The Adventures of Filth-Man

Get Quoted in a Book!

2007-09-17T16:10:00.001-07:00

I am currently trying to write a book about hell. It will discuss Christian views about hell (both ancient and modern), Bible verses that talk about hell (there isn't all that many), effects that belief in hell have on people, and Universalist theory. What's missing currently is the opinions that "regular people" (as in, those that don't write books, preach sermons or run crazy websites) have about hell. I invite anyone interested to tell me what they think of hell. Non-Christian opinions are especially welcome. I will certainly consider all opinons posted. If my "book" ever becomes an actual book (and I hope it will) you might even get quoted!

The questions below are ones you might want to adress. They are not meant to be restrictive, just ideas to get you started.

What is hell like?

Who gets sent to hell?

What is the purpose of hell?

Is hell escapable?

What does hell tell us about the nature of God?

Or anything else of interest/value. thanks in advance!

Quick Update

2007-08-18T13:29:00.000-07:00

Holy crap, it's been a crazy week. I had 3 job interviews in 2 days, one of which was conducted by people with an extremely warped sense of humor (I never thought I'd be asked if I was a member of the KKK, or had my sex life discuesed in an interview.) I got 2 job offers, cancelled my 4th interview (which would have meant a 5 hour drive) and am now employed! My employers don't like being linked to people's personal web pages, so I won't, but if you call or email me I will gladly discuss details.

To relax afterwards, I went river fishing. The North Saskatchewan has been shockingly prolific lately, and I landed a couple of massive sauger (a relative of the walleye) and a big pike who jammed himself under a log, and when I got him out jumped so high into the air he knocked himself out. After a week of pure stress, life is good again

I am now off to Winnipeg to get to know my fiance's extended family, and get lots of presents. I will be back in a week.

"Survival" Camping

2007-08-09T23:34:00.000-07:00

First of all, a big thanks to everyone who commented on my previous post... some kinda record, for me at least. (If you haven't taken the quiz yet feel free to do so.)

So, I recently spent 4 days and 3 nights living by myself in the White Goat wilderness, armed only with a set of clothes, a sleeping bag, a lighter, a fishing rod (with spinners) and a butcher knife. (No tent, food, and so on.) I am now much thinner, and much wiser. Here are the things I learned...

Physical fitness is largely mental. "Only a total princess couldn't hike up this hill" is great motivation for going fast.

Getting eaten by bears is not a big problem. Getting cold, is. It IS possible to stand ankle-deep water in an ice-cold mountain lake, and still have your feet warmer than your hands.

It is, in fact, possible to a make a natural shelter that keeps rain out. I burrowed under the roots of fallen tree, leaned some logs against it, and filled the gaps with moss. Shockingly, it kept out rain. Un-shockingly, it was less comfortable than my matress.

It is also possible to fix a pair of crotch-torn shorts using a stick for a needle, fishing-line for thread, and a knife make the holes.

Fishing is much more interesting when you it is your only source of food. Especially for cutthroat trout, which seem to have two moods, "sit at bottom of lake doing nothing" and "insanely hungry." At one point, I got 6 fish on 6 casts. The first 3 came off the hook at my feet. I wanted to cry.

Contrary to popular opinion, fish does NOT taste better when covered with ashes instead of batter.

You can use a butcher knife for just about anything, from cleaning fish, to chopping wood, to stirring the fire, to sleeping with it in your hand because everyone else has made you paranoid about bears.

People suck. Especially the ones who disturbed my solitude by douseing my dry kindling in water and used my knife-chopped wood to make friggin' coffee. (Without malice on their part, but still...)

Gideon Bible pages are too thin to be good fire-starters. Now don't get worked up, guys, I only used the "introduction", not the actual pages of scripture... sheesh.

Human beings in Canada are wusses. This includes myself. I can't believe I missed salt, my bed, and the internet. Imagine, there are still people today who have to hunt/gather their daily food, and who go every day knowing a predator could eat them. It used to blow my mind that people in, say, Africa, could just sit around all day without dying of boredom. I think I could grow used to it, given time.

the Nature of God

2007-07-25T14:32:00.000-07:00

You there. Yes you! Person reading this blog! Please take my little multiple-choice quiz, by posting a comment with your answers. Feel free to justify your answers and make up your own. If you are not a Christian, you can always use option d) I don't believe in God/Christianity/the Bible.

Question 1:

Mel is gay and Christian. This makes him

a) a fraud, not a real Christian. Extra wrath for him!

b) a man struggling with the sin of homosexuality. We should pray for his healing.

c) a courageous man who happens to interpret complex scriptures differently. Welcome to our church!

Question 2: 1 Samuel 15:3... "Now go, attack the Amalekites and totally destroy everything that belongs to them. Do not spare them; put to death men and women, children and infants.". God's motive is requesting the death of the infants is

a) Anger. The sin of the Amalekites is so vile that it infects even their babies who become guilty by association.

b) Practicality. A nation at war, like Isreal, can not reasonably adopt orphaned babies.

c) Mercy. He is welcoming the kids into heaven, rather then forcing them to grow up as desised orphans.

Question 3: The doors of hell are

a) Red hot, gleaming with the eternal wrath of God.

b) Locked from the inside, because men remain too stubborn to repent and enter heaven.

c) the gateway to salvation, after the sinner has repented and been purified.

Question 4: You are watching "The 40 year old Virgin" with Jesus. He is

a) Angry. Promisquity and cursing offends His Holy Nature.

b) Sad. Why must you waste your time on such drivel that pollutes your mind?

c) Amused. That Steve Carell is funny!

Question 5: The doctrine of double predestination is(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Double_predestination)

a) True and a reflection of God's Perfect Soveriegnty.

b) Biblically supportable, but morally troublesome.

c) A horrible travesty and a slur on the Love of God.

Question 6: Is AIDS God's punishment for sexual sin?

a) yes

b) no, because it also infects innocent children

c) no, because God would not cause such suffering

Question 7: At a Hindu worship ceremony, miraculous events occur. This shows that

a) the Hindus are worshipping demon-gods, which have evil powers

b) God's goodness transcends the religion of human beings

c) we should all convert to Hinduism.

Question 8: Those that never hear about Jesus are

a) all going to hell (see Romans 2)

b) saved if they respond to what little they know about God (see Romans 2)

c) as much God's beloved children as Christians

Question 9: On Judgement Day, God's response to this quiz will be:

a) Anger at such blasphemy. Less rewards for Filth-Man.

b) Sorrow at such confusion. It's all so clear in the Bible!

c) Pride at Filth-Man's honesty. Searching for truth gets you extra rewards!

I'm not a very good Christian. After 24 years at it, I still haven't figured out the fundamental spiritual question: what is the nature of God?

A very wise person once asked me "why must God be good?" I had no answer. There is no logial reason I can think of why a god couldn't be vindictive, or hateful, or capricious, or use the Earth as His personal playground. Skeptics love to argue that the God of the Bible portrays all these characteristics. (I was dicussing "Bible controversies" with a friend the other day. I mentioned eternal security, women's roles in the church, and predestination. He suggested "the Old Testament".)

I, for one, am not equipped to discuss the "goodness" of God. It is too big a topic for me, too broad, and too philosophically complex (is whatever God does "good" by definition)? But I do feel prepared to ask "does God act the way we would expect a good human being to act"? Jesus certainly did. How about now?

When C.S. Lewis choose to portray God (or Jesus, I guess) as a Lion in the Narnia books, he made a brilliant choice. Lions are awesome. Who doesn't love lions? They are beautiful, majestic, and flat-out cool. Just let one look at you though. Just let it stare at you with its dead golden eyes. If that's too much for you, look away, and notice that it's forearms and chest are massive, a perfect wrestler's build for taking down prey much bigger than you. Much as you admire the lion from a distance, get within range and you become nothing but meat, and both of you now it.

Just like lions, God scares me. I'm fascinated with, but afraid of God. I can't help wondering if the fundementalists are right, if God is just waiting to pour out his wrath and anger on a sinful, fallen world, a world that he created and is going to destroy. And even if He does, does that make Him wrong? I don't feel qualified to judge God's morality, but I do need to determine my own response. Should I worship an angry God so that He doesn't smite me? Or should I worship a gentle God, out of gratefulness that He won't? Such questions...

I think I need to decide what I believe about God's nature before I read the Bible. The Bible is just too confusing otherwise. God punishes and God rewards, God smites and God forgives, God predestines Pharoh to destruction, God calls all people to himself, and Filth-man keeps scratching his head. Wonder how we got so many denominations? Try reading the Bible... not just the parts you like, but all of it. Most Christians, I think, have a basic idea of God in their head. This idea helps them understand difficult passages ("well, we know God is loving, so there was a good reason for smiting that person") and make sense of the general mess of scripture.

I went to the Christian bookstore the other day, hoping to find a book on hell reccomended to me by my pastor. The store had one shelf of unhelpful theology books, compared to about 8 shelves of romance. (A Christian romance must be the most boring book ever written. "He looked into her eyes, and felt weak with the desire to begin a Harris-approved courtship, cumulating suprisingly quickly in a demure, alcohol-free wedding.") So it's up to you, my friends/bored people surfing the internet. Answer the questions above. Then tell me what you think about the nature of God.

Matthew 5: 21-26

2007-07-11T17:15:00.000-07:00

I recently got to preach in church on the above-mentioned verses. While I am not taking up blogging regularly again, I decided to post the text to my sermon below. Please remember that this is a “written version” of a spoken sermon. Written language is different from natural spoken language, so if you think the writing is sub-par, I already know that. If you disagree with the content, on the other hand, I’d like to hear it.

Matthew 5: 21-26 (NIV)

You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, 'Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.' But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to his brother, 'Raca' is answerable to the Sanhedrin. But anyone who says, 'You fool!' will be in danger of the fire of hell.

Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift.

Settle matters quickly with your adversary who is taking you to court. Do it while you are still with him on the way, or he may hand you over to the judge, and the judge may hand you over to the officer, and you may be thrown into prison. I tell you the truth, you will not get out until you have paid the last penny.

These words are spoken by Jesus as part of the “sermon on the mount”, I find this a difficult section to speak on, because it is both hard to understand and hard to accept.. Doing research into various understandings of what is going on, I found two main trains of thought on interpreting this verse, which overlap somewhat. I would like to go both. Neither are easy. One challenges our conventional theology, the other our lifestyle.

The 1st school of thought says that this passage is primarily about the wages of sin and final judgement by God. Let’s go through the verses again.

“You have heard it said.. “you shall not murder, and whoever murders will be in danger of the judgement.”
Jesus’ audience had had “heard it said” in the ten Commandments, given by God. The punishment for non-compliance was the death penalty. “Though shalt not murder” is also prominent in every legal code I have ever heard of. Every society forbids murder, and reserves the harshest penalties for those who do. Nothing new so far.

“But I say to you, whoever is angry with his will be subject to judgement.”
“Brother” in this case refers not simply to siblings, but to all believers, or even all of mankind. This verse was apparently controversial ever since Jesus spoke it; some ancient manuscripts add the clause “angry without cause” while others do not.

“Whoever says to his brother “raca” will be subject to the Sanhedrin.” Raca is an a 1st-century insult we will discuss later. The Sanhedrin was the high Jewish counsel, a sort of Supreme Court that could sentence persons to death by stoning.

“Whoever says to his brother “you fool” shall be in danger of the fire of hell…”

Let us re-read… “Whoever says to his brother “YOU FOOL” shall be in danger of the FIRE OF HELL!” Which person on earth has never called another human being a fool, an idiot, stupid, or a moron? I certainly have- particularly my biological brothers. Does this mean that we are all doomed and will be sent to hell when we die? What is Jesus getting at?

According to many interpretations, Jesus is preaching about the severity of sin. He’s saying in affect: “You think that you’re okay in the eyes of God as long as you don’t’ kill anyone? I tell you that even if you just insult anyone, you are sinful and excluded from God’s presence”… In this interpretation, Jesus’ speech is the first part to a textbook “turn or burn” gospel message. The message is that all human beings are doomed. Curiously, however, Jesus does not follow this up with good news about salvation, or mention that he is the cure for sin. Instead, he starts giving examples of everyday life. Let is skip ahead to the “prison” story.

This story can be seen as a mini-parable on final judgement.

"Settle matters quickly with your adversary who is taking you to court. (That is, get stop sinning) Do it while you are still with him on the way, or he may hand you over to the judge, (the judge being God) and the judge may hand you over to the officer, and you may be thrown into prison. I tell you the truth, you will not get out until you have paid the last penny."

The prison is, of course, hell, so if we don’t repent we will go to hell for ever and ever… except the story doesn’t say that. The prisoner is freed once he “pays the last penny”. This is one of the genuine “problem verses” for evangelicals. Catholics who believe in purgatory (that is, a place of painful cleansing before one is pure enough to enter heaven) love to point to this verse. So are Universalists that believe that hell is temporary and, at some point, escapable.

I would love to write more about the nature of hell, purgatory, and the second-chance doctrine. However, I’m not sure that’s what these verses are about at all. There’s a whole other school of thought applied to this verse… the school of thought that says this verse is less about the things God will do to us if we sin, than about the things we are doing to ourselves, more about the consequences then the punishment of sin.

As Evangelicals, we are often accused of taking the Bible too literally. However, Rob Bell suggests (paraphrased) maybe we aren’t taking this verse literally enough. Rob, and others, start by pointing out that when Jesus talks about “Hell” the word he used in the original translations was “Gehenna”. Gehenna was named after the Valley of Hinnom (Gen Hinnom) a garbage dump (that is, an actual physical place) outside the city of Jerusalem. Gehenna had actual “eternal” flames, as the trash was being burned 24/7. The valley of Hinnom is mentioned several times in the Old Testament, as a place where Canaanites and backsliding Israelites sacrificed Children to Molech. This made it the place where the most grievous of sins were committed (the murder of the innocent in worship to a false God) and gave Gehenna the kind of negative, haunted connotation we might today associate with Auschwitz.

At some point, “Gehenna” became a symbol for punishment after death. There is some debate as to whether Jesus’ listeners would have associated Gehenna as after-life punishment, or as the literal place. There is also debate about the nature of Gehenna- some see it as place of temporary purification (purgatory, if you will) and others as eternal damnation.

What’s certain is that Gehenna was a disgusting place with connotations of evil The bodies of the criminals were sometimes burned there. This state of “Gehenna”, thinks Rob Bell, is less a symbol of God’s wrath than of our own condition if we persist in hatred. We don’t have to wait until judgment day; we can create hell right here on earth, and we do.

What Jesus also does, Philip Yancey notes, is link the visible sin of murder with less obvious, internalized (or “heart” sins.. He does the same thing with lust, linking it to adultery, in Matt 27: “You have heard that it was said, 'Do not commit adultery.‘ But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart”.

Anger (perhaps indulged anger or unrighteous anger i is a sin. Insulting others is a sin. Opinions vary widely as to what “Raca” meant… it may have meant “idiot” or “empty-headed”, been a sexual slur like “pansy”, or the sound of spitting at someone (ra-KAA!)… However, it is clear that it “Raca” is a harsh insult. “Fool” comes from the Greek word “moros”, from which we get the English “moron”. The word may also have meant “godless” or “heathen”. To a society (1st century Jews) which defined themselves largely by their religion and their relationship with God, calling someone godless- “without God” was surely a terrible insult..

I’m not sure the exact meaning of the words is important (Jesus uses the word “moros” himself in other speeches) as much as the attitude of the speaker… This is an attitude of contempt for others, superiority over others, and the desire to make another person feel inferior, or worthless, or evil. Such thoughts, and desires, according to Jesus, are in themselves impure. They are a sort of internal “murder” of other people and, left unchecked, the can escalate to actual murder. 1 John 3: 11-15 says:

This is the message you heard from the beginning: We should love one another. Do not be like Cain, who belonged to the evil one and murdered his brother. And why did he murder him? Because his own actions were evil and his brother's were righteous. Do not be surprised, my brothers, if the world hates you. We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love our brothers. Anyone who does not love remains in death. Anyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life in him.

I’ve recently returned from South Africa, where I spent time working in one of the most violent places on earth, the Cape Flats in South Africa. The country of South Africa is a perfect illustration of the truth in this passage.

In most studies on the subject, SA ranks top 3 in all violent crime categories: murder, rape, assault, armed robbery, and so on. There are many reasons for this. The gap between the haves and have-nots is often cites, as well as incompetent policing, and an abundance of firearms. However, even though South Africa has a vastly superior infrastructure, and a wealthier populace, than other South African countries, it is much more violent. The key difference, I think, lies in the “heart sins” of South Africa, the terrible feelings human beings have for each other. The legacy of Apartheid (legalized segregation of the races, in which blacks were near-slaves without the right to vote) have left the various races in SA deeply divided, and (understandably) extremely bitter towards each other. What sparks a lot of the violence is exactly what Jesus describes… anger, spite, and hatred.

I should point out here that, due to the legacy of Apartheid, South Africans see everything in terms of race. (When South Africans tell stories, they generally list the races of the characters: “this black girl was talking to a white guy…”) To talk about South Africa is to talk about race. I know race is a sensitive subject, so I ask that readers not be offended and remember that in Canada, we are privileged to live in a society where we can afford to be color-blind and see past skin color. In South Africa, having the wrong skin color in the wrong place can get you killed.

One of my black roommates when I lived in South Africa was nearly assaulted by some partiers at my home because of his skin color. My grandparents know many white farmers killed by Zulus. The tension in South Africa is not just between black and whites but between various culture and it goes right back towards Jesus’ words.

A society where one culture can look down on another as inferior leads to a violent society. The rich harbor distrust and contempt for the poor. The poor have loathing and anger towards the rich. Men objectify women to the degree that they will force sex upon them and give them HIV. Human beings who have failed to heed Jesus words have created “Gehenna” here on earth, a place where people are treated like trash, discarded as worthless, and innocent children are sacrificed to AIDS, crime and gangsterism.

According to a recent Reader’s Digest poll, 98% of South Africans believe in “God” of some sort. 90% identify themselves as Christians, from wide variety of denominations.. Many South Africans of all races attend church regularly. This country has an incredibly high proportion of both “Christians” and violent criminals. Clearly, something is wrong, and I think again of Jesus’ words…

“Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift.”

Offering one’s gift at the alter refers to worship of God. In 1st century Jewish culture (as well as in 21st century evangelical culture) worship of God is one of the most noble of activities. However, according to Jesus, worship itself is less important than reconciliation with others. what good is it to do religious duties, if there is strife, anger and hatred towards your brother?” Note that Jesus doesn’t limit this to our own anger. He doesn’t say “if your brother is angry at you, and it is clearly your fault, go an apologize”. He just says “if your brother has something against you”… warranted or not, there is a problem and it must be solved. If there is strife, if there are conflict, or anger, or hatred it is our job to fix it. This takes priority even over worship. South Africa is good at worship, but poor at the “weightier matters of the law”.

