trajectory.

life.

2008-09-26T08:39:00.000-07:00

So basically I don’t have much of an introduction to this post; we’ll just let the pictures speak for themselves. Heidi and I are continuing to work hard, attempting to make good contributions and finish well here at Global Rescue Mission. The recent accomplishment of establishing a night shelter for our street boys finally materialized last week, and as you can see below, paper work and accounting never ceases, despite Heidi’s malaria and typhoid outbreak. She continued to work with an IV in her arm, pumping her full of medication, in our living room. Oh Africa.
Well I am missing home and winding down. And despite frustrations and discouragements I am holding strong, and remembering to pray and love. See you soon.

'Father in heaven! You have loved us first; help us never forget that you are love so that this sure conviction might triumph in our hearts over seduction of the world, over the disquiet of the soul, over anxiety for the future, over the fright of the past, over distress of the moment. But grant also that this conviction might discipline our soul so that our hearts might remain faithful and sincere, in the love which we bear to all those whom you have commanded us to love as we love ourselves.
Soren Kierkegaard (1813-1855)

freetown: our first vacation.

2008-09-18T10:23:00.000-07:00

???

2008-09-08T13:00:00.000-07:00

I’ve been struggling with what to write you about. Always mindful of the limits of words to convey my reality, I struggle with attempting and ultimately failing to describe Sierra Leone, Global Rescue Mission, my daily experiences and my muddled thoughts, coming and going too fast to ever record or articulate.

Should I write about our beloved street boys and the success and blessing of enrolling 10 of them in school and setting up a night shelter for them?

Should I praise the epic Heidi Whipple for the joy of her laughs, compassion, company? For Matt Damon movies, daily African adventures, and attempting to answer the constant question, "what is my life?!"

Should I write about work, and the difficulty of my endeavor to become a working professional?

Should I ramble about my saddness and frustrations with the church we attended last week (and many churches around the world), and it’s promises of financial blessing and prosperity to it’s disadvantaged congregants? With its emphasis on the avoidance of suffering, and suffering being only a consequence of failure?

Should I go in to detail of the layers of my ceaseless identity crisis?

Should I talk of the hot African sun or the heavy torrential rains that are currently keeping me awake at 2:43am?

Should I describe the picture of this small, beautiful town that has become my home? The neighbor children, the busy streets, the smelly, crowded, colorful market, the rice, fish, fresh fruit, the blind beggars, and the overly ‘friendly’ and vocal men?

Should I tell you about the painful veracity of being placed face to face with injustice of all kinds, of corruption, exploitation, and greed?

Should I write of the ways in which Christ has been faithful in drawing near to me and using His scripture to reveal his character, his love and his grace amidst the ebbs and flows that are my moods, emotions and experiences?

Should I talk about those I dearly miss back home (namely, you), my loving friends and family, as well as some perhaps trivial pleasures such as a good cup of coffee, readily available Diet Coke, the new Coldplay album, a hot shower, a side walk, a haircut, a trip to Powell’s, a bicycle?

Should I describe the hyperventilation that nearly ensues when Heidi and I look at a calendar and realize that time is dashing past us, that we’ve been here for over 3.5 months, and we have a mere 6 weeks remaining? Are we ready for our time here to near a close? Are we excited for the venture to the places we call home? Should I mention the absolute excitement of plans being made for a beautiful community home in Portland?

This entry was just about all questions. I hope you don’t mind, for questions are more my style than answers, pondering more my reality than conclusions.

Love and prayers to you my friend.

being present.

