Monday, December 19, 2011

Wishing You a Merry Christmas & A Happy New Year


Just around the corner from our house is this beautiful street coming to color in October. Trees are in bloom throughout the year, but the jacaranda are a favourite.

Our holiday celebrations this year will be a bit different. With Christmas on a Sunday, we are bringing our festivity to the church with everyone bringing food to share. Some families are quite small and it can be a lonely time with most relatives so far away; some in New Zealand, Australia, the U.K. and the U.S., South Africa, etc. 

It’s been an unusually busy season for our church. At the Fun Day November 27 families donated the food, but we charged $3 for the meal, $1 for a Coke and $1 for an ice cream cone. Activities included one-legged races, face painting, a balloon water fight, etc. The youth raised the money to pay fees for a weekend camp at Whitewater Dam—$30 each. Combined with car washing on the city streets,, the Fun Day and donations, they more than met their  $500 goal .It was a Three Musketeers goal with all 18 kids going or no one.

December 4 featured the Sunday School retelling the Christmas story with silver-winged angels in white dresses and shepherds who actually quaked! It was great fun and followed by a Tea and treats for the children. December 18 is a child dedication, including our new grandbaby Kelly with two other little ones and a big sister. Her mother asked that she be  dedicated with her little brother. December 25 is the Christmas dinner.

And no regular church on January 1! For the first time in many years we are hosting a New Year’s Eve service with entertainment by talented volunteers, a “finger” supper,  Praise and Worship with testimonies, and Communion as we enter the New Year.
We eagerly await your news and wish you the best,
 Jim and Naomi  

Sunday, September 11, 2011

WHAT’S A LITTLE GIRL TO DO?

Our granddaughter Megan turns four years old in September, and she’s already dreading her fifth birthday. Unusual in one so young but when baby sister Kelly had injections, Megan learned that she was due for injections when she turned five. So she’s not looking forward to September 2012.

Her Mom, Ruth, planned the celebrations in two parts: a braai [African-style barbecue] with the grandparents on the Saturday before her Monday birthday, and a party with her peers on the Saturday following. The braai would be at our home so she could enjoy riding her bicycle on our cement driveway. At home their driveway is steep and she rides the bike in the garage with the door closed.

She is so excited when they arrive at our house, and she takes her Dad by the hand to show him where the braai is ready for the fire that will cook the meat. She rides her bicycle some but the sun is so hot that she soon turns to other activities. Such as serving cool drinks to the birthday guests which now include her paternal grandparents and friends from Bulawayo in a surprise visit. She gets an appreciative chuckle when she delivers a drink to Papa Jim with a curtsy and to Papa Dhiru with a bow. Ruth said this comes out of the Sunday school lesson the previous week.

Another couple also comes by unexpectedly; a young woman from church with her brother who wanted to meet Pastor Jim. As you can see this is turning into something quite a bit less intimate and Megan-centered than planned. Which wasn’t too difficult a problem until time to depart. It has become the custom for Megan to stay overnight on a Saturday with Granny Cathy. It was not to be this time because of the guests.

At first, Granny Cathy thought of slipping away quietly while Megan was in the bath. (Megan likes to bathe at our house because their house on the high hill is notoriously short of water just about 23 hours of the day.) But a few minutes of future promises mollified Megan, and she seemed okay.

Carol, the guest’s wife, knowing of the broken promise but not of the mended fence, reassures Megan that she would be leaving on Sunday and so the next Saturday would be back to normal. She didn’t mean any harm as she had been completely charmed by the little girl. Megan immediately went into tragic mode with head bowed and tears on her cheeks..

Inside she sobs on her mother’s lap. “She’s my Granny Cathy!” Carol and Mitchell were interlopers who should have no claim on her Granny! She folded her arms across her chest with an explosive humph and declared, “I am not happy!” Ruth tries to soothe the little girl, saying that next Saturday would be so good because Megan would have her Granny Cathy to herself. Now she would be bored because the adults would want to talk and not have much time for her. This went on several minutes and us maternal grandparents were helplessly caught between sympathy and suppressed laughter.

