I'm not coming home (part 3)

Dear Mum and Dad,

I’m sorry to say this but I’m not coming home. I miss cold weather and rain. If I come home as planned in April then it will be spring I want winter. If I stay in New Zealand then I’ll get winter. If I come home then I’ll have to wait till October and by then I’ll probably be completely winter-deficient. This is a risk I am not willing to take. I’m sure you’d rather not take it too. Hence I think I should stay. Hope to see you soon. Maybe you can come visit if you get bored of the weather back home.

Love Rach x x

P.S. Happy Birthday Mum

Is That a Kingdom-Building Shirt? I Don't Think So (Week Nine)

This week was a lot more low key. But every bit as mind-boggling (check that – I just used mind-boggling in a sentence. I haven’t decided if that’s super-cool or super-sad. Ten points for me either way) as the previous one. Our topic was the Kingdom of God. Something I always assumed was pretty simple - read the parables, see what Jesus said and then put it all together) but apparently not. I don’t know why I thought it would be simple, you would have thought that I would have learnt by now, but apparently not. I can now add this to my list of topics for which I have many questions and no answers. Yet. I believe they will come eventually.

However knowing that there are a few different approaches to looking at this topic means that I can breathe easy that I don’t have the answers (so maybe I’ll take it off the list).

Our movie (I wanna say film but it seems too formal and English) last week was Hotel Rwanda. I’d previously avoided this movie as I’m a complete wimp and like to avoid things that are too real and sad. Hotel Rwanda is based on the true story of a hotel manager and his struggle to keep his family and other refugees safe during the genocide in Rwanda in 1994. You should watch it. It wasn’t half as grim as I thought it would be.

On Saturday we went to Bethel Beach. Did not want to leave. The sand was so black it was purple; it glittered more than all the jewellery in Accesorize. I think I could live there for ever (sorry Mum). On Sunday I skipped church and went on a mini-road trip with a few others to Rotaroa. A city about two hours (or maybe a bit more – I’m no good at judging distances or timing) from Auckland. It’s become a well-known tourist spot due to the thermal activity in the area. Unfortunately it has the unfortunate (is it even legal to use unfortunate twice –make that three times- in the same sentence) effect of releasing lots of sulphur. So most of town pretty much smelt like someone had extremely bad flatulence.

While there we went to a natural hot spring. It was hot. And I mean haitch  to-the oh to-the tee.. We couldn’t stay in it for too long. Probs a good thing as I was convinced that some hippos were gonna roll up out of nowhere and sit on us or something. For real. It was like out of a horror film. We turned off the main road down a dirt track and then walked into the woods. Getting changed in the woods is an interesting situation. I had to pretend like it was normal and nothing like the beginning of a horror movie. As you’ve probably guessed I made it out alive, just minus my outer layer of skin which I think was probably burned off by the water. But yeah, I’m a survivor – take that evil ninja Hippos.

Not for Sale

One of our assignments is a book report on a justice themed book. So here’s the blog version of mine:

One of things I do in my free time here is read. A lot. The school has a library that we can borrow books and DVD’s from. Last week (actually a few weeks ago but I didn’t manage to finish writing this post before now) I picked up a book called Not For Sale. I read the blurb and figured it would be a good read as I waited for one of my roommates to finish reading The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne (which I have now read and you should totally read too).  Not for Sale is about the global slave trade and how we can fight it. I figured this would be some good light reading before going to sleep.

I was completely unprepared for what I was about to read. I guess I thought it would give a load of depressing stats about modern-day slavery and then tell me to write to my politician to try and get them to deal with it (which I’m not saying is a bad thing. We do need to put more pressure onto our governments to do more to combat slavery). Instead what I read were personal accounts of former slaves of their life in slavery and how they were rescued by certain organisations/people. Different chapters cover a different type of slavery, so there are accounts of sexual slavery in Cambodia and Thailand, bonded labourers in South Asia, child soldiers in Uganda, sex syndicates in Europe, child slavery in Peru and domestic slavery in the USA. Each chapter also tells how the organisation that helped them was started or how the person that helped them came to be aware of their plight.

Most of the organisations mentioned were started by people with no specialist knowledge of modern-day slavery or a great amount of resources. They just saw the need and then did what they could to help. In many cases they had to expand what they were doing to cope with the demand for their services. For this reason I think it’s one of the most inspiring books I’ve read, ordinary people doing what they could to help. It means that we can all do something to help. We don’t have to be super rich super geniuses (or should that be geniuii? – sounds a bit like weird and looks like I can’t spell genuine though)

My conclusion: you should read this book. End of. You’ll understand why slavery bothers me so much if you do. If I wasn’t afraid of being ‘smited’ by God I would even say that you should read it more than you should read the Bible (JUST KIDDING.  You see this; I’m running back to the line).