2008-08-18T06:10:00.000-07:00

“He would therefore have them continually concerned either with eternity (which means being concerned with Him) or with the Present—either meditating on their eternal union with, or separation from, Himself, or else obeying the present voice of conscience, bearing the present cross, receiving the present grace, giving thanks for the present pleasure.
Future inflames hope and fear. Also it is unknown to them, so that in making them think about it, they think of unrealities. The future is of all things, the least like eternity. It is the most completely temporal part of time- for the past is frozen and no longer flows, and the Present is all lit up with eternal rays. Hence nearly all vices are rooted in the Future. Gratitude looks to the Past, and love to the Present; fear, avarice, lust, and ambition look ahead. His ideal is someone who having worked all day for the good of posterity, washes his/her mind of the whole subject, commits the issue to heaven and returns at once to the patience and gratitude demanded by the moment that is passing over him. To live in the Present is to be aware that horrors may be in store, and praying for the virtues wherewith to meet them, and meanwhile being concerned with whatever is Present because there and there alone all duty, all grace, all knowledge, and all pleasure dwell”.

Some wisdom from The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis

it is good.

2008-08-07T08:47:00.001-07:00

some of you may know how heavy things have been for me and my family, and others of you may be unaware, but either way please remember to pray, pray for peace of mind, sleep filled nights, restoration of some sort of harmony.

as for life in sierra leone, when i'm not thinking of home and cursing that i am across the ocean and rendered helpless, i am attempting to remain focused on work that is good. in counseling with the street boys, we are working with them to combine their stories, histories, experiences and aspirations into a single story that can be acted out in a play, a project called 'theater for development'. the boys will also be making a song about their lives on the street, all culminating in a huge show/concert extravaganza next month for friends and community members. i hope i'm conveying how freaking excitced i am for this, and am so proud of the boys for articulating their stories and their pasts. heidi and i have taken on our own side project of having the boys write their individual stories, which will soon make up an epic website for your viewing pleasure with loads of fun pictures. we will keep you posted on our progress.

on a final note: 'good' seems a simplisitic and overrused word, but it is the word that comes to mind to describe our time here. our life is simple and our joys unadorned. we enjoy people and sun and rain and working and sitting and walking. we enjoy living life.

"God made the world and saw that it was good. Not fair. Not happy. Not perfect. Good."

Life is neither a vale of tears nor a circus of entertainment

2008-07-17T09:50:00.000-07:00

our friends from the amputee welfare society: dominic and brima

at the amputee agriculture site, around some cassava plant

gorgeous street boys (men)

fatmata and yet to be named baby

Tolstoy once wrote:
‘Life is neither a vale of tears nor a circus of entertainment
Life is essentially a place of service, where on occasion one has to put up with a lot that is difficult, but more often than not where one can experience a great many joys. But real joy is had only when we see our life as service.’

My view of the world and its inhabitants changes every day, and my feeble mind often resorts to the dualism of perceiving my surroundings as either a circus of entertainment or a vale of tears as Tolstoy wrote. I spent the better part of a month seeing all that is good here: the strength and resilience of Sierra Leoneans, the innocent and radiating faces of children, the kinship and authentic community of families and friends, the utter joy exuded whether people are sitting on their porches or dancing to rap music. Then last week, the realization of hardship and suffering slapped me in the face when I was least expecting it and therefore minimally prepared for its impact. One of our street boys, Ibrahim (pictured below), had a huge gash on his knee, and after we bandaged it up and applied antibiotic, it still became incredibly infected, to the point that he could barely walk. A boy who can barely afford to feed himself in no way can find resources for medical attention. Five days of treatment, including antibiotic injections, loads of pills to fight infection, and daily bandaging costs a little over 10 US dollars, so of course we paid for it and he healed quickly. The day after taking Ibrahim to the doctor, another street boy, Aruna asked me and Heidi if we wanted to go to the place where he was staying and meet his wife and 3 day old newborn son. We were so freaking excited, and his baby was healthy, beautiful and looked just like his father. His wife on the other hand, was not doing so well, and as we held her baby, she unwrapped the colorful African printed fabric from around her foot to reveal the most horrendous wound I have ever seen in person. The entire side of her foot was eaten away, almost as if by flesh eating bacteria, and you could literally see all sorts of muscles and bone. A neighboring town, Bo, apparently has a free clinic where she can find treatment and after providing a small amount of transport money to Aruna and Fatmata, we offered our blessings and prayers for them. During all of this, our delightful coworker and dear friend Musa Konneh (Heidi’s husband to be), was away at the same free clinic in the town of Bo, getting medical attention. During the war, he was separated from his family for many years and while being forced to carry a huge load to neighboring Liberia by a group of rebel soldiers, he was struck on the back of the head with the butt of a gun, resulting in a skull fracture that causes him terrible headaches to this day.
These three incidents may not seem to be huge in the whole scheme of world pain and suffering, but the fact is that these three isolated events highlighted the pain of those closest to us here in Sierra Leone. To say “the entire country of Sierra Leone is impoverished” is so distant and abstract. But when your friends can not afford adequate medical attention for them and their families, it gets you down, and makes your boots extremely heavy.
So then I found myself in the ever familiar state of dwelling on the immense pain of the world, the injustice, the unfairness of it all. And I’m being forced every day to find a balance between tears and circuses, and to determine what I am going to be about amidst it all. Every day I feel renewed in the image of Christ like never before, and scripture like Colossians 3 has come alive to me, like I am reading it for the first time:

