Here We Go Again

New Blog Address

2012-01-03T21:50:00.000-08:00

Hey Folks,

I'm a sucker for simplicity so I have been won over to tumbler. All upcoming adventures can be found at:

stophsanz.tumblr.com

2011-08-26T20:07:00.000-07:00

Three days of debrief later and ..... wow! God has been so faithful in our lives. None of us are going out of this summer disappointed in God. We have been pursued by his relentless zeal for us and has lit our hearts on fire with a new passion.

He will be faithful to the work He has started in you too, and He is pursuing you relentlessly as well, no matter how aware you are of it. He loves you, He loves you, He loves you and He has immeasurably more for you than you could ever ask or imagine.

Amen.

Mi Hermanitos

2011-08-09T19:09:00.000-07:00

photo credit: 1 and 3 by Thomas Sanz

2011-08-04T19:36:00.000-07:00

I'm still in Guate. It is still good. (just in case you are checking). Mi hermano (bro) is down for a week, which is sweeeeeeT. We jumped into some crystal clear pools this week, explored some caves by candlelight, ate McDonalds (I'm so embarrassed), drank really good hot chocolate, and got super sweaty in church (dancing). The bro has been utilizing his mad camera skills, which has been a huge blessing. Time lapses of clouds rolling through Guatemalan hillside is a thing of beauty.

We're definitely coming over the hill as far as time in this fabulous country, with less than three week left. I'd be getting super sentimental at this point, except I know that God still has loads more in store for our team before this is all said and done. Looking back does speak loudly of the goodness, faithfulness, and zealous heart. I feel like everyone is going to come out of this summer with fresh testimony.

If you are feeling that the frequency is my posts is inadequate (which is an understandable position to hold) here are some fellow team member's blogs:
Katrina Janzen: Cloud. Forest.
Adam White: Following the Way
Shelby McConnell: Desert Streams
Karla Ponce: thoughts under a summertime sun
Colin Buschman: There and Back Again

2011-07-24T15:35:00.000-07:00

Sitting in an Antiguan café, sipping on a melon liquado, watching tourists and locals saunter past, the tip of a volcano off in the distance. National elections are coming up in September and the whole country is full of political color. The contrast to Canada's recent elections are stark, if not downright humorous.

In Canada we put little signs on our front lawns to let the whole neighbourhood know who we are voting for.

In Guatemala people paint their whole house political colors, complete with party logos and slogans.

In Canada political volunteers politely knock at your door: "May we have a moment to tell you about Joyce Murray and the Liberal Party of Canada?" This restrained campaigning is often considered a nuisance.

In Guatemala they drive around towns in pick-up trucks with loudspeakers, alternating between ambulance sirens and political slogans. On weekends they gather large groups of supporters (children in tow) to form parades that march through villages, banging drums, chanting slogans, and letting off firecrackers that reverberate off the hills like gunshots, as if the civil war was starting up again. I guess whatever party throws the biggest party wins.

The madness hardly stops at the local level. The forerunner, The Patriot Party's Otto Perez Molina, is a tough-on-crime former army general who is constantly coming under accusations by indigenous groups for crimes against humanity. His main competition is current first lady Sandra Torres, who divorced her husband to avoid electoral laws that prohibit the spouses of presidents from running for office. She has declared herself the first woman to divorce for the sake of "being married to Guatemala." Her candidacy has been negated by a Supreme Court ruling, but her party campaigns on regardless.

The chaos is to some extent understandable, because the stakes are so high. Security is the main issue, with Mexican drug cartels pushing their trade further into Guatemala, and with a capital city filled with violence. Thirty different political candidates have already been murdered. So when you can spare some time send up a prayer for Guate.

____________

The last few weeks have been hectic, but satisfying. My host family is beyond a blessing. Helena, my host madre, is a chef of the highest order, whisking up plates of typical Mayan food and patiently dealing with my hectic and oft-changing schedule. Our two main projects here are building a house for a local family, and running an ESL after-school program. The house construction is a blast, with the whole family involved, including their grampa, Don Jaunito. He's short (even for a Guatemalan which is saying a lot) and he's getting on in age, but his work ethic and strength puts any of us to shame. ESL is wild, chaotic, and fun as anything with kids always is. As a team we are growing, facing challenges of a new culture, and new lifestyle, and new schedule, and fresh experiences. Next weekend marks the halfway point in Guate, which is crazy! I miss and love you all and will have to right more soon, but I've over-extended my stay, so I'll leave you with this picture of my familia's laundry:

Dudes, I'm in Guate!

2011-07-08T18:23:00.000-07:00

...and it is beautiful!!!! It feels like I never left. Relationships begun a year ago are there to be picked up again right where we left off. And the school....THE SCHOOL!!! I wish I could bring you all down here so you can see what it looks like when 180 kids encounter God's love on a daily basis. Or what getting hugged by a hundred little niños every day.

Today we had El Dia de Canada at the school which is, you guessed it, Canada Day! It was a great day of introducing our students and staff to our fabulous country, or at least grossly over-representing its stereotypes (think lots of beaver crafts). I helped facilitate hockey games for each of the grades, and they took to it like a Canadian on skates. Seriously, they got fierce. Then we had a Canadian students vs. Guatemalan staff game, which got fiercer. This afternoon we climbed up a mountain and planted avocado trees.

To summarize: God is awesome, Guate is awesome, I am doing exceedingly well.
Much love,
Christoph

Toilets

2011-06-21T18:43:00.001-07:00

Today somebody plugged up the toilet. Since no one was fessing up and since I was feeling extra noble (probably because I was wearing a collared shirt), I took it upon myself to make the bathroom accessible once more. I applied my best plunging techniques, but no repetition of the plunge-flush-slowlywatchitdrain-cycle had any effect. Exasperated by an unsuccessful ten minutes of dealing with crap, I turned to Dave for a solution. He had no greater plumbing expertise than myself, so we stood there and watched the slowly fill up for the upteenth time.

Then Dave said, "We could pray." So we layed our hands on the toilet and said something to the effect of: "Dear God. We'd really like our toilet to work. We all need to poop at some point and it is just a really big nuisance. It would be sweet if you could unplug our toilet for us."

I gave it one more plunge (because I still have doubt that God is weeding out of my life) and then gave it a flush. VIOLA!!! A beautiful, smooth, quick, swirly flush. Thank God for small and beautiful and convenient miracles. He loves us, even when that means dealing with our crap.

This is the best pop. Period. Don't even start to dispute this statement unless you've tried it.

2011-05-10T18:43:00.001-07:00

2011-05-09T19:59:00.000-07:00

Since apologizing for not blogging enough is so passé, I'll skip it and wow you with...photography!

This is a large portion of our team enjoying a sunny Sunday on Long Point. The asparagus has been shy in coming this spring, so we have spent two weeks of odd jobs - repairing irrigation lines in cherry orchards, splitting firewood, painting, and cleaning out old barns. The weather the last few days has been stunning and I spent a portion of my Sabbath frolicking about the sand cliffs of Lake Erie, communing with God.

The asparagus might be late in coming, but God has been growing in all our hearts at an intensity that has shocked us all and taken us off guard. I heard a number of comments today along the lines of "I can't believe it has only been a few weeks." Keep praying for unity and for God to reveal to us what He is preparing us for and drawing us to.

I'll leave you with this quote from Thomas Merton's New Seeds of Contemplation, since he is a far better writer than me, which touches on what God has been showing me:

"In all the situations of life the "will of God" comes to us not merely as an external dictate of impersonal law but above all as an interior invitation of personal love... We must learn to realize that the love of God seeks us in every situation, and seeks our good. His inscrutable love seeks our awakening."

2011-04-24T14:45:00.000-07:00

Today is my second full day in Houghton Center and all is quiet. A pick-up truck drives by every few minutes, the swoosh-swoosh-swoosh of giant wind turbines carries on in the background, and everything else is still.

I always get really worked up during exams. Whether I am actually studying or procrastinating, I do it all with a nervous, impatient spirit that can't wait to get out into that crowning glory of the student life - summer break. I bustled through my one day at home after exams, unpacking and repacking, and last-minute remembering. I bustled through the airport and on the airplane I fidgeted between watching TV, reading a book, listening to music.

But now I am in the middle of nowhere, and the middle of nowhere is a terrible place for an impatient fidgety person. So God is slowing down my heartrate, slowing down my spirit, and telling me to walk slower. It isn't hard to do here. There has been lots of planning, praying and dreaming about the next four months, but there has also been copious amounts of good food and company that ~~feels like~~ is family.

Here is a little verse that God hid for me in a place he knew I would find. It is from Lamentations 3:

²⁵ The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
²⁶ it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.
²⁷ It is good for a man to bear the yoke
while he is young.

²⁸ Let him sit alone in silence,

for the LORD has laid it on him.

Here We Go Again

2011-04-15T16:14:00.000-07:00

The blog has been resurrected and re-made. This can only mean one thing. Adventure time! Asparagus! Windmills! Sandyshores! New Friends! El Tizate! Mi Familia Guatemalteco! Coffee!

If none of those expressions seem worth getting excited about to you, then you'd better read the following paragraphs:

I am so excited to have you join me in this latest adventure. I’m spending another four months with Global Shore (www.globalshore.org), one crazy amazing organization. Here’s the brief history: A few years back some asparagus farmers in Ontario decided that God was calling them to be more than just asparagus farmers. Through some miraculous and divinely orchestrated events and relationships they started sending Canadian university students to a small town in Guatemala called El Tizate. Before too long a school in Tizate was started and the ministry of Global Shore was born.

How do I fit into all of this? Last year I joined their summer student team, a group of twelve students who work for the month of May and June in an asparagus packing barn on the sandy shores of Lake Erie, and spend July and August serving and loving the people of El Tizate. My life was changed, truly changed. Ask me about it sometime. It is quite a story.

This winter I got an e-mail asking me if I would consider co-leading the team this summer and that is what I’ll be doing! I am slightly nervous (God’s working on that) and ridiculously excited. I hope you can join us in prayer as we grow together as a community under Christ, and as we live as testimonies of God’s love for the people around us.

So follow along here where there will be pretty photos, stories, testimonies of what God is doing (cause trust me, it is going to be sweet), and maybe I'll even subject you to some of my awful poetry. How can you say no?

how I feel right about now

2010-08-23T09:28:00.000-07:00

It's been a season of good eats

2010-08-22T21:41:00.000-07:00

familiar signs in foreign cities

2010-08-13T12:12:00.000-07:00

Carte Amarillo

2010-08-11T20:02:00.000-07:00

As per usual I wrote this about a week ago.

semuc champey

2010-08-10T14:52:00.001-07:00

This is where I hung out last weekend.

