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

I believe in a thing called Love (week 5)

This week (check how my first sentence didn’t start with ‘so’ – my writing skills must be improving) our teaching was on relationships; with God, family, community and the whole who should you marry thing.

A strong emphasis was placed on using our identity and passion to come up with a creative response to a need in our areas. Suggestions on a postcard please (you have my address, or if you don’t then email/comment and I’ll send it to you. Not that I’d love a bit more of the old snail mail or anything. Yes, this is a guilt trip – I make no apologies). Speaking of which…

Heaps of thanks to the lovely ladies who sent me some mail this week. It’s great to hear from home and be reminded that it’s still there. Speaking of which…

The hostel has really begun to feel like home. My measure of home: somewhere I feel comfortable wearing no earrings. I have a friend who shall remain nameless, let’s call her ‘Sophie Edmonds,’ who once said that she’d feel more naked without eyeliner on than clothes. I’m the same with earrings. No make-up is easy, I do it all the time, but if you’re asking me to be seen in public with no earrings on then you’re clearly crazy/don’t know me half as much as you should to be posing such a question. So yeah, it was really sunny a few days ago (sorry people that are stuck in the frozen wasteland that is In-ger-land) and to avoid strange tan lines on my ears (yes I am that vain, and yes it is possible) I took my earrings out without having a mental breakdown and chilled out, in public, on the sun deck at the hostel. I hereby dub thee YHA City Hostel, Sir Home of Rachel the Wise.

We had Friday off this week as on Saturday we all took part in a super cool event called City Lights. A few churches across Auckland come together for a weekend a few times a year to serve local communities. Different groups did different projects e.g. painting a Girl Guides hut, gardening in a local school, helping in renovations at a women’s refuge. I was in a group that went to a home for young/expectant mums to do craft activities. Anyone who knows me well knows that I don’t like babies; I can cope when kids are old enough to talk in grammatically correct sentences but not before then. I’m being serious; I’ve only started talking to my brother this last year as he’s only just learnt basic English grammar. So when I found out where I’d be all day I spent the next hour holding onto my seat to stop me running for the hills (which never seem to be too far away in Auckland). However I surprisingly managed to survive the day, probs because there was never more than one baby in the room at a time. It was a bit awkward at first: ‘hello, we’ve come to spend the day hanging out and making Christmas decorations.’ Cue the speedy exit of mum and child. Not that we actually said that but that was the general reaction after we entered rooms. Or maybe it’s because we smell or something. The afternoon was a lot less awkward. I think my love of putting PVA glue on my arms and then peeling it off when it’s dry definitely got me branded as ‘that weird girl who kept putting glue on her arms’. Makes a change from ‘that girl who sat there and said nothing ‘so I guess you could say that it’s an improvement. One thing I realised from the conversations that we had was how complex their stories were. (Insert appropriate comment blaming the media/Rupert Murdoch and his agenda for world domination for encouraging our stereotypes).

All in all it’s been a tiring few weeks, I’ve never had my beliefs about God challenged on such a consistent basis and as a consequence my brain has melted. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a good thing, the only problem is (I really don’t have the time, I’ve got one night only, one night only…) that I somehow need to reform it, like a phoenix emerging from the ashes. I’m looking forward to what the next few weeks will bring.

Once Upon an Outreach

The promised outreach info:

There’s eight in our team, five girls and three guys. We have a quite mutlicultural team with a mix of Norweigan, Korean, American and British. At the moment the plan is to stay at the YWAM base in Muizenberg. One thing we’ll be doing is working with an organisation called Justice Acts who try to combat human trafficking, check www.justiceacts.org So we might be going into schools and doing presentations to ‘at risk’ groups about the dangers of human trafficking. Another thing we’ll be doing is going to a home for disabled children and hanging out with them. That’s all I’ve got for now. Will give more info when I have it.

I'm not coming home (part 2)

Dear Mum and Dad,

I am sorry to say this but I’m not coming home. I’m addicted to Moro Gold bars. You can’t get them in the UK and so I must stay in New Zealand or move to a country that does have them, Norway maybe. I know you’re probs wondering what this strange drug is. Well, it’s a ‘smooth textured chocolate flavoured centre with crunchy biscuit pieces surrounded in caramel all covered in Cadbury Dairy Milk milk chocolate.’ Sounds like heaven but with more calories right? Tale heart, a solution can be reached. All you’d need to do is have about 30 bars shipped to the UK every month and then it’ll be fine. If not then I guess I’ll see you at Christmas (the one in June not December). I hope that you’re all doing well.

Love Rach x x