“Therefore as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience… And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity”

These are the things I want to be about, as I continue to acknowledge both pain and joy, and how Christ is working through both, here in Sierra Leone and anywhere else I may end up. I am here to serve and to love, to learn and to grow.

Your thoughts, good wishes and prayers are always appreciated. Love.

P.S. Small disclaimer: I had a very difficult time writing this, and conveying to you, my devoted reader my actual thoughts and feelings. I worry that my choice of phrases and wording may be perceived as cliché, or perhaps religious jargon but this is in no way my intention. What I previously described feels all so real to me and I wish I could be sitting with you, over a cup of glorious and tremendously missed Stumptown coffee, telling you more about my heart. I wish I could further tell you about my current spiritual realizations, my present, gradual awakening from years of spiritual passivity, my ongoing transformation. I look forward to the day that I can.

P.P.S. I would like to extend all gratitude and credit to the amazing Heidi Whipple for the use of her spectacular photos of me, and the fact that she is here with me as a sister and fellow professional development worker. Check out her new pictures uploaded on Facebook! :)

street parades and delicious corn.

2008-07-04T05:25:00.000-07:00

heading up a street parade on non-violent participation in politics

so i’m 20.

2008-07-02T08:52:00.000-07:00

africa's cutest siblings, they sell water around our neighborhood

me and heidi at 'capitol' with our street boy and self declared husband, ibrahim; me wearing the amazing hat he had made for me as a bithday gift, with my name stitched on.

some of the street boys, from my first weekend in kenema.

It's strange to state I am twenty.

For the one or two people actually interested and reading this, I guess I’ll tell you about one of the most delightful birthdays in many, many years. It all began waking up, like I do most mornings, hot, bathing in my own sweat and somehow tangled up in my sorry excuse for a mosquito net. Obviously the receiving of presents is limited while away in a foreign country, but I knew I had one waiting for me, one that the amazing Heidi Whipple hauled across the world for me from a certain Candice Thiessen. The talented and crafty Miss Thiessen had sewn me a beautiful tote bag and ‘what was in this tote bag??’, you ask. Only the most amazing powered substance to grace this earth with its delicious presence: Big Train Spiced Chai. I was convinced I would not be able to enjoy this bit of heaven for months to come, but here it was, with me in Sierra Leone. So thank you Candice, for the best birthday present I could ask for, other than the one where my parents pay for me to travel around South Africa and Sierra Leone for months on end, exploring and learning and growing (Thanks parents! :) )
The rest of my perfect birthday consisted of a lot of lounging with Heidi, watching Lost and Arrested Development, napping, and being otherwise lazy and useless. I spent way too much money on Diet Coke, cheddar cheese, tomatoes, meat and kettle corn, but it was the best meal of my life.
The day prior I had invited the 15 guys in our street boy program to celebrate my birthday with cold drinks at the best restaurant/bar in our modest city of Kenema, much to the dismay of our local staff members Musa and Ishmail. I was immediately lectured on how street boys do not belong in the “renowned” Capitol Restaurant, on the boys’ inappropriate street attire, their rowdy behavior, and the apparent fact that Capitol is for ‘important members of society’. I brazenly replied that all I wanted for my birthday was equality and dignity, and that’s how I ended up ringing in another year of my life: with Heidi, Musa, Ishmail, and a bunch of surprisingly well dressed, respectful, considerate and hilarious young men who happen to be living on the streets.
So thank you to everyone who sent birthday wishes from back in America. My birthday could have only been better if you were all here to celebrate with me!

