sung in Mongolian. I'm a cryer and I cried every time. All this to say, I think God patiently and deliberately used the past few years to show me the area which He wants me to serve in. Because it's how He has made me, working for the prevention of injustice is where I feel most captivated, most relevant and most alive. It is such a joy to work for God, the Maker, it really is.
Brantford, Ontario, October 27th 2014 - REUNITED
Last week my team were invited by a local refugee-aid organisation to photograph a reunion at Toronto airport. Hanging out in the airport's arrivals lounge, five of us were geared up with our photo and video gear, waiting for hours in the hope of capturing the brief and celebratory collision of people who hadn't seen each other for years. We don't know much of this man's story (I'll deliberately be vague about some details at the request of the organisation) and so I don't intend to write about the story of a refugee. Instead, I want to write about what it was like to witness a refugee reuniting with his family for the first time in six years. Due to conflict in East Africa, this man has been living in Canada ever since he fled. Only recently have the efforts and fundraising of his Church (and others) led to the reality of his family being able to join him in Ontario. Last week his wife and eight children all flew together to see him again and to begin their lives alongside him.
Here's what we saw... We saw the anticipation of this man as he paced, fiddled his hands, starred at the arrivals sign and watched people coming through those automatic doors. We saw the staff of this organisation holding handmade welcome signs and we saw the man's Church friends stand beside him, provoking his excitement and keenly keeping an eye out. We saw a friend of his approach an air hostess who worked on the flight with this man's family. She told of how eager they are to see him and how the boys look so smart in their suits. At this, the father covered his face with his hands, smiling. Finally, we saw the man's children walk one by one through the arrival's doors, pulling their suitcases and waving to their father. We were privileged to see this man embrace his wife for the first time since he fled six years ago. We saw him gaze at his younger children in disbelief, rubbing their heads and pulling them close. We saw his sons meet other members of his Church and meet the organisation's staff, some of whom were overcome with tears. We saw embrace upon embrace as this family weaved in and out of each other and in and out of suitcases to greet those who had been waiting for them for so long.
We waited a few hours to see this reunion. This man waited six years. Following that short but powerful morning I've been sorting and editing some of the footage that I took (I shot video on this occasion). Each and every editing session has left me feeling so full, so grateful and so overwhelmed by the emotions of it all. It's a reminder to me of the cause that my team work towards. This is it. This is what it's for. This is why us, four passionate rookies, travel and research and strain and strive, because we long to see hope and restoration be the final chapter of those who have been displaced by circumstances bigger than them.
Here's what we saw... We saw the anticipation of this man as he paced, fiddled his hands, starred at the arrivals sign and watched people coming through those automatic doors. We saw the staff of this organisation holding handmade welcome signs and we saw the man's Church friends stand beside him, provoking his excitement and keenly keeping an eye out. We saw a friend of his approach an air hostess who worked on the flight with this man's family. She told of how eager they are to see him and how the boys look so smart in their suits. At this, the father covered his face with his hands, smiling. Finally, we saw the man's children walk one by one through the arrival's doors, pulling their suitcases and waving to their father. We were privileged to see this man embrace his wife for the first time since he fled six years ago. We saw him gaze at his younger children in disbelief, rubbing their heads and pulling them close. We saw his sons meet other members of his Church and meet the organisation's staff, some of whom were overcome with tears. We saw embrace upon embrace as this family weaved in and out of each other and in and out of suitcases to greet those who had been waiting for them for so long.
We waited a few hours to see this reunion. This man waited six years. Following that short but powerful morning I've been sorting and editing some of the footage that I took (I shot video on this occasion). Each and every editing session has left me feeling so full, so grateful and so overwhelmed by the emotions of it all. It's a reminder to me of the cause that my team work towards. This is it. This is what it's for. This is why us, four passionate rookies, travel and research and strain and strive, because we long to see hope and restoration be the final chapter of those who have been displaced by circumstances bigger than them.
Brantford, Ontario, October 19th 2014 - I WAS MADE
This week we’ve had a guest speaker come in and teach us on personality traits and strength finders. I’m a big ambassador for not wanting to feel boxed in, not wanting a test result to belittle or summarise me, or perhaps most of all to not want to feel like I’m somewhat of a norm. Despite my ignorant albeit feisty resistance of understanding my nature, I’ve been so pleasantly surprised to enjoy this week and the teaching it has brought. We’ve taken tests and answered questions, hearing humorous illustrations that leave at least one of us fondly nodding along in agreement. For those of you who understand Myers Briggs speak, I’m an INFJ. (Outside of class I looked up which other famous people share these traits with me. I was pretty horrified that one of them is Adolf Hitler, although another was Mother Teresa. And Jesus. Though perhaps He’s on every list?)
So, I’m introverted. I actually cried years ago when I first took a test that confronted me with the fact that I am indeed an introvert. Now, I understand that this doesn’t mean that I’m shy or one who likes people less; I simply flourish when I have opportunities to recharge within solitude. I love to think big picture and to find patterns and the connections behind things. I like to make decisions based on people rather than on facts, and I love order within my lifestyle. I’m gifted in teaching, loving to make lessons out of life and sharing with others what my mind has been dwelling on. In my walk with God, in learning more about Him and consequently more about me, He patiently/graciously/mightily brought me out of feeling unmade. I spent the most part of my teenage years feeling like I was an accident. Whilst it’s been a while since I succumbed to this inward-focused belief, I still felt liberated this week, reminded that I was made. I am a handmade person built by an intentional God. He made me well and He made me limited. I need other people around me to work alongside, that’s what God intended.
Finally, it has been so helpful to learn more about how my teammates are built. I’m beginning to think that God was onto something when He placed us together. Some of us offer characteristics and abilities that the rest of us don’t possess. Between us all, including Jon, Layne and Hannah, we represent the diverse collection of giftings and means of deciding and thinking. We are built to work together.
So, I’m introverted. I actually cried years ago when I first took a test that confronted me with the fact that I am indeed an introvert. Now, I understand that this doesn’t mean that I’m shy or one who likes people less; I simply flourish when I have opportunities to recharge within solitude. I love to think big picture and to find patterns and the connections behind things. I like to make decisions based on people rather than on facts, and I love order within my lifestyle. I’m gifted in teaching, loving to make lessons out of life and sharing with others what my mind has been dwelling on. In my walk with God, in learning more about Him and consequently more about me, He patiently/graciously/mightily brought me out of feeling unmade. I spent the most part of my teenage years feeling like I was an accident. Whilst it’s been a while since I succumbed to this inward-focused belief, I still felt liberated this week, reminded that I was made. I am a handmade person built by an intentional God. He made me well and He made me limited. I need other people around me to work alongside, that’s what God intended.
Finally, it has been so helpful to learn more about how my teammates are built. I’m beginning to think that God was onto something when He placed us together. Some of us offer characteristics and abilities that the rest of us don’t possess. Between us all, including Jon, Layne and Hannah, we represent the diverse collection of giftings and means of deciding and thinking. We are built to work together.
Cat Ba Island, Vietnam, October 6th 2014 - SWEET SWEET REST
This blog post comes to you from a quiet beach in Vietnam where my attention is distracted by the tide coming in and by the pretty shells around my feet. I'm at the end of a short break from Track with my teammate Idun and a friend from Chester, Jenny Mansfield.
Somewhere along the way on our outreach/Asia stint I realised that I'd been taking myself and my tasks too seriously. I let my expectations of myself become distant and unrecognisable from God's and began to channel my sadness at the injustices around me into working hard at what I was doing. Eventually, this ended in me feeling over tired and overwhelmed. I so quickly forget that God advises rest for us. I want to dwell on that a bit, in fact, I want to celebrate it.
I think a reason I've found this break in Vietnam so restful is because I feel released and motivated by God to enjoy rest. The wise words of my mum once reminded me that in how God created the world He included the need for His creation to rest. Trees have their fruitless seasons and fields thrive off periods without producing. God Himself enjoyed space for rest as He created this world. He advises it. So many of His commands describe lifestyles that take rest seriously and recurrently. They're just not the commands we talk about very much.
And so, whilst this break has included sweet things that I'll remember for a while (like coconuts on the beach, playing ukulele at sunset, riding a moped around a remote island and visiting a wonder of the world - pretty good!), the most liberating part of the past ten days has been feeling spurred on by God to rest and to enjoy. I believe we are handmade people and that the things that revive us and breathe life into us each are different. For me, I feel refuelled when I feel adventurous. Thankfully, my innate definition of adventure isn't simply jumping out of planes (although I wouldn't decline), it's too from simply exploring, or from being in new places, or from being surrounded by nature that is bigger than me, or from doing things that stretch my comfort zone, or from doing things I've never done before, or from ticking things off my bucket list. Other restful things have been found in not having a planned agenda each day, not feeling rushed, enjoying long mealtimes and talking and praying with two close friends.
I guess what I want to say is this: God really served up this break-week for me. He helped me clean up my own mess of self-induced over-tiredness and I felt encouraged by Him to enjoy this country that He created, Vietnam.
Somewhere along the way on our outreach/Asia stint I realised that I'd been taking myself and my tasks too seriously. I let my expectations of myself become distant and unrecognisable from God's and began to channel my sadness at the injustices around me into working hard at what I was doing. Eventually, this ended in me feeling over tired and overwhelmed. I so quickly forget that God advises rest for us. I want to dwell on that a bit, in fact, I want to celebrate it.
I think a reason I've found this break in Vietnam so restful is because I feel released and motivated by God to enjoy rest. The wise words of my mum once reminded me that in how God created the world He included the need for His creation to rest. Trees have their fruitless seasons and fields thrive off periods without producing. God Himself enjoyed space for rest as He created this world. He advises it. So many of His commands describe lifestyles that take rest seriously and recurrently. They're just not the commands we talk about very much.
And so, whilst this break has included sweet things that I'll remember for a while (like coconuts on the beach, playing ukulele at sunset, riding a moped around a remote island and visiting a wonder of the world - pretty good!), the most liberating part of the past ten days has been feeling spurred on by God to rest and to enjoy. I believe we are handmade people and that the things that revive us and breathe life into us each are different. For me, I feel refuelled when I feel adventurous. Thankfully, my innate definition of adventure isn't simply jumping out of planes (although I wouldn't decline), it's too from simply exploring, or from being in new places, or from being surrounded by nature that is bigger than me, or from doing things that stretch my comfort zone, or from doing things I've never done before, or from ticking things off my bucket list. Other restful things have been found in not having a planned agenda each day, not feeling rushed, enjoying long mealtimes and talking and praying with two close friends.