After I went cliff jumping...in a cave.........by candlelight.

the spanish teacher

2010-08-04T21:36:00.001-07:00

glimpses

2010-07-24T12:06:00.000-07:00

I really want to tell you what is going on here. I can't. To summarize and synthesize what God is doing in my heart, what this country is doing to my heart, what these people are doing to my heart would leave a false impression. What I'm learning I can't really put down on paper; I'll need to share it over a good coffee later. In the meantime I hope these glimpses into life here will be sufficient. Know that I am alive and well and loved and that I love you.

Birthday party!
I found a statue of St. Christoph in this Antigua church. Also, I like yellow.
Community centers around the world have a inferiority complex to this one.
Fabian, new favorite kid in the world. Just look at that face.
Lots of green stuff.

Mi Casa Turquesas

2010-07-13T14:33:00.000-07:00

Hey look a letter. I haven't ever been really famous for my punctuality and in true fashion I actually wrote this a week ago.

P.S. - I am really happy here.

A New Thing

2010-07-02T12:46:00.000-07:00

Today is packing day. The final errands have been run, the final items have been bought. All that remains is filling my empty backpack. There is an air of excitement in the house as everyone is madly rushing around finding all their long-lost items hiding under couch cushions and bathroom drawers. The weather seems to be matching this fervent energy with bright sun and a strong wind. It is time for another adventure.

Odly enough I feel pretty level. This seems to happen every time I pack for a new stage in life. Maybe the fact that I am just a little over a day away from being in Guatemala is just to surreal to make any emotional impact. I do know that I am stepping into a new thing. Life in the next two months will be different, not just because I am entering a new culture and language. I have had this slowly building sense of anticipation that something significant will happen in these next eight weeks. The phrase "life-changing" comes to mind, not in the colloquial sense, but very very literally. We'll just have to wait and see.

We're throwing all our bags into trucks by midnight tonight and then pulling an all-night road trip to Detroit where our 6am flight will be waiting for us. Once I find my feet in Guate I'll let you all know. Until then here is a couple of photos of other new things.

Fish n' Chips

2010-06-26T11:05:00.000-07:00

I actually wrote this letter on Sunday, but the internet has been on the fritz. I'll update again soon.

Los Enfriadores

2010-06-19T21:02:00.000-07:00

Dear Friend,
The internet has been on the fritz the last two weeks so its been hard to write you anything. I've realized that my blog has only really been about the 20% of my life. Here is an artist's (Heather, to be exact) rendition of the other 80%.

fotos.

2010-06-13T11:38:00.000-07:00

Family Portrait

2010-06-09T18:44:00.000-07:00

Dear Friend,
I can't believe that I haven't introduced you to my current family yet. Friend meet current family. Current family meet friend.

P.S. for Holly - You'll be happy to note that I still have not mastered the art of not looking awkward in a photo.

discoveries

2010-05-29T18:42:00.000-07:00

To read the letter just click on the photo to make it bigger (and readable).

Smile Asparagus Smile

2010-05-21T16:42:00.000-07:00

life.currently

2010-05-20T18:21:00.000-07:00

To read the letter just click on the photo to make it bigger (and readable). Apologies for the slightly messier writing. Just think of it as added character and aesthetic.

fotos.

2010-05-09T09:56:00.000-07:00

Lay of the Land

2010-05-06T17:56:00.000-07:00

To read the letter just click on the photo to make it bigger (and readable).

You should write me back. The following address will work for the next two months:

Christoph Sanz
c/o Global Shore Opportunities
731 Lakeshore Rd. RR#2
Port Burwell, Ontario
Canada N0J 1T0

Ontarioooooo!

2010-04-26T20:18:00.000-07:00

Hi friend,
I am currently sitting at the largest dining table I have ever seen. I am in Ontario in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by asparagus fields, massive wind turbines, and sandy cliffs leading down to the endless lake Erie. This first day has involved many an adventure already and there can only be more to come. I promise I'll write you a letter soon, but in the mean time here is a photo of me contemplating one of the most philosophic questions out there: "What is asparagus?"

(photo courtesy of Thomas Sanz - who is a cool guy, by the way)

Home

2009-06-12T22:37:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting back in my own living room and our giant rhododendron bush is still bright pink with blossoms. I’ve just gotten back from a mind-blowing bike ride around the Stanley Park Seawall. It is a glorious early summer day; one of those days that make you shout because you’re just so happy to be alive. Dad is laying the steaks that Mom has marinated on the barbeque.

A friend asked me to sum up my trip in a word. I’ve been thinking a lot about that, and though it is really general, the word that fits best is “different”. I lived a different life for half a year in a different culture. My experience was different then I expected. The challenges were different and I am now a different person.

I wish I could write a nice ending to this blog. It would be ideal if I could wrap it all up in a convenient paragraph or two. The truth is I can’t. The people I’ve met, the sights I’ve seen, the smells I’ve smelt, and the sounds and words I’ve heard will keep percolating, fermenting, and growing in my brain for months and maybe years to come.

What I can say is that you should go. Seriously. Drop what you are doing and go to Africa. It’s good stuff.

Please do e-mail me in a few weeks (stoph_41@hotmail.com) and I will reply. Maybe by then I will have a more congruent response. Feel free to ask very specific questions.

Until the next adventure, thanks so much for reading,

Stoph

Savoring

2009-05-23T07:56:00.000-07:00

My welcome back into modern Western society was most memorable, thanks wholly to the hospitality and efforts of the Villies. The Villies are a remarkable family that hosted me for a night during my layover in Brussels and planned for me the ideally paced day full of savoring good things in life.

After big hugs at the train station, a charming drive through the cobblestone streets of Brussels led to a light lunch in the beautiful Villie abode. They are still in the process of making their beautiful home even more beautiful so the hot shower was out of commission. They had, however, arranged with a neighbor who was out of town so that I would not go without. It felt good. Really good.I had forgot how enjoyable a nice fresh breeze of non-muggy air is and Brussels did not disappoint. A walk to the park to kick around a soccer ball hit the spot nicely.

Where the Villie’s hospitality and French nationality really shine is at dinnertime. First there was a cold beer with an appetizer of shrimp with herb cream cheese on crackers, olives, and potato chips. The main course was a zucchini and eggplant gratin... ...with ricotta, baby spinach, and parmesan linguine. This was followed by a generous slice of goat’s cheese and homemade bread with a glass of red wine. Dessert was strawberry sauce and merangue sprinkled with almond slivers and chased down with a shot of homemade prune schnapps. An evening stroll through an old neighbourhood of Brussels capped off the perfect day. We even found a house that was built in the 1500’s!

An early breakfast, more hearty hugs, and a train ride to the airport commenced the next morning. Brussels airport is the very model of European efficiency. Security was a breeze except they confiscated my bottle of deodorant spray since it was 50ml over the limit. The fact that it was half empty didn’t seem to matter. I bought a ridiculously priced Starbucks latte, but I figured I could afford myself the luxury because it had been a while. After some delays the Swiss Air flight got underway and we were all served a delicious chocolate croissant. I think I am going to enjoy these next two weeks.

My most wonderful aunt Käthi met me at the Zurich airport. A scenic train ride later brought us to her home where I am sitting now, overlooking the farmland, trains whizzing by, and the Alps looming on the horizon.

I’m sure every person that lives away from home for a while talks about this, but I’m really starting to learn about all the things I’ve taken for granted. Hot showers are now a euphoric experience. Soft grass under bare feet is beautiful and you have no idea how thrilled I get to just feel a cool and crisp breeze. Being re-united with familiar smells is also very exciting. Please join me in savoring simple things this week.

Departures

2009-05-21T16:50:00.000-07:00

It's that time in life again. The bittersweet goodbye. The emotion-filled farewell. The dramatic departure. I've been spending the last few days saying goodbye to the people and the geography. Final handshakes and hugs, final swims and surfs. I'm not ready to leave, but I am ready to go home. That's a confusing way of putting it, but it makes sense to me.

I'm sitting in the waiting room of Robertsfield Intl Airport after a car ride full of prayer. On my way to the waiting room I was padded down not once but twice and at least seven different officials flipped through my passport, trying to look important. The waiting room features unbareble metal chairs (no cushions) and a bunch of TVs showing CNN. It keeps on cutting in and out and the only time it was clear was for a news report about a dramatic plane crash.

In its defence, the waiting room is air-conditioned. I'm actually wearing a hoodie right now which is a unique and very welcome experience. This airport does have one other luxury. Free wireless! Out comes that MacBook, on goes my favorite Icelandic band, and presto! you get a blog post.

Next update will probably come from the handsome hills and pearly peaks of Switzerland, the land of milk and more milk. I get to mooch off relatives for two weeks before finally making it home.

Rainstorm

2009-05-09T12:05:00.000-07:00

I spent most of today sitting inside and feeling sorry for myself. I had managed to develop a nasty head cold; the type where you go through a box of Kleenex in an hour and your head feels like a brick. I almost made it through the whole day being holed up indoors, but then when I was just fixing myself something to eat for dinner it started to rain and I forced myself to go outside and enjoy it.

I sat on that porch and watched the floodgates of heaven open up. The sun had just set and everything was still aglow with a crimson hue. As I watched the trees bend over from the wind and heard the thunder boom (like I have never heard before) I realized that my life is in the hands of someone so much greater then my little problems like a nasty head cold. How could any witness of such a great display of stunning raw power be miserable about trivial things?

I watched as a little girl walked by. You could tell she was 100% alive in that rain, alive in the way that only a thunderous storm can make you. She danced in that rain and she jumped in the puddles and she leapt with the thunder. As I watched I realized, on the eve of my birthday, that I don't ever want to grow up. I want to stumble through life wide-eyed and with my jaw hanging open. I want to live in a world where there is no such thing as commonplace, because I could recognize the miracle in even the smallest of events. I want to see every rainstorm not as a nuiscance, but as an adventure.

Beautiful Barca

2009-05-07T04:36:00.000-07:00

I don't know if you are aware, because maybe it isn't a big deal where you are, but we are currently experiencing the final stages of the Champion's League. In Liberia that is a big deal. A very big deal. I have never followed football to a great extent before, but I felt that I'd better pick a side and inform myself a little if I were to survive in the football-crazy culture. I picked FC Barcelona because they are from Spain and because I really want to go there. When I found a Barca jersey in the market for 2 bucks, it sealed the deal. I was now a Barca fan. This meant that I was now best friends with half the town of Ganta and friendly enemies with the rest, who happen to mostly be Chelsea fans. All this football excitement came to a climax yesterday, when Barcelona faced Chelsea in the second leg of their semi-final match.