'I am not for sale. You are not for sale. No-one is for sale.'

Life is not a Chocolate Muffin (Week Eight)

So I haven’t written for like two weeks. I’m blaming writer’s block. I spent two days in bed lamenting that I was letting my audience down. I was convinced that you good people of cyber space would be lost without my words of wisdom. All I could do was binge eat chocolate and write sad poetry. However. All is not lost. I appear to be over it (whoopwhoop).

So here goes: Week Eight.

Our topic was the Lordship of Jesus. Conclusion for the week – to really have Jesus as Lord is to have a heart like his; to see, treat and love people as he did. It was a crazy week. Our speaker was very loud. Very very loud. I retreated to the back row for a couple of days in the hope that it would be a bit quieter there. It wasn’t. I learned a lot though.

Friday was a bit different. We spent the day worshipping God through a New Testament version of the Tent of Meeting (big ol’ tent thing in the Old Testament). It was cray to-the zee (not to be confused with Jay Z.  - Sorry, couldn’t resist). Praise, worship, confession, tears, repentance, thanksgiving, sacrifice (don’t worry, it wasn’t animal sacrifices – although at one point we thought it would be. For real. I almost started crying), prayer, dancing and the presence of God. It was a tiring day (about 14 hours) but totally awesome. There has been few occasions when I’ve felt the presence of God so strongly and this was definitely one of them.

The day after we had a much needed lie-in and then went to Sheepworld in the afternoon. It was jokes. Not only were there sheep, and some really cute lambs but also: emus, possums (I didn’t know what they were either), pigs, rabbits, chickens, donkeys, guinea pigs and of course alpacas (what you  would naturally expect to find at a sheep farm).We saw a sheep dog demonstration thing. I now have renewed appreciation for the complexities of sheep farming and training working dogs.

So that’s it. A very brief outline of Week Eight. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.

Writer's block. Be back soon.

Outreach Update

So I don’t really have much new info since I last posted about it. However I do have an interesting fact: Muizenberg is great for surfing. Unfortunately the only thing (besides a hippo infestation) that would prevent me from surfing everyday (aside from having to get my hair wet) is that I might get eaten by a shark. I exaggerate not, someone was even eaten when the YWAM team were there last year.

However I’m thinking that there’s great potential for a three month long game of chicken. We’d have to change the name though; I’m thinking ‘Shark Bait.’

How d’you play? I’m thinking go into the sea and surround yourself with dead fish/cut your leg and whoever can stay in longest without getting eaten wins. Whoever runs for shore first earns the title of ‘Lily Livered Coward.’ If you get eaten you earn the title of’ The Honourable Sir Shark Bait’. If you win then we’ll just call you the winner. As you can tell, there’s more honour in being eaten, not that I’m suggesting that you should try it or anything (ahem).

Fortunately we have a doctor on the team who can patch us up if we have any near misses/aggressive negotiations/close encounters of the deathly kind. Mum - there’s no need to worry that you’ll get a midnight phone call informing you that I’ve been eaten by a shark, there’ll only be a three-ish hour time difference so you’re far more likely to get a call in the middle of the day. You can sleep easy.

Lions, Tigers and Hippos (week 7)

So we have reached the end of week seven. I know right, how crazy is it that I’ve been here for almost two months? D’you miss me yet? (Benjamin I was not asking you)

A few things that happened this week:

·         I changed the language on my iPod to French. I thought it would be fun. What I didn’t realize was that every app would now be in French. I might try German next week, providing I can figure out how to change it again. Je ne parle le francais so je ne sais pas if I can change it back.

·         I saw the biggest world map in New Zealand. England was cut in half, with each half on the opposite side of the map. I’m not quite sure what that’s supposed to symbolize but I’m not amused. It did have Croydon on the map though so its partway to atoning for its crime.

·         I went to an outdoor art exhibition called ‘Earth from Above’. It’s a collection of photos all taken from a hot air balloon by this guy called Yann Arthus Bertrand. There’s a film version of it. Check the trailer on Youtube. As one of the crew put it: it was “Freaking Rad” (just FYI – ‘rad’ is short for radical on the mean streets (shores?) of Lake Tahoe. Took me a while to figure this out). I’ve decided that once I’m a proper grown up with a coffee table (I don’t like coffee so I’m only gonna get it because it’s socially expected. I figure having a coffee table is enough for social conventions so don’t expect me to offer you coffee) I’m gonna get the book version. For real. The photos were freaking rad. If you’re lucky I’ll even invite you over to see it.