I guess what I want to say is this: God really served up this break-week for me. He helped me clean up my own mess of self-induced over-tiredness and I felt encouraged by Him to enjoy this country that He created, Vietnam.
Phnom Penh, Cambodia, September 25th 2014 - WHERE ARE YOU NOW?
“Beth, where in the world are you now?” Recently I’ve got a few comments like this, so I thought I’d spend a wee bit of time explaining where my feet will be standing over the next few weeks.
My team is in quite an epic time right now. It's our final day of living in Asia; spending three months in India, Thailand and Cambodia. Today we’re enjoying some space to debrief and chat about our experiences before we part ways for a short break. We’ve loved, endured and survived Asia’s monsoon season. We've all been to at least one country we’d never been to before, and gotten familiar with our cameras as well as with each other. I have more faith in my team and in what we’re able to go through and work through together. Even the hard times this summer has held have gone on to be noticeably worthwhile, mostly in unifying us more as a family of four. I’ve left each country not feeling particularly ready to leave, and with more of a love for that country. It’s rather unhelpful, but every country I’ve been to I have left loving it sincerely, vowing one day to return. I expected travelling to help me simmer down where I'd like to live in life, not make it broader – that’s a bit of fine-print for you.
As of the 26th of September our Track’s second break will have begun. These breaks are clusters of rest for each of us where we’re freed to recuperate, to find a corner of the world to spend time in and to meet back together after some days. And so, until the 9th of October I’ll be exploring Vietnam with my teammate Idun and a friend from England. After then, it’s back to Brantford Ontario for another few months of photo and video class. Bring on the Vietnamese adventures!
My team is in quite an epic time right now. It's our final day of living in Asia; spending three months in India, Thailand and Cambodia. Today we’re enjoying some space to debrief and chat about our experiences before we part ways for a short break. We’ve loved, endured and survived Asia’s monsoon season. We've all been to at least one country we’d never been to before, and gotten familiar with our cameras as well as with each other. I have more faith in my team and in what we’re able to go through and work through together. Even the hard times this summer has held have gone on to be noticeably worthwhile, mostly in unifying us more as a family of four. I’ve left each country not feeling particularly ready to leave, and with more of a love for that country. It’s rather unhelpful, but every country I’ve been to I have left loving it sincerely, vowing one day to return. I expected travelling to help me simmer down where I'd like to live in life, not make it broader – that’s a bit of fine-print for you.
As of the 26th of September our Track’s second break will have begun. These breaks are clusters of rest for each of us where we’re freed to recuperate, to find a corner of the world to spend time in and to meet back together after some days. And so, until the 9th of October I’ll be exploring Vietnam with my teammate Idun and a friend from England. After then, it’s back to Brantford Ontario for another few months of photo and video class. Bring on the Vietnamese adventures!
Battambang, Cambodia, September 20th 2014 - BUDDHISM // I AM FREE
I want to talk about Buddhism. These really are no more than the dwellings of a novice, but I’m going to attempt to write about what I’ve noticed of Buddhism after living for these past months in two predominately Buddhist countries.
I was surprised to hear a Christian explain that Buddhism is very similar to Christianity; that the teachings of Buddha and the teachings of Jesus are alike. In both religions there is recognition that this world of ours holds suffering and sin. For Christians, freedom from sin and suffering comes through Jesus Christ and the salvation He made available, offering hope within and beyond this life. For Buddhists, freedom from sin and suffering comes from postponing and lessening one’s karma (or accumulated guilt) by merit-making and avoiding sin. Buddha believed that all of our actions as humans lead to a sinful lifestyle and that this accumulated karma is the reason for suffering. He concluded that a series of rules could be followed, almost as an act of dehumanising oneself and avoiding adding to the world’s suffering.
I had quite a Western understanding of Buddhism before this stint of travels. Karma I understood alongside the phrase ‘what goes around comes around.’ The karma that I had heard about on TV was quite a glossy one, a vague notion that the good or bad you do will come back to influence you. Nothing too offensive. However, Buddhism says that with karma there is no way out, in fact, death occurs when one’s karma accumulates and catches up with them. Karma is closely related to revenge and vengeance as you cannot escape an action that you do in this life; it will dictate and influence your next reincarnated life. And so, generally Buddhists will live a very peace-filled life in the hope of avoiding adding to their karma. To lessen the penalty of your karma on your next life there is a system of ‘merit making,’ which lists rules and things to do to make the most merit for yourself. The highest way that a girl can make merit for herself is by providing for her family financially until the age of 25. The type of work the girl does to attain this merit, even if it brings shame to her or her family, is outshone by the value of her making merit. The highest way for a son to make merit is to serve as a Buddhist monk at any point in his life for three months. He can choose to serve longer than three months to earn extra merit, or he can even make merit for his mother by serving as a monk.
Once upon a time, persuaded by the consensus around me that Christians were to do good, I spent a lot of my life viewing God as a god who required actions off me. He required me to serve Him somewhat as proof that I was following Him. Spoiler alert: I’d got God wrong. I’ve noticed that Buddhists also live under this pressure to do. For them, there is no freedom from working against the penalty of their own sin. Eventually, their karma will catch up with them, they will die and (according to Buddhism) they will be reincarnated to a life dictated by the decisions made in their previous ones, be it selfish or selfless. It saddened me to hear of masses of people living burdened by their own guilt whilst accepting that there is no real way out. Even children grow understanding their own responsibility to make merit for themselves and for their family.
I doubt that this was Buddha's intent but learning about Buddhism has made me more grateful for Jesus. You see, I am free. I am free from this. I am free from fearing the penalty of my shortcomings; I am free from anticipating that my sin will lead me to death. I am free from doing works to persuade God that I’m worthy of His time. In sending Jesus Christ to roam a small portion of the Middle East, God has made a way for me to be completely free from condemnation. Jesus died as a guiltless man under the burden of my sin so that I/we/you can be freed from expecting consequences for our sin and freed from expecting life to end in death. We’ve got access to an exit-pass from feeling like we’re a product of our own decisions. No longer do I live under the illusion that I can persuade God to love me or to forgive me or to accept me; I know that I am a sinner saved by grace, nothing to do with what I've done. Mindful of Buddhism, I feel a completely liberating lack of burden to add to what God has done. He did it all, gave it all, and made a way for me to be free from the consequences of my own guilt. Oh baby, I am free!
I was surprised to hear a Christian explain that Buddhism is very similar to Christianity; that the teachings of Buddha and the teachings of Jesus are alike. In both religions there is recognition that this world of ours holds suffering and sin. For Christians, freedom from sin and suffering comes through Jesus Christ and the salvation He made available, offering hope within and beyond this life. For Buddhists, freedom from sin and suffering comes from postponing and lessening one’s karma (or accumulated guilt) by merit-making and avoiding sin. Buddha believed that all of our actions as humans lead to a sinful lifestyle and that this accumulated karma is the reason for suffering. He concluded that a series of rules could be followed, almost as an act of dehumanising oneself and avoiding adding to the world’s suffering.
I had quite a Western understanding of Buddhism before this stint of travels. Karma I understood alongside the phrase ‘what goes around comes around.’ The karma that I had heard about on TV was quite a glossy one, a vague notion that the good or bad you do will come back to influence you. Nothing too offensive. However, Buddhism says that with karma there is no way out, in fact, death occurs when one’s karma accumulates and catches up with them. Karma is closely related to revenge and vengeance as you cannot escape an action that you do in this life; it will dictate and influence your next reincarnated life. And so, generally Buddhists will live a very peace-filled life in the hope of avoiding adding to their karma. To lessen the penalty of your karma on your next life there is a system of ‘merit making,’ which lists rules and things to do to make the most merit for yourself. The highest way that a girl can make merit for herself is by providing for her family financially until the age of 25. The type of work the girl does to attain this merit, even if it brings shame to her or her family, is outshone by the value of her making merit. The highest way for a son to make merit is to serve as a Buddhist monk at any point in his life for three months. He can choose to serve longer than three months to earn extra merit, or he can even make merit for his mother by serving as a monk.
Once upon a time, persuaded by the consensus around me that Christians were to do good, I spent a lot of my life viewing God as a god who required actions off me. He required me to serve Him somewhat as proof that I was following Him. Spoiler alert: I’d got God wrong. I’ve noticed that Buddhists also live under this pressure to do. For them, there is no freedom from working against the penalty of their own sin. Eventually, their karma will catch up with them, they will die and (according to Buddhism) they will be reincarnated to a life dictated by the decisions made in their previous ones, be it selfish or selfless. It saddened me to hear of masses of people living burdened by their own guilt whilst accepting that there is no real way out. Even children grow understanding their own responsibility to make merit for themselves and for their family.
I doubt that this was Buddha's intent but learning about Buddhism has made me more grateful for Jesus. You see, I am free. I am free from this. I am free from fearing the penalty of my shortcomings; I am free from anticipating that my sin will lead me to death. I am free from doing works to persuade God that I’m worthy of His time. In sending Jesus Christ to roam a small portion of the Middle East, God has made a way for me to be completely free from condemnation. Jesus died as a guiltless man under the burden of my sin so that I/we/you can be freed from expecting consequences for our sin and freed from expecting life to end in death. We’ve got access to an exit-pass from feeling like we’re a product of our own decisions. No longer do I live under the illusion that I can persuade God to love me or to forgive me or to accept me; I know that I am a sinner saved by grace, nothing to do with what I've done. Mindful of Buddhism, I feel a completely liberating lack of burden to add to what God has done. He did it all, gave it all, and made a way for me to be free from the consequences of my own guilt. Oh baby, I am free!
Battambang, Cambodia, September 13th 2014 - THESE PAST MONTHS
hese past months I blog quite often about small lessons that I'm learning or parts of our travelling life that I'm grateful for (oh boy I love to write). I don't often write about the kind of things we're getting up to or what our day-to-day life is filled with. To be honest, it's quite the collage of random and fulfilling stuff.
So, here goes...
In Kolkata, India, we worked alongside YWAM Perth Megacities who biyearly choose a city with over 1 million people and send all their teams there that year (Kolkata being the 2014 choice). They placed us in a part of Kolkata renowned for slums, refugees and its wetlands. Part-time we worked for Megacities and part-time we gathered photos, video and information for our own Track research. For Megacities, we read the Gospels aloud in public places, we shared Bible studies and testimonies at cell-groups, we went on house visits offering prayer, we attended a local Church and joined their evangelism evening, and we took photos for a Pastor in the theme of 'water' for him to use to promote a new water-saving initiative. For the rest of our time we enjoyed getting familiar with our local community, taking photos of the people we'd walk by every day. We joined a team who work within a slum, they introduced us to different families in this slum, as well as to families who live alongside the train tracks. We led a session for their staff on photography tips and how to create their own photo stories. For a day we joined the school I volunteered for when I was 18 (GNCEM) - a place that offers education to street children. We spent some time with a street family I am friends with and wrote a story on their life on Kolkata's streets. Time off was filled with seeing a Bollywood film, my teammates getting their noses pierced, shopping in Kolkata's infamous New Market (I accidentally took my team through the meat-market entrance, pretty horrifying), and hanging out with my Indian mum Anu who hosted my BMS team when I was 18. She treated us to chai on a rooftop, homemade lassi and onion bhajis, and took us to the Hooghly River.