My good friend with the world's coolest name, Lansana Zomoway, gave me a ride on his motorbike to the town's main video club to watch the game. Now "video club" means a large shack (think wood planks nailed together / zinc roof / no windows) with lots of tightly packed wooden benches, and three suprisingly good TVs on the front. Now imagine that space filled with over a 100 large, sweaty men, packed shoulder to shoulder, screaming at the top of their lungs for an hour and a half.

Drogba and Essein seem to be favorites of the Liberian crowd, especially the latter who is from neighbouring Ghana. Whenever they so much as touched the ball things got pretty loud. Thanks to some confusing regulations all Barcelona needed for the win was a draw. However, Chelsea scored early on and then clung unto that one goal lead desperatly, pushing back wave after wave of Barca attack. Once in stoppage time it seemed like Barca's fate was sealed and the Chelsea fans were laying it on pretty thick. Then with one minute left, the unthinkable happened. They scored.

I checked "crazy" in the Thesarus to see if I could find a word to adequately describe the situation, but the English language fails me. 100 men jumping on top of each other in a space that was not built to hold 100 people.

Studio Time

2009-05-01T06:07:00.000-07:00

Just in case you missed the memo, World Malaria Day was last Saturday. It probably wasn't a big thing in your local town, but in a country where malaria remains the number one killer such events have vast effects.

EQUIP Liberia, the NGO I'm volunteering with teamed up with some local artists here in Ganta to record a song about the best ways to prevent malaria. I got to tag along to the studio and watch the recording process unfold.

This is SoundCity, the only studio in Ganta. Its a rather new operation run by a 20-something guy who was trained in Sierra Leone and an older guy called Mohammed who, in his own words likes to "make music that sounds as bad as possible." He's quite a character.

Here's the studio set up.The actual recording room is probably smaller then you closet. The guy who runs the studio (I can't remember his name) is an absolute wizard, considering what he's got to work with. After hearing the song sung a few times he started plunking away at his MIDI keyboard and his computer and within the hour he had fixed up a African beat with accompaning piano and synth parts.

By the end of the day the song was recorded and mastered and by the next day it was already playing on four radio stations around the county. Here's the finished result:

Where On Google Earth Am I?

2009-04-27T12:04:00.000-07:00

This is gift to all you technically enabled people, specifically does that know how to use Google Earth. Below is a link to a .kml file which you can open up with Google Earth. It will show you numerous yellow thumb tacks that highlight the locations of various places around Liberia that I have mentioned in this blog. Click on the yellow thumb tack and you will get a little blurb about said place. Enjoy!

To download, you will need to right-click the link and select "save link as" and then save it on your computer. Clicking directly won't work.

StophLiberia.kml

Because Mom Said It Was Ok to Post a Photo Without Text

2009-04-23T03:57:00.000-07:00

Zupfe

2009-04-18T02:50:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I decided to make Zupfe. Zupfe, for the un-informed, is one of the best things on this planet. It is so good, in fact, that you should phone my Dad right now and ask him for the recipe and then make a loaf.

After having Dad explain the finer points of the fine art of baking Zupfe, I started mixing and kneading the dough. I had some anxiety over it as it felt a bit too firm, but it rose gloriously. I cut the dough in half, braided it, brushed on the egg yolk, and popped it into the oven.

As I watched it slowly grow and glow golden-brown in the oven I swelled up with pride, feeling honored to be part of such a rich Swiss heritage that included delicious things as Zupfe (and Ovomaltine).

I checked up on it a while later and noticed that the flame in the little propane oven had gone out. I looked at the dial and noticed that it was turned off. Someone had shut off the oven while my Zupfe was inside!

I must have looked at the wrong dial, because when I lit a match and went to re-light the oven, a ball of fire the size of a beachball came wooshing out straight at my face.

When I shook off my suprise the first thing I did was feel for my eyebrows. Thank God! Still there. Then I looked at my arms. Oh no. Oh no. All that remained of almost 18 years of precious arm-hair growth was stubble and charred remains. Feeling around my head I realized that I also manged to reduce my hairline considerably.

One of the best aromas on this planet is that of a freshly baked Zupfe. One of the worst is that of burnt hair. Half a bottle of shampoo and three packs of frozen veggies later, I finally cut off a slice of my now baked to golden perfection Zupfe. I mixed up some honey and butter, spread on a little and started to eat. As soon as I bit down into that little slice of heaven I realized it was all worth it.

Didn't turn out as nice as Dad's, but I figured it was ok for a first time.

Surroundings

2009-04-14T07:10:00.000-07:00

Good Good Friday

2009-04-11T14:02:00.000-07:00

On Good Friday some people in Monrovia celebrated by making effigies of Judas and then beat it to shreds with sticks. Only in Liberia.

I was in a foul mood on Friday. For some reason everything irked and irritated me. It was unusually hot so I was unusually sweaty which also means I was unusually uncomfortable. I felt annoyed by people's mannerisms or a side remark or any other trivial thing. I was letting all these little things percolate inside of me when God hit me over the head with this:

"But Jesus made no reply, not even to a single charge."

The one man who had most reason to cry out accusingly at the very people he had come to save, did not say a single word.

I think sometimes we often are so focused on the physical brutality of the cross, that we miss just how dark this day really was. Human history has lots of examples of humans who have suffered greater physical pain then the cross. The real suffering was in carrying all of humanity's sin. The weight of that is so great that we can't really comprehend it. It was a weight so heavy that it caused Jesus, God made flesh, to cry out "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"I think back on my moments of greatest guilt and shame and remember how burdened I felt. When I realize that that is only a drop in the ocean of human transgression, I start to get a glimpse of what really happened at Golgotha.

What follows next is, in my opinion, the most beautiful and understated passage in the Bible.

"At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom."

Because of the cross we have the privilege of walking right into the Holy of Holies and start a beautiful relationship with God, creator of the universe.

Awesome.

Into The Bush

2009-04-01T04:58:00.000-07:00

I quickly threw a bunch of clothes into a bag, made sure my camera and camcorder were charged, jumped into some shoes and rushed out the door. Thanks to a last minute plan, I was leaving smoggy Monrovia behind for a week and heading off into the bush.

A large part of what EQUIP Liberia, the NGO I’m volunteering for, does is to train community health ambassadors. It’s a pretty sweet program. People volunteer for a series of workshops and trainings stretched over a 15 month period. The trainings are all about disease prevention and basic hygiene. Most importantly the CHA’s (as they are called) are equipped to carry what they’ve learned back to their communities and share it through giving health talks, performing dramas, and living out what they preach. Its been a program with HUGE success. When you drive through towns where CHAs are active, you can see a drastic change.

The reason I am explaining this is because I was rushing off into the bush to be a part of three different graduations of these community health workers. My job was to take photos and video for future use in newsletters and promotional material, but that was really just an excuse to get out to some of the more remote parts of Liberia and meet some amazing people.

Destination number one was Karnplay. It was a squeaky clean town by Liberian standards. There were no piles of burning garbage on the side of the road and a lot of the large trees had been left in the midst of all the buildings. The children were unusually polite and serious, too shy to even laugh at my obvious whiteness. We stopped at one house. The small 4 year old boy standing outside took one look at Chris, my fellow Canadian volunteer, and booked it inside, apparently scared that “Jesus” had come.

(school children in Karnplay)

The ceremony was beautiful. It was complete with dramas and a song with the lyrics “Diarrhea is not fun so follow my advice / Wash your hands after poo-poo / Wash your hands after poo-poo / Diarrhea is no fun so follow my advice.” There was one graduate who had started his training years earlier but had to flee with the onset of the civil war. He had faithfully come back ten years later to complete what he began, because of his desire to serve his community. There were younger graduates thirsty for the knowledge, and elderly looking for a way to serve the towns where their grandchildren and great-grandchildren now live.

After the ceremony, the graduates brought out a “little” gift for us EQUIP staff as a thank you. My jaw dropped as they carried in seven bunches of bananas, two bunches of plantain, two pineapples, a whole bag of avocadoes, a pumpkin, and some chickens.
Karnplay was also the place where our car decided not to start. One failed push-start and an opportunistic mechanic later, we were back on the road.

Our Land Cruiser was now packed with goods, the chickens peeing all over the floor and the bananas shifting around precariously on the roof rack. We rolled and bounced our way down the rough dirt road towards Garplay. It seems like all the towns in the area end with “-play.”

About three hours and just as many sketchy log bridges later we pulled into Garplay. It was another gorgeous town, on a slight hill so that you had a view of the expansive rainforest around it. Since the ceremony here wasn’t until the next day, Ma Ester, the regional CHA trainer kindly put us up in her round house.

Soon the kids started to gather, wrestling in the yard. One boy started singing spontaneously and we all held our breath, because it was the most beautiful and fragile voice. After he finished we all clapped and he got really shy, but he sung later for us.

When a good crowd of kids had assembled, I pulled out a pack of bright orange balloons that might very good friends from home had sent me. The kids went nuts. Soon Garplay was filled with groups of children running pell-mell after balloons.

(the children of Garplay)

Around the soup pot that night we had an interesting discussion. We were talking about the different types of meat that the Liberians eat. We had covered the usual suspects like goat, ground-hog, snake, and monkey when Paygar, our Liberian friend said, “But the best meat of all is the chimpanzee. I love the chimpanzee!”
Chris, my fellow volunteer, was quick to interject. “But the chimpanzee is almost extinct. It almost finished!”

“Then we will finish it!”, declared Paygar with a large amount of pride.

That night I sat on the porch and played guitar, a new found skill of mine. Once in a while, and it happens quite rarely, you find yourself in a place void of worries or concerns. That night, sitting on that porch in that little village of Garplay, under a canopy of endless stars, and singing songs for God, I felt completely at peace. Everything was the way it should be. Sarah and Chris, the two other volunteers, came out to join me and we just passed around the guitar and worshipped into the night.

The next day’s ceremony was a smashing success. More songs, more dramas, and more beautiful people.

We headed off to our last destination, burdened with some more plantains. The road was long and soon we found ourselves driving in the dark on a bumpy road, getting pin-balled from side to side. We had just navigated another treacherous log bridge when we ran into real trouble.
A local and his machete proved to be providential and in a matter of minutes he had us through. Bonglay ended up being completely willed with sheep. Not the white, fluffy type on rolling green hills, but the matted-wool, floppy eared, dusty type that poop everywhere. Jerry the regional CHA trainer, a big man with a bigger voice, made us feel welcome and showed us to our beds.