Soon Megan’s Dad joins the fray, returning from the gate where he had seen the folks out. Of course he knew the Saturday night ritual but hadn’t heard any of the attempts to redeem the situation, including Ruth’s reassurances. “Meggy,” he says in a quiet but firm voice. “Stop crying now. How about if we stop by Granny’s on the way home, and you can say goodnight?”

Well, it was too little too late. The drama continued with the bowed head, choking sobs and lament of my Granny Cathy and even temporary dis-ownership with not my Granny Cathy and then my only Granny Cathy, the folded arms unfolding to straight by her sides and the words, “I am not happy!”

So, what’s a little girl to do if the grownups in her life can’t get their lines straight? If each one contradicts the compromise and mending gone before? Megan definitely had the last words as, figuratively speaking, she stamps her foot and says again, “I am not happy!”

But tomorrow is a new day and another Saturday is coming soon, and everyone knows that nobody better mess with the overnight stay this time!

ROMANCE IS IN THE AIR

Not too long ago—maybe two weeks—Jim and I played the role not so much of Cupid as of Recording Angels. That’s probably another way of saying we make good listeners and a good memory of what it’s like in the early days or courtship. Within the same week we were hostages of love by two ardent and loquacious suitors*, but I will admit our hearts are very soft for older couples contemplating a second marriage.

First, an early call at 6 a.m. on a Tuesday with Kenneth saying he’d stop by around 10 if that was okay. Not every African is courteous enough to call ahead and even to arrive on the stroke of the hour. It’s not rudeness on the part of others so much as slippery priorities. Like they want to pin you down to wait for them just in case they can make it. Their intentions are good but they are easily distracted.

Kenneth shows up on the dot, and he and Jim exchange their usual ritual of Black Pope and White Pope dialogue. They’ve known each other so long that Jim can’t even remember the origin but thinks Kenneth may have started it. They both enjoy the implied respect for each other and normally spend an hour or two reminiscing about characters and events in their shared history. Jim remembers Kenneth’s first wife very well and says she was an excellent pastor’s wife. She had been killed in a bus accident.

Within a short time Kenneth is talking about a lady named Virginia. He met her while attending a family funeral in his home area of Zeimba in northeast Zimbabwe. They first met casually at a store while he shopped for the family. After a very satisfactory conversation with an exchange of personal information, Kenneth was intrigued enough to make inquiries in the area. Hearing nothing but good reports, he is pursuing the relationship by inviting her to come to Gweru, located in central Zimbabwe, for a visit to meet his congregation and get a glimpse of what his life is all about. He promises to bring her to us so we can meet her.

Steps to marriage are orchestrated by tribal tradition, and if Kenneth is to marry Virginia he will soon be making arrangements with her family for lobola {bride price]. They will also do something new that’s becoming necessary in modern Africa: a visit to New Start, a clinic where you are checked for HIV/AIDS. Romance quickly turns practical for our Black Africans.

Second, later in the week but also in the morning, we hear a hoot at the gate and here’s Harry come to visit. These impromptu unannounced visits can be great fun, and it’s good to have them happening again. It’s a sign that there’s time enough not to need every minute or half hour scheduled. Of course, you take a chance that people might not be at home or that they might have other visitors. We would see Harry in town from time to time but he hadn’t been by the house for awhile. His first wife died fairly young of a heart attack, and Harry had wanted Jim to take part in the funeral but we were in South Africa at the time.

Soon Harry is telling us all about Patty, and I’m trying to piece together the story as he talks. He is speaking English but Afriakaans is his first language, and I have trouble with the rhythm and slur of his words. I love to hear what he has to say because he is so wonderfully eccentric with a simple and generous code of faith. He is the epitome of the White African, dressed casually in a printed short-sleeve shirt, shorts and long socks. He probably has a helmet or hat somewhere, but I don’t recall him ever wearing one. He is a farmer and a miner of precious stones and covers the country in his work but misses no opportunity to pray for the sick and to speak of a God who blesses those who bless others.

Another reason why I struggle to keep up is that Harry and Jim are talking about people I haven’t come to know yet. Although I do remember when Ralph, Patty’s first husband, died not much more than a year ago. Ralph’s death left Penny alone on their farm, and Harry’s sympathy for the new widow soon grew into love as he helped her sort out the many post-death responsibilities. These included arranging a proper graveside memorial headstone, which Harry undertook with a magnanimous thoughtfulness.