As a side note, this “substance before style” approach to religion, which emphasizes our duty to our fellow man before religious ceremonies, can be found throughout the Bible. A couple of examples:

Isaiah 53: 6-7
"Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?

Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?”

Matthew 23: 23-24, Jesus speaking again.
"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former. You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel.”

The advice in Matthew 5:25-26, can also be taken completely literally, without allusions to hell. Why go to court with another person? Try to settle differences peacefully. If you go to court, you might lose. In Jesus day, if you got sued, and couldn’t pay, you went to prison and your family had to pay off your debts,. Jesus makes the point that strife, no matter who is at fault, leads to suffering. So fix problems.

In South Africa, I got the chance to see a prison from the inside, doing both evangelism and skills teaching in prisons. Pollsmoor Prison, at least, could well be described as hell on earth. Freedom and food are limited, and disobedience is harshly punished. The cells are terribly overcrowded, with 50 prisoners packed into a 20-person cell. It is too hot in the summer, so prisoners bash out the windows, and they are then rained on all winter. . Prison is largely run by the “numbers” gangs, violent prison gangs that keep the population under control, provided the guards don’t interfere with their activities. Without adequate supervision from guards, newcomers “initiated” into gangs by one of two ways… stab a guard or be subject to gang rape. Fights are common, and insubordination is severely punished.

Curiously, prisoners don’t seem to realize what a “Gehenna” they are in. Almost everyone re-offends. They are so poor, and their communities are so violent, that many actually prefer prison. When they do their time, they go out and commit violent crimes again. In the outside world they are so utterly despised, their communities so broken, that that their preferred “family” is the violent gang that has sodomized them. This is how far anger, contempt, and hatred go.

In Canada, we live in a law-abiding country with enviable politeness, racial tolerance and lack of crime. Does this passage have nothing significant to say to us? Absolutely not… In fact, Jesus’ message is that sinning towards your neighbour is not limited to actually killing him.

South Africa is a lawless society. People get away with acting on the evil in their hearts, In our society, a better justice system- and a society less tolerant of violence and overt violence- keep these behaviours in checks. “You shall not murder”- we all get that, and we all agree with it. However, Jesus reminds us, actual murder is not the only problem. How many of us nurture anger towards others? How many of us insult others, or look down on others? I’ve never met a person that doesn’t. We may not commit crimes, we may not openly insult other races but if we harbour the thoughts in our hearts, we are also guilty.

During my time in South Africa, I feel I was wronged by two different Christian people I will continue to believe so to my dying day, but I can’t deny the affect this has had on me. I showed anger… I was furious, as my family and fiancé can attest to.
The experience has made me more cynical towards missions, towards other Christians, towards whole other cultures, and made me focus on the negative qualities of others while ignoring the positive. It has harmed good causes, to which I might otherwise have donated money. Even on a small scale, hard feelings cause harmful consequences.

What are out own “heart” sins? Whom do we trivialize, dehumanize, insult or treat like crap? For whom do we create their own personal “Gehenna” here on earth? Those of other denominations or religions? (I have an aunt who was thrown out of her congregation for being baptized as an adult. Those that sin in more obvious ways than we do? (Yancey remarks that he used to be a racist. Now he looks down on racists instead, treating them with the same contempt he once had for blacks.) Homosexuals? Native Americans? How about the ugly, the overweight, the unintelligent? These are generally considered acceptable targets for ridicule in our society (the Homer Simpsons and Peter Griffins of the world, as it were). No one I know of can claim that these verses to not apply to them.

If the problem is hatred, the answer (according to Jesus) is reconciliation. He commands us to “be reconciled to your brother” in verse 24 and to “agree with him” in verse 25. As
Jesus says in one of the most famous passages of Scripture: Matt 5: 43-45 (NKJV)

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you that you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.”

Reconciliation is hard. It’s complex, not easy. Even the end-goals are sometimes vague. Should I continue to donate money to persons who may misuse it? Should I show my non-racism? I don't know all the answers. Not even close. Waht I do know is that the questions are vital and need to be asked. Reconciliaton needs to happen.

I have spent much of this sermon using South Africa as a model of what has gone wrong. Of course, this is not the whole story; I almost feel guilty using an entire country (of which I am, after all, a citizen) as a bad example. I feel it only fair to finish my sermon with some inspiring examples of reconciliation from South Africa.

In 1994 the first all-race elections were held in South Africa. Many observers feared civil war. Afrikaners threatened to create their own “Volkstaad” (people’s republic) and while apartheid-era extremists drew up plans to exterminate all blacks. Even among black communities, tensions between Zulus and Xhosas especially, were high and often became violent. The IFP (Zulu dominated) and ANC (Xhosa dominated) supporters wages bloody turf wars.

Two Nobel Prize winners- Nelson Mandela and F.W. DeKlerk stepped into the mess to made a difference. DeKlerk, the last White president of South Africa, repealed his government’s racist laws, released Mandela from prison and helped institute the free votes.

When Nelson Mandela was elected to the presidency (as leader of the ANC, which won a majority) he insisted that he wanted reconciliation, not revenge, with White South Africans despite past injustices. He did not take away the property or rights of white persons, but welcomed that as full citizens into the new South Africa.

Remarkably, the ANC established the established the Truth and Reconciliation commission,. Wikipedia says “The mandate of the commission was to bear witness to, record and in some cases grant amnesty to the perpetrators of crimes relating to human rights violations, reparation and rehabilitation.” Apartheid-era human rights abusers were offered the chance to repent of their crimes and be forgiven by the new government. The TRC was headed by Nobel Prize Winner and Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

Reconciliation between races and cultural groups can also be seen at the individual level. Among younger South Africans, especially in the cosmopolitan cities of Cape Town and Johannesburg blacks, whites, Indians and coloreds form a group of best friends. I know a white entrepreneur who runs a wrestling club at a loss for hundreds of (primarily black and colored) kids as a ministry. Although still high, tensions between races are notably diminished from 10 years ago, and many of the younger generation are eager to be reconciled.

Nelson Mandela deserves much of the credit for this. He was imprisoned, and often tortured, for much of his life. He himself was an inmate of Pollsmoor prison. If anyone had a right to be angry, vengeful and condescending, it was Mr. Mandela.

I’m not sure if mr. Mandela is a Christian- certainly he is not an evangelical. However, he too, has grasped the significance of Jesus’ words. With Every reason to be hateful, Mandela choose reconciliation. I’d like to close with a statement from Mandela’s book “Long Walk to Freedom”.

"I knew as well as I knew anything that the oppressor must be liberated just as surely as the oppressed. A man who takes away another man's freedom is a prisoner of hatred, he is locked behind the bars of prejudice and narrow-mindedness... The oppressed and the oppressor alike are robbed of their humanity."

That sound suspiciously like Jesus’ message. Jesus came, I think, to liberate us, to free us from the evil that is in our own hearts. Some day, we believe, this process will be complete, but it starts now. It starts with conscious awareness that the evil thoughts we have are real, harmful and dangerous. It starts with our desire to reconcile with each other. So I ask each reader: what heart sins do YOU have? And how can you go about the business of reconciliation?

Blog posts on related subjects:

Racial politics in South Africa: http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2007/05/lighter-side-of-race.html

South African crime from a spiritual perspective: http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2007/03/evil-forces.html

Various posts on South African problems: http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2007_02_01_archive.html (This was before I had a title function, so you'll have to look for an interesting one)

Gehenna and the nature of hell. 6th post from the top, entitles "more hell". http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2007_01_01_archive.html

The following sources helped me to prepare for my sermon:

Bell, Chip. Bible.org, If Looks Could Kill. http://www.bible.org/page.php?page_id=3091

Bell, Rob. Sermon on hell.

The Bible: quotes from the NIV except where otherwise indicated.

Bruce, FF. The Hard Sayings of Jesus.

Hoke, David J. The Heart of Murder. http://www.horizonsnet.org/sermons/sm12.html

Mandela, Nelson. Long Walk to Freedom.

Reader’s Digest, South African version. Survey on Religion on South Afrca.

Trinity study center online: The Sermon on the Mount. http://www.trinitystudycenter.com/mount/matthew_5-21-26.php

Wikipedia: Gehenna, Nelson Mandela, Purgatory, Sermon on the Mount, South Africa Crime Stats, Truth and Reconcilation Comission.
Yancey, Philip. Soul Survivor, The Jesus I never knew, What’s so Amazing About Grace.

The Great Finale

2007-06-19T10:54:00.000-07:00

My life has been eventful since coming back from South Africa. In terms of ascending importance...

1) I caught two huge jackfish at coal lake. Nutritious, delicious, and waaayyy too many teeth

2) I went to the rib fesitval in Ottawa. BRING ME A DELICOUS MEEEAAAATTTT!!

3) I am now engaged to the lovely Kathryn Lochhead! We will be married on December 28, 2007 in Edmonton.

Kathryn says: "You didn't even write "I am happy!" Why should I write anything? It will sound cheesy! And I hate that picture take it off!"

This blog will now go into hibernation, until I think of a reason to start posting again, which may be soon or never. For everyone who read it, thanks and hope to keep in touch by less internet-geeky means. For those of you who are internet geeks, South Africa pictures may be up at some point on Facebook.

PS We are very, very happy

Getting on with life,

Filth-Man

A Waste of Life?

2007-06-17T16:05:00.000-07:00

This will be my 2nd last post. I plan to write one more, after some potentially life changing (in a positive way) events have sorted themselves out, but that'll be it... I'm now back in Edmonton for the forseeable future, which is just not exciting enough (canoeing in thunderstorms notwithstanding) to warrant writing stuff people might want to read. Perhaps some day I'll have more adventures, and then I'll start filth-man up again.

I've been struggling to come to a conclusion about what, if anything, I learned in South Africa that is applicable to everyday life. (Something deep or spiritual, as opposed to factual.) And it wasn't until I was listening to a sermon by Rob Bell on my computer (thanks Jacob from http://www.twentyfeet.blogspot.com/) where he alluded to something that Jesus said, something I found chillingly applicable...

Jesus tells a story... (Luke 12)
The ground of a certain rich man produced a good crop. He thought to himself, "What shall I do? I have no place to store my crops." Then he said, 'This is what I'll do. I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I'll say to myself, "You have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry." But God said to him, "You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?" This is how it will be with anyone who stores up things for himself but is not rich toward God.

Unfortuately for my attempts to understand theology, this story does NOT explain how exactly God speaks to the man, nor comments on this man's salvation or lack thereof... what it does do, however, is offer a chilling perspective on THIS life. The "rich man" seems to be doing exactly what he should be, after all... "Gee, I'm sucessful!Let me invest capital now, in order to keep all of my gains and secure a happy, comfortable life for myself!" What a loser, didn't he realise... no wait, isn't that exactly what must of US want out of life? Sucess, enjoyment, lack of hardship?

Then, of course, the man dies. The story doesn't say (as Rob suggests) if God kills the man because of his greed, or why he dies, but either way, what good has the stuff done him? He who dies with the most toys does not win, it seems, unless he is also "rich towards God."

I read a chapter in a book once, where the writer argued that Christians should not have ANY material goods beyond the basic food, clothing, and shelter (and perhaps a car to drive the rest of their stuff to the food bank.) He argued that it it, in fact, immoral for Christ's followers to be rich. I was immediately and loudly offended- like HELL poor people are getting my fishing rod and box of DVD's- but the thought continues to haunt me. I'm not too worried about God's wrath at my wealth (though perhaps I should be... "how terrible for you rich", says Jesus, and we're all richer than most everyone in Jesus' day) but I wonder what would happen if all Christians did, indeed, give all their unnecessary posessions away. Think of the suffering that we could remove if we worked and gained income for the sole purspose of using it to help others!

"Thankfully" for a Westernized (read filthy, filthy rich to those in Mitchell's Plain or Vijayawada or most of the planet) person who rather likes his posessions, the Bible isn't that straightforward... the famous "heroes of faith" passage in Hebrews lists several rich people among God's favorites. God often rewards people with stuff in the Old Testament. Think of Joseph's advice to Pharoh in Genesis 41: "And now let Pharaoh look for a discerning and wise man and put him in charge of the land of Egypt. Let Pharaoh appoint commissioners over the land to take a fifth of the harvest of Egypt during the seven years of abundance. They should collect all the food of these good years that are coming and store up the grain under the authority of Pharaoh, to be kept in the cities for food." Maybe the Rich Man in Jesus' story was a fan of Joseph?

I think Jesus had another message in mind for this story, beyond the perils of having too much stuff (a message, by the way, that Jesus harps on repeatedly.) I think he's worried about a wasted life. In my vast pile of books I brought to South Africa to help me survive the boring flights, I had one called "Don't Waste Your Life" by John Piper. Unfortunately, the book was itself boring, and could be summed up very completely with the title. However, that doesn't mean he wasn't onto something. Jesus, like Piper, reminded his listeners that we all die. Someday. Hopefully not soon. Hopefully not painfully. But someday. (Sucks, don't it?)

In South Africa, that reality was never far from me. I wish I could say that I lived in constant threat of death and survived only due to my cunning, because that would be really cool, but it would not be true. I did not. I did, however, live in a country with close to the highest homocide rate in the world, and with road fatalities not far behind. A place where you a red light becomes a stop sign after dark so you don' that to sit there vulnerably, where there are shark-watchers on the beaches and many of the people you see are already infected with HIV. (Of course, HIV+ people are no threat whatsover to your health unless you choose to have sex with them, but they do remind you that life is terminal.)

I was robbed at knife-point and had a security guard point a shotgun at me. I captured thrashing, jabbing wildlife with a man whose head is scarred from a giraffe-kick. I worked in a prison filled with murderers without security present. Please don't misunderstand.. I was careful, and relatively safe, for most of the time, but the awareness that "if this goes wrong it could kill you" was never far away. In much of South Africa, you can sense the tension; it never really leaves. I imagine a person living in Hanover Park feels much like an Impala in Kruger; they must be on guard ALL the time. People look over their shoulders when they go for walks, and they lock their car 3 times just to be sure. It sucks.

In Edmonton, things aren't nearly so dangerous (thankfully), but the same principle applies, the principle I think Jesus was getting at. "Some time your life will end. What will you have to show for it?" Stuff, unless it's used to fulfil a larger purpose, is useless in and of itself. So what counts? Memories, perhaps? Historic Achievements? Good deeds? Relationships? Religious stuff?

Jesus and I are hardly the only ones to realize that people don't live forever here on earth. (After all, it's fairly obvious.) The Warrior Achillies in the movie "Troy" says it this way to a Trojan Priestess: "I'll tell you a secret. Something they don't teach you in your temple. The Gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again. " Achilles hopes to attain immortality through his deeds, which will long outlive him.

As a Christian, who believes that we DO get to live forever, that we become more beautiful, more lovely, more happy after we die, things are a little bit brighter, but the pressure doesn't go away. We only have one life. What will we do with it? If the story Jesus tells is any indication, God is not too impressed with the "good job, nice house, fun times" American-dream life, and neither should we be. In fact, I'm not too sure how we should spend our life, though Achillies may be onto something... we want to aim high. Killing people with broadswords may not be the calling for most of us (though, for some Biblical characters, it was!). Instead why not try to solve world hunger, cure cancer, slow, put an end to all wars, clean up India, make Mitchell's Plain safe, fix Zimbabwe (ok, so this one might be stretching it) and maybe even do some evangelism? Or at least put a dent in the aforementioned problems? What is to stop us... Lack of comfort? after seeing Indian children sleep happily on concrete, you realize that comfort is relative. Danger? The most certain reality of all is that we will die some day anyway. Poverty? Jesus, at least, thinks that "Blessed are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God."

I'll be the first to admit that I'm afraid of death. Very afraid... though I believe in an afterlife, I haven't actually seen it. I'm not too worried about the propect of God being mad at me and restricting my heavenly rewards or sending me to hell, though perhaps I should be. (If there is ONE thing worth worrying about, this one might be it, and it's not something people seem to consider outside of fundementalist churches.) I am, however, worried- deeply worried- about leading an insignificant life. A boring, regular, pointless life in which I have a bit of fun, make a bit of money, get old and fat and accomplish nothing of value at all. Wouldn't that suck?

I'm reminded again of my favorite movie, Gladiator. If you haven't seen it, do so now... , I'm constantly struck by the moral questions asked by the action thriller, and by the intelligent portrayal of an afterlife SO glaringly absent in most of Hollywood. (Oh, and a man fights tigers... very cool!) In the opening schene Maximus, the hero, gives a great motivational speech before his troops go into battle.

"Hold the line! Stay with me! If you find yourself alone, riding in the green fields with the sun on your face, do not be troubled. For you are in Elysium (heaven), and you're already dead! Brothers, what we do in life... echoes in eternity."

I love the two thoughts Maximum passes on to his men before they risk their lives. One is that what they do is important. Not just here, not just now.. but what we do in life, echoes in Eternity! The second is that, if that even if they die, so what?. If the worst that can happen is death, and death is the gateway to endless joy, what reason can their be to fear? May as well go out in a blaze of glory, trying to do something meaningful. William Wallace's line in Braveheart, my other favorite movie, comes to mind... "Aye, fight and you may die, run, and you'll live... at least a while. And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willin' to trade ALL the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take... OUR FREEDOM!"

As a Christian uncomfortable with the concept of hell (as extensively explored in these posts http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2007/01/more-hell-sweet-moses-i-loathe-africa.html and http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2006/12/problem-of-hell-since-i-am-going-to-be.html) I feel obliged to point out that many religions, including mine, do not promise that everyone will have a pleasant afterlife. I don't feel ready to tell other people where they are or are not going when they die, and what they should do to change it... However, many, many people are ready to do just that. I would, however point out that making one's peace with God, getting a so-called ticket to heaven, is really important... but it doesn't end there. As Maximus says, what we do in life, echoes in Eternity... If we accept this as true, this makes the important things even more crucial, and the insignificant things even more pointless.

Philip Yancey lists several characterists he would expect from a society with no belief in an afterlife. (Obsession with youth, concealment of the old and the sick, research into extending life, emphasis on physical safety, avoiding discussing death whenever possible, a hedonistic life style where "we eat and drink, for tomorrow we die). He then points out that this mirrors OUR society. If we believe, really believe, that what we do in life echoes in eternity, that meaningful things really do last for ever and meaningless ones do us absolutely no good in the long run, what impact should this have on us? How should we live our lives?

I'm not sure I have the answers. Not sure at all. But I do feel, for once, that I'm asking the right questions.