Our beds ended up being in the most peculiar and pretty house in Liberia. Here in this remote jungle town an older couple had carefully nurtured an immaculate dwelling. The walls were covered with an eclectic mix of paintings, family photos, and framed shots of the London Tower guards. I even found a VW poster in one corner of the kitchen. A beautiful queen-sized bed was a welcome site.

Under the morning light Bonglay appeared as a town very much alive. The ceremony was big and noisy. We had to make it all the way back to Ganta that day, so after a quick bowl of rice with groundhog (which, by the way, is delicious) we jumped into the Land Cruiser and headed back.

Coming back out from the bush I felt like I left a little part of me there, under those stars surrounded by those trees and all those beautiful people.

(cooking a cassava snake)

"Pray the Devil Back to Hell"

2009-03-10T11:16:00.000-07:00

This last weekend Monrovia has played host to an "International Women's Colloquium." It was a giant gathering of dignitaries (19 heads of state!), NGOs, and community representatives to discuss ways to empower women to improve their situations in conflict, post-conflict, and third-world countries. Cool stuff. There was also a trade fair. Cooler stuff. The fact that Liberia was able to host so many important people without anything crazy going down, is a testament to how far this country has come.

But the real cool stuff was last night. The whole event was hosted at Samuel Kanyon Doe Sports Complex, a giant football stadium. Last night they had all the chairs out on the soccer field and they showed a special screening of a new documentary, "Pray the Devil Back to Hell" on the big score screen, to a crowd of thousands, the president of Liberia in the audience.
The flick is about a group of Christian and Muslim women who came together during the Liberian civil war to pray and protest for the sake of peace. The film didn't fully grip me until I saw footage of the very stadium I was sitting in filled with displaced people seeking refuge. The proximity of it all was overwhelming.

I don't think it is out on DVD in North America yet, but when it is available, don't hesitate to watch it. It is a well told grassroots story about a group of women who managed to bring about change through their prayers and perserverence.

After the film was finished, the president spent almost half an hour wandering around the crowd, shaking hands and making quick conversation. Ellen Johnson Sirleaf is the first female head of state in Africa. To see a person of her position naturally mingling with the crowd was such a refreshing sight. She could easily take on a superior attitude that many past and present Liberian and African leaders have taken in the past, but instead she chooses to be a woman of the people. Fellow volunteer Chris even snuck in a handshake. Apparently she has soft hands.

So Last Night I Hung Out With The Governor General

2009-03-09T02:49:00.000-07:00

Don't believe me? Here's evidence!

Going To Town

2009-03-06T05:38:00.000-08:00

Since I spend half of my time here in Liberia up in Ganta, I figured it would be ideal to introduce you to the place. I will do so by having come along with me on my late-afternoon walk, covering the fifteen-minute distance from the compound where I am staying and the town. This is a ritual I enjoy every second day or so.

I head out just before 5:00pm, just late enough that the evening has taken the edge off the African heat, but still giving me lots of time before sundown (6:30-7:00). From the compound I cross a swamp/farm and reach my dirt path that will lead to the main road.
The path is lined with all sorts of exotic trees and buhes, peppered with chickens and dogs, and little kids yelling “Queplu! Queplue” (which is “White-man! White-man! in their Mano dialect.)

On my way I pass through the Methodist Mission. Now I can’t tell you about Ganta without telling you about George Harley, the Methodist missionary. He showed up here carried in a hammock in 1923, back when roads were a foreign word here. In fact he was the first person to introduce the wheel to the local Mano tribesmen! After the wheel, he taught them how to fire bricks, how to plank logs, and how to build strong houses. He opened a hospital, a school, built a road, had a car (dismantled into pieces) carried up from Monrovia, built an airstrip, learned how to fly, built an airplane, and flew himself in from the coast. All in all the quintessential jack-of-all-trades. Ganta is his legacy, because if it weren’t for him, it would still be a gathering of mud huts in the middle of the jungle. It is now the second largest city in the country. During my walk I pass his last work here before he left back for America. A beautiful stone church with stain-glass windows. Because of where it is (a country where not a single wall is straight) it is the Since it is exactly 5:00 now, the church bell starts to ring. I stop a listen to what I find to be the most beautiful sound in the world. That and loons, but there aren’t any loons here.

Past the church is the main road into town. I walk along it, dodging dust clouds spewed from motorcycle tires that whip by. I wave at some kids at the side of the road (yelling “queiplu! Quieplu!”). On the way I stop at one of the many small stands selling sweets. I buy some peanut brittle.
The center of Ganta is one straight strip of shops about eight blocks long. It is always a bustling places full of building supply shops, general merchandise, and street sellers selling everything from fried plantain to roasted “mystery meat” on a skewer.

I make a beeline for the market, ignoring yells of “WHITE MAN!” from every second guy’s lips. The market is a cramped group of stalls with low coverings, forcing me to duck my head. Shopping here is a bit of an art. It is unwise to ignore to ignore people, so you usually end up talking to just about everyone. “How the day?” “The day is fine.” “How the business?” “The business good, thank God.” Something like that. It is also unwise to flat out say “no” to what they are offering you. I find myself using words like “later” and “next time” a lot. They all reassured me that there was no pineapple today but there would be tomorrow.
With your photographic enjoyment in mind I wander over to the meat section, where the market ladies in vain try to fan the flies away. It smells of fish and rotting meat. The chicken feet they are selling don’t help. Here’s some beef.
I leave the market pineapple-less but I bought some limes. Nothing like limes to make water interesting.

My next destination is Ganta’s best kept secret. Here it is:
This little shack is the home of a giant brick oven and one really friendly Guinean baker, who happens to make the best little baguettes around. Nothing in Ganta comes close to sinking your teeth in a piping hot fresh loaf.
This being the end of my shopping, I go by a general merchandise shop and buy a cold coke. There are some chairs outside so I sit down and watch the Ganta bustle stream by. The coke (in a glass bottle of course) being drained I get up and start heading home. The motorbike drivers all offer a ride home, but I refuse, pointing at my legs. A white man that walks everywhere? Weird!

The walk home is uneventful. I stop near the church to watch a football (soccer) match. Never are Liberians more energetic and argumentative. At one point the ball goes wide, hits a palm tree, bounces off my foot, and back into play. The referee just pretends nothing happened.

Here is the last view of my walk, just outside the compound, looking back over the trees that I have snaked my way through. Below me is a bitter ball farm. I still haven’t found out what bitter ball is.
On my way into the compound I get mobbed by a group of kids. “Take my picture, I beg you, take my picture!” How could I resist? They all strike up poses and don’t stop laughing until the camera is back in the bag and I’m stepping inside.

Mountain Madness

2009-03-03T03:57:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty mad about mountains. I go crazy without them. I miss them like family. So when the opportunity arose to go up to the only serious Liberian mountains and climb Mount Nimba, the highest point in the country, I didn't hesitate.

Yekepa is a mining ghost town; the leftover of a huge iron ore mining operation by Lamco. It used to be called "mini-New York" because it is probably the only town in all of Liberia that has a complete power grid. Nestled in a lush valley surrounded by mountains, it lies just minutes away from the boarder with Guinea. Lamco left in a hurry when the war started up in 1990, leaving behind skeletons of giant warehouses and machinery as a memento.
Mining has just begun again, this time under the world's largest steel company, Acellor Mittal. They are already half a million dollars in debt on the project.

We whisked through the town on our way to bigger and better things. The winding road led us to the site of the orginal iron ore pit mine. What was once the tallest point around is now a massive layered pit with an emerald lake at the bottom (which is called Emerald Lake).
We left our faboulous driver Solomon with the car, and started our trek. It was the early afternoon and slightly overcast. A cool breeze nipped us we climbed along. We got to higher plateau and were awarded with a breathtaking view of the Ivorian forest stretching for miles. A brief rumble in the distance went unheeded.
We carried on fueled by our quest for reaching the peak. We didn't realize the situation we were in until, after an hour, we reached the top. The distant rumbles were getting to be quite regular and they were increasing in volume. A flash of lightning toar through the sky over Ivory Coast and a huge thunderstorm started marching towards us. Another one was coming from over Liberia. We abandoned all thoughts about the bottle of champagne we had dragged with us to pop at the top, and started the speediest decent known to man. We weren't fast enough.

The two storms met us simoultaneously. Devilish whisps of cloud whisked around us and the thunder burst above our heads. That fact that we were standing on top of a mountain famous for its iron ore was not lost to us. The rain hit us heavy and hard; each drop puncturing our clothes and leaving a sting. Within a minute I was absolutely drenched. I felt a river of water fall down my back and into my shorts. Not one inch of fabric was saved. What had been a mountain of dust turned into a waterfall of mud that we picked our way through with our hearts beating fast.

We made it to the car in less then half an hour. Solomon was waiting for us, headlights on and cutlass ready, scared not for our safety but for whatever might come out of that cloud at him. He'd never touched a cloud before.

Climbing to the highest point in Liberia during a thunderstorm may not have been the brightest idea, but it was definetly one of the more thrilling experiences I've had in my life.

For True?

2009-02-25T14:40:00.000-08:00

"Is it for true?" This is the Liberian version of "for real?" and I like it a lot better. This morning we had a real "for true" moment.

Around 2:00am in the morning the cellphones across Liberia, all the way from the sprawling capital of Monrovia to the most remote reaches of cell coverage, started buzzing and ringing. People rolled and stumbled out of bed and groped around for the object that had cut the dead silence of the African night. On the other line were worried friends, concerned employees, and pleading relatives. The rumor was passed on; the warning given. All around the country people dropped the cellphones, grabbed their pails, and ran for the nearest well.

What secret whispered in the dark would galvanize a whole country into action in the dead of night? It was simply this: After 6:00am (some reports said 5:00) all the drinking sources in all of the Republic of Liberia would be simultaneously poisoned, and anyone who would drink from them in the next three days would die. Most people spared only a few minutes to pass on the warning to their most loved ones, before rushing out of the door with as many pails as they could carry.

This wasn't just limited to fussy old women in superstitious villages buried in the bush. These were people with high school educations and office jobs; people who honestly knew better.

Dave went out to the yard to witness the commotion of the neighbourhood running around. He posed a question to our security guard, John. "You think the people are smart or stupid to believe this?"
"They stupid-o," he replied, knowing the right answer.
"But you got enough water yourself, right?" Dave asked sincerely.
"Oh, ya. We drew plenty, plenty!" John quipped.

This might be a ridiculous and amusing example of the power of superstition and beliefs in Liberia, but often it can be deadly. People won't sleep under life-saving mosquito nets because they believe that at night their spirit turns into a bird and will be trapped by the net. When a mother watches her child fade away from any number of diseases, she doesn't go seek help at the clinic, but blames it on the fact that someone must be practicing witchcraft against that child. People with leprosy, albinism (which is surprisingly common), or deformities are cast out from society by their obvious signs of devilry.