·         I realized why hippos are one of the most dangerous animals. I went to Auckland Zoo yesterday. It was great despite the whole wild-animals-in-cages-thing. Have you even seen a sad elephant? It’ll give you nightmares. Now for a bit of introspection – I was really struck by how different all the animals were. A bit obvious I know but it’s what I thought. As if I didn’t already know – God sure can create. Create to the max. Anyways, back to hippos – I don’t think I’d ever seen one before. I was terrified. I almost cried. They were huge. And I didn’t even see all of them. They were mainly submerged in water. You see this break down of sentence structure? Just thinking about them makes me went to hide in a cupboard.  I totally have new appreciation for the bit in Job when God talks about the might of hippos (well, ‘behemoth’ but some translations say hippo):

Take a look at the mighty hippopotamus. I made it just as I made you. It eats grass like an ox. See its powerful loins and the muscles of its belly. Its tail is as straight as a cedar. The sinews in its thighs are tightly knit together. Its bones are tubes of bronze. Its limbs are bars of iron. It is a prime example of God’s amazing handiwork. Only its creator can threaten it. The mountains offer it their best food, where the wild animals play. It lies down under the lotus plants, hidden by the weeds. The lotus plants give it shade among the willows beside the stream. It is not disturbed by raging rivers, not even when the swelling Jordan rushes down upon it. No-one can catch it off guard or put a ring in its nose and lead it away. Job 40v15-24.

I usually have this crazy irrational fear that crazy axe men are waiting behind bushes for the opportune moment to jump out and kill me but now I have this crazy irrational fear that hippos are waiting to be unleashed (a bit like the tiger in the Monty Python self-defense class). I’m guessing that Ninja mode won’t really work on hippos so I’m working on a new strategy, maybe Safari Guide mode. Any suggestions would be much appreciated.

So what else have I been up to? This week our topic was the Father Heart of God. I can’t really sum it up. God loves you. More than you could possibly understand. Face it. You can’t escape the love.

Last weekend we went to Piha beach. It was the first time I’d been to a beach with black sand. It was a great day – blue skies, sunshine and surfers having to be rescued by the lifeguards. It was also really windy so there was quite a lot of sunburn (just realised that I started the last three sentences with ‘it’. Sorry). Fortunately the advantages of being ‘mixed White British and Black Caribbean’ meant that I worked on my tan instead.

Week Six

So it’s week 6 already and I’ve begun to miss things from home. I know what you’re thinking, “it’s only after six weeks that this girl begins to miss things from home? Does she even have a heart?” The answer to that is no. I do not have, nor have ever had, a heart (at least not since I lost it while watching Castaway. I almost lost my sanity too but fortunately Wilson was there for me to talk to).

So what do I miss?

·         My wardrobe – I miss my clothes. I’m bored of the ones I have with me. I even miss the clothes that I haven’t worn for years but can’t bear to be parted with – you never know when you’ll need your Scary Spice leopard print dress (actually I do, my surprise welcome home party (hint hint) is gonna be Spice Girls themed. You have until sometime in April to get your costume ready and to learn the dance for Stop Right Now).

·         Croy to-the den – it misses me too, I can tell these things. The psychology of your home city was the second lecture we had at uni after how to read minds.

·         English accents – I was chatting to someone at the hostel the other day and had to ask if she was English as I couldn’t tell from her accent. Turns out she’s from West Sussex. I’m worried that by the time I go home I won’t be able to tell the difference between Southern accents and Northern ones.

Oh yeah, and family and friends of course.

Our justice movie this week was a documentary called War Dance, check www.wardancethemovie.com . It’s about a group of children of the Acholi tribe in Northern Uganda. The rebel army, the Lord’s Resistance Army, have raided the nearby villages and homes and so the children and their remaining family members live in a camp guarded by the national army. Any movement outside of the camp and away from the protection of the national army guarding the camp is dangerous. The children featured are part of a group from their school competing in a national music, drama and dance competition in Kampala. Out of all the films we’ve watched on the school I found this one the hardest to watch. The pain of the children as they told of what the LRA had done to them and the destruction caused to their families was evident. However it was also one of the most hopeful, the pain and torment was replaced with joy when they were performing. Sometimes it feels like God is so far away from those in these situations, but the joy they found in performing was evidence that although he may seem far away, in truth he’s right there.

This is my confession

Dear Reader,
I have a confession to make. You may already be aware of my error and so I apologise for any discomfort caused as a result of my actions. In a previous entry (Home Sweet Hostel) I spelt Filipino incorrectly. I am so sorry. I have since corrected the entry to cover my shame.
Yours in contrition Rachel