Our time in Thailand began with a few days in a Hospitality House, by far the nicest place we've stayed. We debriefed our time in India and prayed over our upcoming month. We also enjoyed having our own kitchen, drinking coffee and eating French toast and pancakes. For the most part we stayed in a backpacker's Guesthouse in Chiang Mai and enjoyed getting to know the staff there. We joined a local Church and met with a ministry who work in Chiang Mai's non-touristy red light district and had them show us around. We read the book of Ephesians over the city and were free to split up, explore and do individual photo assignments. This felt particularly liberating after being in India where we always needing to go out in twos or threes. In Thailand we were able to get a lot of video interviews, hearing a lady explain Buddhism and Thai culture, hearing from a missionary to Myanmar, hearing from a Compasio worker and listening to the stories of three refugees from Myanmar as they explained their journey to Thailand and life in a refugee camp. At the recommendation of lots of different people, my team made a quick change of plans and spent the most part of our last week in Mae Sot, or 'Little Burma.' There we crossed the border and spent a day in Myanmar with two Burmese friends. We also visited a Burmese refugee camp north of Mae Sot, got to eat Burmese food and visited a YWAM base for Kachin people. Something sweet was that our waitress overheard that we were going to walk to the bus-stop at 4:30am with our bags (we hadn't figured out Mae Sot's transport) and she offered to drive us - we were pretty grateful. Some of the stories we focused on in Thailand were on life at the Myanmar/Thai border, and on the life of Burmese migrants who work on Thai construction sites.
Now we are a little over the halfway mark of our time in Cambodia, our final Asia outreach location. We spent our first week in Phnom Pehn connected to the YWAM there. We took photos for a ministry called Children At Risk, visiting village homes with them, helping with their kids club (all inclusive of a spontaneous Jonah drama) and shared a few testimonies and Bible studies. We were also taken by a friend into a nearby slum in the capital to meet a couple of families that he had built relationships with. I was able to take photos of life in that slum and to write a story about a particular house and family. Here in Battambang my team have split up to take photos for two different ministries. Me, Idun and Sharon have joined Crossing Cambodia (a day centre which cares for and educates at-risk children from 6am to 4pm.) The photos we've taken will be used to show the daily routine of their school and the children's portraits will be framed to give the place a family feel, as well as given to the child's supporters. Cat and Eric have been taking photos for Lighthouse Battambang, a centre that houses Khmer students from rural Cambodia to aid their studies. With a fairly sizey amount of editing to do, our final weeks will be filled with Photoshop dates as well as staying with a village orphanage to take photos for them.
So, here goes...
In Kolkata, India, we worked alongside YWAM Perth Megacities who biyearly choose a city with over 1 million people and send all their teams there that year (Kolkata being the 2014 choice). They placed us in a part of Kolkata renowned for slums, refugees and its wetlands. Part-time we worked for Megacities and part-time we gathered photos, video and information for our own Track research. For Megacities, we read the Gospels aloud in public places, we shared Bible studies and testimonies at cell-groups, we went on house visits offering prayer, we attended a local Church and joined their evangelism evening, and we took photos for a Pastor in the theme of 'water' for him to use to promote a new water-saving initiative. For the rest of our time we enjoyed getting familiar with our local community, taking photos of the people we'd walk by every day. We joined a team who work within a slum, they introduced us to different families in this slum, as well as to families who live alongside the train tracks. We led a session for their staff on photography tips and how to create their own photo stories. For a day we joined the school I volunteered for when I was 18 (GNCEM) - a place that offers education to street children. We spent some time with a street family I am friends with and wrote a story on their life on Kolkata's streets. Time off was filled with seeing a Bollywood film, my teammates getting their noses pierced, shopping in Kolkata's infamous New Market (I accidentally took my team through the meat-market entrance, pretty horrifying), and hanging out with my Indian mum Anu who hosted my BMS team when I was 18. She treated us to chai on a rooftop, homemade lassi and onion bhajis, and took us to the Hooghly River.
Our time in Thailand began with a few days in a Hospitality House, by far the nicest place we've stayed. We debriefed our time in India and prayed over our upcoming month. We also enjoyed having our own kitchen, drinking coffee and eating French toast and pancakes. For the most part we stayed in a backpacker's Guesthouse in Chiang Mai and enjoyed getting to know the staff there. We joined a local Church and met with a ministry who work in Chiang Mai's non-touristy red light district and had them show us around. We read the book of Ephesians over the city and were free to split up, explore and do individual photo assignments. This felt particularly liberating after being in India where we always needing to go out in twos or threes. In Thailand we were able to get a lot of video interviews, hearing a lady explain Buddhism and Thai culture, hearing from a missionary to Myanmar, hearing from a Compasio worker and listening to the stories of three refugees from Myanmar as they explained their journey to Thailand and life in a refugee camp. At the recommendation of lots of different people, my team made a quick change of plans and spent the most part of our last week in Mae Sot, or 'Little Burma.' There we crossed the border and spent a day in Myanmar with two Burmese friends. We also visited a Burmese refugee camp north of Mae Sot, got to eat Burmese food and visited a YWAM base for Kachin people. Something sweet was that our waitress overheard that we were going to walk to the bus-stop at 4:30am with our bags (we hadn't figured out Mae Sot's transport) and she offered to drive us - we were pretty grateful. Some of the stories we focused on in Thailand were on life at the Myanmar/Thai border, and on the life of Burmese migrants who work on Thai construction sites.
Now we are a little over the halfway mark of our time in Cambodia, our final Asia outreach location. We spent our first week in Phnom Pehn connected to the YWAM there. We took photos for a ministry called Children At Risk, visiting village homes with them, helping with their kids club (all inclusive of a spontaneous Jonah drama) and shared a few testimonies and Bible studies. We were also taken by a friend into a nearby slum in the capital to meet a couple of families that he had built relationships with. I was able to take photos of life in that slum and to write a story about a particular house and family. Here in Battambang my team have split up to take photos for two different ministries. Me, Idun and Sharon have joined Crossing Cambodia (a day centre which cares for and educates at-risk children from 6am to 4pm.) The photos we've taken will be used to show the daily routine of their school and the children's portraits will be framed to give the place a family feel, as well as given to the child's supporters. Cat and Eric have been taking photos for Lighthouse Battambang, a centre that houses Khmer students from rural Cambodia to aid their studies. With a fairly sizey amount of editing to do, our final weeks will be filled with Photoshop dates as well as staying with a village orphanage to take photos for them.
Phnom Penh, Cambodia, September 7th 2014 - REVIVED
I got tired. I’m tallying some of the repeating parts of our travelling lifestyle and so far, for me, there have been 2 trains, 10 flights, 12 buses, 12 beds and 13 times I’ve packed and unpacked. In this last week we found that some of the initial components of outreach (like making new contacts, researching local issues, learning new words and adjusting to new cultures) lost their sparkle a bit. Here in Cambodia (our team's third and final location in our Asia stint) those prospects felt more daunting and I had to consciously remind myself that we weren’t back to square one but that our lessons from our travels had pre-prepared us somewhat. This Track combines everything that I love: travel, adventure, exploring, learning, art, justice, challenge, and yet with the maths equation of all those things added up, recently I found myself at a point where it wasn’t equaling joy and I was perplexed at this. With the help of some wise, timely and confrontational words I realised that I’ve been putting pressure on myself to do ‘worthwhile’ things on our travels. I made our assignments feel more serious and our final project (which we’ll begin creating after a year of Track) feel like it was the most important thing. I massively messed up my priorities and forgot some of the simpler standards that are so important to God. A great relief was brought when I realised that the success of our final project won’t hinge on how hard we tried or how perfect we present it. It will be based on how God chooses to use it to bring about change, be it big or small.
I’d like to give a shout out to God’s faithfulness that arrived following our initial tiredness which we carried into Cambodia. This week has been one of my favourites. A friend from Brantford came for a pastoral visit this week and, with her training in counselling, she led my team through some healthy talks as we all learn how to do life so closely alongside one another. Two PhotogenX staff from Kona swung by for a visit and their generosity and wisdom has been such a blessing. I’ve been able to gather information and images for a photo story based on a family in a small, bustling slum that is nestled just below where we’re staying. We were able to interview a friend we’ve made who shared his heart for this slum and for Cambodia. On our day off we visited The Killing Fields and honoured those killed in Cambodia’s recent genocide by learning about the atrocities that went on. The small lessons and doses of fun that this week has held has revived me and my expectancies of our month in Cambodia.
And so, I’m learning to notice the small parts of each day that make these travels significant. Instead of judging the validity of each day by what photos and videos we’ve accumulated, I’m learning to acknowledge the opportunities it held. Here are some of the sparkly parts of our first week in Cambodia that reminded me to find joy in each day: We got to wash head lice out of the hair of children who experience neglect. We prayed in the homes of families who live in houses that aren’t stable enough for monsoon season. I befriended a girl who was crying in a local slum and got to wipe her tears. Me and a friend distracted two children from their evening rounds of begging with games of rock/paper/scissors (which I lost six times, how is that possible?!). My team shared stories and the Bible with a community of Christians living in Phnom Penh’s villages. My team has played more games together this week. We ate in a restaurant that supports the freedom of trafficking victims. I prayed for photo opportunities that I'd need to use wisdom for to decline and had a few times where I got to practice putting down my camera for the sake of honouring someone else. I feel liberated by being reminded that each day carries simple, wonderful and fulfilling opportunities that are valuable whether they add to our Track's final project or not.
I’d like to give a shout out to God’s faithfulness that arrived following our initial tiredness which we carried into Cambodia. This week has been one of my favourites. A friend from Brantford came for a pastoral visit this week and, with her training in counselling, she led my team through some healthy talks as we all learn how to do life so closely alongside one another. Two PhotogenX staff from Kona swung by for a visit and their generosity and wisdom has been such a blessing. I’ve been able to gather information and images for a photo story based on a family in a small, bustling slum that is nestled just below where we’re staying. We were able to interview a friend we’ve made who shared his heart for this slum and for Cambodia. On our day off we visited The Killing Fields and honoured those killed in Cambodia’s recent genocide by learning about the atrocities that went on. The small lessons and doses of fun that this week has held has revived me and my expectancies of our month in Cambodia.