The more one is surrounded by this startlingly perplexing mindset, the more you realize just how devastating it is. It seems to me that the main reason why Liberia is in such a place of suffering is because of these lies that undercut all common sense and rationality.

Giving someone an education or good health care is very possible, but to change an entire country's worldview is more then a struggle, if not impossible.

Worship

2009-02-20T13:11:00.000-08:00

The other day a question that is usually buried somewhere deep in my subconscious decided to pay the conscious part of my mind a visit. "Why am I in Africa?" That opened a floodgate of queries that were soon buzzing around my mind, each one broader and harder to answer. "Why am I anywhere?" "Why am I?" "Why?" You get the point.

What often happens when I am ambushed by a flurry of deep and probing questions, is that I try to think about it really, really hard. What always happens when I try to think about something really, really hard is that a random song will pop up into my head and conveniently block out all nagging questions about my existence and meaning. This time, however, the song served a purpose.

"Here I am to worship, here I am to bow down. Here I am to say that your my God" I had just sung it that Sunday, comforted by the familiar words and melody in a foreign country. But I hadn't really thought about it. Now I did. And the more I thought about it the more I realized that the statement "here I am to worship" is not just for a single moment. We can say that about every waking moment of our lives.

I was musing about all this while walking towards the endless Atlantic for a swim. (By the way, the endless Atlantic is a fine, fine place for musing.) Two of my friends were already in the water, abandoning themselves to the waves, letting God's nature pound into them and tumble them around. I felt God say, "That is worship." We can do the simplest and most mundane tasks in a Spirit of worship, and they are transformed into something that God takes joy in. What more can we ask for?

We don't need to be in a church, we don't need to feel the right 'emotions', to be worshiping God. When I made a batch of gingersnaps (thanks for the recipe Holly) that everyone could enjoy, that was an act of worship. When our hearts stops in awe of a sunset that can be an act of worship. When we hug someone that can be an act of worship. When we do something we don't even enjoy doing, but do it with a rejoincing heart, that is worship. We were created to glorify God.

Now here is the best part of it. "Whatever you do unto the least of these, you do unto me." I love Matthew 25:40, because as far as I understand it, when I am hugging someone in love, I AM HUGGING GOD!!!

That's why I am here in Africa. I'm here to worship God in everything I do. That's why I am anywhere. That's why I am.

Having satisfied my nagging subconcious I started belting out "Hear I Am To Worship" and ran into the endless Atlantic.

And I Thought The Pine Beetle Was Bad...

2009-02-09T08:17:00.000-08:00

I think you should all check out this link of an article from National Geographic. It is a really big issue, especially in the rural areas where something like this can be so devastating. I haven't actually gone up to see it yet, but I hope I'll get a chance.

Nightmarish Caterpillar Swarm Defies Control In Liberia

Thoughts

2009-02-05T09:48:00.000-08:00

• 7 of the 10 deadliest snake species are native to Liberia.
• I don’t care if you call me a sissy; big spiders in showers freak me out.
• Liberia is a perfect example of globalization. Thanks to the latest economic meltdown the price of petroleum has fallen. Since the price of natural rubber (a huge income source here) is directly tied to petroleum prices, people whom live off less then a dollar a day are suffering. So decisions made in boardrooms on Wall Street affect the rubber farm worker who can’t read or write and has left his family to try to make some money to keep them healthy.
• They eat anything that moves here. This is some roasted dog's head. It wasn't hard to say no.

• Fruit is exponentially more delicious here. Even ordinary fruit like oranges or bananas taste exotic.
• Plantain = my favorite! Fried, deep-fried, roasted, or dried – I don’t care cause it is all so good. (Plantain is like a marriage between a banana and something starchier. That’s a terrible description.)
• Since the Liberian diet rarely contains dairy, people get their calcium by chewing bones.
• Surfing is hard. Really hard. It is also very humbling.

Gblarlay

2009-01-25T10:03:00.000-08:00

Gblarlay is about as remote as you can get, except for the fact that it can be reached by car (well, half of the time). Five hour drive into the heart of the bush, over nature's biggest speed bumps and sketchy bridges, while the sun set in glorious oranges through the trees. Equip was opening a new clinic there. It would serve a population of over 25,000 people from the neighbouring villages, including Ivorians from across the border. There are about 300 people per practicing doctor in America. In Liberia there are about 100 doctors total, and half of those are administrative positions.

I arrived the night before the ceremony. As we rolled into town at dusk kids started running after our truck, shouting out cries of welcome. When we parked I shook a million people's hands and was shown to a house where there was a spare room. I wandered back to a common gathering place, where the women were already busy preparing a feast, chopping and mashing and stirring mysterious entrees in big metal kettles over coal fires. I sat down on a bench and started talking to an older lady sitting beside me.

I heard singing off in the distance and soon a row of flashlights appeared on the horizon. "Who is that, Ma?" I asked the older lady. "Oh, they are Ivorians. They have come to celebrate." And celebrate they did. They rolled into town to the pulse of a djembe, dancing and singing, dressed in the most colorful fabric you've ever seen. A circle was formed and soon there was a whirlwind of swinging hips and shuffling feet, accompanied by an infectious chorus. I was completely mezmerized.

When I stumbled into bed I could still here the drums off in the distance. Apparently it went on all night. I was woken up at some ridiculously early hour "Come quick. Bring the camera. They are killing the cow!" It was still dark out. I rolled out of bed, grabbed my camera, and headed to the slaughter. I had arrived too late for the big show, but I watched them cut off the hide and took some photos that have a lot of appeal if your really into bovine anatomy. I went back to bed for a few more precious hours of sleep.

When I got up again, the cow was already well chopped up and stewing. There was nothing of it left. Nothing got wasted. Everything was in the soup pot. I tried not to dwell on it for long. Besides the beef, all the women were cooking up potato greens, okra, palm butter, and of course rice. One lady was making some donuts. There are very few things that can compare to a fresh Liberian donut.

The ceremony was great. Lots of cultural dances, lots of uninteresting speeches, and then everyone got fed. Good times in the bush.

Joy

2009-01-21T13:14:00.000-08:00

This is what happens when you point a camcorder at a group of kids in Liberia and flip around the screen so that they can see themselves.

I Am Contactable

2009-01-21T03:04:00.000-08:00

Besides the wonderful world of e-mails, there are some other alternatives to getting a hold of me.

Phone: If from Canada, you dial 011+231+06-923408. It might cost a premium, but if you call me quick, I'll call you back, cause it only costs me 20cents a minute. Don't forget about the 8hour time difference.

Skype: Its like a phone, but its free and over the internet. Just search for christophsanz or Christoph Sanz, or my e-mail address. The downside is that I don't always have access to the interweb.

Mail: It takes about two weeks for it to get here. Just don't send anything valuable. The postal service is pretty sketchy. Here's my mailing address.

Equip Liberia
c/o Christoph Sanz
PO Box 2499
14th Street, Coleman Ave
Monrovia,Liberia, West Africa

Make sure you include my cell number (06-923408) somewhere on the letter/package, just not under the address, so that it doesn't get mixed up for a zip code.

Lights Camera Chaos!

2009-01-19T03:01:00.000-08:00

If you ever want to experience a real gong show try shooting an amateur film in Africa.

I’ve had the privilege of getting acquainted with a drama group called “The Revelation Is Christ (or T-RIC for short). I had sat in on one of their practices and wrote a little piece on them for the Equip newsletter. Their big focus is to highlight serious abuses and crimes that are happening in their community, and there are more then enough of those to go around in Liberia. Topics of their skits range from domestic violence to ritualistic killings. Not exactly your average acting group. They’ve decided that they have a couple stories that they want to make into a movie and since I’m the “queepoo” (white-man) with a camcorder, I get to film all the action.

My cell phone alarm clock woke me up bright and way to early at 7. I was out the door and at the designated gathering place in half an hour. It took till about 9 before everybody was actually gathered so I killed the time by playing with some of the kids in the neighborhood.

Speaking of kids, I MUST go off on a tangent here because as nice as Liberia is, it’s the kids that I have fallen in love with. There are a lot of kids here. I mean, a lot! And you know that whole “don’t talk to strangers” thing that parents always told you when you were young? It doesn’t apply here. They practically throw themselves at you; except for the real little ones that take one look at you and start crying. Over 50% of the population of Liberia is under 18. Think about the implications of that for a minute.

I digress.

Once everybody was finally assembled, we were still a long way off from actually filming anything yet. We were going to shoot a scene that involved using a number of fake AK-47s. So we had to whisk off to the local police station to let them know, lest anybody freak out. One cop, seeing an easy way out of a tedious day, instantly declared that he needed to come along to supervise, so he came back with us.

It was then declared that we really needed a car, so somebody rushed back into town to rent one for the day. So by about 11 about ten of us piled into a tiny Toyota Corolla and headed off to our first scene, the rest following on motorbikes.

Once we actually got the camera rolling, things were still kind of crazy. First off, we had no tripod. I would try and keep my arm still or find something to prop the camera, but everything is still a bit shaky. But hey, apparently that is in style these days. Secondly, the actors were clearly just as new to this movie business as I was. They would constantly deliver lines when they were miles away from the camera frame. Since there wasn’t really a script to go by, actor would completely change their lines and sometimes even the plot during different takes. Thirdly, Liberians are curious by nature. So whenever we were filming a crowd would gather to watch the action. They were, of course, always in the way and always making a lot of noise. Oh well.

It was altogether a thrilling experience and its not over. We’re filming again today.

Here's a completely unrelated but absolutely adorable photo of a puppy:

Obama

2009-01-13T06:39:00.000-08:00

With the inauguration of Barack Obama just days away, I thought it would be appropriate to share with you just how much the people of Liberia are in love with the new president-to-be. There are posters of him everywhere. There are businesses named after him. I can garuntee you that in 5 years there will be a whole group of 5 year old boys with the name Barack Obama. I read an article in the local newspaper a few days ago that announced that now, thanks to Barack Obama, it would be super easy for Liberians to immigrate to America!

Here are some examples of Obama love...

I pass the Obama Filling Station on my way to the office. What you can't see so well in this picture is the words "YES WE CAN" boldy printed across the foundation.

So This Is The New Year

2009-01-01T10:53:00.000-08:00

I welcomed ’09 dancing with a handful of random people on the most beautiful beach that I had ever seen at a wedding of two strangers that I had never met. It was something else.

