09 September 2009

i love love.


"love is new every morning." - lamentations

in the late afternoon of august 29, 2009, family and friends of mairead and tyler gathered together off the shores of flathead lake to celebrate and support the commitment they have chosen to make to each other. 

there was the bride...









and the groom...


and then the bride and the groom...
 
  









and maybe a few others...





































it was an honor to be a part of their day.

andrew jacob.

in the midst of cultural readjustment, my sister and her family graciously opened their doors to me in minnesota. the highlight of the first nine months back in the usa? andrew jacob.
  

 
  
  
 

i was thrilled to reconnect with drew just recently after a summer spent in missoula, montana. he maintains one of the most beautiful, loving dispositions of any human being i know.

home.

this silhouette series is about finding life as it is 
and feeling its beauty.

argentina.

in august 2007, i departed for one year of volunteer service to comodoro rivadavia, argentina. the year challenged me mentally, emotionally and spiritually. below is the final newsletter i sent out to friends and family, a mosaic of my own experience and that of the six other volunteers with whom i relied upon for laughter and support.

 


Ubuntu
I am because you are.

      Africans have this thing called Ubuntu. It is about the essence of being human. It embraces hospitality, caring about others, being able to go the extra mile for the sake of others. I am human because I belong. It speaks about wholeness; it speaks about compassion. We believe that a person is a person through another person; we affirm our humanity when we acknowledge that of others. My humanity is caught up, bound up, inextricably, with yours. A person with Ubuntu is welcoming, hospitable, warm and generous, willing to share. Such people are open and available to others, willing to be vulnerable, affirming of others, do not feel threatened that others are able and good, for they have a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that they belong in a greater whole. When I dehumanize you, I inexorably dehumanize myself. The solitary human being is a contradiction in terms and therefore you seek to work for the common good because your humanity comes into its own in belonging. The quality of Ubuntu gives people resilience, enabling them to survive and emerge still human despite all efforts to dehumanize them.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu
 ______________________________________________
Che it looks like the end of the world is coming. “
     “ Nah it’s probably just going to rain real hard” I said. But the clouds kept racing across the sky in a way I’ve rarely seen them move before. What made me worry was the fact that you couldn’t hear any of the birds that usually sing around that time of day there song had been replaced by other noises.
     “ Che Andre what’s that noise?” asked Marcos.
     “ It sounds like the boards from the construction next door being rattled together.” I said. 
     “ No, it’s not that.”
     Now I really got worried as pastor Andrea’s made a face as if she was remembering something very unpleasant. The wind that was moving the clouds touched the earth and started blowing us around. Wuuuuuuuuuuu, wuuuuuuuuuu came the sound and the water tank that is almost as tall and wide as I am tall started to drag across the ground! Andrea, Marcos and I pushed it into the hall way in between houses and then tried to put the door to the yard back on being that we had to take it off its hinges in the first place to get the tank out side. We had barely hooked it and we’re trying to shut the door when hail the size of balled up fists started to fall inside sliding into the hallway threatening to smack us on the feet. We fell into action I grabbed a large wooden table top and threw it across the entrance because the doors weren’t closing, Eugenia one of the girls who also lives at HUL had come down stairs to see what was going on I looked at her and said “ Euge the window’s in the office are open! “ She ran up stairs and closed all the window blinds of the house that are made out of wood and scroll down as part of the architecture of the window. It started to rain and the lights went out…
We all heard the glass, we heard how things were shattering not only in the temple but in the house as well. . . We listened in that present darkness to how the world around us was breaking. But just as in that first Holy Friday the suffering came to an end and we were able to in the darkness light candles and bare witness to those things that had been lost and a midst all the brokenness realize how much God loves us.
Resurrection, Sunday in the morning others arrived for breakfast before service and as we sat drinking tea and eating pastries we looked at the blue sky that broke through what had survived of the yellow glass. As I said in the beginning storms can take many things and leave others, for us we were left with the reminder of a promise of an act of love on our behalf by means of the brokenness of a body that was resurrected. It means an opportunity to realize that we are not alone and that those who we least expected it from have reached out form the four corners to accompany us in this faith walk. From that day we have felt the support of the communities and how most importantly God keeps us very close to his heart.
-Kristina, La Plata

It is about the essence of being human. It embraces hospitality, caring about others, being able to go the extra mile for the sake of others. I am human because I belong. It speaks about wholeness, it speaks about compassion. We believe that a person is a person through another person; 