And so, I’m learning to notice the small parts of each day that make these travels significant. Instead of judging the validity of each day by what photos and videos we’ve accumulated, I’m learning to acknowledge the opportunities it held. Here are some of the sparkly parts of our first week in Cambodia that reminded me to find joy in each day: We got to wash head lice out of the hair of children who experience neglect. We prayed in the homes of families who live in houses that aren’t stable enough for monsoon season. I befriended a girl who was crying in a local slum and got to wipe her tears. Me and a friend distracted two children from their evening rounds of begging with games of rock/paper/scissors (which I lost six times, how is that possible?!). My team shared stories and the Bible with a community of Christians living in Phnom Penh’s villages. My team has played more games together this week. We ate in a restaurant that supports the freedom of trafficking victims. I prayed for photo opportunities that I'd need to use wisdom for to decline and had a few times where I got to practice putting down my camera for the sake of honouring someone else. I feel liberated by being reminded that each day carries simple, wonderful and fulfilling opportunities that are valuable whether they add to our Track's final project or not.
Phnom Penh, Cambodia, August 30th 2014 - Mae La Refugee Camp
We went to a refugee camp. I’m no historian, and the small pieces of information I know about refugees and migrants has been gathered over the last few months. I’m learning though, alongside my teammates, about the effects that displacement has on an individual, on their future, on people-groups and, consequently, on countries. To not write about some of the things we’ve been shown on our travels feels like I’m silencing something that could do with being spoken about. And so, again I’ll begin…
We went to a refugee camp. I’ve never been to a camp before, nor had I cared to adjust my clique expectation that all camps are dusty tents clustered together as far as the eye can see. Not Mae La. On the Thai/Myanmar border north of Mae Sot is Mae La, the largest of seven border refugee camps stretching 3km long. It is the home of around 50,000 refugees, over 90% of whom are Karen, one of Myanmar’s largest ethnic minorities. The Karen people, like other ethnic groups of Myanmar, have endured decades of civil war and attack from the military of their own country. In what some refer to ethnic cleansing or genocide, we have heard stories of Karen people having their villages raided by soldiers, landmines being implanted, livestock being shot, war crimes such as rape and Karen people being confiscated by the Myanmar army to work as soldier’s porters or to walk before them in landmine zones. For some it was as simple as this: to keep their life meant to leave their country. This is where Mae La comes in. Mae La is beautiful. Closely packed wooden huts huddle and cling to rolling jungle hills and a striking cliff face. Mud paths weave their way through the crowded settlements as barbed wire frames Mae La into its boundaries. The refugees within Mae La hold UN refugee status and are permitted to live in Thailand only within the camp. Refugees who choose to leave Mae La to live or work elsewhere face the constant threat of being caught by police officials. The consequence of such an instance can vary from paying a small or large bribery fee, being put in prison or being deported back to Myanmar. Though there is official and basic care (in terms of food and education) provided for the refugees in Mae La camp, there is an overriding sense of hopelessness and boredom within the confined communities from being stuck in one place.
A Mae Sot NGO worker shared insight with us on the contrasting experiences of Myanmar’s official refugees and its illegal migrants, both living within Thailand. Whereas Mae La receives official care and food rations, the migrant communities (living outside of refugee camps) have to fend for themselves and make an effort to survive. The people of Mae La generally lack the drive and incentive to grow in what they’re doing because there isn’t an outlet for being industrious. Between the refugee children in Mae La and migrant children in Mae Sot there are differences in perspectives on life: one has been given more and one has been given less, but in both cases there is poverty. Whilst there is hopelessness in Mae La, there is fear and direct conflict in some of the less protected migrant communities. In both cases you have people where they aren’t supposed to be, people who are displaced. One has a piece of paper saying, ‘I’m allowed to live in this area surrounded by bamboo and barbed wire’, and another lives hoping on a daily basis that they won’t be arrested or taken advantage of.
In hearing from refugees and ministries that work alongside the Burmese people it is clear that the fragile and volatile state of Myanmar makes the country impossible for many to live in. The sad component of the stories we hear is that life on the Thai side of the border bears its own share of injustice, threat and fear. Some of the realities for migrants who illegally enter Thailand are: hard, gruelling and dangerous labour for little pay, succumbing to corruption and bribery if caught by police officials, no access to education or healthcare and no freedom to travel outside of Thailand. Despite the hardship of life as a Burmese migrant or refugee in Thailand, every person I’ve asked has shared that they don’t regret coming; they don’t doubt the necessity of the decision that they made.
We went to a refugee camp. I’ve never been to a camp before, nor had I cared to adjust my clique expectation that all camps are dusty tents clustered together as far as the eye can see. Not Mae La. On the Thai/Myanmar border north of Mae Sot is Mae La, the largest of seven border refugee camps stretching 3km long. It is the home of around 50,000 refugees, over 90% of whom are Karen, one of Myanmar’s largest ethnic minorities. The Karen people, like other ethnic groups of Myanmar, have endured decades of civil war and attack from the military of their own country. In what some refer to ethnic cleansing or genocide, we have heard stories of Karen people having their villages raided by soldiers, landmines being implanted, livestock being shot, war crimes such as rape and Karen people being confiscated by the Myanmar army to work as soldier’s porters or to walk before them in landmine zones. For some it was as simple as this: to keep their life meant to leave their country. This is where Mae La comes in. Mae La is beautiful. Closely packed wooden huts huddle and cling to rolling jungle hills and a striking cliff face. Mud paths weave their way through the crowded settlements as barbed wire frames Mae La into its boundaries. The refugees within Mae La hold UN refugee status and are permitted to live in Thailand only within the camp. Refugees who choose to leave Mae La to live or work elsewhere face the constant threat of being caught by police officials. The consequence of such an instance can vary from paying a small or large bribery fee, being put in prison or being deported back to Myanmar. Though there is official and basic care (in terms of food and education) provided for the refugees in Mae La camp, there is an overriding sense of hopelessness and boredom within the confined communities from being stuck in one place.
A Mae Sot NGO worker shared insight with us on the contrasting experiences of Myanmar’s official refugees and its illegal migrants, both living within Thailand. Whereas Mae La receives official care and food rations, the migrant communities (living outside of refugee camps) have to fend for themselves and make an effort to survive. The people of Mae La generally lack the drive and incentive to grow in what they’re doing because there isn’t an outlet for being industrious. Between the refugee children in Mae La and migrant children in Mae Sot there are differences in perspectives on life: one has been given more and one has been given less, but in both cases there is poverty. Whilst there is hopelessness in Mae La, there is fear and direct conflict in some of the less protected migrant communities. In both cases you have people where they aren’t supposed to be, people who are displaced. One has a piece of paper saying, ‘I’m allowed to live in this area surrounded by bamboo and barbed wire’, and another lives hoping on a daily basis that they won’t be arrested or taken advantage of.
In hearing from refugees and ministries that work alongside the Burmese people it is clear that the fragile and volatile state of Myanmar makes the country impossible for many to live in. The sad component of the stories we hear is that life on the Thai side of the border bears its own share of injustice, threat and fear. Some of the realities for migrants who illegally enter Thailand are: hard, gruelling and dangerous labour for little pay, succumbing to corruption and bribery if caught by police officials, no access to education or healthcare and no freedom to travel outside of Thailand. Despite the hardship of life as a Burmese migrant or refugee in Thailand, every person I’ve asked has shared that they don’t regret coming; they don’t doubt the necessity of the decision that they made.
Mae Sot, Thailand, August 26th 2014 - OUR ADVENTURE TO MAE SOT
This time last week we were thinking about making a quick change of plans and spending our remaining Thai days in a city known as 'Little Burma,' Mae Sot. We hadn't organised where we could stay, we were yet to figure out transport, we didn't have anyone who would host us and our contacts were busy. Accompanying all of this was the gut-feeling that we were supposed to be in Mae Sot; that God wanted us to go. It was probably the most unplanned plan I've committed to and I want to tell you some of our happy tales from the last four days.
We stayed in a simple and central Guesthouse in a city that has become one of my favourite places in Thailand. Some BMS missionaries met with my team on our first day, gave us local advice and pointed us to places with Burmese staff. After living in Chiang Mai where it wasn't easy to knowingly meet a Burmese person, we were in a place where to be Thai was to be outnumbered. People wandered the streets and the market places speaking their dialects from Myanmar and wearing thanakha on their faces (a Burmese face-painting tradition). Quite a refreshing contrast. On our first day we met a guy from Myanmar's Karen state who was our age, who heard we wanted to go into Myanmar and offered to go with us. The next day, when we planned to go, was his only day off that week. We biked with him and his Burmese friend to the Thailand/Myanmar border and were able to spend the day with them in their home country. By far that adventure was one of my favourites from this Track so far! Other unplanned surprises were being offered a ride to the outskirts of Mae Sot's nearest refugee camp (Mae La, the first I've ever seen), meeting and being able to interview a few Burmese refugees who told us about their individual experiences, and biking back to the Thai/Myanmar border to visit a Burmese market.
Our few days felt packed, intentional and worthwhile. I really saw God come through for my team and genuinely think we couldn't have planned a better trip ourselves. It was so valuable to stand within Myanmar as well as to hear stories firsthand from those who have fled their country. God was faithful.
We stayed in a simple and central Guesthouse in a city that has become one of my favourite places in Thailand. Some BMS missionaries met with my team on our first day, gave us local advice and pointed us to places with Burmese staff. After living in Chiang Mai where it wasn't easy to knowingly meet a Burmese person, we were in a place where to be Thai was to be outnumbered. People wandered the streets and the market places speaking their dialects from Myanmar and wearing thanakha on their faces (a Burmese face-painting tradition). Quite a refreshing contrast. On our first day we met a guy from Myanmar's Karen state who was our age, who heard we wanted to go into Myanmar and offered to go with us. The next day, when we planned to go, was his only day off that week. We biked with him and his Burmese friend to the Thailand/Myanmar border and were able to spend the day with them in their home country. By far that adventure was one of my favourites from this Track so far! Other unplanned surprises were being offered a ride to the outskirts of Mae Sot's nearest refugee camp (Mae La, the first I've ever seen), meeting and being able to interview a few Burmese refugees who told us about their individual experiences, and biking back to the Thai/Myanmar border to visit a Burmese market.
Our few days felt packed, intentional and worthwhile. I really saw God come through for my team and genuinely think we couldn't have planned a better trip ourselves. It was so valuable to stand within Myanmar as well as to hear stories firsthand from those who have fled their country. God was faithful.