Harry puts me in mind of the legendary knight on a white horse rushing to the rescue not of a young maiden but of a fifty-something widow. He’s helped her in hundreds of ways with no strings attached but now he’s found himself deeply in love. Does she love him, too? If not, he says it’s time for him to bow out. She says she loves him, but she has these three grown daughters who are skeptical of Harry’s motives. On Saturday they will all be together for the first time—Harry, Patty and the daughters. Will we pray for this momentous meeting? Yes, we will.  

Just the other day in town, I was jaywalking [an irritating and annoying challenge for drivers but a practice not yet to a level of the First World Pedestrian Crossings] when a horn hooted. I looked up just in time to see Harry drive by with such a contented look on his face. He wasn’t alone; I’m sure the lady beside him is his beloved Patty.

So, different routes but the same end; two weddings coming up before year’s end.

*Names are false but stories are real.

Friday, February 11, 2011

A LITTLE BIT OF THIS AND THAT

Already into the second month of the new year 2011! And today, Thursday the 11th is the 40th birthday of daughter Darlene. My sister Delight will remember that birth day as she got all rattled—wanting to make tuna sandwiches to take to the hospital and chastising brother Chris for showing up with no sox on. What a little darling—the new born with dark curly hair and a perfect little body. Husband Charlie bursting with pride. My Mom and Dad off in Africa, a long time before the quick communication we have today with email and Facebook!

Now I’m in Africa and so is Delight as I write. She’s back in Congo for a three-week visit while I’m in residence in Zimbabwe, beginning my eighth year with Jim and hoping for many more. We seem to be in our own time warp as far as communication goes. For most of these years we’ve had email at home, but since December we’ve had to invade son-in-law Bowen’s computer workshop to get on the Broadband. We’re not far to town but we try to do emails twice a week so we don’t wear out our welcome at the busy shop. So Facebook is neglected BIG TIME!

This week Monday a long awaited order arrived—our new lounge suite. Jim and I had been looking for months for a good chair for him and a three-seater couch. They told me at the shops that Zimbabwe didn’t make the three-seaters any more. What is popular are the big overstuffed love seats that dominate the lounge, large or small! But we found what we wanted in a shop that brings in goods from South Africa. . It was already marked SOLD. So we had to wait until another came in. It didn’t but we found one in Bulawayo in the same chain of shops. Two weeks later it arrived in Gweru but the shop hadn’t received its allocation of diesel for delivery. And then it arrived in our home on Monday!

On Tuesday 3 ½ year old granddaughter Megan came home with us for a visit. When she noticed the new suite, she immediately protests. “I want the blue [set]. Take this one back to the shop!” But later she patted the sofa, saying, “This is nice.”

Wednesday we were out to Antelope Park for a day at the Pastors and Leaders Retreat. The Park is a game reserve that specializes in birthing lions and preparing them again for the wild. You can walk with the lion cubs (about two years old and anything but cub-ish!) or feed the cubs. Right outside the meeting place in a fenced in area we were charmed by a very small cub just twice the size of a Lab pup who was climbing the gate, very determined to explore beyond. His head and shoulders were through the opening, and he was moaning in little yelps. Like the little train that could, “I can make it. I can make it.” But a park ranger came along and brought his efforts to naught.

A lovely day at the Park. Good food and fellowship. Three speakers in tandem: Henry, a local pastor and host of the Retreat; Bill, a visitor from South Africa who grew up in Zimbabwe, and Jim, particularly, appreciated his teaching on the five-fold ministry [apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, teachers]; and Dr. Michelle who teaches that no disease is incurable and talks fluently about the good chemicals released in the body when we walk in repentance, love and forgiveness. Laughter, she also emphasized, is good medicine, and we proved her point with twitters to belly laughs in our visiting together.