On the 29th I headed out with the Waines family and volunteers to Robertsport, just a 3 hour drive Northwest of Monrovia. Robertsport is nestled between the vast Lake Piso and a strip of beach that offers Liberia’s best surf. Despite the ruins of bulidings blown apart by the war, the town is idyllic. We pitched our tents under the shade of two enormous almond trees on a strip of the coastline known as Cassava Beach.

When you stick nine people in a place like Robertsport there is no lack of things to do. Surfing, swimming, hunting crabs and roasting them, eating pineapples, buying fish off the local fishermen and cooking them in the fire, just lying around reading and chewing on sugar cane. None of this, however, compared to the phosphorescents. I’ve seen them before, but this was something else. I dived in the water and my whole body glowed. Every time my arm entered the water it was trailed by hundred little green sparks. When you clapped your hands underwater there was an explosion of light. And when you put on goggles and swam underwater it was just about to much to handle.

Near to where we were camping, a South African guy called Joe and his brother who isn’t really his brother called Robert had built a surf lodge complete with a bar. Dave, the extremely extraverted patriarch of the Waines family, got to talking to Joe and found out that Robert had managed to find himself a beautiful Norwegian girl and that they were going to get married on the beach on the 31st. Dave got us all promptly invited.

It was by far the quickest and oddest and possibly the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever attended. There were a few friends and family of the couple, but at least half of the guests were people that just happened to be staying in the lodge at the time, and our little army. The bride rode up on an ATV. Since this was a strictly secular ceremony, they had hired the local judge to marry them. She took the whole procedure a whole lot more seriously then anybody involved. When the groom mispronounced one of his vows she made him repeat it three times. Then slamming down her mallet on the table she sealed the deal. She stood there with an immense sense of pride on her face. There was an awkward moment while we all waited for something to happen. “Can me kiss?” asked the groom almost hesitantly. “Certainly,” said the judge, a little taken aback, as if it was an absurd question. They kissed. It was all very amusing.

As the sun set down everyone shifted around the tables set up along the beach and all the candles were lit. The champagne was sweet and the food delightful, the highlight being a giant Barracuda fish. I normally don’t really savor fish, but this was amazing.

It was altogether the most unique and enjoyable New Year’s Eve I’ve witnessed.

(Speaking of unique, this is a monkey-apple fruit. It tastes like...actually you just can't describe it.)

Christmas

2008-12-27T10:01:00.000-08:00

I’ve been thinking about coziness lately. For me the feeling of coziness, that feeling of being safe and warm, away from the cold, has always been associated with Christmas. I know it’s a little superficial since Jesus’ birth happened in a fairly hot climate and most historians claim that he was probably born some time in the summer. Still, coziness and Christmas have always waltzed hand-in-hand across my subconscious.

(The Advent Wreath that Chris and I made with a coat hangar and tinsel)

That’s why this really doesn’t feel like Christmas, because when there is no cold to come in from, you can’t really get cozy. Instead of “chestnuts on a roasting fire” you have “fresh pineapple on the beach” (which honestly isn’t a bad trade-off). Despite this more then subtle difference in my usually seasonal routines, the holidays haven’t been without their surprises and delights. Removed from the majority of the Christmas kitsch that can swarm around the last week of December, I was approached unexpected by a string of beautiful experiences.

The Waines aren’t exactly your traditional family, but they have one tradition that is worth keeping. On the 23rd four missionary families and us four volunteers converged for a “St. Nicholas Party.” After some team games to work up the appetite we tucked into one hearty potluck. Turkey legs, pumpkin, bean salad, sweet potatoes, gravy, pumpkin pie(!), and shortbread filled our stomachs seasonally. Next followed the main event.

Everyone had drawn someone’s name about a week ago by random (sort-of). The task was to make a hand-made gift (no buying!) and present it along with a poem or song. I was blown away by the creativity of the people in that group. Everyone was rolling on the floor in laughter when fellow volunteer Chris, who has size 15 feet, was presented with a board game entitled “Bigfoot Finds A Wife”, complete with tips from Jane Austen and tasks like “practice your dance moves.” Some gifts appealed to the appetite (a cookie the size of a pizza) and others played to an inside joke or character trait of the receiver (Like a multi-shot spit-ball gun for a 10 year old). With all the songs and skits and presentations and gifts it was a full night of sharing God’s joy with one another. It was beautiful.

(Matthew covered in Christmas lights)

Christmas Eve was a seriously low-key affair. A big game of risk, a large puzzle, a refreshing swim in the ocean, and snacking on leftovers from the day before. After dinner we all piled into the Land Cruiser and bounced and swerved our way over to some good friends of the Waines, where we had a campfire complete with hotdogs and marshmallows. Singing carols around a fire under the stars with a marshmallow in one hand and a cup of mango juice in the other ain’t a bad way to celebrate the birth of Jesus.

Christmas morning started with a hearty “ho-ho-ho” and Dave dressed as Santa (sort of). We all started our search for our “hobo-sacks”, evidently the Waines’ equivelent of stockings, which were hidden throughout the house. Here’s mine. It was yellow!
Another day of just relaxing around the house, playing Risk, and surfing. The evening involved some candle-light reading of “The Best Christmas Pageant Ever” and then presents. I got a box of “Swiss Miss” Brand Hot Chocolate. The day was seasoned throughout with a good dose of carols and yummy food.

Boxing Day saw us all piling into the Land Cruiser and heading off to Bomi Lake. It is now on my list of most beautiful places I have ever been. It was a huge quarry-mine-pit excavation that has now filled in with rainwater like a giant puddle. The water is crystal clear and so refreshing. There are no people there except for a small bottling plant and some UN buildings. I scaled a nearby peak to get you this photo.

(Click for a larger version)

Some of us climbed up the dried-up waterfall across the lake. When we got to the top we stumbled into a totally new world, one that looked like it was straight out of a Dr. Suess book. There was this whole valley of soft clay so everywhere you stepped it was really bouncy. It was formed into shapes and peaks. It was gorgeous.

Altogether a completely different but still beautiful Christmas.

Content

2008-12-19T10:33:00.000-08:00

I spent this morning setting up fake medical emergencies. It was a riot. We needed to take some good shots of our people in action, especially relating to the medical side of the work, for some publications. We got a team together and headed out to the nearby clinic. We gave fake injections and set up drip IV's for fake patients, and bandaged totally healthy people, and made a stretcher in a minute and put a girl inside and ran around...all the while taking photos. The result was better then I expected. See below.
The funny thing is whenever we got someone to pretend to be the victim, they always started smiling and laughing, instead of displaying the face of pain that someone who had just broken their legs might have. Liberians have so much joy!

Speaking of joy, I had a distinct lack of it earlier this afternoon. I had finished the photo shoot and didn't really have anything left to do for the rest of the day so I just drifted around the office, bored. I was feeling really discouraged and restless. I wanted to get out of Ganta, get out of the country, not talk to another Liberian for a while. I wanted a nice hot shower in a world where things run on a reasonable schedule. I read my bible a bit and then decided that I was going to lie down on my bed and pout at God until he talked to me.

He did. The minute I lay down I felt him tell me to just get up and go outside. I wrestled with my soul for a few minutes and then summoned the willpower to get off the bed and out the door.

I went at sat down on the porch railing that oversees the back area of the property. There is a little cookhouse there where a number of mothers always prepare food for their families, and there are always children running around. I just sat there for a few minutes watching the kids, and felt my frustration slowly dissipate, the way it always does when I stop thinking about myself and just start enjoying the life that God's given me.

I started talking with some of the women and joked around with this one kid, Sam, who has the chubbiest belly and the healthiest smile. I borrowed one of their small pots and heated up a can of Campbell's Cream of Potato Soup on their little coal fire. I felt so content, so satisfied with where I was, surrounded by the most beautiful children, at home in this foreign land, with ducks and chickens scrambling all over the place.

My terrible smile and Sam.

A Brief Hiatus

2008-12-15T01:27:00.000-08:00

Hey, sorry I haven't written in a while. I've been laying low the last couple of days, with some good old diarrhea, dizzyness, and headaches. Took some anti-malaria medication stuff to be on the safe side and I'm feeling just fantastic now.

Dave and Audry's three younger kids came home on Friday from boarding school in Senegal. Most of the kids there are originally from England, so they came home with these hilarious British accents. Life is better with kids around.

I'll probably be heading back up to Ganta in a day or two for another Equip staff meeting, and then things will start to close down for the holidays. Christmas here is both surreal and tacky. While you are all skiing I'll be surfing!

My Liberian Appetite

2008-12-04T09:26:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had a massive plate of delicious food in front of you, but somehow your just not hungry? Nothing on the plate grabs you. The smell invites no deep desires from within and the taste fails to inspire. You nibble around the edges, pick out the most interesting looking bits of food, and push the rest around with your fork. You make patterns in the mashed potatoes with your fork and to be honest, this whole eating thing bores you.

For the last few years, that has been how I’ve felt when I approached the Bible. I knew it was delicious and wholesome and good for me, etc…but it never really gripped me. I’d idle from book to book, reading a chapter of Matthew, then picking at a psalm lazily, while swishing around a slurp of Leviticus with complete disinterest. I found it all kind of dull. It didn’t grab me.
Since I’ve been here my spiritual metabolism has taken a quantam shift. I quite simply can’t get enough of the Bible. I’m serious. Lately I’ve been approaching it like I approach one of my Mom’s steaks. I’ve been taking big bites of it, and I usually forget to chew. Everything seems to leap out somehow. There always seems to be a verse that speaks directly to me, a verse that must have been written with just this moment in my life in mind. The miraculous thing about the Bible is that it has something to say about every part of your life! The repercussions of believing that are just starting to hit me.

I’ve actually managed to misplace my Bible somewhere. It’s driving me crazy. I’m starving! (Don’t worry, its only spiritual. I get fed well.) I stumble around the house searching for it like a lost man stumbling around the desert looking for water.

I’d like to invite you on this journey of mine. Next time you grab your Bible, come to it with a spirit of expectancy. Take faith in the fact that there is something in there for you, in the situation your in, that speaks directly to how you feel, and then just you would with your favorite meal, dig in!

My New Friends

2008-11-29T10:21:00.000-08:00

I want you to meet my new friends. They are probably the cutest people ever.
The Equip office in Ganta where I am staying shares its property with an orphange and school, so there are kids everywhere. These are just a couple of them. They started following me everywhere. I had to go take photos of a clinic nearby for a story, and when I left they all ran after me. I told them that I had to go to the clinic, and one girl felt my arm with concern. "You sick?"
Speaking of sickness, its been a miracle. I haven't gotten sick past a mild headache (dehydration!) so far. That has been a real blessing. This next photos is for you, Mueti, because you asked for a photo of myself. The reason it is kind of off-center is because it was taken by a little 7 year old boy that probably has never held a camera in his life before.
And here's some Liberian jungle scenery for you all to chew on.
I've got to run. One of the volunteers, Sarah, is from the US of A, so she's organizing a little thanksgiving feast. Mmm, pumpkin!!!