Chiang Mai, Thailand, August 9th 2014 - CONTRASTS
A few years ago I spent time in Hawaii learning how to study the Bible. We were taught to notice when an author deliberately sought to make a point by contrasting their words or their ideas or their stories. Looking for these contrasts was a habit I practiced for the 9 month duration of the school and it’s not one that I stopped doing. Even in everyday life I find myself looking for things around me that are amplified by a contrast. My team has been in Chiang Mai, Thailand, for a little over a week and I can’t help playing this same game, comparing this Thai city to Kolkata.
I adored being in India for a second time, I’ve probably exhausted that point, and in no way did I feel impatient to leave (okay, maybe a bit when I got Delhi-belly.) The beauty of nature strikes me about Chiang Mai, and oh the stormy skies! In Kolkata thick smog hangs over the city, dulling the sun in the day and the stars at night. The streets and the traffic here have felt calm and collected, a blatant difference to the transport that pumped adrenaline through my veins last month. The temperature is slightly cooler here, and the monsoon rain, slightly more regular. One similarity is the concept of honouring guests and the responsibility towards one’s family – this I’ve found to be integral to many of the different Asian nations I’ve been to. Culturally, these two countries that share a continent share little more. Perhaps the biggest difference between Thai and Indian culture is how the people communicate. Here we are told that publicly showing emotion is seen to be a sign of weakness and thus a simple smile can be found on most faces. After all, this is 'the land of thousand smiles'. In Kolkata I found people to be very bold and clear in communicating how they felt. We once awkwardly sat in traffic in a bus whilst many of the other passengers heckled and shouted out at the bus driver to move along. I learned not to be shy when debating our taxi prices, nor in bartering in the markets.
I briefly mentioned this in my previous blog-post so excuse me for doing some recycling. I like that everything is on show in India, the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly. Here, the biggest contrast I notice is that this is not the same. Thailand recently was declared by the US board to drop down a tier on their human-trafficking tier system because of their high rates of child labour. Human trafficking, infamous for its smuggling and running behind the scenes, is alive and well both along the Thai border as well as within the country itself. Prostitution is illegal, and yet it functions behind closed doors. Aside from the red light districts that have become recognised tourist attractions, many other areas host hubs of brothels: unmarked, unadvertised, hidden and thriving. Our first week has taught me that there are many minority tribes both in Thailand and Myanmar who are not represented and who have little rights. I pray that in this short month my team get to be here in Chiang Mai, that we see beyond the surface; beyond the smiles, and understand the undercurrents of injustice, particularly in relation to those who have been displaced.
I adored being in India for a second time, I’ve probably exhausted that point, and in no way did I feel impatient to leave (okay, maybe a bit when I got Delhi-belly.) The beauty of nature strikes me about Chiang Mai, and oh the stormy skies! In Kolkata thick smog hangs over the city, dulling the sun in the day and the stars at night. The streets and the traffic here have felt calm and collected, a blatant difference to the transport that pumped adrenaline through my veins last month. The temperature is slightly cooler here, and the monsoon rain, slightly more regular. One similarity is the concept of honouring guests and the responsibility towards one’s family – this I’ve found to be integral to many of the different Asian nations I’ve been to. Culturally, these two countries that share a continent share little more. Perhaps the biggest difference between Thai and Indian culture is how the people communicate. Here we are told that publicly showing emotion is seen to be a sign of weakness and thus a simple smile can be found on most faces. After all, this is 'the land of thousand smiles'. In Kolkata I found people to be very bold and clear in communicating how they felt. We once awkwardly sat in traffic in a bus whilst many of the other passengers heckled and shouted out at the bus driver to move along. I learned not to be shy when debating our taxi prices, nor in bartering in the markets.
I briefly mentioned this in my previous blog-post so excuse me for doing some recycling. I like that everything is on show in India, the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly. Here, the biggest contrast I notice is that this is not the same. Thailand recently was declared by the US board to drop down a tier on their human-trafficking tier system because of their high rates of child labour. Human trafficking, infamous for its smuggling and running behind the scenes, is alive and well both along the Thai border as well as within the country itself. Prostitution is illegal, and yet it functions behind closed doors. Aside from the red light districts that have become recognised tourist attractions, many other areas host hubs of brothels: unmarked, unadvertised, hidden and thriving. Our first week has taught me that there are many minority tribes both in Thailand and Myanmar who are not represented and who have little rights. I pray that in this short month my team get to be here in Chiang Mai, that we see beyond the surface; beyond the smiles, and understand the undercurrents of injustice, particularly in relation to those who have been displaced.
Kolkata, India, July 30th 2014 - THIS INDIA STINT
And so ends our first month of outreach; our first overseas adventure as a team in India. Once again I’m left with a deep love for India curiously combined with an understanding of the many things that I too dislike about this country. You don’t need to stick around for long to be a witness of corruption, poverty, anger and discrimination. Perhaps I can’t bare but adore this place because at least there’s an honesty about its short fallings, everything is on the table… the good too. On our doorstep has been community and unity and celebration and joy. With tear-filled eyes I leave Kolkata, expectant that it’s only fair that God brings me here again someday.
With not one thought dwelling on money, I feel very rich as I reflect on this past month. We’ve learnt the phrase ‘blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be broken’ as it permits days to feel successful, even when they look unrecognisable compared to our initial expectations. We have stayed in two different towns and four different bedrooms. We’ve learnt that ants notice when we leave our food out quicker than we do, and that in a country full of religion, asking to pray for someone is usually followed by a yes. We’ve been honoured as guests, even in houses where idols surround us; we’ve felt blessed and challenged by the hospitality. We now know to have testimonies and Bible teachings up our sleeves because we’ll be expected to share them even when we're unprepared. We’ve seen our camera enable us to meet and connect with strangers and permit us to enter places and homes I otherwise don’t think we would have seen. We’ve had people ask to have their photograph taken, a particularly humorous request to hear as I desire that more than they do. I have been reunited with old friends and have rekindled relationships worn by time and distance. I’ve been a part of my team as we learn not merely to endure each other but to love each other, on the good days and the bad, the sick days and the healthy ones. We’ve now got handfuls of India-tinted memories that we’ll share together as long as we can remember.
Most of all, my God gave me every thing I needed to see Him and to serve Him in this pocket of the world. Full on anticipation for Thailand I say: onto the next!
With not one thought dwelling on money, I feel very rich as I reflect on this past month. We’ve learnt the phrase ‘blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be broken’ as it permits days to feel successful, even when they look unrecognisable compared to our initial expectations. We have stayed in two different towns and four different bedrooms. We’ve learnt that ants notice when we leave our food out quicker than we do, and that in a country full of religion, asking to pray for someone is usually followed by a yes. We’ve been honoured as guests, even in houses where idols surround us; we’ve felt blessed and challenged by the hospitality. We now know to have testimonies and Bible teachings up our sleeves because we’ll be expected to share them even when we're unprepared. We’ve seen our camera enable us to meet and connect with strangers and permit us to enter places and homes I otherwise don’t think we would have seen. We’ve had people ask to have their photograph taken, a particularly humorous request to hear as I desire that more than they do. I have been reunited with old friends and have rekindled relationships worn by time and distance. I’ve been a part of my team as we learn not merely to endure each other but to love each other, on the good days and the bad, the sick days and the healthy ones. We’ve now got handfuls of India-tinted memories that we’ll share together as long as we can remember.
Most of all, my God gave me every thing I needed to see Him and to serve Him in this pocket of the world. Full on anticipation for Thailand I say: onto the next!
Kolkata, India, July 15th 2014 - HOME SWEET HOME
Call me dramatic, but I hope I tell stories from yesterday when I'm old. It was our day off and as a team we taxied to the Guesthouse that I lived in for 6 months, five years ago. There was so much joy in being back. I actually left India last time with the deep feeling that I wouldn't return. Back then we drove to the airport and I looked on these streets with tear-filled eyes, convinced I wouldn't see them again. Oh I'm so happy to be proved wrong! Yesterday, the road I lived on was filled with familiarity and the Guesthouse, filled with meeting the people who'd added to my experience last time. We spent the day with my Indian mum, Anu, who captured the hearts of my team with coffee, bhajis, homemade lassi, Indian food as well as with her generosity and time. It was thoroughly sweet to reconnect again.
Last time I was here my BMS team made friends with a family that lived on the pavement outside of the gates of the Guesthouse. To begin with they'd beg to us as we'd leave for the day, asking for food and for chai. Throughout our 6 months there we got to know this family, we'd play with the children, help them collect water, sit with them in the evenings, we even took them to a theme park for a day. Towards the end of our time in India, the family bought chai for us - truly humbling. As I returned yesterday to the Guesthouse, I prayed I could see this family again, unsure of whether the monsoon would have swept them to live elsewhere for the summer. Y'know what? We saw them. I greeted the Grandma as she asked if I remembered her name. Soon, her daughter and granddaughter were running down the street and we gathered together. They pulled out a piece of cardboard and laid it on the ground: their rug. We sat, chatted, cried, caught up and took photos. They told me of their news and I met three new additions to the family: twins and a young boy. One of the older girls had learned more English and I was able to praise her for this and between her basic English and my basic Bengali, we didn't do bad at all. One of the children from this family (my favourite - I know you're not supposed to have favourites but I couldn't help it...) had died of malaria in the last five years since us being there. We'd been told about this over the phone and yesterday I spoke to the family about her and couldn't help cry as they described her sickness as it got worse and worse. I was grateful for the opportunity to communicate that my team mourned from afar when the news reached us those years ago.
There was so much joy yesterday in reuniting with old friends, I feel full from it.
Last time I was here my BMS team made friends with a family that lived on the pavement outside of the gates of the Guesthouse. To begin with they'd beg to us as we'd leave for the day, asking for food and for chai. Throughout our 6 months there we got to know this family, we'd play with the children, help them collect water, sit with them in the evenings, we even took them to a theme park for a day. Towards the end of our time in India, the family bought chai for us - truly humbling. As I returned yesterday to the Guesthouse, I prayed I could see this family again, unsure of whether the monsoon would have swept them to live elsewhere for the summer. Y'know what? We saw them. I greeted the Grandma as she asked if I remembered her name. Soon, her daughter and granddaughter were running down the street and we gathered together. They pulled out a piece of cardboard and laid it on the ground: their rug. We sat, chatted, cried, caught up and took photos. They told me of their news and I met three new additions to the family: twins and a young boy. One of the older girls had learned more English and I was able to praise her for this and between her basic English and my basic Bengali, we didn't do bad at all. One of the children from this family (my favourite - I know you're not supposed to have favourites but I couldn't help it...) had died of malaria in the last five years since us being there. We'd been told about this over the phone and yesterday I spoke to the family about her and couldn't help cry as they described her sickness as it got worse and worse. I was grateful for the opportunity to communicate that my team mourned from afar when the news reached us those years ago.