My role as Zim Coordinator for Team Impact University can be very absorbing on some days. That’s when we have ZESA (electricity) so I can scan in documents for students applying for degrees and write up the emails to take to town. There’s two Bible Colleges ready to begin as soon as the manuals are transmitted by email: Baptist School of Ministry and our own Riverside Bible College. We’re neck-and-neck with just about a dozen students each. We had hoped to open in late January but the now, now so easily promised here in Zim often stretches into weeks if not months! Word-of-mouth and the website is bringing in some good response.

The book for Emmanuel Missions at Lalapanzi is proceeding. Director Gert had me interviewing some of his people when we were out there last week. Jim will be teaching at their Bible college every other Monday, so I’ll be on-site often in the days ahead. Jim’s nephew John who lives in the American Northwest has created a website for the orphan and elderly branch of the Mission. You can view it at Ebenezer Refuge.

A reason to rejoice! It’s 7:40 on a Friday morning and we still have ZESA!

Monday, January 10, 2011

NEW ASSIGNMENTS

November 2010 will go down in our personal history as a bit of a blur. That includes three trips to Mater Dei Hospital in Bulawayo when son-in-law Bowen pressed hard on the petrol pedal and we arrived in record-breaking time. Jim’s cellulitis on his right leg was making a big time comeback. He spent ten days in the hospital while we begged lodging from an American missionary couple. We returned to Gweru a few days in the middle to take care of some business.

But that isn’t really the beginning. Jim had marked November as a red-letter month because Dennis Evans, his good friend of more than forty years, was coming to Zimbabwe. They had last been together in 2003. Since then Dennis and his family had migrated to the U.K, finding a home right on the border to Scotland. Dennis arrived on Friday afternoon but during the Sunday worship, Jim made the announcements and then disappeared. He was going back to the keyboard when a violent wave of sickness came over him. He found one of the men to take him home, and he was miserably sick through Wednesday. The flu left but the cellulitis kicked in.

It did give Dennis and me a good opportunity to become acquainted. Dennis was brimming over with enthusiasm for Team Impact University. He had come to South Africa to attend a conference and graduation, celebrating nine years of TIU in South Africa. Dennis had run an in-church school himself before he left for the U.K. Now he had been selected to introduce TIU to the U.K. Well, he ended up introducing it to Zimbabwe, too. The concept of training your own people in Christian ministry caught fire in my heart, and I was able to introduce Dennis to some local pastors who also embraced the idea.

Team Impact University provides the manuals and sometime along the way a representative will come to preside over a graduation. Because of the hard years Zimbabwe has been experiencing TIU agreed to substantially lower the fees for the programs which include a Certificate in Ministry, Diploma in Ministry, Bachelor’s Degree, Master’s Degree and Doctorate—all accredited by a worldwide Christian accrediting body. A person can progress from Certificate to Doctorate in a six-year period with high motivation and self-discipline.

We’ve named our venture Riverside Bible College, which reflects the name of the suburb where our church is located. We hope to begin classes in late January, meeting one night a week and covering three courses concurrently. There are ten courses each in the first two programs. The church will provide a facilitator for each class to go over the material, answer questions and encourage discussion.

And, guess what I get to do? Dennis has asked me to be the Coordinator for Zimbabwe. He is the Overseer. TIU is operating in all the countries bordering Zim, but this is the first open door into our country. As Coordinator I am basically an office through which we handle publicity, recruitment, registration of students, etc. The potential is high because the pastors, just to name one group, hungry for more Christian education, and TIU also is on a practical , doable level for lay people in the church. So I am excited and highly motivated! Start small. Think big.

That’s the first assignment.

Hint of another big one came about a week ago when Gert Olivier at Emmanuel Mission in Lalapanzi (about 30K East of Gweru) called. He, too, was bursting with his own project. He’s been writing down his thoughts and memories regarding the Mission since its beginning, and he’s asking me to edit the information into a small booklet, or possibly something bigger. It’s a story of adversity over many years but also accounts of miracles. To tell the truth, it’s a story I’ve wanted to write since my first visit out to the Mission in 2003 as I listened to Gert’s passionate telling of Mission “doings” over the dinner table.

That’s the second assignment.

Looks like I’m following in the footsteps of granddaughter Megan who says she’s “very busy” as she scrubs the front stoop with a small rag, irons clothes with an unplugged iron or loads a plastic bag with all the items on our buffet cabinet. Some of us have to keep this world going around!