The World's Coolest House

2008-11-27T11:33:00.000-08:00

Hey, hey, hey from (slightly-less-muggy-then-the-rest-of-the-country) Ganta. We got here yesterday, just in time to be fashionably late for the staff meeting. On the way we stopped by the Equip office in Gbangra (pronounced Bang-a, but with a real popping sound on the "B"). The office is surrounded by the world's coolest fence.

Anyway, staff meeting was good. It was a bunch of people talking about all sorts of good stuff that is happening. Man, people here are hard to understand. If you thought I talked fast, then you have no idea. Not only do they talk crazy fast, but they drop the ends off of words and put o's everywhere. So "hey" becomes "heyo", me becomes "me" becomes "meo", etc... Also, they drop articles (a, an, the) everywhere! I helped out a bit with payroll which was a chaotic but kind of fun experience. Can you imagine doing the bookkeeping and salary for an organization that has to run entirely on cash?

You know what's surreal? That fact that I can have a conversation for free over the internet across the Atlantic, and in conversation mention that I'm in Ganta, and then have said friend look up Ganta on GoogleMaps, and see where I am. That, folks, blows my mind. Crazy stuff.

Here's a rubber plantation. Libeira is one of the world's largest producers of natural rubber. If you've ever had Firestone tires on you car, that rubber probably came from Liberia. There are plantations everywhere, but this is probably the neatest one I've seen so far.

This is the world's coolest house. I want to buy it and fix it up. It was built years ago by settlers from somewhere in Lousiana where they build everything on stilts. So they came to Liberia, picked a completely stable firm plot of land, and propped up their house on legs. Thus the world's coolest house.

Off to Ganta

2008-11-25T11:03:00.000-08:00

Hey quick news flash.
I'm running off to Ganta. That's in the north of Liberia. You should GoogleEarth it or something. Do your research. Be informed.
There's a big Equip staff meeting up there and then I'm sticking around for a week or so to collect some stories and photo goodness. Just like the rest of the world, they have access in Ganta to this thing called the intraweb, or interweb, or something like that, so we can all still stay in touch!!! However, I might venture even further then Ganta into....THE BUSH!!! Villages! Jungles! Man-eating monkeys! (Don't worry Mom, I made that last one up) These villages sadly (or maybe not so sadly) don't have access to this interweb thing, so what I'm getting at is that sometimes...I might be unatainable for multiple days!!! How thrilling!!!

P.S. - If you want to be extra amazing you could pray for me! Pray for continued health (I've been great on that front, no malaria yet, no disastrous bowel movements, no going insane, etc..), and pray that God connects me with the right people that have amazing stories to tell of what he's done in their life.

The Hard Life

2008-11-24T05:16:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was another Sunday surfing session. After riding a wave in, I put down my surfboard and sat on a palm tree that had fallen over, after its roots had been eaten away by erosion. I sat there and watched the sun set over the Atlantic, the view peppered with cumulus clouds, and the sky a glorious red. Ahh, it’s a hard life.

Audry has started making homemade yougurt. A bowl of yougurt with homemade granola is quite possible one of the best things on this earth. That and guava juice. Ahh, it’s a hard life.

I’ve started helping Dave in writing his book, and we are currently focusing on his memories from the periods of war in Liberia. This country has a history of seriously messing itself up. It’s a story full of instances of genocide, assassinations, ritualistic killings, child soldiers, human sacrifices, and even cannibalism. It’s a country where over 80% of the population is unemployed. For almost all Liberians it’s a very, very hard life.

We were watching this film last night, and this one older, father-like figure in the film had a line that really resonated with me. “I’ve lived in a world that hates evil more then it loves good.” I think sometimes we get so revolted by the evil we fail to embrace that which is good. The kids here that smile and laugh and wave at you as you drive by. The ability of people here who pick themselves up from immense losses and still face life with determination to make things better. The immense power of the Gospel that you can see physically change whole villages into something beautiful.

This Photo Needs No Caption

2008-11-21T08:49:00.000-08:00

Sunday

2008-11-18T02:52:00.000-08:00

Sunday was a good day. I was having a rough day on Saturday for no particular reason and by the end of it I was able to talk about it with a few people, which was precious. There is a lot of power in confession. But Sunday…Sunday was a most excellent day.

First off it was a beautiful day. The birds were extra loud, the sun was a little brighter, the sky a little clearer, the breeze a little fresher. We piled into the Land Cruiser and headed off to Monrovia Christian Fellowship. MCF is remarkably similar to what I have experienced at home, except that the worship team were really firm believers in fast tempos. It seemed like every verse of a song they would speed things up a little more.

After idle after-church chatter we piled back into the Land Cruiser, did a little tour-de-Monrovia, and wound up at Mamba Point for lunch. When we arrived home it was a quick change, and then Dave, Christopher, and I loaded up the Land Cruiser with three surfboards and drove off to Thinker’s Beach.

My first experience of surfing started out magically. As I started paddling I felt so excited. Between water and sky, it was sublime, almost ethereal. This was all before the first wave hit me, filling my foolish gaping mouth full of salt water. After being pounded by wave after wave I wasn’t so sure about the sublime state of surfing anymore.

It took what seemed like a good twenty minutes to clear the beach break. (The break is, apparently, the distance off the beach where the wave stops being all nice and smooth and starts sort of folding into itself and getting all foamy and messy.) Once past the break, I was completely exhausted so I just sat there on my board for a while and received some instructions from Dave. You’re supposed to wait past the break until you see a set of waves coming that suits your fancy, and then you start paddling like mad to try and match the speed of the wave. When the wave catches up to you hold on to the side of your board for dear life as the wave crashes around you and if your lucky you’ll find the balance to stand up. Something like that.

Anyway, I saw a wave that looked nice and big. I started paddling like crazy, at least as crazy as a totally exhausted person can be. The wave started to catch up with me and then it started to crash with a thunderous force around me and I was shot ahead, clinging to my board, not daring to stand up. For a second I experienced the most amazing feeling of being part of the wave rushing into the shore. After that second I was completely pulled under into a turmoil of current and wave and salt water down my throat. After recovering my senses, I slowly drifted into shore, completely wiped of all energy. Yet strangely enough that brief second epiphany was enough to convince me that surfing is very much going to be a big part of my life here.

Behold, photos, this time with CAPTIONS!!!

The House
The Backyard (sort of)
Fellow volunteer and surf extraordinaire
Christopher, with a gecko he caught

Random Facts Of Liberian Life You May Not Be Aware Of

2008-11-17T04:43:00.000-08:00

• Coke and Fanta are a million times tastier when you drink them from a glass bottle instead of a can.
• The exchange rate of US Dollars to Liberian Dollars is 1 to 63. I am currently a possessor of a really large wad of cash.
• Fufu is quite possibly the weirdest food I’ve ever eaten. It’s so weird I won’t even try and describe it.
• Surfing is really hard.
• During the early winter months a wind blows down south, bringing lots of dust from the Sahara, making the weather constantly hazy.
• Rubber plantations look gorgeous.

Liberian Cell Phone Number

2008-11-13T05:00:00.001-08:00

06-92-34-08

This Place Is Crazy

2008-11-13T04:14:00.000-08:00

This place is crazy. Crazy hot. Crazy poor. People doing crazy things. People full of crazy amounts of love. And crazy delicious fruit.

Stepping off the plane was like stepping into a steam room and the feeling never stopped. I love it. I’m getting used to constantly sweating and everyone else being constantly sweaty.

One sleep after arriving in Monrovia, I packed a small bag and jumped in a Land Cruiser headed for Tappita, a town that was a 7 hour drive away. It would only be a 3 hour journey on any self respecting Canadian road, but this is Africa. I tried sleeping for part of it, which proved impossible, because you would be jolted awake every 10 seconds by the one pothole that the Land Cruiser didn’t miss.

By the time we arrived in Tappita it was almost 10pm and Dave had a to drive off a little further so he dropped me off at the Equip office there. I sat outside the office with about 7 Liberians, half of whom I’ve met but couldn’t remember their names, eating a dish of rice with some really foul tasting sauce poured over top with some sort of meat that I couldn’t distinguish because it was really dark. When I was ready to catch some sleep I was led through the town to some random house, then into a room which had a mattress and (praise God) a mosquito net. I blew out the kerosene lantern and flopped into bed. So there I was, one night after stepping off the plane in a remote town in the heart of the jungle of Liberia; a place with little or no electrical power, surrounded by complete strangers.

I was woken up in the morning by children’s laughter and the roosters. There are roosters everywhere in Liberia and I feel like I could strangle every single one of them. They have no sense of time. I rolled out a bed, grabbed my bag and wandered through the town and back to the Equip office.

The reason we were here in Tappita was TearFund. TearFund is a Christian NGO (Non-Governmental Organization) that works very closely with Equip. They were closing down their work in Nimba County which was based in Tappita and so there was a big hand-over ceremony. I came along to take lots of photos. After a 2 and a half hour ceremony there was a big meal, African style. It consisted of rice (of course) with chicken and potato greens heaped on top. It was delicious. We stuck around for a while afterward while Dave worked out a bunch of stuff with the TearFund people. Joel, another awesome volunteer from Vancouver, found a grapefruit tree, so he knocked a couple down. They were beyond any citrus fruit I had ever eaten.

We finally got back on the road and headed to Ghanta, where Equip has a significant amount a property with a large base. On the way we stopped by a clinic in one of the towns to see if there needed to be any renovations done. There was a woman in the clinic just going into labor, so of course we stuck around. I did a photo shoot about 2 minutes after the birth. Major culture shock!

Finally made it back to Ghanta and slept. Was woken up by a rooster far to early again. Dave had to arrange a load of stuff with a bunch of people so I wondered around. The kids here are beautiful. I walked down to the hand pump to get some water and was attacked by about four kids full of hugs. Every time you say anything the laugh at how funny you sound. I killed some more time by playing a game of checkers with one kid. He clearly let me win.

Drove back down to Monrovia. Joel and I headed down to the ocean for a swim and were soon joined by Christopher (another awesome volunteer from Smithers). The waves were huge and powerful. The water is really, really salty and it stings your eyes. We headed back to the house exhausted. We watched a movie while eating a massive bowl of spaghetti with a really good sauce that Audry made.

Now I’m sitting in the Eqiup head office getting various things organized. I’m getting a cellphone and I’ll post the number as soon as I can. I’m probably heading back up to Ghanta in a day or two to collect some stories and photos from around there. There is internet in Ghanta (the painfully slow kind) so I’ll try and post some more there, but I’ll be all around the area, so it might be a little while.