There was so much joy yesterday in reuniting with old friends, I feel full from it.
Kolkata, India, July 8th 2014 - NEW PLACES
I’m a pretty bad traveller. My experiences of each mode of transport have been marred by at least one memory of me vomiting, whether before audiences of family, friends, or strangers. While it’s a maker for good stories, it’s a tendency I’d change quickly of I could. Hand in hand with this is my love for being in new places, quite ironic really. I appreciate that it’s quite cool to say that you love to travel, along with sipping in coffee shops and embarking on adventures, but I do, I really do - I am such a sucker for new places. I love that feeling you get when you have no familiarity with where you are. Words aren’t suffice, but I liken it to the same feeling I get in my stomach when I’m mid-drop on a rollercoaster. New places are a great antidote for pride and biased perspective, quickly reminding me that I am in fact small and I do in fact only know a little. Any lesson that teaches me this and teaches it me quick is a welcome one. I love that it only takes a few days, or sometimes even just one, to begin to gain familiarity with a new place. I find it such a joy when I start to recognise streets and routes and short-cuts. This joy only accelerates as when staying in a place you continually learn more of it and grow in confidence whilst manoeuvring around.
When I was 18 years old I spent 6 months living on a busy main road in Kolkata. Now, I’ve been back in Kolkata for less than a week and living in a completely different part of town. Initially I lusted after staying on the same street as those years ago, next to the same cake shop and chai seller that became so familiar, but actually, I’m so glad to be in a place that feels thoroughly unfamiliar. It’s been a privilege to see this city from a new angle and to adjust alongside my team as we navigate through the winding streets that our apartment is nestled in. I intend to continue to find and explore new places for this whole life of mine.
When I was 18 years old I spent 6 months living on a busy main road in Kolkata. Now, I’ve been back in Kolkata for less than a week and living in a completely different part of town. Initially I lusted after staying on the same street as those years ago, next to the same cake shop and chai seller that became so familiar, but actually, I’m so glad to be in a place that feels thoroughly unfamiliar. It’s been a privilege to see this city from a new angle and to adjust alongside my team as we navigate through the winding streets that our apartment is nestled in. I intend to continue to find and explore new places for this whole life of mine.
Dubai International Airport, July 2nd 2014 - MEET SHINAE
Each and every three months my team has a week (or so) break to roam the globe, find places to stay and recuperate before another quarter begins. I‘ve just spent my last week on the West Coast of Canada, British Columbia with my good friend and old roommate, Shinae. We were classmates in Hawaii and I have heaps of fond memories of her. In fact, a big slice of our time was spent redigging up old stories and laughing about the things we’d forgotten. I had such a sweet and full time with her and I want to credit it to her character. She’s a babe people; life alongside her is fun, bursting with excitement and enthusiasm. She carries such love for people, for her family and for BC. Some of our Canadian adventures together included sky-training to Vancouver, crossing the US boarder to get gas, meeting with Emily (another fond friend from Hawaii) and hiking to a lake, momentarily riding a horse, driving to the coast at night, and spending time with her family over a meal, baseball (oh my) and a pool party.
Now, I sit in Dubai airport for a healthy layover, feeling victorious after surviving my longest flight so far: a 14hr beast flying us over the North Pole. Soon, I’ll be with my team in Kolkata for our new Asia adventure. I’m feeling good, I’m feeling happy, I’m feeling blessed. And so it begins!
Ontario, Canada, June 23rd 2014 - OH BRANTFORD
I'm going to level with you, I didn't know whether to celebrate or cry when I found out that this Track was beginning in Canada. I was stunned. A Canadian friend would joke that my around-the-world travels might bring me to her country and I'd respond that this would n-e-v-e-r happen; no Track before has started in Canada, nor had that as its base. Yet here we are. I guess what I'd like to clarify most is that I was wrong when I prejudged this Canadian-stint for not being culturally different enough or shocking enough or far enough. The place part of these last three months has been one of my favourite things! I am so thrilled to have spent a healthy chunk of time here (previous teams have been moved around every 6 weeks) and to have plans to return for autumn this year and summer in the next. My friends, soon it's time for the pin on this map to move, first to British Colombia and then onto India, Thailand and Cambodia.
Here's why I've loved being in Brantford:
The people here are friendly and quick to chat (plenty of them have let me take their photo), each time the sun shines downtown bursts with character and hustle, our Church has a back-row of people who contribute and heckle out, a group of inspiring 20-somethings meet us weekly to share life with us, there are two nearby cafés called Brown Dog and Blue Dog where I'm collecting stamps, we were lent bikes to use, our classroom and Jon and Layne's are close to where we live, thrift store trips have filled our home, we've spent our weeks cooking pretty remarkable meals for each other, a fast-food place nearby sells chocolate milkshakes that are bigger than our heads, we've lived together as a team and hosted people as a team, there are swinging benches overlooking the river where we've spent hours chatting and chilling, there are hundreds of different short-cuts to take which we randomly decide between each day, the city is covered in graffiti, and finally, the local dollar store is well stocked and consistently amusing to hunt through. Oh, how I love Brantford.
Here's why I've loved being in Brantford:
The people here are friendly and quick to chat (plenty of them have let me take their photo), each time the sun shines downtown bursts with character and hustle, our Church has a back-row of people who contribute and heckle out, a group of inspiring 20-somethings meet us weekly to share life with us, there are two nearby cafés called Brown Dog and Blue Dog where I'm collecting stamps, we were lent bikes to use, our classroom and Jon and Layne's are close to where we live, thrift store trips have filled our home, we've spent our weeks cooking pretty remarkable meals for each other, a fast-food place nearby sells chocolate milkshakes that are bigger than our heads, we've lived together as a team and hosted people as a team, there are swinging benches overlooking the river where we've spent hours chatting and chilling, there are hundreds of different short-cuts to take which we randomly decide between each day, the city is covered in graffiti, and finally, the local dollar store is well stocked and consistently amusing to hunt through. Oh, how I love Brantford.
Ontario, Canada, June 14th 2014 - THESE NEXT FEW YEARS // THE VISION
The purpose of my team's great adventure is sparkling to other's attention as we fumble around wording and explaining the direction that we feel we're facing. Each Track functions with the ambition to use media to raise awareness about injustice. I doubt it's shocking to hear that the pool of injustices is rather a broad one. The four of us, surrounded by a family of people spurring us on, have been challenged to not wander aimlessly around the globe without desiring to discover the particular injustice that God wants our team to focus on. Now. And so we began praying, and asking, and praying some more, about the particular issue we'll advocate for. What's been most exciting is this: God spoke up. We're still in the baby-steps phase of understanding what our vision means and need constant grace as we explore the details, but I'd love for you to know too the journey we're embarking on.
Folks, without much further ado, here's the first draft of my team's vision statement:
‘Our focus is on researching the diverse sense of home amongst people-groups, concentrating on those unjustly uprooted, displaced or made refugees as a result of another’s decision. We hope to find that one’s sense of home can be restored no matter what their geographical location.’
Folks, without much further ado, here's the first draft of my team's vision statement:
‘Our focus is on researching the diverse sense of home amongst people-groups, concentrating on those unjustly uprooted, displaced or made refugees as a result of another’s decision. We hope to find that one’s sense of home can be restored no matter what their geographical location.’
Ontario, Canada, June 7th 2014 - PASSPORT ORNAMENT
These past few months my teammates and I have had dramas with our Indian visa application process. The potential that I might not be able to join my team in India glistened to my attention and I wondered whether God wanted to make a story out of me. I think God’s good like that. He loves those times when we can’t manufacture what we need and when we have to rely on Him for it. In 2012 I spent a few months in Mongolia and experienced God’s full capability to give me the visa I needed to get to the country He led me to. That story is no short of a miracle, and yet this time round my fickle faith whimpered as I struggled to see how God could pull this one off. I’ll spare you the details, but two things you should know: I was told I couldn’t apply for this visa within Canada as a tourist here, and I was told I couldn’t apply for a visa from the UK whilst I wasn’t in it. To be exact, I was told to fly home to apply for my visa. I’m going to skip to the ending now because it’s the best bit… My approved Indian visa arrived a few days ago in my passport, a welcomed sight to see! I really can claim no glory from this story but once again feel reminded of God’s committed faithfulness to provide all I’ll need to obey His call. Now, soon heading to India, I know that it’s because my God wants me there because He intervened to make sure I’d be able to get there. His attention to detail endlessly subdues me.
Ontario, Canada, May 26th 2014 - PHOTOJOURNALIST
I spent that last couple of years explaining to the curious that I was going to do a ‘travelling photojournalism school’ as my next step. Call me stupid, but in my expectations I don’t think the journalism side of this school ever sunk in, not even once. I’d lust after learning photography and explain that we’ll have photo lectures and assignments, so I was prepared for some quality time with my camera, but not for being a journalist too. To be honest, it’s been a really sweet surprise for me – oh how I love to write!
This last week has been a hefty one - full, busy and rich with lessons worth learning. We had a photojournalist as our guest speaker who arrived full of expectancy from each of us. I had some pretty strong stereotypes about journalists, assuming that we all agreed that they were renowned for their dishonesty and blurring of the truth. I’m not quite sure where this lack of trust came from, but it got confronted this week. Among some of the first things we learnt was that honesty is most important. Once we begin calling ourselves photojournalists (rather than photographers), we suddenly have a burden and a responsibility to tell the truth. There’s a famous phrase that says 'a camera is mightier than a gun’ and it’s so true, the power to miscommunicate through a photo is pretty strong. Therefore, as photojournalists, it is our responsibility to tell another’s story accurately and to do it justice.
Rule number one is that, in photojournalism, there is no setting up of candid moments. Aside from posed portraits, the journalist has no place to interrupt an environment or to guide with the hope of creating a certain photo. This rule is pretty hard to stick to! Instead, the photographer has to train themselves to be aware of the moments happening around them that are worth capturing. When putting this to practice, the majority of the time my fumbling hands were too slow in setting up my camera and the moment quickly passed. A few triumphant times (maybe 10 out of 600 snaps this week) I caught something special, something being dropped or someone being shocked or a lady struggling to carry a heap of boxes. It was worth hanging around to catch those moments. I learned to wander around with all my lenses at hand, a notebook and pen in my pocket, ready to record the quotes I heard and the names I discovered. We were challenged to go closer to and further away from our subjects than our comfort-zone advised (which is usually around the 6ft mark.) We were told to stand on chairs; to lie on the ground, but most of all, to wait. My favourite lesson this week was to train my mind to anticipate moments; to observe someone to the extent that I could begin to predict their routine, when they repeat a certain job, when they’ll shake someone’s hand, or around who they'll be most expressive with their emotions. It feels new to convince my mind to notice these things, but when the patience pays off, how rewarding it is!