Back

2007-06-10T08:13:00.001-07:00

I am back in Edmonton.

Almost Stabbed.. and pictures!

2007-06-05T00:53:00.000-07:00

Pictures (in reverse chronological order, beacause they're easier to upload this way)
1) Ex-President's R80 million home/waste, Windhoek
2) Loading oryx, Namibian farmland

3) Stubborn oryx, Namibian farmland

4) Dune, near Swakopmund
5) Unloading springbok, Namibian farmland

6) the glorious Kathryn and her filthy boyfriend, Mark's Camp

7) Wild Dog, Kapana breeding center

8) Giraffes, Tremisani Reserve

9) Elephant, Kruger Park

10) Tsessebe, Itala Reserve

11) the glorious Kathryn with penguins, Boulder's Beach

12) Lion, Addo Park

So, I am back in Cape Town. I was going to write a long, sappy post about all the things I will miss in beautiful South Africa... then some a-hole robbed me with a knife on Long Street. It was all very low key...

"Give me money!"
"No."
"Give me money or I'll stab you!"
"Oh..."

I think he was as nervous mugging as I was being mugged... I gave him R40 and he ran off, leaving R100, my wallet, my cell phone and my camera but not my pride. I was, and still am, quite upset with myself for not just punching him in the face.

Anyway, my sister bought my (somewhat sarcastically named) Uno of Joy off me... she wisely took it into the mechanics, who less wisely decided to screw up the steering. Maybe I won't miss Africa so much after all...

I also went to the Christain book store today, trying to find reading material for the flight back, reminding me again that I hate Christian bookstores. After wading through the piles of "Battle" books, one for each gender and age-group (the Battle is, of course, against even thinking about sex, and features stories about brave heroes driving with their eyes half shut so they won't be tempted to check out the joggers) I found some theology. I learned that...

"We must always take the Bible completely literally, unless God tells us to take it figuratively". This doesn't apply just to the creation-evolution debate but to, say, the book of Revelation. No word on "our God is a consuming fire" and what that means.

Not only are the heathens all going to hell, but most of us Christians are as well (salvation by faith alone does not cut it), unless, of course, we live really good, God serving lives as detailed by several hundred pages of book. Or, alternatively, we can say the short prayer written in the last chapter and it will all work out.

Ingnorance of the Bible, whether due to lack of acess to said Bible or lack of correct understanding, is no excuse. Luckily for us, we have writer X who has been endowed by God's spirit with the gift of flawless interpretation.

The "best" book title of them all was "Read the Bible for a Change"... Anyway, if someone knows of some good Christian books or writers, I would love some suggestions.

This may be my last post before flying back to Canada on June the 8th, arriving June 9th. I look forward to seeing everyone back home again.

Unstabbed

2007-06-01T11:02:00.000-07:00

Well, I am now back from Gemsbok/Oryx (same thing) capture. It was quite exciting; the whole thing takes at least 15 guys, a helicopter, a big game truck, and a huge funnel called a boma. The boma is made out of heavy canvas, attached to poles and trees, with curtains running crosswize along its length making ever smaller triangles when closed.

Herds of oryx are chased into the boma by the helicopter pilot. This is no small feat, he must drive the animals before him and get them right into the boma without turning aside. The wind must also be right; if the animals smell human scent they turn aside. Sometimes the oryx just stop, and he has to drop his chopper dangerously low to scare them into running again.

Once the oryx run into the boma, men hiding in the curtains pull it shut behind them. (Yes, this leaves them in the same enclosed space as stampeding animals.) The oryx are chased forwards into the “tip” of the funnel, made or corrugated steel plates and known as the “manga”. Once the oryx are chased into the manga a heavy door is slammed shut behind them and the animals are “processed.”

(Is all this making sense? If not, I’ll try to scan a diagram and post it when I get back home.)

A springbok, you may remember, is small and timid. An oryx is big and aggressive and built like a donkey, right down to the sandy brown coat, the stubbornness and the vicious kicks. However, unlike a donkey, it’s black-and-white head is armed with two straight, meter-long horns that it wields like a master swordsmen. Game catchers have been run right through by an angry oryx. You don’t want to mess around with these things; they can easily kill you.

To keep the oryx from killing each other in the confines of the truck (they fight when cramped) it is necessary to put plastic piping on their horns. We heat the heavy plastic pipe over a fire, scramble up the outside of the manga (there is a bar to stand on) and lean over the teeming herd of terrified oryx. The horns need to be grabbed, and the pipes shoved on securely and pounded into place with small hammers. Luckily, an oryx is built to stab forwards, not upwards, but it’s still pretty exciting flailing around in a sea of flashing horn-points. Naturally, they don’t appreciate hot dripping plastic and hammer blows raining down on top of them, and they do their best to resist (mostly just by moving their horns out of the way.) Once all the oryx are “piped” they need to be loaded. They are just too big and strong to be wrestled on board to the truck like a springbok, and they tend to be stubborn; the oryx backs itself into a corner, lowers his head, and dares you to get him out.

From the top of the manga, we make noise, thwack the oryx with pipes and zap them with cattle prods until they finally go up the ramp into the truck. The trick is to prod them right in the anus; that’s the only thing that really gets them moving. To direct them, two brave men (the workers argue amongst themselves to NOT get this duty) push them forwards with a heavy metal “pressure plate”, a massive shield/barrier that keeps the oryx moving forwards while deflecting the horns (even piped they can deliver a nasty blow) and some seriously scary kicks. Luckily, since the oryx like to stand in one spot, they don’t actively run after you (unlike, I’m told, a sable antelope. I’d LOVE to go sable catching some day. Must be a thrill.)

My game catching time has come to an end, since my uncle has no more work until next week. I return to Cape Town on Sunday, to wrap things up before taking the “lovely” flight back to Canada.

Springbokkies!

2007-05-26T14:01:00.000-07:00

So, I’m now in Namibia, back from a 3-day springbok transporting trip. Already I remember why I love this country. Although Namibia lived in Apartheid-like conditions until their independence in 1990, there’s a palpable decline in tension between the races once the border is crossed. Violent crime is uncommon here. And many people speak German! Namibia has a tiny population and vast natural areas; there can’t be many other countries on earth where every farmer you meet complains that the cheetahs got into their antelope again. I could totally live here, and people who do concur; this place gets its hooks into you and you don’t want to leave.

The arid conditions of Namibia make farming difficult, so many farmers have decided that instead of (or in addition to) domestic stock, many farmers keep game. They then offer this wildlife for trophy hunting, tourism, and live to other game farms. Voila, you have nature conservation that is actually profitable! Once sold all this wildlife has to be moved, of course, and that is my uncle’s job, so off we went to transport 108 springbok from one game farm onto 3 others, whose previous herds those darn cheetahs had eaten.

The springbok had already been “passive caught” for us, which means you build a coral out of heavy canvas and corrugated metal (called a boma) around a water hole, wait for animals to get used to it, and then shut it behind them. The springbok are chased into a narrow corridor in the boma funneling into the back of my uncle’s game truck (a massive semi with a huge metal box, divided into compartments, for holding the game) and another door is shut, trapping them. Here the fun begins, with the loading and off-loading. Naturally, the terrified antelope don’t want to get onto the truck, and once on they often don’t want to get back off. Springbok are small enough (25-40 kg) to be handled by hand, and it’s pretty exciting.

In the confined spaces, trapped by man, the animals resist to the stress in two ways. One of which is to lie down and refuse to move, in which case you have to drag or even carry them where you want them to go. The rest start jumping around like crazy as only a springbok can (wonder where they got the name?), trampling all over the “lying down” ones and scaring the crap out of rookie springbok wranglers. The trick to controlling a springbok is to grab the horns. This provides an excellent handhold with great leverage, and has the added benefit of keeping those horns out of your flesh. The springbok can then be “persuaded” to get onto the truck, off of the truck, into the designated compartment or whatever else is needed. The scary part is barring the exit; every so often a springbok will see daylight behind you and make a flying leap towards it, in which case you throw up your arms a legs and hope that a) it doesn’t get out and b) it doesn’t get you. (At least that’s what I do, the professionals are probably more technical about it.) We even had to transfer the antelope from one truck into another in near-total dark when ours broke down, but it went surprisingly well.

All of this, of course, is in between hour upon hour of driving, some of it at 20 kph before we realized the truck wasn’t going to heal itself. However, that’s all part of the business, and you can always amuse yourself by looking for game out the window. I feel like I saw more game driving through Namibia then I did at the Kruger park. We also ate lots of biltong, the world's manliest food. (Think of jerky injected with purest awesome). Next stop? Depending on how soon the truck gets fixed, I will either be catching oryx with my uncle, or going to Swakopmund to whine about how much fishing trips cost.

The Lighter Side of Race

2007-05-21T00:57:00.001-07:00

First, some terms:

NP = National Party, the Afrikaans-dominated apartheid government
ANC = African National Congress, the Xhosa-Dominated current government
Quotas = specific percentages of black persons that must be employed at a jobsite or on a team. A sort of Affirmative Action to help black persons previously disadvantaged under Apartheid.

So now I am in the city of Pretoria where I lived as a child. Pretoria is at the centre of one of the biggest name-changing controversies in Sunny South Africa... but let me explain. After the ANC took over leadership in 1994, they decided to be offended (and not without cause) that all the cities, streets and buildings were named after Afrikaaner heroes. Much like we would balk living on Hitler avenue or Stalin street, the ANC decided to change some names. Fair enough, but of course the Afrikaans population doesn't like it much. The argument between "hero" and "opressor" becomes especially heated in Afrikaans-dominated Pretora, named after Pretorious, white hero of the battle of Blood River where the Zulu were routed. People on both sides of the name-changing controversy are bitter and determined, while the rest of us wonder how much bloody money could be saved and poured into schools and hospitals.

The ANC seems to flop between saving money, and spending it stupidly. Therefore when you drive to the airport, you can find 3 different sign-names. The Jan Smuts Airport, named after a white President who ran AGAINST the NP, was deemed offensive and changed, logically, to Johannesburg International Airport. However, this wasn't quite patriotic enough, so it was then rechanged to Oliver Tambo Airport (Tambo was ANC leader before Mandela, I think.) The more prominent road signs now have 2 sheets of tin bolted over top of the name, one covering "Jan Smuts" with "Joburg International" and a second, smaller sheet, covering that with "Oliver Tambo..." The less prominent signs remain unchanged to save money.

For lesser destinations, they barely botherd to change any signs at all... drive to "Polokwane" and you follow mostly signs saying "Pietersburg". In PE, you have 3 names to contend with when following a map: The Original Afrikaans (ie Bothalaan), the English (Botha Street) and the New English (Steve Bilko Street). The map you are following will call ti something like like "Main Road."

Name changing, of course, does nothing in and of itself. Jobs, too, are entitled to affirmative action. Blacks get priority over whites (remember that whites had been given priority since forever.) However, in Africa, nothing gets simple... At the University my great uncle works at, a job opening will always go to a qualified black over an equally qualified white, in order to meet quotas. Fair enough. Not just South African blacks though... a foreign black man, such as a highly educated Nigerian who has come to SA for greater opportunity, counts as "black" in the hiring process, thus having an advantage over South African whites, and less educated South African blacks. (One wonders how that could possibly help black South Africans.) However, once he is hired, he stops counting as "black" towards the quota. And no, I don't know why.

In sports, things get worse. Wrestling is a sport that lends itself to easy picking of a national team- national champion goes. Most countries do it like that. SA, of course, needs to be difficult.. the coaches pick the team. I was privileged to train with, and compete against, the 2 best 84 kg wrestlers in the country, one of which is the African Championship and the other placed 13th in the world. One is a white Afrikaaner, the other a black man from the DRC... since the two of them are fairly equal on the mat, great politics go into picking the national team athlete... depending on who you believe "I'm better but they try to pick him because he's black" or "I'm better but they try to pick him because his coach is on the committee"... finally they realized that there are 2 styles of wrestling in South Africa, and decided to specialize in one each.

For the truly bizarre. we turn to rugby. This story was told to me by my great-uncle, and with Pretoia's exorbitant internet rates I can't afford to check names or details, but I'm fairly sure he didn't make it up...

A white rugby player deems himself good enough to make the Springbok team, but blames animosity with the coach for not getting picked. (Rugby is a sport where quotas are a huge deal... it is the favorite sport of Afrikaaners, who argue that inferior black players are picked over superior white ones, weakening the national squad. Whether this is based on the reasonable conclusion that most black athletes don't care abour Rugby or simple racism I don't know.)

However, some supporters of our white hero did some digging into the athlete's past and unearthed some facts... his father had been a strong (white) opponent of Apartheid, and had allied himself with the black "freedom fighters". As such, our rugby player (through choice or discrimination I don't know) spent his youth playing rugby in the black townships, not with other white athletes. This man, argue his supporters, should be seen not as "white" but as "black" since, despite his skin color, he was "disadvantaged" by the previous white regime. As a black rugby player, he could then make the team under the quota.

Since the press got hold of the story that a white man wanted to be counted "Quota Black" they have had a field day. Digging into the past and financial situation of every athlete on the national squad, they speculate on who should be racially re-classified based on their past experiences. Only in Africa...

Oh, by the way, I am heading to Windhoek on Tuesday, to catch either wildlife, or sharks, or hopefully both.

Finally, congrats to the Ottawa Senators for making the Stanley Cup finals without a single close series. Congrats to Team Canada for winning another World Hockey Championship. And thanks to the lovely Kathryn, now on her way home to Canada, for making our trip together truly amazing.

Safari Time

2007-05-18T08:10:00.000-07:00

So, we are back in Johannesburg after a 6-day Safari to the Kruger Park and surrounding area. On Sunday, Kathryn goes back home and I am probably (but not certainly) heading off to Windhoek, Namibia.

Our trip to the Kruger was a mixed sucess. On the plus side, we stayed at a jungle paradise, in rustic but comfortable conditions in which food magically appeared on the table, and messy beds became made while we safari-ed. During the day, herds of nyala frolicked in the camp, along with clothes-stealing, crap-throwing monkeys. (Kathryn says: not at us, but at the annoying other tourists. The monkeys have a sixth sense about these things.) At night there is no light pollution, making the stars shine brighter than you ever thought possible. The eerie sounds of the bush made going to the bathroom exciting, especially last night when the raspy grunts of a leopard (sounds like sawing wood) echoed through the camp, very close to the sleeping quarters. We also went on two guided bush-walks. On both, we encountered solitary bull buffalo (they tend to be grouchy). Exciting...

On the minus side, the game viewing was- well, I think the technical term is "miserable". Forget big cats; even the herbivores were few and far between. The only exception was the numerous impala, (which are presently in mating season, meaning the males scream and roar and chase each other- and the females- around.) and lots of giraffes. To blame were late April rains, dispersing the herds (no need to come to the water hole to drink) and turning the bush and grass into a thick tangle to hide just about everything. However, the gods finally got tired of my whining... on visiting an Endangered Species Breeding program on a private game reserve, we were treated to a rare sight: free roaming wild dogs, who had recently entered the reserve of their own accord, had taken affront to the captive-bred wild dogs at the centre and were running up and down the fence, jipping and jumping and trying to assert dominance. (FYI "wild dogs" doesn't refer to feral domestic dogs, but the rarest and most efficient big predator in Africa.) Seeing these highly elusive animals next to their caged counterparts was very strange and very cool.

I just got back from my most incredible treehouse adventure. It was sooooooo cool. We stayed in reall thatched bamboo treehouses, with monkeys on our roof and, as we were reminded frequently, buffalo (the most dangerous animal of the big 5) roaming our camp at night. The game viewing sucked but thankfully we had gone to another game park beforehand and had seen other cool animals then. It was definitely a once in a lifetime thing.

Today we are in jo-burg again after a very long, unshowered drive. We have all day tmrw to hang out in jo'burg and do something I assume. Not quite sure but "we will make a plan" (that is very funny to anyone who has been in africa ever). (Jens says: "we'll make a plan" is a classic Africanism, the SA version of "Hakuna Matata". It is invariably said when a) no plan has been made and b) a plan is urgently necessary, right now, but will definitely not be made until much, much later.)

All I can say is I have enjoyed this trip immensely and I am very sad about my flight back (mostly cause it will be long and suck). I will be back in edmonton on monday night.

I keep thinking that, more for my own sake then for that of any reader who might care, I should come to some sort of conclusion about my time in South Africa. There are no easy words are answers: "It was cool" is an easy way out, and quite true, but the phrase doesn't cut it for. A couple of nights ago, as I lay in bed having stared into the bush all day at nothing to the never-ending commentary of some irritating Calgarians (we just can't get away from them) all the disappointments kept flooding to mind: no cheetah, no Greco medal,a strained relationship with a former friend, car problems, destructively ungrateful students and the never-ending mind-boggling permafrustration required to get anything done.

After hearing leopards and seeing wild dogs (game viewing is clearly more important to my emotional well being than is normal or healthy) I regained a more balanced perspective. I remember working where no foreigners (and few white South Africans) ever go, falling off a waterfall and catching myself on a branch, locking and painting a school, seeing lions and elephants close enough to spit in their faces (Addo rules), making new friends, catching ocean fish, FINALLY winning a provincial chapionship and spending time with my glorious girlfriend, Kathryn, who is currently reading this over my shoulder and laughing. In fact, our entire trip together was a huge highlight except for the two game drives of suck. (I'm still cool- says Kathryn.)

So that's it then, I hope; a few loose ends have to be tied up but most of the hassles are over. Hopefully my trip to Namibia will be a big, exciting journey. The lack of time on the internet and Kathryn laughing at me prevents me from thinking of something deep, insightful, or wise. I've grown more cynical here, certainly. (Didn't think it was possible...) Hopefully, I've also grown wiser, more experienced and closer to God, I guess. (Very hard to type- Kathryn trying to braid my hair.) I'll keep you guys updated. (Kathryn denying braiding loudly.)

Bye all!

PS Kathryn will post pictures when she gets back, I am much too stupid to hang onto a USB cord and I am without it again.

Boring McUpdate

2007-05-12T13:16:00.000-07:00

Hey all...

Unfortunately, I have no time to write anything meaningful, or to post our many glorious pictures. We enjoyed a few days in Vryheid, my parent's parent's place. We went to Ithala Game reserve where we saw shockingly little game (but did manage to follow giraffes on foot), the Blood River monument where we learned that not only did 400 odd Afrikaaners defeat thousands of Zulus, but they killed 12 Zulu commanders from 2 km away with one cannonball, the Mayfair where we went on little kiddy rides, the Vryheid hill where we walked through a herd of zebras, and a really boring Greyhound ride. Tomorrow, off to the Kruger National Park (note a pattern here) to look for the glorious trifecta of lion, leopard and cheetah... wish us luck!