a pathetic attempt at uploading some south africa pictures

2008-06-28T11:25:00.000-07:00

i miss wifi.

idealistic realism.

2008-06-18T10:16:00.000-07:00

Good afternoon all,
I guess before I start my ranting about my thoughts and opinions I should preface with what exactly I’ve been doing, how I’ve been filling my time. Though initially I was planning on working in the capital, Freetown, there simply wasn’t any work to do and I was sent with the other international volunteer, the cynical yet endearing Tom, to a more rural town called Kenema. The third largest city in all of Sierra Leone, it is quite small, with only one main road. I like the comparatively quiet atmosphere, I like knowing the names of the few guys who cook me meat on the side of the road for dinner, I like recognizing faces around town, and being called “Jenae! Jenae!”, my new Sierra Leonean name. Heidi was sent here as well, and we all live in our humble abode, with sporadic electricity, cockroaches, rumors of rats who only leave their feces as evidence of their presence, and refreshing ‘showers’ of dumping buckets of well water over our head. With our office in the same compound as our house, our living room often becomes our workspace. We are currently starting two large projects, consisting of implementing workshops on participation in local politics and critical literacy. I was made Project Coordinator of the literacy project, meant to educate and empower local youth in better understanding and engaging in their world. Our first workshop is next week, tackling issues around culture. We also spend time in schools, where we talk to kids about their rights and responsibilities and global issues. Another important project is an amputee agricultural project, where a group of amputees were given land and materials for growing crops for food and income generation.
BUT, aside from all of this excitement and development experience, I look forward to when the chaotic week ends, and I will get spend time with the street boys. Fifteen street boys come to a nearby school compound every Saturday and Sunday where we provide informal education, food, football, and counseling. I was quickly put in charge of counseling, which is in a group setting meant to educate and get them thinking about helping one another, being social supports and protection for each other.
We’ve discussed issues of confidentiality, trust, respect, equality, and empathy. I usually just wing it, and they are always engaged and willing to contribute to the conversation. Last week I requested to talk to them one on one, but because of my apparently obnoxious and glaringly American accent, a local volunteer Musa helped translate. I don’t know why we refer to them as street boys, because they are obviously men, ranging in age from 13-18, they’ve all been living on the street for 5-10 years, fending for themselves for a multitude of reasons, facing a mass of problems. Individually they talked about parents lost in the war, families who deserted them, pregnant and ill girlfriends, fights, empty stomachs, lack of assistance and guidance. They spoke of hopes for a proper education, skills training, foster care, reunification with relatives. They talked about becoming doctors and professional footballers. How could I not love these boys? Not just because of their eagerness to greet me, their gorgeous, sincere smiles, or the fact that they bring my delicious pineapple. I love them because I see the good in them, I hear of their hope for something better. Must we always be so cynical, anticipating the worst, blaming them for actions that have not yet occurred, predicating their delinquent behavior of the future? Tom has already labeled me as naïve (never heard that before), and took the liberty to lecture me on the need to expect the worst so as not to be disappointed in the future. He sees these boys as “money grubbing bastards”, pardon my French (is ‘bastard’ French? Doubtful.) I’ll admit to my naivety, or optimism as I’d like to call it. But I’m willing to risk the hurt this may cause me in disappointment. I’m willing to put my heart on the line for a hope in humanity, a recognition and acknowledgement of people’s goodness, of their desire to seek communion with their fellow (wo)man, to do good, to seek joy, strive towards self actualization, to learn, to grow, to contribute, to be. And why does this ‘idealism’ have to conflict with realism? Isn’t it realistic to believe that we are all made in the image of God, that we are all purely good? It’s one thing to link idealism and naivety, but I’m sick of my optimistic, idealistic view being equated with blatant futility and sheer stupidity. “It’s rubbish” as they often say here. I’d like to believe I think critically, I use wisdom and discernment. I don’t ask strangers to hold my purse, I don’t place my full confidence and trust in everyone I meet, I recognize the horror people inflict, the harm and pain we cause each other. But if we give up on humanity, what do we have? Well that’s enough indignant rambling for one day. Thanks for listening, and I send you all of my love.