This last week has been a hefty one - full, busy and rich with lessons worth learning. We had a photojournalist as our guest speaker who arrived full of expectancy from each of us. I had some pretty strong stereotypes about journalists, assuming that we all agreed that they were renowned for their dishonesty and blurring of the truth. I’m not quite sure where this lack of trust came from, but it got confronted this week. Among some of the first things we learnt was that honesty is most important. Once we begin calling ourselves photojournalists (rather than photographers), we suddenly have a burden and a responsibility to tell the truth. There’s a famous phrase that says 'a camera is mightier than a gun’ and it’s so true, the power to miscommunicate through a photo is pretty strong. Therefore, as photojournalists, it is our responsibility to tell another’s story accurately and to do it justice.
Rule number one is that, in photojournalism, there is no setting up of candid moments. Aside from posed portraits, the journalist has no place to interrupt an environment or to guide with the hope of creating a certain photo. This rule is pretty hard to stick to! Instead, the photographer has to train themselves to be aware of the moments happening around them that are worth capturing. When putting this to practice, the majority of the time my fumbling hands were too slow in setting up my camera and the moment quickly passed. A few triumphant times (maybe 10 out of 600 snaps this week) I caught something special, something being dropped or someone being shocked or a lady struggling to carry a heap of boxes. It was worth hanging around to catch those moments. I learned to wander around with all my lenses at hand, a notebook and pen in my pocket, ready to record the quotes I heard and the names I discovered. We were challenged to go closer to and further away from our subjects than our comfort-zone advised (which is usually around the 6ft mark.) We were told to stand on chairs; to lie on the ground, but most of all, to wait. My favourite lesson this week was to train my mind to anticipate moments; to observe someone to the extent that I could begin to predict their routine, when they repeat a certain job, when they’ll shake someone’s hand, or around who they'll be most expressive with their emotions. It feels new to convince my mind to notice these things, but when the patience pays off, how rewarding it is!
Ontario, Canada, May 19th 2014 - LET'S TALK ABOUT SEX
Is it bad that I kind of want this on a T-shirt? I’m going to guess that this particular blog post will get more views than the other posts. Why? Because I think that whilst sex is making it into our (Christian) discussions less and less, the need for sex-related issues needs to be addressed grows more and more. And so I mean it, I really do, let's talk about sex.
Here in Brantford I’m volunteering for a Pregnancy and Resource Centre (PRC) and my research project for them is to update their resources used to teach abstinence in high school lessons; as well as to research what prostitution looks like in the local area. The more I research, the more I see that brokenness related to the misuse of sex worsens when we shy away from talking about sex and talking about the best context for sex. It’s funny, I’m mainly addressing a vague Christian-figure as I write this. In working in a pub in Chester, often most of the conversations there were related to sex and relationships. Advertising, sit-coms and media aren’t afraid to talk about it either. I’ve found that Christians withdraw from talking about sex when in we in fact believe that our God made it.
On a patch of land that no one keeps or maintains, weeds take place and grow without anyone noticing. Similarly, I think that when we avert our eyes from the ugliness of the sex industry, we allow it to thrive, take root and grow more and more established. For the PRC; for the benefit of high school lessons, I’ve been researching (not viewing) pornography. I found that this word we use originates from two Greek words, ‘pornē’ meaning prostitute, and, ‘graphein’ meaning to depict or write about: ‘Depicting/writing about prostitutes.’ We’re in an age where the social risk of using porn has completely gone now that porn is easily accessible through the Internet (gone are the days of awkwardly entering a cordoned-off room at the back a DVD store). I’ve read that with the advance of wireless Internet, we’re rearing a ‘guinea pig’ generation without knowing what the outcome will look like. Did you know that the average introduction to pornography is age 11? Or that an average of 34% of Internet users receive unwanted pornographic exposure? Every second, $3075.64 is spent on pornography, 28258 people worldwide are viewing pornography and 372 people are typing adult terms into search engines. (Statistics from: http://internet-filter-review.toptenreviews.com/internet-pornography-statistics.html)
Sex without intimacy is being promoted more and more, when sex with intimacy is how I believe God created sex to be used. You see it in porn, you see it in prostitution, you see it in one-night stands: sex isolated from commitment and intimacy. Clark Gable was a preeminent movie star of the 20th century and was once caught with a prostitute. He was asked, “Why would you, Clark Gable, who could have your choice of women, pay a woman for sex?” He said, “I don’t pay a woman for sex. I pay a woman to go away after sex.” Despite believing sex was meant to be kept within the commitment of marriage, I'm not actually for pro-abstinence lessons. In the States the places which receive funding for abstinence lessons in High Schools are coming up with the higher teenage pregnancy rates. Something's not adding up. Instead of telling people to ignore their sex drive or to be more patient, more disciplined, or that sex is bad, I think more people should speak out about how sex can best be enjoyed and the contexts that it is most healthy.
(If this is a topic you want to further explore, Moral Revolution are a group of Christians who have a youtube channel and upload discussions about a whole lot of things to do with sex and relationships. You can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/user/MoralRevolutionInc)
Here in Brantford I’m volunteering for a Pregnancy and Resource Centre (PRC) and my research project for them is to update their resources used to teach abstinence in high school lessons; as well as to research what prostitution looks like in the local area. The more I research, the more I see that brokenness related to the misuse of sex worsens when we shy away from talking about sex and talking about the best context for sex. It’s funny, I’m mainly addressing a vague Christian-figure as I write this. In working in a pub in Chester, often most of the conversations there were related to sex and relationships. Advertising, sit-coms and media aren’t afraid to talk about it either. I’ve found that Christians withdraw from talking about sex when in we in fact believe that our God made it.
On a patch of land that no one keeps or maintains, weeds take place and grow without anyone noticing. Similarly, I think that when we avert our eyes from the ugliness of the sex industry, we allow it to thrive, take root and grow more and more established. For the PRC; for the benefit of high school lessons, I’ve been researching (not viewing) pornography. I found that this word we use originates from two Greek words, ‘pornē’ meaning prostitute, and, ‘graphein’ meaning to depict or write about: ‘Depicting/writing about prostitutes.’ We’re in an age where the social risk of using porn has completely gone now that porn is easily accessible through the Internet (gone are the days of awkwardly entering a cordoned-off room at the back a DVD store). I’ve read that with the advance of wireless Internet, we’re rearing a ‘guinea pig’ generation without knowing what the outcome will look like. Did you know that the average introduction to pornography is age 11? Or that an average of 34% of Internet users receive unwanted pornographic exposure? Every second, $3075.64 is spent on pornography, 28258 people worldwide are viewing pornography and 372 people are typing adult terms into search engines. (Statistics from: http://internet-filter-review.toptenreviews.com/internet-pornography-statistics.html)
Sex without intimacy is being promoted more and more, when sex with intimacy is how I believe God created sex to be used. You see it in porn, you see it in prostitution, you see it in one-night stands: sex isolated from commitment and intimacy. Clark Gable was a preeminent movie star of the 20th century and was once caught with a prostitute. He was asked, “Why would you, Clark Gable, who could have your choice of women, pay a woman for sex?” He said, “I don’t pay a woman for sex. I pay a woman to go away after sex.” Despite believing sex was meant to be kept within the commitment of marriage, I'm not actually for pro-abstinence lessons. In the States the places which receive funding for abstinence lessons in High Schools are coming up with the higher teenage pregnancy rates. Something's not adding up. Instead of telling people to ignore their sex drive or to be more patient, more disciplined, or that sex is bad, I think more people should speak out about how sex can best be enjoyed and the contexts that it is most healthy.
(If this is a topic you want to further explore, Moral Revolution are a group of Christians who have a youtube channel and upload discussions about a whole lot of things to do with sex and relationships. You can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/user/MoralRevolutionInc)
Ontario, Canada, May 11th 2014 - THANKFUL
On Friday a group of friends and I met together and each wrote lists of what we were thankful for. We scribbled away until the time ran out and then went on to read our lists aloud. Not only was this a sweet way to convince my mind to acknowledge all I do have, usually drowned out by swirling to-do’s and worries, it was encouraging to hear others share all they are grateful for. Without much further ado, here’s mine:
(In no particular order) I am thankful for: my nephew Micah, Skype, email, having a blog and an outlet to speak, for spring, sunshine, having to walk everywhere, being made to cook, for the Bible, for how SBS/the school in Hawaii equipped me with the Bible, for my supporters back home, for my faithful parents, for Anya, Luke, Josh and Lisa, to have a testimony of what God has done, for nature, mangos, avocados and sweet potatoes, for my ukulele, for my team letting me play my ukulele, for hearing stories and telling stories, for my camera (my baby) and to be a student again, for an opportunity to travel, for an opportunity to go to the Middle East, to be within a new adventure, to serve a God that wants to use me, for having an education, for creativity, for colour, for art, for music, for my team and their grace towards me, for our new family in Brantford and how they’ve welcomed us, for Basecamp and the sense of family there, that I find our assignments challenging, that God’s sense of control doesn’t waver when mine does, for my time working in Harkers, for my close friends and their own pursuit of God, for my mentor here: Rachel, for Jon and Layne (our Track leaders and parents), to serve a God who relentlessly provides, to serve a God who speaks, to be in Canada, to live in an age of much inspiration, for Instagram, for opportunities to be taught and to teach the Bible, for people being expectant of me, for Sharon who will lead my team in Asia, for serving a God who longs for justice, for the legacy of others who’ve changed what seemed immovable, for my Granddad and my wider family, and for laughter.
(In no particular order) I am thankful for: my nephew Micah, Skype, email, having a blog and an outlet to speak, for spring, sunshine, having to walk everywhere, being made to cook, for the Bible, for how SBS/the school in Hawaii equipped me with the Bible, for my supporters back home, for my faithful parents, for Anya, Luke, Josh and Lisa, to have a testimony of what God has done, for nature, mangos, avocados and sweet potatoes, for my ukulele, for my team letting me play my ukulele, for hearing stories and telling stories, for my camera (my baby) and to be a student again, for an opportunity to travel, for an opportunity to go to the Middle East, to be within a new adventure, to serve a God that wants to use me, for having an education, for creativity, for colour, for art, for music, for my team and their grace towards me, for our new family in Brantford and how they’ve welcomed us, for Basecamp and the sense of family there, that I find our assignments challenging, that God’s sense of control doesn’t waver when mine does, for my time working in Harkers, for my close friends and their own pursuit of God, for my mentor here: Rachel, for Jon and Layne (our Track leaders and parents), to serve a God who relentlessly provides, to serve a God who speaks, to be in Canada, to live in an age of much inspiration, for Instagram, for opportunities to be taught and to teach the Bible, for people being expectant of me, for Sharon who will lead my team in Asia, for serving a God who longs for justice, for the legacy of others who’ve changed what seemed immovable, for my Granddad and my wider family, and for laughter.