Kathryn says: Happy Birthday Jens

NICE, NA?

2007-05-05T03:51:00.000-07:00

"Na" is the South African version of "eh" and our high-as-a-kite Rastafarian guide on the short cruise we took joked that's how the costal town of Knysna got it's name. We've been having a great time, but I have writer's block again so I will let Kathryn describe it.

So I am officially sunburnt, shocking I know. It is sad that my combination of norwegian, scottish and swedish blood could not stave off the sun any longer. Though perhaps I should blame the 5 hour ocean fishing excursion where I for sure thought I would be ok if I did not put sunscreen on my legs. Anyways now I am walking around another beautiful ocean town during a wonderfully sunny day and I am covered from head to toe in order to stop the burning. I am an idiot.

During our ocean fishing we managed to catch a few fishes that we could keep, and a ton of little baby fishes. I am going to say I caught the biggest fish although Jens did catch the prettiest one (he is not so proud of that title and he would dispute that he caught the biggest one). (Jens says: I caught a massive sand shark but Kathryn won't let me count it because it's not edible.) Today we went on a cruise of the knysna ocean port it was pretty cool. There was still fog coming off of the bay so, as jens says, it was very "evocative". The shore is dotted with multi-million dollar homes and rich people swimming and kayaking. It is quite the place. Today after I drag Jens shopping (I am being so nice we are only going for an hour, and after almost two weeks we have yet to even really step into a store) (Jens: nooooooo!!!!), we are going to drive to Port Elizabeth (PE). Tomorrow we are going to go on my first game drive at Addo Elephant park. I am looking forward to finally seeing some real wild animals.

Oh yeah before I finish :GO SENS GO!!

Finally, if you want to read about our possible near-mugging, check the "comments" on my previous post with the pretty pictures.

VACATION TIME

2007-04-30T07:46:00.000-07:00

Pics:

1) Fooling around at Cape Point

2) With Kathryn on a rock ledge

3) the sunrise from "my" farm

4) Mighty waves at Cape Point

My "work" time in South Africa ended with a bang and a curse. The bang was my head bouncing off the wrestling mat to the cheers of the crowd, and the cursing came from having a 2nd straight trip to prison mysteriously cancelled, without the perpetrator having his friggin' phone on to explain why....

Anyway, I did not medal at the SA greco championships... due to the complex draw system used in SA, I wrestled both the finalists. I was horribly thrashed by the champion (who placed 12th in the world last year) by a score of 0-6,0-8 and literally feared for my life. I was beating the silver medalist 3-1 when he turned and pinned me with 20 seconds left in the 1st period. It was quite frustrating, and I ended up 4th.

So anyway, now I am drowning my frustrations not in the traditional, alcohol-based way, but by sightseeing. Kathryn and I went out onto a ledge at Cape Point where heavy waves smashed into the rocks directly below, spashing us with frothy spray. It was absolutely amazing.

We leave for Hermanus later this week, followed by visits to Knysa, Port Elizabeth, the Addo Elephant Park, Vryheid to see my grandparents, Pretoria and the Kruger National Park. I will try and keep the interested updated.

And Kathryn Lochhead offers her opinion, copy-and-pasted from email, on the first few days on her visit ( she claims "excessive laziness to actually post something original).

So I just about finished my first full week in South Africa and it has been amazing. We have done so much stuff, here is the short list;

-ocean swimming
-flew to jo-burg so jens could wrestle in the south african national greco championships (he was fourth and pissed)
-slept on many planes
-slept in cars
-went to the waterfront
-celebrated jens' 24th bday (Jens note- actually on may 12)
Visit Jens's cousin in Pretoria (who so mercifully and graciously let me use her shower and wonderful comfortable bed)
-hung out with crazy afrikaaners
-walked in Mitchells Plain (google it, which i have been told no other tourist has ever done as it is a really poor gang infested community, trust me i was freaked right out walking the 5 blocks to the 'store' {run down house with bars on it}) (Jens edit.. like 1 minute walk)
-went to the south-western most point on the african continent, cape point, where we saw baboons and elands, and definitely climbed where we should not have next to the raging ocean (i have very cool pictures)
-we saw penguins (jack-ass or 'african' penguins as they have been name changed too)
-climbed part way on table mountain to see Rhodes Memorial and drove up signal hill (saw the whole city of cape town in lights at night)
-tried to go visit Pollsmore Prison (google it), but the massively incompetent guy who runs the program jens volunteers for "shockingly" did not show up, if you would like mad angry near assault like ranting ask him about ___ (Jens edit... removed name but would be happy to rant in person.)

-watched really cool wheel chair basketball in pretoria.
-learnt really racist afrkaans terms and almost strangled little coloured (trust me that is what they are called it is not racist) wrestling boys on a very very long bus ride.

Much more but I only have so much time on this computer. The big thing was the trip to Pietersberg to go watch the wrestling. More cool then watching the wrestling and seeing really really strong men throw each other in the air was seeing actual every day normal afrikaans culture. Trust me you have never seen disorganization and incompetence until you have been to Africa (and this i am told is the most organised organization jens has been affiliated with). Perhaps it was the combination of lack of sleep and being told "we'll make a plan" repeatedly, when clearly no plan is being made at all, but I have now seen the frustration that is Africa (for those of you who have seen blood diamonds "TIA" this is africa). We literally wasted an hour doing nothing before we left to go on a three hour bus ride in the dark. Was anyone doing anything relevant? no. Why? don't ask me. Did we need to go right away? yes!. It is so hard to convey, but trust me you don't know until you have been here.
(Jens Edit: Now she understands... she was quite upset)

But despite the mad mad frustration of the complete inefficiency of everything, this country is soooo beautiful. Today we just got here from cape point, the tip of africa, and it was breathtaking. The ocean was just roaring, crashing and frothing. So we climbed down the rocks to the bottom of it (where we should not have gone, blame jens for all the cool things we do on the trip) and stood right beside where all the waves were breaking on the rocks.

PAINT PICS

2007-04-20T00:55:00.000-07:00

The first picture is from the funniest, most graphic sex-ed session I have ever attended, facilitated by students themselves (with help from my partner.) The pointy finger symbolizes EXACTLY what you think it does!

What a school left negleted for months, a phenomenal group of students- mostly girls- did in a matter of hours yesterday. After several rooms were broken into through the roof (seems to happen every long weekend) the school had simply locked them, not bothering to clean up fibreglass, broken bottles, old textbooks and human pee. Thanks to the students of Groenvlei high school, who totally blew me away with their work ethic, two rooms were cleaned and one was painted. Next one gets painted Tuesday (hope you're up for it Kathryn). Great job kids, you rock!!! Your worth ethic, enthusiasm and desire to help make me believe in you.

Finally, a little reader's quiz: that means you, reading this blog, get to say what you think! I've had several discussions with people in both medical and religious fields on the subject of miraculous healings; that is, people cured of ilness or injury through supernatural power. I'm interested to see what you guys think (Christians and non-Christians, perspectives from other religions might be especially interesting). Do you think miraculous healings:

A) Do not occur. Supposed healings are either fake or occur due to a placebo effect. If God exists, he does not heal people physically.

B) May occur, but only in the realm of the improbable, not the impossible. Impossiblilites such as healed paralysis don't occur; however, God might give a person the strength to overcome, say, cancer or serious injury.

C) Occur, but very rarely and unpredictable. God can, and has, work clear-cut miracles to heal people. However, it is vastly more likely that a person, Christian or not, will not be healed miraculouly from ilness.

D) Occur frequently, among people "tapped in" to God's healing power. God wants to heal us, and will do so provided we approach him the right way (be it prayer, healing services, enough faith, or whatever.)

My personal beliefs hover between "B" and "C." If anyone has a cool healing story I'd also LOVE to hear it!

A PILE OF SUCK

2007-04-16T08:26:00.000-07:00

Please, person reading this post, take a second to stop reading and offer up the following prayer: "I pray that soon, I will be able to read a post that starts with: car working, school painted, plans made."

Thank you... for now, my car is busted again, and the clutch-piston-thingy that is leaking is hard to find. Hopefully we get one soon, or there will be major suckage. My lack of transport also leaves me unable to get to the school where I am supposed to be running some classroom paintings. Hopefully, my very capable parter can see things through, and my very capable mechanic can get the car part we need.

Otherwise, not a whole lot going on, hence my lack of posting... school was out for 2 weeks, which stopped the school program. I went to a Greco-Roman training camp, went a round against a guy who was 13th in the world and is also my new room-mate, and beat the crap out a big cocky guy from Brackenfell, which single-handedly convinced me that I am finally getting the hang of Greco-Roman wrestling, apart from the clinch, which I loathe.

Oh, and a firecracker blew up in my hand... an idiot friend of mine wanted to toss it off a truck, while we were parked at a gas station where people were busy pumping gas. I grabbed it from him, and thought I put it out... didn't.. bang! suprisingly I wasn't hurt.

I hope to have an actual post, with actual news on it, soon. Things really aren't anywhere near as bad as my title, "pile of suck" just happens to be one of my favorite phrases.

UMMM... MORE PICS

2007-04-03T04:00:00.000-07:00

1) Eating oysters in Knysna

2) Romantic buffalo pause between matings

3) Elephant family

Lazy lions lay here for 9 hours

5) "My" car in front of "my" house

6) WP final

7) A beautiful man gets up in the morning

Role Models

2007-04-02T02:58:00.000-07:00

Personal notes:
1) In less than a month, my girlfriend Kathryn will be gracing SA with her glorious presence!
2) This weekend my sister and I plan to grace Addo Elephant Park with our presence.
3) I won the Western Province Open... see comment on previous post for scores.

anyway...

You must be the change you wish to see in the World- Mahatma Ghandi

I've decided to be a role model. Not because I'm a terrific human being, which I am not. Nor because I think everyone else should be like me. Just because I can't do a whole lot else. I have discovered that I am unable to save Africa. (I know, I was suprised as well.) Nor am I able to do a huge amount of good while I am here. I like to think the repairs we instituted will help out one school , the motley group of prisoners take my words to heart and the kids I coach will stop getting pinned in a quarter nelson. However, with only 1 month left in my work, I'm not here nearly long enough to start any large-scale humanitarian project and I don't have enough faith to evangelize. So I've decided to be a role model, hoping desperately that when I leave Africa the good (but not the bad) parts of my character and knowledge and goals remain behind, transferred to a larger number of people with the ability to make a lasting difference.

My sister and I have decided that many of South Africa's problems can be traced back to a harmful attitude: South Africans want to live a Western life style of materialism, sexual freedom and wealth, without following the "western" strategies of safe sex, years of education and long hours of work. (Yes, this is a massive over-generalization... and also to blame are the already rich whites, who don't want to share with their former subjects.)

Inefficiency, slopiness and corner-cutting are absolutely rampant (see most of the posts on this blog.) You'll have to ask me for specific stories in person, they are many and fill us with "permafrustration". I'll only share one... a senior member of a humanitarian association recently asked me what country I was from, then proceeded to tell me in detail that a) the Canadian flag is hideous, pointless and stupid and b) I am a racist. He didn't stop until I snapped and threatened to hit him... who does that? Who goes out of their way to piss off people trying to make a difference for free? I wish this were an isolated story but it's merely the strangest one.

As a "real" westerner, I- we- can be role models by mere nature of our upbringing. The thought of my modelling order, work ethic, time management, organization or efficiency would be downright comical in Canada (I bet my parents are laughing as they read this.) In South Africa, I can. In SA I can be shocked about racist comments, question the need to bring a gun to a bar fight, tell students that a 60% fail rate is NOT normal for high school, and that the crime is the worst on FRIGGIN' EARTH and should never, ever be accepted as normal. It's hard, really it is, to convey the attitudes of apathy and ineffectiveness that one encounters here. It is, perhaps, impossible to convey them without sounding like an arrogant prick; if so, I appologize. However, after much thought, I have decided what South Africa needs is not so much my "life skills" teaching, or even my money, as my willingness to paint a school of my own initaitive, my desire to question why a car must only take R30 at once, my ability to befriend people of all races, my need to argue that volunteers need to be treated well so more of them will come. (This is a real problem; both missions and the places they work at, schools and prisons and churches, don't know how to handle help.) More importantly, SA needs full time South Africans to do those things more often.

On a more philosophical/religous note, shouldn't we all be role models? Certainly, all of us who call ourselves Christians- "like Christ"- should be. Imagine, for a moment, if all of us made the following pledge: I will inspire others to improve our world by my example. I wish I myself could honestly say that. The Apostle Paul asks us to "imitate us as I imitate Christ!" Wouldn't it be cool to be able to say that?

Each of us is good at something. My personal talent at the moment seems to be complaining. But who is to say that God, in His wisdom, did not place me among people who frustrate me- who could be doing so much MORE good if they did things more efficiently- for that very purpose? Perhaps God can use me to help others do their work better, to provide alternate viewpoints and to suggest ways of changing procedures? Perhaps this is my calling.

I started my post on a pretty cocky note ("I've decided to be a role model") precicely because I thought it might raise some eyebrows. But the more I think about it, the more I wish that all of us would say that. Our world is a hell of a mess (not just South Africa) and not-giving-a-crap is a major reason why. I know; I don't usually give a crap either. Perhaps that has to change. Perhaps I need to start to care; not once in a while, when I get to go to an exotic country to try to help out, but all the time. Few of us are going to be Ghandi or Mother Theresa or Nelson Mandela, though it doesn't hurt to try. All of us, though, can try to do something- can try to do a lot- to help improve our world. And if we were all role models, if we all tried to model "caring", I have to believe that even if our own efforts were futile, the ripple effect could lead to something big.

Role modelling is, after all (for Christians, and probably other religouns too) one of our core spiritual disciplines. Jesus calls us the "Light of the world"; the Kingdom of God is within us and is shown through us, apparently. We are the hands of Christ. God (and I'm not sure why, because we suck at it) has chosen us to be his hands. When Christ was on Earth, his hands healed. His hands comforted. His hands worked. His hands were tirelessly involved in the helping of, and the eventual sacrifice for, his fellow human beings. Why can't I be more like that? Christian living is- should be- so much more than avoiding drugs and sex and the f-word. We should- we must- be the change we wish to see in the world.

This post would not be complete without listing a few of my role models, people who have, and are, working their rear ends off to improve the lives of others. They are, in many ways, my inspiration. Many are Christians, many are South Africans, and all of them do amazing things...

They include a group of coaches putting together the largest wrestling club in the country to offer low-income students a chance at sucess; a businessman who finances the project, helps out his athletes financially and gives me a place to stay for free; my co-workers at the YMCA, willing to forgo a higher salary and put up with danger and hassle to help others; my uncle who gave up a lucrative medical practice to work amongst the poor and lobby the government for better AIDS care; my grandfather, who gave up a lucrative building contracting business to evangelize the Zulus in the hills of Natal; my parents, who support their kids financially and emotionally even when we leave them and do stupid, dangerous things; my sister, the most ethical person I know, who runs a project to feed a homeless shelter while studying medicine, and finally my girlfriend Kathryn, a constant source of support and encouragement even when we are far apart. You guys ARE the light of the world. May there be many more like you.

Get Out... and Stay Out!

2007-03-27T11:33:00.000-07:00

Thought I'd share a couple of good meetings I had... The first involved our prison program, where I challenged 4 inmates point-blank to share their plans for staying clean once they get out. There's just too much peer pressure to stay out of gangsterism with no plan. We discussed moving to a new environment, getting and keeping a job, possibilities for working with NPO's, and techniques for avoiding temptation. It was great to see them really think about what it will take to build a new life for themselves.

We also got the dreaded question "what if my gang comes after me?" This is no paranoia... an ex-con was recently shot to death the day he was released. The best I could do was tell them "you're life will also be in danger if you're involved in crime. You may as well try to start a new life"... Easy to say, hard to practice, it's not my butt on the line. How many of these guys will actually stay clean? I have no idea. Going back is just so easy.

I was asked if I could pick up a murderer, released on Thursday, every day and bring him to the YMCA for volunteer work. I'm told that he's changed, but he wasn't in my group and I'm somewhat worried. Dunno if I'll do it. I guess my faith is weak, my car just seems so hijack-able.

The Vice Principal of Groenvlei school gave us, not only permission but enthusiastic suggestions and a promise of co-operation so we can start painting rooms with the students. (Are you listening, other SA administrators? When someone wants to help for free you say friggin' yes!) Project could go as early as next week. I hope it causes less gong-show than the doorknobs did. Incidentally, the doorknob problem seems to be solved; we combine the shiny handles and bar on "new" locks with the locking mechanism on stronger "old" locks to create one functioning entity. (By "we", I mean "me". Apparently you can lead a caretaker to step-by-step instructions, but you can't make him do unsupervised work.)

If anyone's into prayer, I would really appreciate some, both for the prisoners of Pollsmore and the students of Groenvlei trying to make a change for the better.

To fill up Space

2007-03-25T02:31:00.000-07:00

For those of you interested in cross-cultural gender roles, picture this scene from my place:
two shirtless, muscle-flexing Afrikaaner farmboys sit relax on their couch, having a beer. The girlfriend of one is in the kitchen, making sandwitches to their specifications. Both of them are watching "Desperate Housewives" on tv. No one thinks this is wierd.

In other news, filth-man has writer's block. I'm trying to work on a post about the supernatural, but until my brain gets in gear here's more pics to look at.

1: Some sort of undersized and over-ugly sand shark
2: A typical classroom
3: Some Hanover Park troublemakers
4: A high gut-wrench. (this one's technically from last year).

Updates

2007-03-20T07:37:00.000-07:00

I am now staying on a farm in Durbanville with some teammates of mine.

We have unfortunately had problems with the door knob project, due to a mixture of cheap doorknobs, caretaker sloppiness and incredibly destructive students- and teachers- some of them have already broken. By putting together old, broken doorknobs and new, breaking doorknobs we hope to get them fixed soon. I would say more but it would involve a lot of cursing.

I went to a "healing service" at a church recently. It involved the least convincing display of miraculous power I have ever seen. "My knee hurts, and now it doesn't!" Even a wrestling match can do that...

Finally, I got a great DVD of Pollsmore prison. Please ask to see it when I get back. It includes the two gangsters paraphrased in the previous post.

Evil Forces

2007-03-15T07:10:00.000-07:00

"Every two weeks, I pick a man and I make him a woman. He washes my clothes, and brings me food, and I have sex with him. If he refuses I kill him."- General of the "28s" gang, Pollsmore prison.