“If you are sincere and rational and trust in goodness enough, everything sorts itself out”
-Anne Lammott

interesting observations:

2008-06-05T09:01:00.001-07:00

· I have a cold. Who gets a cold in Africa? I was expecting diarrhea, vomiting, maybe even typhoid, but a cold? People are very bothered by my obnoxiously load sneeze.
· Men hold hands here and I absolutely love it. There’s nothing more interesting that two huge black men, strolling down the street together as good friends.
· I’m not hungry here. Back home my hunger never ceases. The food here is surprisingly good, especially the meat (Thank God I’m not a vegetarian), but I find that I must force myself to eat at regular intervals.
· Shaking hands with an old man with both hands amputated is initially awkward but ultimately very touching.
· Heidi’s hair is shorter than mine now.
· There is surprising peace here. I could have never guessed that a war just ended a mere six years ago. With only the immense poverty, shattered infrastructure and dispersed amputees as physical reminders of the brutal civil war, its easy to believe this is a country of peace, community, and love. Tom (an international volunteer from the UK) and I were watching some documentaries on Sierra Leone and we recognized places we’d been and seen, the only difference was the presence of rebel soldiers, gun fire, death and tears. It’s all so surreal.
· After living with a British man, I’ve quickly discovered that my American accent causes me to pronounce the “t” sound as a “d” sound. For instance, say out loud the words ‘water’, ‘letter’, and ‘fighter’. I personally am inclined to say “wader, ledder, and fidder”. Very strange and somewhat embarrassing, if it were the case that I ever felt embarrassment.

That's all for now. Love you all!

they call me "poo-mui"

2008-05-30T08:05:00.000-07:00

I dont know if I'm every going to be able to upload pictures with these slow, virus ridden, computers from the 80s. I guess this is what I get when I decide to go the the second least developed country in the world.
Things are great, and I'm so happy to be with Global Rescue Mission. Yesterday I spent the day travelling on the back of a motorbike through the bush with my new friend Ishmael (not Ishmael Beah, who I did meet on the streets of Freetown, which has been my dream since I fell in love after Heidi and I watched him on TV discuss the injustice and brutality of war). Anyways, without a postal service, we delivered letters about some new programs and workshops coming up to different chiefdoms here in Sierra Leone. Every little village we arrived at, I was greeted with the same thing: dozens of children running towards me, shouting "poo-mui! poo-mui!". This is one of the only words I know here, and it means 'white person'. Its so interesting that everyone wants to greet me, shake my hand, know my name, be my best friend, merely because I am white. I find that I recieve more interest and respect than the local volunteers which is both sad and unfortunate.
But I really enjoy the people here, and other than a bit of laziness and inefficiency across the board, people are trying, trying for development and a better future for them and their children.
Heidi arrives tonight, and I'm so excited for the adventure that is living and working in Sierra Leone. If you are reading this, email me right now and tell me what you've been doing, seeing, thinking, learning. Your contact will keep me sane! Love!

sydneydeal(at)gmail.com

t.i.a.