Ontario, Canada, April 22nd 2014 - NOT JUST TEARS ALONE
This phrase has been swimming around my head for quite some time now. It first started when I had a chat with my friend's mum about her recent visit to a concentration camp. Feeling my British small-talk capabilities didn't prepare me for this one, I struggled to know what to ask and came up with, "Did you cry?". To this, her response was, "Well, no. If I would have cried it would have made the experience about me and it wasn't about me, it was about them." I've been mulling over that comment for over a year.
You see, I'm a cryer. Be it adverts, movies, documentary clips, it doesn't take much to inspire tears in me. Sometimes just physically seeing someone else cry will make me well up. I also care a lot about justice, so couple my crying-tendency with my interest in understanding injustices and the result is plenty of well-used tissues. It's become a bit of a routine really. I'll research injustice and that crappy realm and I'll feel drawn to weep and thus be reminded of my soft-heart. As I think about this comment that I heard, I've realised that my tears are in no way helpful to anyone else but me. I'd actually go on to say that, for me, I find their purpose pretty selfish. I'll enjoy the wetting of my eyes as it soothes me that I'd don't have a heart of stone and that I must care. However, for that person or community or nation which I'm shedding tears over, absolutely nothing changes in their circumstances as a result of my compassionate crying. It doesn't reach them, affect them or change them.
I've realised that tears, or compassion, need to be supplemented with action to be of use. As a part of this team I don't want to circulate through countries caring for people's concerns if it'll stop just there. I want compassion to be ammunition and not the end of the story. Not just tears alone.
You see, I'm a cryer. Be it adverts, movies, documentary clips, it doesn't take much to inspire tears in me. Sometimes just physically seeing someone else cry will make me well up. I also care a lot about justice, so couple my crying-tendency with my interest in understanding injustices and the result is plenty of well-used tissues. It's become a bit of a routine really. I'll research injustice and that crappy realm and I'll feel drawn to weep and thus be reminded of my soft-heart. As I think about this comment that I heard, I've realised that my tears are in no way helpful to anyone else but me. I'd actually go on to say that, for me, I find their purpose pretty selfish. I'll enjoy the wetting of my eyes as it soothes me that I'd don't have a heart of stone and that I must care. However, for that person or community or nation which I'm shedding tears over, absolutely nothing changes in their circumstances as a result of my compassionate crying. It doesn't reach them, affect them or change them.
I've realised that tears, or compassion, need to be supplemented with action to be of use. As a part of this team I don't want to circulate through countries caring for people's concerns if it'll stop just there. I want compassion to be ammunition and not the end of the story. Not just tears alone.
Ontario, Canada, April 13th 2014 - PAINTER OF LIGHT
I like to learn. I like the structure and the challenge and the sense that there is always more to know. I like being here, I like being a student again and having lectures to attend. This week I learnt that photography is Greek for 'writing with light' and I like that: I'm an aspiring painter of light. I've had my DSLR (my fancy-pants camera) for about a year and a half and have grown use to not understanding its capabilities. In class we have small practical challenges right in the middle of our lectures, as well as photo assignments which flow throughout the week. With my limited photographic knowledge I've found this exciting but mostly, gradually discouraging. I would annoy myself that I wasn't able to learn very quickly... quite foolish to be impatient in your first week whilst on a two year school! Self pity ain't so pretty and so I sat for one long afternoon and poured over my class notes, practicing again our small challenges, and that seemed to help. Today I went for a walk by myself to search meekly for photo opportunities. I prayed that God would encourage me and show me what to photograph, and that He did. I made friends with a group of Korean kids who were skating around (and desperate for me to teach them to say "Harry Potter" in an English accent). They really wanted to be in my photos and to show off their skating. A lady's toddler kept coming up to me and I was able to take photos of them both as they walked together. A couple of passionate buskers welcomed me to photograph them as they sung and were warm and friendly as I thanked them. (I also had an old guy offer to take his top off for a photo, we won't talk about that...)
Generally, I like to think I'm pretty capable. I'll try to do things by myself, often despite times when it'd be more beautiful to let others join in. With taking photos I find I can freak myself out attempting to spark inspiration in me, desperately trying to think creatively. A while ago I was aiming towards this Track and I felt God say to me that He would show me the photos that He wants me to take. Today I was reminded of that and, with God's help, the experience was effortless and fun.
Generally, I like to think I'm pretty capable. I'll try to do things by myself, often despite times when it'd be more beautiful to let others join in. With taking photos I find I can freak myself out attempting to spark inspiration in me, desperately trying to think creatively. A while ago I was aiming towards this Track and I felt God say to me that He would show me the photos that He wants me to take. Today I was reminded of that and, with God's help, the experience was effortless and fun.
Ontario, Canada, April 6th 2014 - IT BEGINS
Dear world, I write to you alive and happy from Ontario, Canada, where the 2014 Around the World Track begins.
It has been over two years since I understood that not only was this travelling-photography school a dream of mine, but that it was part of God's plan for me too. The journey from realising this, to saving towards this, to planning for this has been a rocky one. There have been set-backs, discouragements and a year-long stretch of waiting for the school to be confirmed. We've had leaders step up and leaders step down, students apply and students drop out. During this time of limbo (my 'England stint') faith didn't feel very glamourous. Rather, it left me feeling foolish and embarrassed. All the while I had this small but sure conviction that if God intended for me to obey Him, He will most surely make it possible.
Now that I'm here and as I write today I want to celebrate and point to God's faithfulness. Those times when I felt like my plans lacked certainty were times when I perceived my physical surroundings above my perception of God's character. My God is gracious, deliberate and faithful to His promises and that's why I'm here today!
It has been over two years since I understood that not only was this travelling-photography school a dream of mine, but that it was part of God's plan for me too. The journey from realising this, to saving towards this, to planning for this has been a rocky one. There have been set-backs, discouragements and a year-long stretch of waiting for the school to be confirmed. We've had leaders step up and leaders step down, students apply and students drop out. During this time of limbo (my 'England stint') faith didn't feel very glamourous. Rather, it left me feeling foolish and embarrassed. All the while I had this small but sure conviction that if God intended for me to obey Him, He will most surely make it possible.
Now that I'm here and as I write today I want to celebrate and point to God's faithfulness. Those times when I felt like my plans lacked certainty were times when I perceived my physical surroundings above my perception of God's character. My God is gracious, deliberate and faithful to His promises and that's why I'm here today!
England, March 8th 2014 - GOD'S IMAGINATIVE PROVISION
For a while I've been saving the pennies, literally. My Granddad will collect coins he finds on the road and periodically give me a jar full of coppers. With April and the Track around the corner I am more aware than ever of what I've saved and exactly what more I need. Despite in the past being no stranger to God miraculously stepping up and providing for my needs, when it comes to His providence, I'm still pretty demanding, pretty impatient and pretty unimaginative. I kind of expect to watch my bank details double when I'm looking at them, anything along those lines. God is far more creative than that. In the last few months, whilst buying kit which'll help me along the Track, I've had recurring occasions where I've been charged less than I expected to pay. A gracious glasses salesmen waved away £25 off my charge. The rucksack I've been eyeing up was in the sale with £60 off. The Doctors found a way to not charge me for an appointment. A store manager gave me 10% off a jacket within a deal I wasn't eligible for. My phone company unlocked my phone for free when it should have costed me £20.
Back when I was 18 years old I spent some time in India. I learnt the art of haggling, grew to enjoy when prices were suggestions rather than demands, and I know that this definitely isn't the case in England. That's why I've been so surprised to see God find and create ways for me to save money where I didn't expect to, granting me the generosity and favour of complete strangers.
Back when I was 18 years old I spent some time in India. I learnt the art of haggling, grew to enjoy when prices were suggestions rather than demands, and I know that this definitely isn't the case in England. That's why I've been so surprised to see God find and create ways for me to save money where I didn't expect to, granting me the generosity and favour of complete strangers.
England, January 9th 2013 - THE GIFT
This is a cheekily recycled blog post from last year, but, especially here, this story deserves telling. On my 21st birthday a friend asked me what present I wanted from God. Initially I found this a bizarre concept but the child in me quickly arose with the valid point: what could I lose? After all, I hadn't asked God for a birthday gift for 21 years so I was surely due something special. But what did I want? Upon arriving in Hawaii and consistent for the first chunk of months I couldn't escape hearing about photography, it was being pushed up right before my nose. I would accidently meet people who were photography students and hear more about the role of photographs in raising awareness within and outside of the Christian world. My natural response to this was a growing desire to stretch my passion for the arts into exploring photography.
And so on the 18th of February, 2012, I prayed to God asking Him for a professional camera. Later that day my room-mate gave me 21 gifts and one of them was a small eraser. This edition of erasers came in 100 shapes and sizes for children to collect and swap. A small few of these shapes were little cameras and as I opened the plastic wrapping, in my hand was a brightly coloured camera-eraser. Never underestimate God's sense of humour! I was overwhelmed with God's faithfulness as I understood that although that day I wouldn't be the boastful owner of a Canon camera, that I could take this little eraser as a promise that one day I would. God would provide. This blog post is to be such a celebration of God. Our God truly delights in being involved in our lives and He adores it when we credit interventions, provisions and blessings to Him. Later in the year I was given money and so without a penny of my own I have bought a Canon DSLR camera. This gift was worth waiting for!
And so on the 18th of February, 2012, I prayed to God asking Him for a professional camera. Later that day my room-mate gave me 21 gifts and one of them was a small eraser. This edition of erasers came in 100 shapes and sizes for children to collect and swap. A small few of these shapes were little cameras and as I opened the plastic wrapping, in my hand was a brightly coloured camera-eraser. Never underestimate God's sense of humour! I was overwhelmed with God's faithfulness as I understood that although that day I wouldn't be the boastful owner of a Canon camera, that I could take this little eraser as a promise that one day I would. God would provide. This blog post is to be such a celebration of God. Our God truly delights in being involved in our lives and He adores it when we credit interventions, provisions and blessings to Him. Later in the year I was given money and so without a penny of my own I have bought a Canon DSLR camera. This gift was worth waiting for!