"I left my gun on the table when my son was two. It was loaded. He shot himself through the chest, and died in my arms on the way to the hospital. I trust in God that, one day, I will see him again." Leader of the "Americans" gang, Mennenberg.

These two quotes (and to be honest, I paraphrased) are from a video discussing gang activity in South Africa. The first gangster, imprisoned for life in Pollsmore, has so much power he rapes people weekly, and has killed several, on the inside without reprocussion. The guards fear and respect him, and the entire prison population jumps at his command. He is a king in prison, ruling the fortress that should be punishing him by fear.

The 2nd gangster leads the most-feared street gang in South Africa (which is currently battling the 28s for drug turf.) Haunted by his past, inspired by his firm religous beliefs which make it crystal clear that his lifestyle as atrocious, he still has no intention of quitting his life of crime. The money made from tik (crystal meth) is just too good. The entire justice system is so corrupt- cops, judges, prison guards- that the crooks at the top can brag about their crimes on television and still get away with it.

Hearing such statements, and talking with members of their gangs in prison, I find it easy to believe in the Devil. In Evil, real and living and active, twisting ordinary human beings to do horrible things. When heterosexual men gang-rape boys for the fun of it, when devout Christians live lives that cry out "don't do this- ever!" something is seriously wrong. We can try to explain such behavior, I'm sure, citing psychology and sociology and pharmacy and historical factors. We might even explain it well. However, behind it all I see the hand of an evil mastermind, a spiritual being dedicated to screwing up the world as most it can.

Christians (and some other religons) call this being Satan, of course. In churches back home we believe in Satan- the Bible mentions him after all- but we don't think about him that much. Mostly, he seems to make people tired at prayer meetings and cranky at staff meetings at camp. In South Africa, theologans analyze the Bible regarding Satan to a ridiculous degree. They come up with highly inventive and shockingly specific explanations about Satan's past, his future, his present powers, the ranks and names of his evil minions, and even his appearance. While I find the theology fanciful, I now understand the emphasis: in Africa, the hard work of Evil Beings is easy to see, and people gleefully hop on board.

Consider, finally, what I consider the most depressing- and fascinating- part of the Bible:

When the thousand years are over, Satan will be released from his prison and will go out to deceive the nations in the four corners of the earth—Gog and Magog—to gather them for battle. In number they are like the sand on the seashore. They marched across the breadth of the earth and surrounded the camp of God's people, the city he loves. But fire came down from heaven and devoured them.
Revelation 20

For those not familiar with the book of Revelation, this event takes place after Satan has been in prison for 1000 years and God rules the earth. Basically, people have been living in heaven-on-earth while Satan has long hours to think about not pissing God off anymore. However, Satan is (apparently) so evil that, knowing full well he will get his butt kicked again, he rushes off to cause more misery (much like many of Pollsmore's prisoners, who spend their whole lives in-and-out of jail.) And human beings, having lived in heavenly conditions for 1000 years, decide to fight for Evil. What could compel one to do such a thing? (Don't tell me they are innocently misled. They have 1000 years to see what is right, they can see God face-to-face and ask Him if they have questions, they even have the book of Revelation before them to explain what's going on.) Evil beckons and human beings willingly follow, spitting in the face of what could have been. We do not, today, have the ablility to see God face-to-face. Few of us will ever join a street gang. We may never even shoplift instead of working. However, I wonder how often we- myself included- do the exact same thing on a different scale. Knowing exactly, without a doubt, that something is wrong, we shrug our shoulders and do it anyway.

I hate to end this post on such a miserable note, but I feel that if I make it longer it will start to look dumb. I will mention, however, a glimmer of hope, perhaps the only hope against supernatural evil: supernatural good. My faith may tell about the devil, but it also says that no human being, no matter how messed up, is beyond redemption. In a subsequent post, which will require a lot of thought (and thus might take a while) I want to explore the possibility of human beings choosing to side with supernatural Good (and after all, many do... in Revelation, countless human beings do NOT follow Satan), what that looks like, and the results it has.

Doorknobs

2007-03-13T05:20:00.000-07:00

Like a swarm of screwdriving pirannahs, an army of YMCA workers, students in the peer education program and caretakers descended on Groenvlei High School today, removing old and broken doorknobs and replacing them with shiny new ones. Step one of our restoration plans was a sucess.

Pictures:

1) Locks galore
2) Installation
3) Peer Educators group photo
4) This road divides 2 gang turfs

Edit: Today (the next day) is also worth writing down... This morning, going to a store to pick up a meat-pie, I got too close to a money truck and a guard pointed a massive shotgun at me. Most of the day was spent supervising a teacher-less classroom, managing insane jr. high kids all day. I counted 5 comments from the girls about my beautiful blue eyes, while the boys just threaten to stab everything in sight. At one point I physically had to bar the door and shove kids out of the entrance to keep them in the class. My partner drew a massive penis on the board during one long impassioned speech, and in the final class, a student vomited out his nose.

Issues with God

2007-03-06T05:26:00.000-08:00

Lately it seems that I have issues with everyone. I always thought I was easy-going and could get along with everyone, but apparently not. I have issues with my former landlords over money matters, issues with my “employers” over communication and issues with school and prison officials over (their) laziness. Some of this is no doubt entirely my fault, but it still leaves me frustrated…

So anyway, I can just hear a bunch of Christians reading this and saying, “it’s okay. Just turn to God. He’ll take care of you.” And with that, we come to the reason for this post: my issues with God, whose help I would greatly appreciate to resolve my issues with people. Whatever it means to be connected to God, I’m not. Like a billion married couples in the world, we have bad communication. I struggle to understand God’s presence, and actions, in this world. The claim that the God of the universe gives a crap about what happens to us is rather presumptuous, but it’s one of the cornerstones of religion, and Christian thought in particular. God apparently talks to us, or at least to millions of other Christians. Since I have never heard a voice booming from heaven, and my dreams tend to involve my fighting animals and not spiritual guidance, I have asked a bunch of other Christians, especially Charismatic ones that emphasise such things, how God speaks to us.

Through the Bible…
The Bible is great for learning about morality and useful for understanding theology. (In fact, I should probably go research the Biblical principles of God-communication). I don’t know how much it helps personal communication though. The Bible doesn’t tell me if I should quit my job, start a project, lend a friend R5000, or drop a weight class. The Bible seems to suggest that the Spirit of God takes care of these things. Does the Spirit work together with the Bible? When I actually read the Bible (instead of reading about it) I get really confused. It's not made clear to me at all. I’ve even tried the “open the Bible” trick, where you throw open the Bible and trust that God wanted you to read the verse that appears. Sometimes it actually works… unfortunately, “God” tends to tell different people different things... For example, the last time I tried this trick, struggling to understand the conept of hell, I landed on a very Universalist chapter. I doubt a lot of charismatics have had the Spirit tell them that hell is temporary.

It's sometimes argued that, the closer you are to God, the more correct your understanding of Scripture. Works great in theory, but in practice? Billy Graham and Mother Theresa, two of the most “godly” people of recent times, have vastly different understandings of theology. And even if God does give some people flawless Bible understanding, how do the rest of us know who they are?

Other Christians tell me that, while they might not understand the theology of the Bible, certain verses speak into certain people’s lives. For example, the story of the ungrateful servant convinced me to indeed lend a friend R5000, but I’m still unsure about whether I heard from God, or just put myself on a guilt trip. Personal interpretation is not always benign either; the Dutch Reform church in South Africa decided that the story of Joshua spoke to them in a special way, which meant white people were the chosen race and black people the evil Caananites. I’m pretty sure that one wasn’t from God.

Through the emotions. You “feel the presence of God”. Maybe I’m the wrong person for this one, as I am not in touch with my feelings (my most emotional moments usually involve sports) and very cynical. In fact, this might be one of my barriers to experiencing God. At a worship session I want to make sure that I REALLY feel God moving, instead of just enjoying the music. (Usually I do neither, I’m just bored.) Nor do I especially crave “feeling” God, I just want Him to tell me stuff. I’m not totally immune to Spiritual experiences, though: I once spoke in tongues. It was very unexpected and very strange. I even tried to swear in tongues. Surely, I thought, the Spirit won’t allow this, and sure enough I could not swear. This very cool experience helps remind me of God’s existence, but is singularly unhelpful for planning my life now. If God communicates through feelings, does that mean I should trust my emotions? I thought that was the cornerstone of irresponsible living.

Through that “still small voice”. This is the one that honestly confuses me, and I’ve tried to get definite answers from many different people. How does God talk to us? Do we “hear a voice” in our brain, or feel a conviction, or assume that when another person gives adive it is coming from God? How does this one work? (I really want to know. Tell me.) A charismatic pastor explained to me that there are 3 “voices” we hear: God’s, Satan’s (or that of demons) and our own. It's almost like that cartoon with the angel on one shoulder adn the devil on another. A sceptic would assume that most thoughts, good or bad, come into my head without any supernatural voice … but let’s work with the “two voices” idea.

Some thoughts act loving, speak the truth, help another person) can be safely assumed to be from God, or at least agree with what God would say. Others (watch that pornography, tell that lie, punch that guy in the face) can be assumed to be evil, even if Satan himself didn’t actually say it. The problem is, there is a bunch of grey area. This encompasses both morally confusing areas (do I turn the other cheek or stand up for my rights? Can I teach kids a lesson I disagree with?) and practical, morally neutral ones (where do I live? What job do I do?). It seems that God would be giving the good, or correct, ideas, whereas Satan would imput the bad ones to screw up my life and make me unhappy... but how do I tell them apart? Is it God’s will, or the Devil’s, that I am in South Africa now?

Biblically, Satan seems to be pretty good at what he does. If Satan is speaking into my head, how dare I trust any thought at all? (I’ve been told he can fake near death experiences, so that unsaved people think they aren’t going to hell, which leads to a nasty shock when they actually do die. That takes a lot of power.) I’m not sure I believe this, but still… How can I possibly have faith in a voice that I presume to come from God when it might come from Satan? If Satan can decieve most of the world, why am I immune?

Even more troublesome, does God really want me to do what’s good for me? For all of the apostles, God’s will seemed to be torturous death. How can I trust that God wants something else for me? Perhaps, even if I find His will it will suck beyond all imagining. Perhaps God’s will is for sinful Africa to die of AIDS and crime, a plague of sorts. Where would this leave my peer education group and myself? Opposing God? The truth is I haven’t the foggiest idea what God wants for a bunch of things, so I have no reference point for deciding if in idea might be from Him.

Through circumstances.
Some Christains tell me that “there are no co-incidences” and that everything happens for a reason. I seriously doubt that, but I can believe that SOME things happen for a reason. ("You said 'shutout'? Of course the other team will score now.") More seriously, in my family, there have been numerous occasions of “opened doors” (as the Sound of Music would say) which seem to be signs from God. However, just like God’s voice, His signs aren’t always clear to me, nor do they unequivocally point in one direction. For example, does all the frustration I feel about Prison Work show that God is slamming a door in my face so I will move elsewhere? Or am I experiencing the “adversity from Satan” I hear so much about, and does God want me to fight it and persevere? Or perhaps God and Satan are both sitting there amazed at what a naïve fool I was to think I could do things in Africa without struggling all the tine. How do I know? Perhaps if I pray a lot, God will tell me.. probably through a feeling or a still small voice. Wow, I better stop typing before I say something really sacreligous.

Total surrender.
This one, I haven’t tried. I can’t even bring myself to sing “I surrender all” in church because I’d be lying. (Nor, for that matter, is Jesus everything I want.)According to many, this is the key to effective communication with God, so it may well be the reason I struggle so much. For me it’s like a big catch-22. I don't have faith without experiences, and maybe I can't get experiences without faith.

If God’s plan for me is to die under torture, like the apostle Peter, well maybe I’d rather live I’m not sure why, but I have trouble accepting that God really is, well, nice. I always picture him as more of a traffic cop. in my own will and accept less heavenly rewards. I’ve always distrusted God. “Okay, one lie… two lustful looks, and you said the F-word.. I’m gonna break your starter.” (In fact, the most supernatural force at work in my life seems to be bad karma. My pride AWAYS comes before a fall.) Clearly, God and I have problems beyond bad communication, but since communication is the one that seems to destroy early relationships, maybe I should work on that one.

Anyway, I always ask for comments on my blog, mostly because they make me feel important. This time, when I ask for comments, I have a purer motive. I really would appreaciate advice, or anwers. I’ll even take sympathy.

SCHOOL PROJECT

2007-03-01T01:45:00.000-08:00

Wrestling results: I wrestled in a small tournament in Robertson, took 2nd. I pinned the SA high school champ in a wild match with a bunch of throws, and I finally caught him on his back in a scramble 6-1. 3-6, 5-1 pin). I lost in the finals to the SA Sr. Champ (0-6, 0-4). I got his legs several times but couldn't finish my shots.

Now to hype my project:

The location: Hanover park, a suburb in the Cape Flats notorious for its gang wars.

The school: Groenvlei high school, and under-staffed, heavily vandalised high school with an 80% rate of student failure. Because of it's location the buildings are under heavy attack, both from vandalising students, and from drug addicts who brave the razor-wiring at night to steal anything they can sell to a scrapyard.

The mission: To improve the school buildings. We are going to involve the "Peer Educator" students taught by the YMCA. Our hope is that, in addition to improving the school, we will instill students with a sense of ownership, so they will feel protective and respectful of the work they have done.

Specific steps:
A (next Tuesday): 25 door knobs have been broken or removed from doors. Along with the peer educators, we are replacing them with new, lockable door handles. All supplies have been bought, thanks to a generous donation by a certain reader of this blog.

B (coming up): We want to paint several of the peeling, grafitti-splattered classrooms. This will be a major undertaking, including moving an entire class at a time. We have most of the supplies ready, though we may need more paint.

C (hopeful plan): We want to re-wire the intercom system. Much of the wiring has been stolen. However, the quote the school got is rediculous, so I hope to find an electricial willing to do it at cost, with ourselves or students doing much of the labor. This one, if it happens, will cost a lot of time and money.

You can help: We can use as much prayer as possible. In fact, all of Hanover park needs a lot of prayer! Financially, we have all we need for now.. however, if we start needing more paint, or if the wiring project goes ahead, I will not be shy in asking for donations on this blog...

Anyway, that's the goal. I'll keep updates posted.

FISH AND PICS

2007-02-24T05:06:00.000-08:00

1) A bontebok on table mountain, a rare antelope hunted to near-death because they were too dumb to run away
2- the child of my landlords
3- An informal settlement, or "township" in Mitchell's plain
4- part of our catch (read below)
5- fishing boat in Kalk Bay harbor

Despite fate's best hindering efforts, I finally got to go boat-fishing, with some YMCA guys and their buddies. Some commercial fisherman have decided that it's advantageous to take visitors along for cash, so local anglers now have a chance to fish with the big boys, in ludicriously small boats. Things were fairly familiar from other boat-fishing trips... the blue of the ocean all around, the taste of salt, the smell of bait, the feel of thick handline through shamefully soft fingers and the sound of other passengers hurling over the side.

The oceans here are shark-infested from the bottom up, it seems. I caught the largest fish of the trip to be landed sucessfully, an irate, leg-sized sand shark. It flailed wildly in the boat, whipping its needle-like teeth around and wrapping its shockingly supple body around arms, waists, and lines, anything to prevent us from unhooking it and throwing it back. In the mid-depths, our fearless leader hooked the largest fish of the trip, a man-sized thresher shark. Thereafter he gave a truly expert preformance in "loosing all your line". And just to show us who was boss, a great white shark breached on the surface, making an enormosu splash and putting an immedate end to the "I could go for a swim" jokes.

The water is even more infested with hand sized bait fish, that school and swarm around the boat. It was fun, because we could literally catch them at will, throw them into a tub and then pull them out later to feed bigger fish. They were also annoying because they ate tremendous amounts of bait off the hook, but inbetween the sharks and the baitfish we still managed to catch a good number of eating fish. I got pretty outfished by the experts, but still went home with enough for a couple of good meals. Fishing rocks.

MITCHELLS PLAIN

2007-02-21T07:43:00.002-08:00

(Note: To see how the wrestling went, check post below this one.)

Wow. Sometimes this place scares the shit out of me.

Yesterday, I was in a sketchy-looking parking lot with 3 YMCA workers (my immediate partner and our 2 female bosses) when some drunk men began, persistently, to hassle us for money. The girls freaked out "lets' go before they attack us!" so we jumped into me car and I peeled out of the lot, feeling very cool.

I thought they were being a tad dramatic. Then one of them launched into a story- her sister had, earlier that week, been caught in a massive gunfight between two gangs- IN the Police Station- A couple blocks away from the YMCA. Wow. The other girl didn't have a cool story, but today she was robbed. Oh well. Everyone in Mitchell's Plain has been robbed.

Today, waiting to judge a high school debate on abortion (particularly gripping because, statistically, many of the participats will be raped at some point in their lives) I had a truly bizarre discussion with my partner about theology (again.) It blew my mind. He has a strong loathing of Roman Catholicism, because they apaprently mixed the truth of Christianity with paganism. True, maybe, but iw was wierd for him to say it because he is a pretty unorthodox christian who doesn't believe in hell (score- there's more of us every day) and thinks that eternal life is a kind of reinarnation. Then he went into his beliefs on history and geography and race, drawing heavily on the books of Genesis and Revelation and truly bizarre interpretations therof.

His arguments deflated when I convinced him that Isreal is in the Middle East, not Africa, and that the race-based theology of his "experts" was used to justify apartheid. This brand of Christianity is like another world for me. (Homework assignment: flip througha book by "Rebecca Brown: MD". Do so without reading what other doctors have to say about dr. Brown. That's the kind of thinking I'm talking about.)

I am battling with feelings of racism myself these days. It sucks. Comes not from hanging out with Afrikaaners, I think, but from hanging out with colored people... Because I work with mostly the colored culture, all my fears and frustrations are directed towards people of that race, and I long to escape to sanctuary among "my people" who think the way I think, work the way I work and isolate themselves from areas of crime. I know I'm a terrible person, and that scares me toom, because every time I go off feeling superior fate, or God, or my subconscious, makes me do something really stupid so I feel humble again. I don't want to be humbled again.

Anyway, my posts keep coming out negative, complaining and whiny and all that. I'm sorry. I really am. i want to write about people's lives being changed, people overcoming adversity, hope and fun and adventure. I really do. I don't know why I feel so melancholy lately, or why I'm not thrilled to be doing this. I think my sights are set too high.

Wrestling Recap

2007-02-19T04:06:00.000-08:00

A long discussion of SA wrestling would be frustrating for me to write and boring for you to read, so here's a short summary...