2008-05-19T09:12:00.000-07:00

(Pictures coming soon, when I find a strong enough internet connection to upload)

So apparently I’m not very good at updating this consistently. My time in South Africa has come to an end, and since I last wrote I have experienced everything from traditional African barbeques, diving with Great White sharks, Hindu temples, a life changing Bollywood film, spending time in townships, and church services ranging from African Pentecostal, Indian Baptist and Afrikaner Anglican. Currently I am in Nigeria with a 24 hour lay over before continuing on to Freetown, Sierra Leone. As I reflect on the time spent in South Africa, my most valued experiences and memories were those when I was face to face with the reality of Africa and the beauty of the people there. I hope these pictures can somewhat convey what I’ve seen, the fun that I’ve had and the memories I have made.

On another note, things have been quite heavy these last couple of weeks after plans in Sierra Leone started falling apart. The organization that I had planned on being with emailed 10 days before my projected arrival in Freetown stating simply that they could not take me anymore due to their financial instability. Crushed and broken, I anticipated coming home to the Northwest in utter defeat after almost a year of planning for my time in Sierra Leone. As I sat in the dirt under the African sky, I prayed this exact prayer as recorded in my journal:

If you can hear me O God take this into your hands, ease my heart, bring about your peace, place me where I can do your will, and further your kingdom by love, grace, service, humility, patience and solidarity.

After some quick emails, I heard back from Global Rescue Mission Sierra Leone the very next day saying they are in need of both me and Heidi, for they have two volunteers leaving at the end of the month. We will be working in schools and with amputees and street children. We will be a part of many new programs beginning this year. Plans have still been rocky and wearisome but everything is coming together. Be praying for me as I travel there tomorrow morning. If you are reading this, know that you mean the world to me. Missing you all.

south africa.

2008-05-04T10:44:00.000-07:00

Saturday May 3rd, 2008
So we’ve been in South Africa for four whole days and they have been packed. We have been diving right in to the culture of tourism here, along with others from all around the globe. Our trip has been fun, even informative and educational but a bit sterile, isolated and safe. We keep ending up surrounded by rich white people, and I am becoming discontented. I hope to further connect with the people of South Africa. South Africans are all smiles; they radiate warmth and sincerity. I long to know them as we speed past townships where the majority of the population lives in poverty. As far as the eye can see are rows and rows of shacks characterized by children playing in the dirt, graffiti, garbage, clotheslines. This is the Africa I want to see: dirty, poor, real. But we just drive on in our air-conditioned bus, overstuffed from our breakfast from the Western diner, ‘Wimpy’s’, goofing off as we head to the next tourist hot spot. It would be a disappointment if my only interactions with black South Africans were when I bought a postcard at the Waterfront of ordered a ‘Coke Light’ at a street side café.
Despite my cynical ramblings, I would like to clarify that I am having a great time, and enjoying the company and presence of my group, especially ‘Team Martial Status’ consisting of Austin Salzewedel, Anna Moreshead, and Mary Saunders. For further illumination here are some profile shots of them in all of their glory here in South Africa (Austin’s picture is from our layover in Germany).

We laugh, we joke, we seek adventure everywhere we go. We are usually the last ones back to wherever we need to be, and blame our tardiness on African time. We plea “TIA” to our instructors: This Is Africa.
The scenery is breathtaking. We are on the coast and witnessed the supposed point where the Atlantic and the Indian Ocean meet. Everything and everyone is beautiful here. There is so much color and vividness that pictures could never capture. Every time I look to the ocean or the mountains or into the faces of the people here, a bit of me never wants to leave.

family.

2008-02-26T15:01:00.000-08:00

to start off this blog, i'd like to recognize the ones closest to my heart, the ones that i've already begun to miss as i prepare for my great african adventure. this is my family. you should meet them; they're great.