Saturday, October 30, 2010

A MODEST PROPOSAL

…with apologies to Jonathan Swift and his writing under the same title about the terrible plight of the poor children in 18th century Ireland. Let me give the title a positive twist in the Third World setting of Emmanuel Fellowship Church in 21st century Zimbabwe:

Our church kitchen is basically a 12’ x 12’ square with 21” of counter, stove, refrigerator hugging all four walls. The remaining floor space is quickly crowded when four to six women tackle the serving and cleanup for a tea or church meal. So, when a gift of $2000 came in designated for kitchen remodeling, I was very pleased.

But before we could get started we were caught in a Sunday school space bind. Or should I say “opportunity”? For a long time we’ve had one teacher and the children lumped together in what we called Children’s Church. Then we added a class for Youth and more recently a class for Beginners. Once they met in the church hall but now each class is tucked away into their own classroom, and we are utilizing some rooms that have been standing empty.

Empty because during years of hyperinflation church finances didn’t stretch to upkeep but just to keeping afloat. Once we opened up the rooms, we clearly saw the need for some TLC (tender loving care). We replaced skirting (mopboard) that had been eaten by the ants. Ceiling boards sagging and stained by a leaking roof were replaced and/or repainted. And the walls are on a when-we-can-do-it schedule for repainting.

And then we turned to the kitchen. It’s been so liberating and even exhilarating to be doing something positive and not just marking time. And Jim has been caught up in the possibilities as much as I am. It was his idea to knock out the wall between the kitchen and the next room which had become a catchall room. Also, his idea to take shelving above the refrigerator, divide in into two and place above the serving counter. The ladies love this as we no longer need to call the men in to take cups off the shelves.

The initial $2000 has doubled and should cover materials and labor for the plumber, electrician, carpenter, welder, tile layer and demolition crew. Red, who works for us and also cleans the church, is acting as Foreman, which includes hiring. That’s how we’ve met Timos and Calvin, who done the carpenter-related tasks. Another crew came in for the kitchen wall and tiling. We ask for a quote on each job before work commences.

The workmen quote for labor and include a list of needed supplies. We would go to town to pick up materials. At first we would shop around because prices vary wildly. When I say “we” I really mean Red. Sometimes Timos and Calvin rode along so the right items and sizes were purchased. Most of the building suppliers didn’t deal in change, and so we were given pens, bulbs, exercise books, toothbrushes, etc. for anything short of a dollar.

No one supplier had everything, and so the men often went from shop to shop to find a particular screw or type of nail. A trip to town (approximately 1 ½ kilometers) was never quick. Under an hour was quick but trips often took two hours and more. Looking, for instance, for a shop that would cut a board. They wanted to seal the whole board for $50, and so we went behind the shops to a place that would cut a board to our size for $18. We paid for the board and took the receipt. It wouldn’t be ready that day, but we could come back the next morning at 8:30. Well, we made four trips over four days before we had the board.

Just to give an idea of prices: We used 16 boxes of tile purchased for $17 each and labor at $280 for the enlarged kitchen and two small toilets/hallway. That’s approximately 34 square yards of floor space, and only one tile and bits and pieces leftover. We paid $111 for 30 meters of rexine (benching fabric—a heavy oil cloth bought at two different shops because neither shop had enough fabric on hand) and $150 in labor to recover about 15 benches with cushioned seats and back rests, recovered for the first time since they were created for the church 40 years ago.

We need curtain material now for the kitchen windows, but there’s nothing suitable or desirable in the Gweru shops. One of our ladies will sew up the curtains and do a beautiful job, but we’ll have to make a trip to Bulawayo (1 ½ to 2 hours driving time) one day to shop for fabric. There’s other things still to purchase such as formica for the countertops, but what we’ll be buying the most in the coming weeks is paint and more paint to put the finishing touch on all these now beautiful recycled rooms.

All this has been happening in the month of October, and it’s been a time of joy in seeing such good progress. Some frustration, too, when some things take longer than you wanted. And it’s another lesson in patience. Some things can’t be done when there’s no electricity which happens on an irregular unknown–to-use schedule. And once you start such big projects you find there’s more and more to be done, but you limit yourself to financial and time realities and save some tasks for another day.