My dream of representing South Africa died a quick and gut-wrenching death. (Pun alert: a gut wrench is a painful wrestling move.) I wrestled okay but not great, and the competiton was tough. National team trials are, I suppose... I placed 7th at 84 kg. My teammate and defending champ won the tournament.

Match 1: lost 0-2, 0-6 to the Jr. Commomwealth champion. A very frustrating match, because no less than 4 points awarded were highly questionable, a combination of differences between South African and Canadian officiating and outright bias.

Match 2: Won 6-1, 5-2. A good match against a tough opponent. I scored 2 massive double leg takedowns and was in control most of the match.

Match 3: lost by pin trailing 4-2. I wrestled well, tried to score in a wierd scramble with seconds left and got caught on my back. Getting pinnned sucks.

On a 20 hour (one way) drive with 14 people crammed into a 12-seat van, I also got to experience true Afrikaaner (white South African of Dutch ancestry) culture. They are a fun people, if you ignore the odd shockingly racist comment. (Some, but by no means all, Afrikaaners still hang onto apartheid-era beliefs.) The Afrikaaners are really the ultimate rednecks. They have big, patriachal families that go to church on Sundays and pray before tournaments. They like meat and beer and sports (especially rugby) and wildlife and fighting. In fact, much of our drive was spent alternately being amused and irritated by the 2 lightweights in the back, who entertained themselves by annoying each other. This repeatedly cumulated in fistfights. These are grown men, mind you...

Anyway, I have big plans for my school project, I may have found a new place to stay, and just got invited to go ocean fishing this Sunday but now I am very hungry and will report on the happy stuff once it all falls into place.

Fixing the Problem: Part 2

2007-02-09T03:25:00.000-08:00

Personal notes:
Lockdown in prison today, no acess for us, so I'm blogging. I will be in Mpumalanga for most of the week, trying to gain a spot on the South African wrestling team in freestyle and greco. I have no idea what to expect, but it will be tough. As always I love emails and comments, but it might be some time before I have computer acess again.

‘Does HIV cause Aids? Aids is an acquired immune deficiency syndrome. I don’t believe it is a sensible thing to ask if a virus causes a syndrome. A single virus cannot cause a syndrome. A virus causes a disease. Aids is a syndrome … including 29 different diseases. When you ask the question, does HIV cause Aids, the question is: does a virus cause a syndrome? It can’t.’
- South African President Thabo Mbeki

If you do not realize why the above statement is re idiotic, please read up on HIV/AIDS before reading the rest of this post. (In short, HIV does cause AIDS!)

If part 1 of FTP is brutal right-wing conservatism (better policing) part 2 is the epitome of left-wing liberalism. Education. Educated people make better decisions. I have a double stake in promoting this education: as a teacher by profession, I've been trained (indoctrinated?) to value education. As a worker for the YMCA, I've chosen education as my volunteer labor. My main job involves going into schools and prisons, helping programs that teach people self-control and good decision making skills. I've also gone on Christain radio and offered "advice" to the listeners. Education rules.

Lack of knowledge is killing South Africa. Not just intellectually or financially, but also physically. While our doctors work their fingers to the bone combatting AIDS, lobbying for cheap antiretroviral drugs (the drugs that keep HIV+ people alive)and and running education programs our polititians make stupid statements like the one above. (Stay tuned for the 'politics' part of FTP, when I will discuss more stupid politicans). Idiots. Mind boggling, rage-inducing idiots. It would be hilarous it if weren't so tragic. AIDS is a miserable way to die. When our politicans act backwards and stupid that makes other countries want to avoid dealing with us.

Educatiors fight against more than just lack of knowledge. We fight against "culture". It is always a sensitive subject, trying to change someone's historical or traditional beliefs, but sometimes protection of life must rule over cultural ideas. It is NOT okay for a man to have sexual rights over his wife or girlfriend (ie she can't say no) in an HIV-flooded land. It is NOT okay for people to believe that raping a virgin will take your AIDS away. (Of course, people who choose to follow those cultural ideas conveniently forget that traditionally, black African culture was sexually conservative.)

There actually are many education progarms in South Africa, working with mixed sucess. Reading over questionaires filled in by students in low-income areas, most kids seem to understand the basics of AIDS. This makes me happy. Prisons are flooded with education programs. Even the government spends money educating. The YMCA seeks teach people "how to think" rather than just how to act. We target gang leaders in prison, and train "peer educators" in schools. We teach students how to deal with their emotions, differentiate fact from oppinion, say no to peer pressure, and strongly suggest abstinence until marriage. Many groups follow the ABC plan in AIDS education: Abstain, Be faithful to one partner, use a Condom. with each step safer than the one below it. Slowly, painfully slowly, messages get through. People change and make new lives for themselves.

Of course, the problems with education are two-fold:
1) There is dispute over what is "good" to teach. (Example: do we emphasize condom use or complete abstinence?) I've been told by medical students that professors made fun of them for not experimenting sexually. This seems silly- all religous or moral reasons aside, there are damn good MEDICAL reasons to be sexually conservative in Africa. Not all ideas are good ones, and not all knoweldge is helpful. South Africa would be a much better place if no one knew how to make Cryztal Meth.

2) Knowing something and doing it are two different things. South Africans are notorious for not acting on their knowledge, or for ignoring obvious truth. Thabo MBeki HAS to now what the global consensus on AIDS is. Willful ignorance is easy enough, especially when surrounded by so much real ignorance.

Prisoners are more than willing to tell long, reasonable stories about the mistakes they made in their past, the wrong paths they went down, the wasted years, and how they are changed people now. Once they get out onto the streets (or even out of the YMCA meeting) it's a different story. Many of them have been in prison repeatedly. Who is to say this stint, this class, makes a difference? There are social and economic reasons why people reoffend, of course, and we need to deal with those also, but you can't underestimate the willingness, or unwillingness, of human beings to make good choices for themselves.

Talking to medical students in South Africa, they are driven to total frustration by the unwillingness of patients to follow simple doctors orders. "Take these antiretrovirals, at X dosage, at Y time each day, and it will extend and drastically improve your life." And the patients take them sparodically, only when they happen to feel like it, and then the ARV's do nothing except make you sicker. How can you help people that won't take a bloody pill to curb horrible suffering? Tuberculosis, almost unknown in the west, is reaching epidemic proportions in South Africa, partly because people don't take their medicine to completion, creating drug-resistant TB.

I could go on and on... How do you educate against laziness? Against a person who would rather beg than get a real job and contribute to society? Live off government handouts rather than make an honest living? The lack of commitment to doing a good job, being punctual, backing up your commitments, ideas we take for granted in North America, are comically lacking in Africa. Really. Not all South Africans are like this, of course: many, many people are hard-working, honest, and dedicated. However, negative trends are easy to see. These are not the rants of a crazy Ann Coltour-type conservative. These are honest observations made by many people from different racial, social and political backgrounds. You really can teach a man to fish, but you can't make him get on the boat.

Education is great. Education is necessary. Education is hope for the people of Africa. But without motivation, Eucation will fail. We must continue to educate the people of South Africa. However, we must not fall into the trap of thinking that it will solve all problems by itself.

Fixing the Problem: part 1

2007-02-06T02:46:00.000-08:00

Time to stop whining and fix problem. The problem that is South Africa. (No, not by blogging, I'm merely sharing the ideas of otheres here.) That is, after all, what organizations like the YMCA, YCN ministries and the like are trying to do. South Africans have the resources and the infrastructure to do well. What we lack, is what every other place on earth lacks as well: morality. Good, old fashioned morality may no longer be a catchy phrase, but in a place like South Africa its lack is glaringly and tragically obvious. "Though shalt not steal"- "though shalt not kill"- "though shalt not sleep around"- "though shalt get off thy fat ass and do some work"- "though shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, even if their skin color is different"- if people truly believed, and did these things, South Africans could enjoy the beauty and diversity of their country without living in fear.

I intend to write several posts about different things suggested here to fix the problems.

Solution 1: Meet force with bigger force.

Don't dismiss brute force out of hand. Every justice system in the world uses it: crime = jail. Fear is a powerful motivatior. Speeding tickets slow down drivers. Failing grades make students study. Even religons use concepts like karma, and hell, to coerce people into doing good.

It's a common request in South Afrioa (even amongst liberal, loving, level-headed people) that we bring back the death penalty. Our liberal constitution is not suited to the bloodthirsty populace. Sample story: a friend of a friend was driving to JoBurg when his car was hijacked by 4 heavily armed thugs. One smashed him upside the head with the butt of a shotgun, but as he fell, the man (who happened to be an ex-soldier and a crack shot) pulled his custom-made pistol from his sock and laid waste with it. The robbers riddled the van with machine gun fire but the man broke the trap and tore off, leaving one of his attackers dead. The man, who had acted purely in self-defense, spent the rest of the year fighting a lawsuit, because the man he had shot turned out to be an off-duty policeman. The law often helps the guilty, it seems. Often crime does pay, while the law screws around with auto registration.

I sympathize with the man. I don't have a gun or anything (nor do I intend to get one) but the other day walking at night, I was approached by large black men and my hand went quickly to the knife in my pocket. Paranoia rules the day here. "What's this guy doing? Trying to sell stuff to drivers?" "Or checking them out to find one to hijack."

Worse, as civilians are starting to arm themselves in self-defence, criminals resort to pre-emptive violence. "The good ones stab first, then rob" a man incarcerated for armed robbery told me. He has been in jail 6 times and he's 20. South Africa's penal system is backed up to a crazy extent. People await trial for months, while criminals found guilty are released for lack of space. There are no halfway houses, no place for first-time offenders, so kids that get arrested for shoplifting come out members of prison gangs. (to join a gang, you have to stab a warden or get sodomized.) The real thugs don't fear the police, they shoot the police. What's a man with a wife and kids and a pistol to do against a carjacking gang with AK-47's? Tragically, in many cases it's "join them".

It seems clear- and this is after much discussion, with South Africans of different races, experiences and social groups- that we need to get ourselves a new police force, and fast. The old Apardheid-era police force was efficent, but brutal. I don't suggest we bring them back; it's no suprise that the new goverment and their opressors refused to work together, and loathe the cruelties of the old regime. The new police force needs to be tough, but fair. I've always advocated US marine-type soldiers that aren't stuck in Iraq. Men that are well armed, well trained, wear body armour and kind of hungry for trouble. Men then know how to shoot, do things by the book, and are well paid.

A Cape Town police chief asked me what I would do to improve policing here and I said "pay them more". He arged that cops already make enough and the police force needs instead to be instilled with a sense of pride. Cops, he says, no longer feel loyalty to law and order and the badge. Rather, they want to make maximal money with minimal risk. When dealing with organized crime, this is clearly not okay. The laziness, slopiness and general inefficiency of the rest of Africa can not be allowed to taint the justice system, and right now it clearly does.

I feel terrible writing much of this. I know former gang members. I work with them, I try to help in them in prison, they are my friends. Yesterday one of them fixed my car. They are human beings, with families and thoughts and feelings, just like the rest of us. I don't want to wish them harm. I don't want them to be arrested or sodomized or killed.

I don't consider myself especially bloodthirsty; I haven't been in a street fight since grade 9, and I still wince whenever I'm killing fish. I wish I could say that love, hope, and gentleness can win the day. And, in many cases, it can. Seeing the difference in the lives of criminals- murderers- that have found the love of God and a purpose to live is amazing and inspiring. But until the time that all of them are willing to do that, people will keep dying. Innocent people. Women and children are caught in the crossfire of gang wars every day. School children tell me stories about avoiding bullets. More cops, more guns, more jails is a terrible solution, but I fear it is a necessary one.

South Africa, get some cops that fear nothing, shoot straight and spit on bribes. It's time to crack down.

Frick, Man...

2007-02-04T09:17:00.000-08:00

Things were going so well. My car was resgistered, I finally went to school and prison, I even have my own school program to set up. In wrestling practice, i was racking up the points on everyone- even the good guys. Then I stepped wrong, got tossed on my back, and the weekend went to hell.

To sum up:

throat = sore

internet acess = gone, because the people whose computer I was using virused the crap out of it, downloading songs but not purchasing antivirus software despite my many warnings, then suggested I had wrecked it.

home = moving. The people I am living with decided to move to Gurut next week (they were supposed to move in March. I now need to find a new place to stay, at least until they get settled.

fishing trip = cancelled. I booked a trip on a boat. It was too windy to go out, so i sat on a dock, wached the seals play below, wrestled my bait away from seabirds and caught 8-inch fish for the local kids. (This part was actualy kind of fun.)

Insurace companies = scam artists, springing hidden costs on my at the last moment, because of which my car is still uninsured. (This is legal here... injury claims caused by accidents are covered by a gas tax you pay when you fill up.)

Cell phone = not working. This problem was quickly solved.

Hubcap = off. I found it again, but this does not bode well for the future.

Wallet = stolen. This one sucks big time. Luckily it was taken by subterfuge, not violence. I still don't know how "they" got it, unnless it fell out of my pocket when i say down, but in the 3 minutes between using wallet and missing wallet it was nowhere to be found. I spent most of the evening cancelling cards, which was luckily sucessful.

Sometimes when this much suck happens, you can only sit back and laugh, try to think of funny things, like the thought of some homeless guy (there's scores in Muizenberg, stubbornly refusing to use the shelters) running around swiping my mastercard in electronics stores. Or look on the bright side, I guess, and be thankful my boat didn't capsize, I didn't land on my head, my phone works again, my sister will lend me money and Mastercard will not charge all those TV's to my account.

First Impressions: Volunteer Work

2007-01-30T11:01:00.001-08:00

Transport:
I am driving daily into Mitchell's Plain,a crime infested, low-to-mid income suburb of Cape Town with an overwhelmingly Colored population. Driving for the first couple of days has been (to use the South African term) quite hectic. Armed only with a map book and my brave little Uno (which has all the horsepower of an actual horse) I went out to battle the dual forces of my own pathetic sense of direction, and the comically confusing road signs. I eventually found all of my destinations, but not without some epic wrong turns, or without tasting my heart in my throat a few times. People on South African roads drive in one of two styles: Granny and Absolute Maniac. Everyone jaywalks, weaves through traffic like it's going out of styles, and kids play “chicken” on the highways. I've already lost count of the narrow gaps I've had to squeeze my car through, often involving high speeds or police cars. However, now that I know the way I look forward to smoother, easier travel.

Prison:
Same old, same old... Generally being acquainted with prisons is a bad thing, but I come by it honestly, having done Bible studies in prisons, including this one, 3 years ago. The prisons still reek of sweat, the sick bays are still filled with AIDS victims dying slowly, and the criminals are still shockingly friendly with the visitors. This friendship, unfortunately, does not extend to other prisoners, and most of them are forced to join prison gangs, imaginatively labeled the “26s” “27s” and “28s”. The gangs look out for their own, fight each other, and pick on- or sodomize- those with no gang to protect them. We got a prison tour Monday; our classes start Thursday.

School:
The school looks much like a prison. The fences are razor-wired, with an electronic gate providing or preventing access, many windows are broken, and all are covered with iron bars. Students wear uniforms, though more attractive ones than those of inmates. The school I went to is in an area so vicious that people refuse to use their cell phones while walking the streets; it's an invitation to get robbed, or worse. Today while walking to the school, my co-teacher (boss, really) heard gun shots. He is a real fun guy who is employed full time with the YMCA, with Rastafarian-style dreadlocks, a red visor cap and an easygoing manner. The school itself cheerfully exudes the surreal gong-show atmosphere that is Africa.

We spent much of the day making out classroom inhabitable, as it is being used as a storage room, as well as a smoke room by the security guards. Nothing says “school pride” like leaving your butts around in a classroom for the YMCA guys to clean up. We're still recruiting members for our “Peer Education” class and getting them to fill out questionnaires, mostly about sex and the murderously flawed notions that many Africans have about STI's. The South African classroom is truly a battleground where the “personal freedom” message of liberalism comes up against the cold hard reality of promiscuity = death.

Then we had to go from room to room, finding last year's Peer Education students for a catch-up meeting. (Our Intercom was broken so we couldn't call the kids). Apparently the original classroom doors were all stolen, and when they were replaced no-one though to number the new ones correctly, so classrooms 56, 7 and 23 might be side-by-side-by-side.

The most bizarre meeting was with a substitute teacher, who began to preach to my co-worker about the sad state of South African youth (something that he's well acquainted with, that being his job) while I dodged advances from high school girls. Finally the sub asked one of the female students, who was draped around his neck for some reason, to lift up her shirt to show us the bullet wound on her stomach and explain what getting shot feels like. We beat a hasty retreat, mumbling excuses.

Neighbors:
Whackjobs. Sick of yelling at their mother and trying to steal our dog, the two boys (high school drop outs from the looks of things) got nice and high/drunk and yelled threats at me from their house tonight. I shrugged it off and am not too worried (when I mentioned it to some wrestling buddies, they enthusiastically suggested ways to “sort out” the problem. Mrs. R and the kid are home alone a lo,l so if we get any more trouble we might call the police.

Bible Stories

2007-01-26T12:42:00.000-08:00

My Car is Registered!!!!!!!!!

And, until I have actual experiences in schools and prisons, a little story about theology:

Everyone agreed it was a tragedy. At 6:45 pm, a bomb exploded at the hotel where the Summit of Christian leaders was held.. Five men were killed, respected leaders all: a Catholic Bishop, an Evangelical Pastor who specialized in End-Times, a Televangelist who followed the teachings of Calvin, a Liberal Christian writer and a Jehovah's witness who had somehow been invited. Why they had been murdered was soon determined by police. Why, in the deeper meaning of the word, this tragedy had happened was discussed for years to come. Perhaps Satan, fearing unity amongst his greatest foes, had goaded the bombers on. Perhaps there was no underlying reason, and things had just turned out this way because some people are psychos. Perhaps God, in his infinite Wisdom, had deemed it time to call them home. Or perhaps, he was simply sick of their bickering.

The five men's eyes slowly opened, or more accurately re-appeared, for their faces has been melted by the heat of the blast. When they saw again, however, their bodies were whole. The writer, whose hours hunched over a screen had not been kind to his vision, suddenly saw clearly, without glasses. They looked around in wonder. They stood on some surface- solid, by the feel of it, but it was unseen in the mist. The mist was thick below at ground level, but as you looked up it faded to a sky of brightest blue. Music, beautiful and bizarre, reached their ears, and a lovely smell- one that can not be described in words- reached their nostrils; or perhaps, their sense of smell itself had been heightened, like that of a wolf.

“Where are we?” the writer said. It was a simple enough question. They tried to think things through. A clap of sound, a flash of sudden light, unbearable heat- and then this. It was all very strange. For many moments, they stood and wondered.