Prayer Requests:
- Praise God for allowing me to experience so many amazing things already
- Pray that my time around Ghanta is productive and that the Lord would prepare meetings and conversations that would lead to really good stories.
- Pray that I could be a blessing to the work here.
- Pray for Sarah (another awesome volunteer, this time from Alaska) as she is coming down with something that could be malaria.

(Click on the photos for larger copies. Please excuse the small photo size. The internet is currently disastrously slow.)

Flight Log: Part 2

2008-11-13T03:40:00.000-08:00

11:51 (Brussels time) – One hour till my flight. Sitting near the gate, waiting. Popped open my laptop and opened my iTunes. Some random guy somewhere in the vicinity seems to have left his music sharing settings open, so I’m listening to his music library. He has good taste.
Security was a breezy, breezy, breeze. Brussels was gorgeous and full of lovely people, but I’m excited to finally get to Liberia.
It’s a two hour flight to Casablanca, and then 7 hours kicking around in the airport. The super sweet lady that gave me a ride had been there and assured me that it was pleasant, so that’s good. Then just after 10pm I grab a flight to Monrovia, arriving at 2:40 IN THE MORNING!!! Pretty stoked about that. Wow, this guy is a Rammstein fan. He has like every album! Hardcore! Actually, there’s a bit to much death metal for my taste. Also, what kind of band name is “Type O Negative”?
Back to my own music. Ahh, the soothing sounds of my favorite Icelandic bag.
(P.S. – This may come across as creepy, but watching people in airports is really fascinating. There is every kind of person imaginable and they are all at different stages in life. Like for instance there is this old couple a few tables over that are sharing a newspaper and they can’t stop smiling at each other. And this little boy who keeps running up and down the hallways.

14:32 (Casablanca Time) Somewhere 37000feet over Southern France – Royal Air Maroc ends up being a pleasant surprise. A hot meal on a three hour flight and really good service.
Random thoughts: People sleeping on airplanes look really funny. Also, there is very few sounds in this world that are as intense as the sound of a toilet flushing. It freaks me out every time. Also, why does the bathroom have an ashtray right next to the no smoking sign???
The weather just cleared up for a majestic view of the snow-capped Pyrenees Mountains. Absolutely breathtaking. Also, Coca-Cola written in Arabic is really cool.

15:20 – (Casablanca Time) We’re flying just next to another airplane’s jet stream. It looks really cool. It’s just this strip of cloud that goes on and on beside us.

15:20 – (Casablanca) Another jet stream. It’s like an aeronautical traffic jam!!!

15:21 – (Casablanca) I CAN SEE THE MEDITERRANEAN!!! If I wasn’t stuck in an airplane seat I’d to a dance of celebration. I’m pretty sure that’s the Straight of Gibraltar to the right.

15:33 – Wow the straight of Gibraltar is really, really narrow. I can see the Atlantic. It’s big. Also, I CAN SEE AFRICA!!!! I’m keeping a very calm composure here in the airplane, but I’m currently freaking out inside. So stoked!

15:37 – Tangiers looks really cool from the air. Anyone want to travel around in Spain and Morrocco at some point in our lives?

15:38 – Turbulence!!!

15:41 – Wow, the Atlantic is big. I mean really big. Like huge. Bigger then you can imagine. Massive.

15:45 – The Arabic alphabet is beautiful. It just had to be said.

15:58 – We’re going down! Only 15 mintues till landing in good ol’ Casa. (Casa and I are on short name basis.)

17:25 – I’m just experiencing my first African sunset, sitting here in the Mohammed V Airport, in Casablanca. Mohammed V is the squeaky-cleanest airport you’ve ever seen. This airport features a dazzling palette of skin colors. Every single shade of brown can be found here in this airport, in people’s skin. Less then 5 hours to go.

18:18 – This airport is weird. Besides being the cleanest place in the world, it is jam-packed with luxury stores. This is Africa, but the hallways are filled with Dolce & Gabana, Chanel, and Lacoste.

18:34 – Moroccans
have little, make that no, regard for no smoking signs.

18:38 – I always think that people with little wireless cell phone receivers are insane at first.

18:46 – Pretty sure I just saw one janitor give the other janitor a love tap. The third janitor is wearing Crocs. Also, I’ve been in this airport waaaaayyyyy to long.

18:50 - Wow, one janitor just full on sacked the other janitor. Stuff happens here at the later hours.

I’m sitting in my room in the Waines’ house across from my mosquito-netted bed. The room is painted in four different shades of blue. Liberia is beautiful. It’s like living in a sauna. I love it! Just a quick minute walk from the house is the endless ocean with breaks rolling in. The birds here are really loud and insistent especially the neighbours roosters at 4am in the morning.

Brussels: Take Two

2008-11-08T09:45:00.000-08:00

Guidebook in hand. A steady diet of fries and waffles. Two different museums across town. A handful of old churches. Markets! The sound of a shutter click 150 times over. I decided that it couldn't hurt to be a complete tourist for a day. It didn't. Brussels is a fun city to walk around in. High-point: The War and Weapons Museum. It was free and there was a different cannon every ten feet.
Low-point: The Mannekin-Pis. It's this 2 foot statue of a little boy peeing. Hey look everybody a little naked boy peeing! Big deal! Get over it!

Behold, photos:

Brussels: Take One

2008-11-08T09:38:00.000-08:00

Slept in really long today. Had breakfast and then headed out for a walk around the neighborhood. Ended up in a beautiful park full of fall colors. In the evening I hopped on a tram and zipped across town to visit a family that I used to babysit for when they still lived in Vancouver. The main course was scalloped potatoes the way they should be : punctuated by sautéed onions and smothered in Raclette cheese. A fabulous strawberry crumble followed. Delicious!

Flight Log

2008-11-07T02:00:00.000-08:00

5:00am (London time) – Security and baggage through Vancouver is a breeze. The waiting lobby is gorgeous. Things have changed a bit on the plane since I last flew on an international flight, four (?) years ago. Every seat has its own screen (even in economy class!!!) so you can pick your own movies, listen to “up-and-coming” Canadian bands as well as the mainstream, and view flight statistics all the time, which is exactly what the very sweet old Dutch (?) gentleman is doing. (He is however, drinking a lot of wine. We’ll see how that progresses.) Pretty sure every single woman on the plane who is under 75 is watching the Mamma Mia! film. From what I can see (peeking across the aisle) it looks like a movie about silly girls fretting over really stupid looking guys, with conveniently big muscles. Old-wine-drinking-Dutch-guy’s screen informs me that we are somewhere over Hudson Bay, just east of Churchill. I should also mention that I just completed an intriguing roast beef meal. The beef was edible, the cucumber salad was surprisingly good, but we won’t mention the green beans. Also I have discovered that on a plane, tea=colored water.

Somewhere south of Greenland – A million different sitting positions later, and sleep is officially out of the question. So while I am awake, its time to review some films. “Hancock” started out completely lame, got slightly better, and then ruined it all with a typical Hollywood ending. It had potential. “The Incredible Hulk”, however, was well, incredible. Crazy CGI, insane fights, a good dose of humor throughout, and no mutant poodles.

13:17 (London time) – I’m sitting in the waiting area in Heathrow Airport which is actually a massive mall that features (oh horror of horrors) Christmas décor! Lovely wreathes and trees and lights and stars. I’m sipping a mocha which is alright, but I have this feeling that I could have made it better (does that make me a snob?) The atmosphere in this airport is surprisingly pleasant. All the staff are super cheery, and even going through security you get a smile instead of an intimidating glare.

I need to wait another half an hour before the mysterious location of my boarding gate is revealed. How thrilling. This traveling just feels like stepping through various series of doors, with the space between cities barely registering.

21:31 (Brussels time) I’m sitting in the Cathy’s dining room, feeling refreshed after a shower, a cup of tea, and a hearty meal. The Cathy’s are friends of friends with massive hearts. They’re leaving tomorrow for a few days, but they are totally cool with me staying in their home while they are gone. Talk about the family of Christ. I think I’ll just wander around tomorrow with my camera and see what happens. Expect photos.

All Packed And Ready To Go

2008-11-05T09:36:00.000-08:00

My bags are bulging with what will be my only property for the next seven months. I’m running around like a mad man remembering all those last minute things that should have been on my list of things to pack ages ago, but they somehow slipped through the cracks, and only now I’m noticing how vitally important it is. All petty last-minute anxieties aside, I’m one pent up body of excitement. I have no clue how I slept last night.

My wacky flight path starts at 6:05pm today. I land 9.5 hours later in the sprawling Heathrow Airport, where I have relaxed three hours to switch terminals and take off for Brussels, the capital of Belgium.

I have the pleasure of experiencing Brussels for three days, looking forward to the generous hospitality of friends of friends, visiting a family I used to babysit, and enjoying some Belgian waffles. And possibly pee on a church (I’ll post a photo later to explain).

My African Adventure

2008-10-27T22:53:00.000-07:00

Some of you know all of this already, some of you asked for details, and some of you have no clue what's going on, so here's what's happening in the next 7 months of my life.

On November 5th I'm jumping on a jet plane for Liberia (not Siberia). That's in Western Africa, for those of you that are geographically challenged. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liberia).
I'm going there to help out some really good family friends of ours, Dave and Audry Waines. They're involved with a missions organization called EquipLiberia. (http://www.equipliberia.org.) It's such a multi-faceted organization that you'd best just visit the website to get a good grasp of all the work that they do. I'm going over there to help with correspondence. That means I'll be taking photos, collecting stories, and capturing video for newsletters, websites, etc...I'll also be helping out wherever help is needed.
I will be living in Monrovia, the capital, but might be traveling around a bit. I will have internet access and their will be some sort of travel blog or regular e-mails. I'll keep you posted.
My return flight is scheduled for June 5th, which is a date that is subject to change.

So that's the real brief version of what's happening but I'd love to tell you more about it personally. Email me (stoph_41@hotmail.com) phone me (604-736-0537) or send me a message.

If your wondering how you can help out , there are two ways. First, and most importantly, I need a ton of prayer. You can pray for safety from both disease and confrontation. Liberia has stabilized a lot recently, but the situation can still be volatile at times. You can also pray that I would be a blessing to the Waines and Equip, and that God would be glorified in all that I do.

Secondly, if you are interested in providing financial support it would be hugely appreciated. I really want to be able to go to Liberia as a blessing and not a hindrance, and there is such a huge need there. Any little bit helps. If your interested in giving, don't hesitate to get in contact with me and we'll work something out.