The churches physical improvement has been an item for prayer for the last two years. Our modest proposal to improve the kitchen is the third positive step; the first two were some cement repairs outside the church and a refurbishing of the playground. We thank God not only for the funds but for the able and resourceful Red, Timos, Calvin and others.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

CHASING THE ONIONS

You can’t buy them in Zimbabwe. French Fried Onions (FFO). For this old Yankee the FFO paints a nostalgic picture of the Green Bean Casserole at Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter family dinners.

My sister Delight started the ball rolling a year or so ago when she sent the makings for the casserole. A big hit with our guests at the pastor’s Sunday dinner. (also, a bit of fun to arouse a hint of envy in the heart of Theresa , an American missionary living across the alley from us, and a delighted chuckle when Debbie at Sunday dinner exclaimed quite loudly as her husband took a second helping).

As I said, you can’t buy the FFO here in Gweru nor have I seen them in South Africa. So I requested another supply from my sister. Just the FFO, because we can buy the mushroom soup and green beans here. I even add water chestnuts for an extra crunch. On September 1, Delight obliges. It’s about five weeks on the average from her post office in Los Banos, CA, to our post office in Gweru. On Tuesday, October 5, I get an ominous-looking envelope in our post box. Brown with no stamps. It shouts “government”!

Not thinking FFO, my heart skips a bit. Maybe it’s a notice that my second level of residency has been approved. It’s three years for your first work permit, another three years for the renewal, and a final three years to establish residency. It took two years for the first level to come through, and I actually have until February to make it two years for the next level approval to come through. Jim is hoping they’ll just go ahead and offer the permanent residency on the second level.

The brown envelope contains a slip telling us they are holding a package which requires a permit from the Department of Agriculture for importing onions. And I remembered my request for FFO. Just a simple misunderstanding, I reason. All they have to do is open the package.

We take the slip to the place where we pick up packages. We want to tell them to open the package, which they sometimes do when there is a question, but they say come back tomorrow at 11 when the customs lady is there or better yet go over to the government center and see her in her office.

Red (the fellow who’s worked about 30 years for Jim) and I show up at 11 but we’re already too late. Go to the government center, they say. So we do. Someone directs us to the right office, but she’s not there. Probably at the customs building a few blocks away. We miss her there. She’s at the post office, they say. But she isn’t. We miss her again. Try again in the afternoon or come again in the morning. 9 a.m.

We do get her at the customs building the next day. I explain that we’re talking about a condiment used in a casserole. I even have a picture of the casserole. And I tell them, it tastes really good. They laugh with me. Open the package, I urge her, and you’ll see these are not onion plants but processed onions in a can. She says meet her at the post office at 10 a.m. on Thursday. I can’t do that because we have a Pastors’ Tea at our house at 10. Could Red come in my place? Yes, that will be okay.

Red heads to town, about 2 kilometers. It’s a waiting game again but finally after 11 he connects with the customs lady at the post office. She opens the package and is satisfied. Red brings the package home. I see on the customs slip that Delight has written in bold ink ONIONS/CANS. The second part was blurred but the first part bold and beautiful. So it was just an easily misunderstood wrong assumption, but we have four beautiful cans of FFO. This Sunday we’ll have the Green Been Casserole, thanks to Delight and the customs lady in Gweru.

Nine around the table for Sunday dinner. Good fellowship and the food good, too. And I think of the difference between Third World and First World. How often do we get bent out of shape when we don’t get what we want when we want it. Here in Gweru we wait five or six weeks to receive a package, but I can remember as kids in the Congo that we would wait up to six months. My Grandma Erickson would often include homemade fudge in a package, and it would be looking a bit old by the time we received it. We ate it anyway—every crumb.

Or the urge to become impatient with Third World bureaucracy. It’s not worth it or worthy of us to be demanding or impatient. And it all works out with nobody fussed. And I like that about life over here. You’re not so much in a hurry that you can’t give respect to someone who has this little bit of control over your life. And it works—at least 76 percent of the time!