“Heaven”, suggested the Calvinist. It was a good answer, he thought.
“Can't be”, the preacher scolded. “That can't possibly have been the rapture. We won't get to see heaven until the Second Coming of Christ.”
“Oh, you end-timers” scoffed the Calvinist. “You obsess about the obscure and disregard clear doctrine. Did not Jesus say 'today you will be in paradise with me'?”
“If we're in heaven, why is the Cultist here?”snapped the preacher, pointing at the Jehovah's witness, who was still a little stunned by the turn of events.

“A Jew of Jesus' time” offered the writer “would say we are in Sheol, the world of the dead, awaiting the final judgment..”
“At which time he-” the preacher pointed at the Witness again “will be cast into the :Lake of Fire!”
“What'd I do?” the man wanted to know.
“You rejected the free gift of Christ on the cross, you are not 'washed in the blood', you did not accept Jesus as your personal Saviour!”
“Yes, we ALL know that's how Jesus put it!” the Witness snarled back, dripping sarcasm. “How narrow can your mind get? Fool...”
“Watch it! Now you're really on the brink of hellfire!”

“If this is purgatory”, the priest wanted to know, “why is there no pain?”
“It's Sheol, not Purgatory! Purgatory is an invention of your church. You Catholics are all alike. Just wait until your share of plagues is added to you.”
The priest shook his head. “How you Protestants pretend to understand Scripture, while rejecting our Lord's explanations through the church will never cease to amaze me.”
“When I read, the Spirit tells me what it means!”
“The Spirit tells ME that you're an idiot!”
““You're a false teacher with a false gospel. Christ will tell you he never even knew you!”
The Calvinist chucked and shook his head. “Why God chose you lot before the beginning of the Earth I'll never know.”

That set off a whole new chorus of yells, which might have continued for ages of the ages, had not a pair of stronger, louder voices silenced them. There was shouting, load and raucous, but strangely joyous, mixed with the sound of cheering, grunting, and heavy thuds.They walked towards the sound, quiet and a little scared, and the backs of a multitude came into focus, standing in a ring, observing something in the center from which the shouting came.

“Father of many nations, is it? You'll soon see who your daddy is!
“You don't scare me, wait until I get a hold of your hair!”
“I killed thousands with a jawbone. You were scared of your brother!”

Squeezing themselves into the ring, overcome with curiosity, they saw two men, stripped to the waist. Both were wearing gloves, those small fighting gloves which protect your hand but don't pad your blows, as they rolled over and over on the ground, hitting and kicking and grappling, smiling all the while.

“You think you can take me? You could barely build an altar. I pulled down a temple.”
“You used the Lord's Spirit, that doesn't count. I wrestled against Him! Don't forget, I pinned the spirit of the Lord!”
“His angel...” muttered the preacher.

Apparently the hearing of the men was heavenly t0o, for the smaller one stopped- though his head was locked in a pair of monstrous arms- and tried to look up. “Let go for a sec, Samson... Sorry, what was that?”
“Don't you mean, you fought the ANGEL of the Lord? It said so in the Bible...”
“Oh, does it?” Jacob wasn't even breathing hard. Apparently fighting didn't make you tired in wherever-this-was. “the Bible didn't exist in my time, I haven't really read it. Guess I should though, wonder how I came off looking in there.”

“Never read the Bible?” all of them were aghast. “The Bible is the Word of God! His Revelation to Mankind! His one trusted source of Truth!”
“Oh, sorry, man.. Up here, it doesn't seem necessary.”
“You're telling me...” the preacher was still amazed... “that in four thousand years, you've never even bothered to look?”
He was a little sheepish. “To be honest, we keep pretty busy up here. Lately, we've been having a tournament of champions. Took me 3 weeks just to tap out David, you'd never guess how slick you get wrestling bears.”
“You know”, Samson put in, wiping a lock of hair from his face, “we've been getting a lot of Bible questions lately. Everyone who comes here talks about it. “
“Well, I'm sorry, God didn't give us lion-ripping power, he gave us his inspired Word!” more sarcasm. Samson just laughed. “Fair enough. I'll go see if Paul is busy. I understand he wrote the parts you guys read most.”

It took a while- or not, time didn't really exist for them- until Samson returned, bringing a man with him. This one didn't look like he would last long in the tournament of champions. He was short lean and slender like a runner, and his back was covered in scars. Each one shone a little, and you could tell he wore them proudly. He shook each of their hands in turn. “I'm Paul”, he said. “Pleased to meet you.”
“The APOSTLE Paul?”
He shrugged. “I suppose. What can I do for you guys?”

They had to think about it for a second. “Where are we?” asked the writer. It was, after all, the original question.

“In heaven, of course..”
“In the Kingdom of Heaven- you know, the one that starts on earth, or in Heaven Heaven, the new Jerusalem?”
“Do you SEE a new Jerusalem?” scoffed the end-times preacher.

Paul laughed. “John, John, John. I told him not to use those metaphors. People won't understand, I said. They take everything literally, I said. But no, John says, I just write down what I saw. Do you think I knew what the crazy creatures in Revelation stood for?”
The writer was used to being misquoted. “Poor guy.”

“Oh, I wouldn't feel too sorry for him”, Paul laughed. “You should have seen John tear into Matthew when he read his Gospel. 'How can you leave out the Entire salvation-through-faith part? You made it look like Jesus was all about good deeds! Heaven and hell based on feeding your neighbor, without a word about the prayer of salvation? John went on and on. Man, he's lucky Matt turned the other cheek!” Paul laughed. “All us Bible-writers get it sometimes. I get off easy, I think, I guess a “#1 Evangelist all-time” Crown of Righteousness makes people lay off a bit. Just James won't shut up. 'Don't forget works. You keep leaving out works. Faith without works is dead'.”

If they were aghast before, they were flabbergasted now. “You ARGUED? You guys disagreed?”
“Well, we were all inspired to God to write, but yeah, we all had our viewpoints, emphasised different things...”

The writer had been wondering for years. “Can you explain how the Bible was Inspired, please? I've always wondered. Did God dictate to you?”
“Of course he did, or the Bible would be just another book!”
“Inspired doesn't mean infallible!”
“Oh, wow, you really are a heathen!”
“Pull the log out of your own eye, buddy!”
“How about the other writers? Leviticus doesn't seem too special! And Song of Songs- are you kidding me, inspired erotica?”
“You ARE going to hell-” “I'm saved by faith, you dolt!” “You can lose your salvation, you know” “No, you can't” “Heresy, absolute heresy!”

Then they began to pepper Paul with questions.
“Did creation take place in 6 days?” “Is Evolution from Satan?” “Why were others punished for David's sins?” “Does hell have real flames?” “What's the unpardonable sin?” “Did you ever baptist infants?” “Why is gayness an abomination?” “Why couldn't the Jews eat pork?” “Does the rapture happen BEFORE or AFTER the millennium?” “Can women preach in church?” “What if they cover their heads?” “Why Must Catholics be so stupid?” “Is Jsus really the Saviour of ALL, or did you just kinda throw that in there?”

Paul sighed. A deep, heavy sigh. He raised his hands until they calmed down.

“I'll try my best to answer all your questions. Really, I will. But first, let me explain a few things.”
They were all ears. On earth, a Bible lesson from the Apostle Paul would have been a dream come true. What's more, they were all certain they would be proven right.

“In my time on Earth, I had many of the same problems you did. I was a Pharisee. An expert. I, too, struggled to understand my Scriptures. Songs of Songs? I didn't like that one much. Psalms? David praises the Lord for his protection in one, and cries out in fear the next. And the Prophets... ahh, yes, the Prophets. They were all over the place, stuff that happened lifetime, stuff fulfilled in Christ, stuff about the second coming. I knew the Prophets back-to-front, but I needed a voice from heaven to see they pointed to Jesus. Imagine that!”

“Of course, God gave me incredible knowledge afterwards, showed me the heavens and all that, taught me great mysteries so I could preach to the nations. That was my primary calling, after all. Those Books I wrote... letters, really... “Romans” to the church in Rome, “Corinthians” to those in Corinth, “Galatians”, ah yes, to those foolish Galatians. Still trying to do under their own power what God has already done. I was confident in my writing, of course, but I had no idea that God would use it shape our faith two thousand years later.”

He sighed again. “You guys realize that I wrote in Greek, right? We all have the gift of tongues now, of course, but if I gave you originals of my letters when you were still alive, you wouldn't understand a word. I tried- oh, wow, did a try- to put the unfathomable mysteries of God down in words people back then could understand. Frankly, I'm always amazed at how well you guys do now. Faith? Hope? Love? Eternity? Justice? Two thousand years of culture, two thousand years of evolving language, even those concepts don't mean quite what they used to in my time. If I was writing letters to the church in, say, New York, you bet I'd phrase things differently. I mean... how was I supposed to anticipate the Internet... man, would that have made my job easier. TV? Movies? Nuclear Bombs? Dating? Feminism? Hinduism? Liberalism? Even the Son was misunderstood, by His own friends, in His own time. What chance do I have?” He took a deep breath.

“I'm sorry, guys. You want Scripture? You want understanding? This is what I wrote: For now we see in a mirror, dimly, then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully.

Training

2007-01-23T06:35:00.000-08:00

Your lungs are on fire. Everything hurts. Your eyes sting with salt. Your mouth tastes sweat- blood? and your spit is dry. Over the sound of your ragged gasps, you hear the whistle go- damn that whistle- and you step onto the mat once again. You slap hands with your opponent, a quick, friendly facsimile of the handshake you would give in an actual match, and begin to wrestle. Feinting, weaving, clasping arms, slapping heads, trying to find an opening, then the explosion, a sudden vicious blast of energy- a scramble perhaps, wild and spectacular, if the first attack misses, with others turning their heads to watch the action, and one of you is down and the other is on top, squeezing the ribs, struggling to gain back points and, more important, regain your breath...

Wrestling practices have been savage here in South Africa (not that they were easy back home either). South Africans wrestle a very "American" style, constant leg attacks, shot after shot after shot. A methodical (or "stalling" or "lazy") wrestler like myself rarely has time to set up for an attack before the onslaught comes. Lucklily, this provides many openings for counter attacks. You wouldn't believe how vulnerable these guys are do a simple waist lock throw.

At our club we spend most of our time on conditioning, which is quickly beating me into shape, though I wish we would spend more time refining technique- what good is it to be fresh for 10 minutes, if a more techincal opponent can pick you apart in 6? Anyway, I'm enjoying myself when I'm not leaning over wanting to vomit.

The car registration saga is still an expensive gong show, and I will refrain from comenting until it has resolved itself. It struck me yesterday,along with the toys the 4 year old kid was tossing at my head, that maybe I'm meant to learn humility and patience from this stuff. I decided I don't want to learn humility and patience, I want to learn victory and sucess and life-changing miracles... does anyone ever learn valuable lessons through wealth, or winning, things going smoothly? If so, sign me up. And yes, I'm fully aware of the irony of complaining about a car while the people I want to help are wrestling with drug abuse, HIV, shootings and so on.

An Ode to Stupid

2007-01-19T06:34:00.000-08:00

A South African recently chided me by saying that "you westerners think too much". I bit my tongue and didn't ask him if that was why we didn't live on the continent most riddled with crime, disease, civil war and starvation. Turns out you dont' need to reasearch a history of colonialism, go into local culture, or discuss the impact of environmental conditions to understand why Africa is in such a bad way. All you have to do is try to register a car. After repeeated attempts I have discovered that:

Not even jr. high boys can lose, misplace, destroy and otherwise screw up paperwork like people here.

There's about 5 different traffic and police departments. The reason for existence for each of them is to ensure that another department helps you with what you need. They probably bet on it: "hahaha, you provided accurate information, less funding for you."

A mechanic that declares a car is ready to drive, and pass a government road test, when it has no brake lights, no gas gauge, a very loose muffler and a brake situation best described as "murderous" should hang his head in permashame.

On my first day driving on the left hand side of the road, with minimal braking ability and no knowledge of where the streets head, it is not helpful to follow someone who:
a) Runs 2 yellow lights in a row, behind both of which I am stuck.
b) Cuts across a heavy stream of traffic, in which there will be no gap to follow for several minutes
c) takes off through 2 corners while I am still in the freaking parking lot.

I hearby declare South Africa the incompetence capital of the entire world. I, too, am getting into the act. This post is taking forever, since I keep hitting the "crash computer" button, conveniently located next to the "delete" key, and by the time I get back to the laundromat my clothes will probably be stolen.

Frequently Asked Questions

2007-01-17T12:25:00.000-08:00

Filth-man answers questions. These are the type of questions I've been getting through the the phone, email, and actual comversation. If you have more, please ask, through either of these methods, or the handy "comment" option on this blog.

Q: Should I read this?
A: Yes, but you should read about hell first. Just scroll down a bit.

Q: What work are you doing, Filth-Man?
A: I am working with the Cape Flats YMCA 4 days a week. Mondays and Thursdays is prison work and after-school programming, tuesdays and wednesdays is high schools. In all places I will be teaching "life skills" which involves topics such as dealing with peer pressure, drug abuse resisance, STI and AIDS avoidance training, teen sexuality, gangsterism, and so on.

Q: Where are you staying?
A: In Kryfontein with Pastor BR and family.

Q: How is your wrestling going?
A: I will be training with a Durbanville club 5 days a week. Our first tournament is a month from now. I handled myself well in the first practice back (somehow my body has remembered how to scramble and my lungs did not explode). I will get to wrestle the 84 kg African champ as soon as a cut on his face heals. (Update: we wrestled in practice today... the guy's very tough. Everyone's beatable, of course, but he wrestles smart and moves very quickly, a tough combination.

Q: What is your transport situation?
A: I am renting an Uno Pacer (small car) from the Pastor and family for the duration of my stay. It still needs to get properly licenced and if that craps out for some reason, all my plans may change.

Q; How's the large fish quest?
A: No fishing yet, but the YMCA director will teach me how to surf cast soon. The beaches are pretty shark infested (people go right on swimming though) so maybe I'll hook into one of those!

The Bible on Hell

2007-01-15T10:01:00.000-08:00

Sweet moses, I loathe Africa time. I truly and utterly despise it. Nothing works. Everything takes forever. "Quick" meetings take two hours (in Afrikaans, of course), 9 AM means 12:30, and "we'll get your car ready" means "we'll tell the mechanic to start working on it, and we couldn't possibly get it registered before he's done." I've decided the problem in this country isn't racism or poverty, it's boredom. I mean, if you had absolutely nothing to do for your ENTIRE LIFE, wouldn't you be tempted to do drugs or have casual sex or join a gang? On top of that, if it's possible to get too much "God" I'm all over that. Comes from staying with charismatics, I guess, but in between gospel music, long Afrikaans church services, Christian radio and discussions on the Bible (not to mention truly loathsome Christian television) I'm really Spiritual-ed out.

Anyway, speaking of endless misery and the Bible, I finally found a computer where I can upload my study on hell in the Bible. It may not interest everyone. Here it is...

THE BIBLE ON HELL

What is not hell?

Most of the Bible does not mention hell. We might think of faith as mostly “escaping hell” but the Bible doesn't seem to. The “wrathful” Old Testament does not clearly mention hell. The afterworld in Old Testament thought, “Sheol”(Hades in Greek) is a shadowy place, which may not be consciously experienced at all. It is described by Ecclesiastes: “the dead know nothing. They have no further reward, nor are they remembered..” Old Bibles mistranslate Sheol/Hades as “hell”. In one surprising parable in Luke, much beloved by hellfire preachers, a rich man IS tormented by flame in Hades. Was Jesus trying to change beliefs about what Hades is really like? Was he accommodating emerging Jewish ideas (which evolved in the time between the 2 Testaments) about the afterlife into a story about something else altogether? I’m not sure. In any case, Hades/Sheol is a temporary before-judgment holding place destroyed in Revelation.

Paul and John, the big New Testament theologians, don’t talk about hell (except in Revelation) and always present the Gospel as a glorious new plan, not as fire insurance to escape a horrible fate. Christians who grew up believing in hell can read it into a lot of scripture where first-century Jew or Pagan would not do so. When Paul writes he often sounds downright Universalist. This lack of hell in most of the Bible leads me to think hell is a sad backup plan, perhaps banishment for those who refuse to enjoy God’s grace, not a default torture chamber for all who don’t understand theology the right way. Perhaps, if we want to please God, the afterlife will take care of itself.

The most graphic and scary images of hell are presented by Jesus in the synoptic Gospels. He gave them for a reason, and we must not take them lightly. At the same time we should remember that Jesus, our final judge, welcomed sinners who showed the least spark of repentance, promised eternal life to criminals, and forgave soldiers even as they nailed him onto a cross. He also mixes hell warnings with those about the fiery destruction of Jerusalem (which happened 69 AD,I think), so sometimes it’s hard to tell what he’s talking about and how it applies to us.

It is argued by some that the word “hell” should not appear in Scripture at all. When English Bibles say :”hell” Jesus really said “Gehenna”. Gehenna was a disgusting garbage dump in Israel where Pagans had once sacrificed children, a symbol of shame and defilement. Garbage was burned there constantly. Was Jesus speaking about after-death punishment at all in when alluding to Gehenna, or earthy disgrace, or a literal death in the garbage dump upon Jerusalem’s fiery destruction? In some instances he does seem to be speaking of the afterlife, but other “Gehenna” teachings make more sense if they mean “you will be a moral garbage dump” (does anyone really think calling someone a fool will get you thrown into hell?) Interestingly, later Jewish teachings do equate “Gehenna” with after-death punishment, but only for a limited time.

What is hell?

Most “hell” teachings in the Bible are found in the first 3 Gospels, as warnings and parables of Jesus, and in Revelation. Neither parables nor Revelation lead to easy, clear theology. It might be heretical to suggest that different New Testament writers had different ideas about hell, but they certainly expressed them differently. To summarize…

Hell is where the “damned” go after final judgment by Jesus at the end of time, the “Lake of Fire” and “second death” in Revelation The verses that speak of the post-judgment situation are generally found in parables or apocalyptic literature, so it is hard to tell where (if ever) metaphor ends and tangible reality begins. Flame, darkness, eternal death and total destruction are often described, and may be metaphorical because they are somewhat mutually exclusive. All of them suggest hell is very unpleasant place.. Hell is frequently described as exclusion from, and contrasted with, God’s presence, people and rewards.

While some people do believe in a literal hell of fire, some theologians argue the exclusion from God’s goodness causes emotional pain graphically symbolized by flames. After all, when condemning child sacrifice, the Old Testament says that it “never entered God’s mind” to burn children in fire.