As we set out two years ago on this journey to South America, I did not fully comprehend that our destination was not a geographic place but rather a spiritual and theological place within ourselves. The process of getting there is a gradual leaving behind of all that is known and certain, of all that comes to define us if we do not let it go and see what is left.
I now have the sense that I’ve reached the Land’s End of my spiritual geography—a craggy ledge hanging over the raging sea. There is not another step of firm ground in front of me. I feel raw and exposed.
It is only now, as I stand completely exposed to the ocean that rages before me, the sea of my own darkness and the darkness of a world of human injustice that I am fully open to receiving God’s grace. It is only from my own vulnerability that I can begin to comprehend Christ’s crucifixion as God’s ultimate act of solidarity with human suffering and brokenness. In the paradox of the Cross, Christ saves us from our sinful nature by completely submitting to the imperial domination of political, economic, and religious powers of his day. “Forgive them Father for they know not what they do.”
God’s call to us as a Church and as individuals is not to turn back from the raging sea of human injustice and suffering but to let it penetrate and transform us. God does not call me to seek consolation for my sorry but rather to heed it as a sacred clamor from deep within, urging me to be an ever more committed instrument of transformation and hope in this broken world.
-Kate, Buenos Aires

We affirm our humanity when we acknowledge that of others. My humanity is caught up, bound up, inextricably, with yours; 

By taking the step to participate in the YAGM program, one makes the most of their year by dedicating their lives to a greater cause. As scary and uncertain as this unknown may be, it is an invaluable opportunity. When considering the YAGM program I asked myself, ‘If not now, then when?’ which is a question that has helped me to take advantage of every situation. Tomorrow is never a guarantee, so each experience today – every fight between the kids at La Obra, every smile, every struggle, every beso – needs to be lived to the max. That is what these last two months are for me, taking it all in and taking advantage of each moment and opportunity.
During a conversation with one of the adults from Minnesota, I asked what struck her most about Uruguayan culture. Not to my surprise, she immediately spoke about the Uruguayans’ friendliness and the importance of sharing. This conversation definitely confirmed what I have seen thus far; if nothing else, this year has shown me the importance of sharing your gifts, love and resources with your community. Even though one apple isn’t much, you can always cut it to share with another - with as little or as much as you have, it is more important to enjoy it together than to keep it for yourself. It was wonderful to be able to have these conversations and to see the best of both cultures throughout the week.
-Kirsten, Montevideo

A person with Ubuntu is welcoming, hospitable, warm and generous, willing to share;

     For the past two weeks, I have found Valentina´s shoe in the corner. It is dirty white, no larger than the palm of my hand, and there is always just one. I thought little of this at first, until it kept showing up: same spot, same foot. Later I saw standing in its place a plastic, purple and pink high-heal--the kind that Barbie wears, only made a couple of sizes larger to fit 3-year-old Valentina´s left foot perfectly.
    So each day, for the past two weeks, Valentina has teeter-tottered around the room, one heel two inches larger than the other. It throws her a little off balance, often causing her to stumble and, on occasion, fall down. Regardless, every morning there is a little white shoe in the corner, and it belongs to Valentina.
    As a friend recently wrote in a letter, now is the time in my abroad experience where I have "stopped redefining what it means to live, and instead started living it." All of the expectations and ideas I entered into this with have fallen away, and I am instead focusing on just living. And I am loving it.
    Valentina´s plastic and pink high-heal requires me to ask which shoe am I failing to put on because there is only one, or because I will walk a little crooked while wearing it, or because I will be more likely to fall as I walk? These past five months have taught me that our human brokenness and vulnerability can be the bridge between us if we allow it. It is a lesson I am still learning.
-Karin, Comodoro Rivadavia
  
Such people are open and available to others, willing to be vulnerable, affirming of others, do not feel threatened that others are able and good, for they have a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that they belong in a greater whole;

     In early April, I spent the morning with Alberto and his wife on their farm. They took me on a tour of their pig farm, and showed me where they were drying the tobacco to be sold in Alem later in the month. He explained to me the oppressive system of tobacco producing, in which he is involved. In order to grow the tobacco, the company requires that he buy the tobacco seeds, the fertilizer, the chemicals, even the compost and soil, from the company. The money spent in buying the products will be taken off the final cost of the final product of tobacco at a high rate. The company explains to Alberto exactly how to grow the tobacco, and hires workers to come to his farm to make sure that he is following all of the procedures explained to him. If he has not followed correctly, money will be taken off his final product as well. The actually growing process involves the application of dangerous chemicals, ones that inhibit the growth of the tobacco flower, to continue the growth of the leaves. This chemical is not permitted usage in the United States of America because of its toxicity level! The most frustrating aspect is the soil that the producer is required to buy. Why on earth would a producer need to buy soil that has been shipped from New York when the red soil of Misiones is known to be extremely fertile? The collection, drying, and sorting process is a while other story. After Alberto has sorted and bunched his tobacco together, he will bring it to a collective in Alem that will evaluate his crop and give him a final value. After he is given his final value, the debt that is owed will be taken off. This last year, Alberto earned about $7,000 pesos, which is equivalent to less than $2,500 U.S.D. And that is Alberto’s annual income.
     How is it possible that people are spending the amount of money on cigarettes, and the tobacco companies are making billions of dollars a year, and yet Alberto comes out with $2,500 a year? It is hard for me to take in the lack of equality in this system. This year, I am working with producers to search for other methods to bring in an annual income, other than a work that not only generates very little income, but also puts its producers at risk daily. Producers suffer for not only the chemicals that they are exposed to in the producing, but also a high daily dose of second hand smoke, just from working with the crop. Producers suffer from high risks of emphysema and cancer due to the working of this crop.
-Kim, Obera

When I dehumanize you, I inexorably dehumanize myself; 
 
Focus, Che, Focus
Yesterday, Wilma and I were talking in the church office about this. I remember how slowly the first few months passed. My brain was still desperately trying to recall how to piece together coherent sentences, and then conversations, in Spanish; I didn’t know how to do anything work-wise; I didn’t know anyone, and the language struggle was only making that harder. Time dragged; every day felt like a week. Then, sometime in early November, the ice in my brain thawed and the water began to flow again. Carrying on a conversation in Spanish no longer felt like a torture devised by the Inquisition (perhaps “NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition!” is the best tagline for my language struggles of September and October), work frustrations became “this isn’t going to plan” as opposed to “what IS the plan?” and I began to feel surrounded by friends rather than just sympathetic strangers. And, just like a river, the time began to flow – first a trickle, then a slow-moving stream, and then the Amazon, forcing its way on to the sea.
And now, I can practically see the breakers – Texas and my pre-Uruguay life, Chicago, who knows what surprises. I find myself asking myself the question – “what now?” How do I make these last few weeks count?
The answer came to me, as it often has this year, on Wednesday afternoon with the kids. One of the young ones, Federico, has glommed on to me. He always saves the spot next to him on the bench for me, and without fail, always ends up resting up against me within 15 minutes. There are the others, too. We always have a greeting/welcome song at the start of our time with the kids, and between the verses we go around and shake hands, joke around a little bit with the kids, etc. One of the girls, Gretel, has March acted very afraid of me since she joined us in March – I’ll stick out my hand, and she’ll shake her head no and look away. But last week...she shook my hand with a big smile on her face. After the welcome song, we listened to a story that came with a song (a monkey cumbia). We all got up and danced to the song (yes, me too), and everyone, every single kid (and the three adults, and even Milton when he popped in the room to see how things were going), danced like a goofball and belted out the song (and occasional monkey noise) with gusto. Everyone danced together, too – people took turns spinning others and being spun, we had a conga (erm, cumbia) line at one point.
I guess that’s the answer to my question. When the monkey cumbia is blaring, you dance. When the students show up with English, North American or African Geography, History, Chemistry, Music, or Computer Science/Information and Research Skills homework, you work with them. When the cook is looking bored in the kitchen, you chat and joke around with her. When the big life questions come up in Bible Study, you talk. When the time is running short, you don’t just watch the sand slip away and feel poorly about it. You accept, reluctantly at times, that such is life, and you make the most of what you have, and you save your Dogon Country daydreams for later.
-Kevin, Montevideo

The solitary human being is a contradiction in terms and therefore you seek to work for the common good because your humanity comes into its own in belonging;

“Do you like life?” I was asked tonight by my friend as we sat and drank mate at her house. When I started my normal speech of the things I enjoy doing and dreams I have, she stopped me, and clarified by saying the question again. “Do you like life? Not your life James, who wouldn’t like your life, you’ve been all over, you are talented, no, Do you like life, sickness, hatred, hunger, and everything that is involved in the human condition” I walked around the barrio after that question in a sort of stunned state. I looked at my surroundings and saw the dirt roads after rain the night before that are impassable now. I thought of the shack homes of pieces of wood and scrap metal that I see as I take the bus to and from the barrio, without water or electricity. I thought about the Toba Indians that are dying of hunger every day here in the Chaco, and I pondered this question. I am almost embarrassed sometimes to talk about how easy my life has been. It is hard to demonstrate to someone that you understand that life is hard, when they tell you that they were hit everyday as a child, and when they ask you about your life you can only answer that your parents love you move than anything in the world. It is hard to show you understand when a 26 year old woman tells you about the three jobs she works to provide for her mother, grandmother, and aunt on top of studying in college. The money I’ve made from working has gone towards vacations, clothes, and coffee shops.
     There is so much joy here though, as much as I have seen in anyplace I have been. Kids still laugh at every opportunity. People love to dance, ohh how they love to dance. People help each other, and we talk about how fun falling in love is. In the horrible oppression that this world offers up, most from other humans and their actions, people always find opportunities to laugh and to love. Dancing all night on a dirt patio, watching kids draw and color for hours, drinking mate and talking for hours, being shown a drum set that is made from scrap metal and wood, people sharing food with me, Sunday dinners where they stay and talk for the rest of the day talking after the meal. These are all things that I have seen in the midst of poverty, that make me think that I do like life.
-James, Resistencia

The quality of Ubuntu gives people resilience, enabling them to survive and emerge still human despite all efforts to dehumanize them.
I am because you are.