People are sad and angry in hell, weeping and gnashing their teeth People feel shamed in hell, and some feel tormented. Satan and his demons are fellow prisoners, not rulers. The punishment of hell is proportional to the evil a person has committed, and the amount of truth they rejected. Hell is not an either-or, one-size-fits-all punishment. Some theologians believe that this is a natural outcome; the more you love evil and reject God, the more miserable you must naturally be if God is in charge. Others believe that God directly administers punishment.

Who goes there?

Those who consciously reject God’s truth and choose evil instead. I was surprised at how clear the Bible is on “conscious rejection”, as shown by an unwillingness to repent and a desire to do evil. Once in hell, they try to argue their case instead of pleading for mercy. The parts of the Bible that stress salvation by “faith” and “belief” in Christ (Paul’s and John’s writing) don’t describe after-death punishments for the "unsaved".. Jesus threatens after-death punishment (and Gehenna) for the willfully disobedient. His strongest threats are to the biggest “conscious rejecters” in history- the Pharisees, who see Jesus’ miracles in person, and chose to crucify instead of believe Him! Jesus warns those who refuse to do good (especially helping the less fortunate) and in Revelation the condemned are defined by their evil deeds.

Belief in Jesus allows one to face final judgment without fear (though his followers still need to give account of themselves), but “faith” is often described in terms of love for God resulting in good deeds, not in the neat "say the prayer of salvation" package usually presented by churches. A person with “faith” who that does not show it in some way has no real faith, and one with little knowledge of Jesus can still show faith. The Bible is unapologetically vague about who goes to hell among those to who have little opportunity to become Christians (especially those who are loving people, which the Bible says comes only from God). However, it is clear that punishment is directly proportional to what was revealed and entrusted to a person. Surprisingly, people who are not conventionally “Christian” are referred to as believers, (in one case, Paul meets some “believers” and then tells them about Jesus!) having faith, pleasing God, and even accusing the more religious but less godly on judgment day.

Is Hell Permanent?

I was unable to get a consistent answer from Scripture, so the best I can do is present evidence for several viewpoints.

Eternal Hell: The majority viewpoint in most Christian groups. Hell lasts forever, and once you are there you are stuck. A believer in this view would point out that hell is sometimes described as “eternal fire” or punishment, and often contrasted with “eternal life”. The flames are “unquenchable” and there is no clear doctrine of escaping hell after death in the Bible. Once the door is closed, the gap can not be crossed, and you are separate from God forever.

Annihilationist: The punishment of hell ends with total destruction, without consciousness (or the damned are simply not resurrected). A believer in annihilation argues that Adam’s sin, and the wages of sin in general, are said to lead to “death”, not eternal punishment. Jesus was killed, not eternally punished, to pay the price for sin. The metaphors describing hell often refer to total destruction, and the burning up of sticks or chaff. “Eternal” refers to the permanency of annihilation, not conscious suffering.

Eventual Universalism: The belief that everyone is eventually saved. A Universalist sites the many verses proclaiming Jesus as the Savior of “all men” and “the world” and glorious prophecies about everyone worshiping God at the end. They also claim that the Greek words calling hell “eternal punishment” are better translated as “age-long correction”, a miserable but temporary condition meant to bring forth repentance and eventual salvation. (The Greek word, “aion” is often used Biblically to describe non-permanent things). In some parables on judgement, people are punished for a set number of blows or until their debt is paid, not forever. Peter talks about people being saved “through the fire” and Paul’s discussion in Romans on the big conscious rejecters of the time, Israel, ends with all of Israel being saved. Revelation can be interpreted as saying that people are excluded from heaven as long as they want to be evildoers instead of “washing their robes” so they can “drink from he river of life”. In the end, death is destroyed and suffering ends. Could this include the “second death?”

References (sort of)

I can’t find all the websites I used but Wikipedia and saviorofall.com’s links were common. Works by C.S. Lewis, J.P. Moreland and Rob Bell and others, as well as discussions with many of my friends, were helpful. Thanks, guys.

I used a “New Living Translation” Bible, but read other versions for some of the verses. It’s daunting to realize how much the theology of the translator shapes what our Bibles say.

Visiting the Charismatics

2007-01-11T18:17:00.000-08:00

Good-Bye, Liberal UCT. Hello, African Charismatics!

(EDITOR'S NOTE: It has come to my attention that I have horribly screwed up all the afrikaans names of places. It's fixed now- I think... hopefully.)

I am now staying with my good friends Pastor BR and his wife. (No real names, so i can say whatever I like and not worry about them finding it on the internet.) Mrs. R is still the nicest lady on earth (except you, Kathryn) quiet and friendly. Their 4 year old boy defines hyperactive. He runs laps around the house, doing flips over the furniture. He demands I play ball with him, and wakes me up from naps by throwing toy cars at my head. Yesterday he ate two huge bowls of rice, and promptly vomited the second one back up. Yummy!

Last time I saw the good pastor, he was running a mission and struggling to make ends meet. A nasty falling out with the mission director and 3 years of work later, and they have reached middle class.., nice house, 2 cars (one of which is currently running), TV, computer, and they live in Kryfontein, one of the safest areas in the county. If India reminded me that stuff is unnecessary, Kryfontein tells me it's still nice to have.

The pastor is still a fiery charismatic, just like 3 years ago, who loves to "debate", mostly Christianity. Already we have discussed moral relativism, Biblical interpretation (he thinks it's easy, I don't), hearing God's voice in our lives (ditto), salvation (he's a hard core conservative who believes some non Christians will go to heaven- imagine that!), media (he has several radio shows and loves movies, but worries about their ill effects) and the meaning of hell (I'm so sick of thinking about hell. Watch for my Biblical "research" on hell once I get it off my craptop.)

I watches some of the most atrocious Christian DVD making ever. (sample dialogue: "Half of all marriages end in divorce? That's 50%!") and listen to constantly looping worship music battle with the boy's cartoons for supremacy. I am editing a story about a man chosen by Satan to make Christian leaders fall, mostly by leading them into group sex. It's crazy and bizarre; we both belong to the same religion (the pastor would say: "religion is nothing, we are both new creations in Christ") but our world views are so different. For him it's good or evil, God or Satan, black and white (though not in a racial sense, he thinks racism is dumb), right and wrong. When I think about meaningful issues i mostly get confused.

The pastor is fiery but also cynical. "Everyone tries to use you, even Christians. You have to make sure you get your share." So he's going into business for himself (he no longer pastors a church.) He runs a couple of radio shows, and is becoming a consultant, helping people who want to set up ministries and radio programs. I can't decide if he is brilliant or insane. I am helping him write up his paper work, which seems like a catastrophe in the making. He is right on one thing: the South African colored community is long on need and short on initiative, so he has the market more or less to himself. I went with him to a few meetings, building contracts and so forth. Semi-interesting stuff.

Anyway, for those of you who believe in prayer (if you don't the pastor will be happy to correct you), I need to make several big decisions in the next few days:

1) Do I want to stay in Kryfontein, or in Strandfontein with the original "host family" whom I still haven't met for the next few months? Kryfontein is safer, more central, and closer to wrestling facilities. Strandfontein is closer to my "work" and possibly more exciting.

2) Should I rent a car? The pastor has offered to let me rent his if I pay registration and insurance. This would cut down on all kinds of hassle of the despised public transport kind, but increase worries of the I'm-in-the-car-theft-capital-of-the-world kind.

3) My meeting with the YMCA people is on Tuesday. I am considering it an acid test for them, considering their spotty record of communication so far. Show up Tuesday, with a wealth of information, options and answers, and I shall be yours. Blow me off or offer vague generalities, and i shall spend some of my time doing other things.

Waterfall Climbing

2007-01-09T02:36:00.000-08:00

Just to Scare my Mom...

Man, I love doing stupid stuff sometimes. Yesterday I climbed up the waterfall pictured. I had to shove my body through a thorn tree at one point, when the rocks got to smooth to grip onto. Fingers cut, knee bleeding freely, branches raking my sunburned neck and loose rocks and dirt falling down, but I made it up. Afterwards, I tried to climb out of the gorge I was in. About 15 feet up I thought better of it, and on the way back down my $10 G-Unit shoes slicked out, and my hat plummeted down as I hung onto a branch. A branch! It was friggin' cool, and I was low enough to find a safe spot and drop down unhurt. That was the biggest rush of pure adrenaline I've had in a long time.

Anyway, enough of climbing, I'm off to visit some missionary friends as soon as they answer their phone.

Arrival in South Africa

2007-01-07T04:23:00.000-08:00

Hi all... I really have nothing to say but I'm online anyway.

My first few days have been fun. On my first day I arrived at 10 am and spent the day helping my sister move all her stuff from one residence to another, including but not limited to rolling a man-sixed box up 2 flights of stairs. Afterwards, I was dizzy-tired. On the 4th we went to the Waterfront, which is quite beautiful. We even saw some seals down at the docks, right behind the man assuring us "no seals here, no seals!" (The water front is the touristy area of Cape Town on the ocean, filled with restaurants and tour guides and trips to cool, exciting places like Robben Island. ) I also met a bunch of my sisters friends, who are quite cool. Today I climbed Devil's peak, the peak of Table mountain (see pic). I spend all morning up there, climbing up and down, and I am quite exhausted. Time to hit the beach!!!

2007-01-05T02:58:00.000-08:00

I am now in Cape Town, South Africa. My flight was suprsingly painless. For Canada- London I read a book on the apocalypse, watched a movie about loss of innocence and looked up every reference to hell in the Bible. Fun times. I had a 10 hour break in London, which I spend wandering around and realizing how little I know about London. "What's that? Looks big.. there's a sign... ahh, Buckingham palace." I slept through much of the London-Afria flight, and played "Space Invaders". Hooray for South African Airways having video games!

And I'm Off!

2007-01-03T10:01:00.000-08:00

If you haven't read about prison ministry yet, click here http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2007/01/from-archives-south-african-prisons.html or scroll down.

To read some gross, penisy Bible stories, click here: http://www.churchhopping.com/ten-verses-never-preached-on. If anyone can explain # 5, please do.

Reader's poll: what is hell? Who goes there? How do you reconcile hell with a fair and loving God? (please respond regardless of your religous beliefs)

I've spent a lot of time researching the Christian hell lately, and I think we may have it all wrong. I might write another post about it in South Africa, but I still have to read what Paul has to say about hell in the Bible.

How Ironic... "Leaving on a Jet Plane" is playing on my computer... which I am doing in 2 hours... bye everyone!!!

From the Archives- South African Prisons

2007-01-01T16:21:00.000-08:00

Last time I was in South Africa, I spent 3 weeks doing prison ministry (Bible studies in prison). The work I do on my present trip may or may not be similar. I have purposely replaced names with "the Mission Organization" and the like, since these are my thoughts, not theirs.

Let’s talk about prison. South Africa can’t catch the vast majority of its criminals and it doesn’t have enough jail space for those it does, so it’s a safe guess that those who do jail time aren’t doing it for shoplifting.

Most of the people in jail are members of gangs. If you aren’t a menber of a gang when you go into prison chances are you soon will be. If you don’t are you will probably be abused and raped. The gangs actually have policies about this kind of thing: in some gangs male-on-male rape is acceptable or even an initiation rite, while other gangs don’t allow it on pain of severe beatings.

While prison life can be pretty rough, the prisoners I met were anything but. On the contrary they were polite, friendly and respectful- you wouldn’t realize they were prisoners if they weren’t actually in jail, wearing bright orange jumpsuits that say "Prisoner" on them Even their scars and tattoos don’t make them look scary. They are eager to come to Bible studies, Bible discussions and the like and are living monuments to the power of God to transform people.

The technicalities of prison ministry are easily explained. I visit a different prison every day (there are many near Cape Town), with a team of South African missionarries. The prison guards love to have Christians come into the jails, even if only because a converted prisoner is less likely to cause trouble.

All the prisoners that wish to attend lessons from the organization I work are brought into a room, where the mission people (myself included- I was thrown right in without real instruction) read the Bible, discuss the Bible, give testimonies, do Christian courses from books, all of that stuff. Sure, some of them only come to the classes because a Bible certificate looks good on a parole form, but God can affect people even when they aren’t planning to be affected. The only difficulty for me is that these guys are primarily Afrikaans speaking. My Afrikaans is improving rapidly so that I can follow along with a simple conversation, but when these guys start to get going the language is just too fast and too complicated for me.

Before going into prison, I was worried about my ability to relate positively to guys who have done such terrible things, but these guys are so changed, so repentant, and so eager to live new Godly lives that even when I know what one of them did I feel no anger towards him. In fact some of these prisoners could teach us lessons about willingness and eagerness to serve God.

It’s quite ironic that although I was worried about getting somehow hurt in the jails, the fact is that I have felt pretty safe, even though we have close contact with murderers. I have felt much more fear in the streets of South African cities. However, on one occasion something could have happened: a prison guard who was getting something from his locker failed to realize that his holstered gun was inches away from a prisoners face. The man’s eyes locked onto the weapon and never left it, like a dog stares at the food in a person’s hand. I was too far away to do anything and I didn’t want to accuse the guy of trying something (after all, he was only looking) so I watched nervously. The prisoner ended up not going for the gun, perhaps because the gun was bucked into the holster so it would take a couple of seconds to steal, or because another prisoner touched him on the shoulder and discouraged him with a subtle head shake.

Unfortunately, thes gang violence that is prevalent on the streets does spills over into the prisons as well, and while none of us have been threatened the prisoners themselves aren’t so safe. The most dangerous guys are not the older, hard criminals, but he younger gang members in their late teens or early twenties. They sharpen toothbrushes, smuggle razors into jail on bars of soap, anything to use as a weapon. One day while we were having a Bible Study a fight started outside the room. We couldn’t see what happened but there was a lot of noise, banging and crashing and then the barking of the prison dogs, which are brought in to break up fights because no one wants to mess them. What fascinated me was the reaction in the room- everyone was up and getting excited about it, myself included. "I want to be there" was written plainly on everyone’s face. Young men are drawn to violence for some reason. Perhaps a reason these people fight so much is just that they’re bored and it provides an adrenaline rush…

There are few things sadder than a women’s prison. I was warned beforehand but I was still struck by how depressing a place it is. A lot of men in jail seem to come to grips with their situation and make the best of it. Their tattoos and scars are, in many cases, like badges of honour. The women, of all ages and races look at you and try to act tough act tough but with a haunting terror in their eyes. They, too have scars, not those of street fighters but of abused wives and girlfriends. Their tattoos bear the names of old lovers- quite possibly the men who gave them those scars.

I also got to visit an holding prison where juveniles await trial It is an overcrowded, smelly, joyless place. Many of the inmates are no more than children- We go right into the cells, which are jam-packed fully of filthy, stinky boys who surround you and look at you in a way that is not entirely friendly. I didn’t feel afraid because African missionaries werew with me, but I didn’t feel too comfortable either. One young man in fascinated me because of the look in his eyes. He simply stared off blankly into space, and nothing you said to him got through. His eyes were dead, the stare of a corpse. He is likely dead by now- his cellmates threatened him constantly, for he had raped children. I also spoke to a young man who wanted to become a Christian, but was afraid of his cell mates killing him. I know the standard Bible answer, "whoever loses his life for my sake will save it" but how do I tell that to someone, knowing it might lead to his death? Could I believe, faced with that kind of consequence?

These were some of the "highlights". I apologize for the lack of conclusion. If you are a praying man, remember the men and women of South Africa's prisons in your prayers. If you want more or specific information about this kind of thing, please contact me.

Filth-Man's 2006 in Review

2006-12-24T13:44:00.000-08:00

Filth-Man's 2006 in Review

I realize the prententiousness of assuming people care, so I don't. This post was just something to do. It's amazing how much long the few days of "down time" can get.

Notes:

My travel schedule for South Africa is at
http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2006/12/travel-plans-following-is-my-itinerary.html. I also made it a "link" for quick acess.

After researching Universalism a bit, I added a comment about it on my hell post (9th one down): https://www2.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32606743&postID=3199615627672636954

Jan:
I began my final term of studies at the U of A. The physical torture of training camp (mantra during the stair runs: "never again! never again!") contrasted nicely with the mental torture of the brain-sucking cesspool that was my classes. While my classmates learned such complex theorems as "Africa is a continent" I experienced the true meaning of boredom.

rsf.gsfc.nasa.gov (altered by Filth-man)

Feb:

I placed 3rd at the Canada West wrestling championships. Also, I began my APT (Advanced Practical Term, the final practicum before becoming a teacher). Life was good.

March:

I placed 5th at the CIS wrestling championships, as did our team. It was fun, though, unlike my APT. I would rather not put my experiences online for all the world- including potential employers- to see, but would be glad to complain in person to anyone who cares. I was depressed until I decided to translate my sadness into anger. It actually kinda worked.

April:

SWEET MOSES! My APT ended, and I became a teacher, on paper at least. Many thanks to the people at my school that helped me through a pretty difficult times. You guys may never read this, but you rock! I wrestled in the Canadian Sr. Championships and placed 3rd in Greco-Roman.

May:

I began work for an Irrigation company, which is is a fancy of way of saying "wielded a muddy shovel". TheEdmonton Oilers, our city's NHL team, tore up the opposition for 3 straight rounds to reach the Stanley Cup Finals. Whyte Ave was alive with celebration, riots and over-eager police trying to restore order.

aunderwood.com/galley

June:

One heart-breaking game. Two friggin' goals off lucky bounces. The Oilers lost the Stanley Cup in 7 games to Carolina (3-1), and the entire city went into mourning. (http://www.nhl.com/cupcrazy/2006/serieso/game7_recap.html) Losing sucks. Sucks suck sucks.

ctv.ca

July:

Barbarian Camp! Led by myself and the fearless Caleb, we waged battles, captured women, and destroyed a lifetime worth of manners and inhibition. And, uh, taught kids about God. Lucid Elusion's barbaric picture gallery can be found at http://www.flickr.com/photos/hibbert/sets/72157594402208864/. I also started dating the wonderful Kathryn.

Aug:

I got the greatest hair cut of all time.

Sept:

Back to school- NOT! I kept Irrigating. I also set a new time record in the "in a relationship" department. Thanks Kathryn.

Oct: See September. I competed in my job's annual Losey Cup, a Rock-Paper-Scissors championship . I got rocked (and papered, and scissored).

http://www.dorkboycomics.com/

Nov: Hmmm, let's see. What did I do in November... not much, really.. oh, right, I went to India. (See most of blog.)

Dec: I spent entirely too much time on the computer, including, but not limited to, this blog. I went to Winnipeg and am going to Winter Camp Tomorrow. Then Africa.

Happy New Year Everyone!!!

Travel Plans

2006-12-24T08:53:00.000-08:00

The following is my itinerary for South Africa. All the usual disclaimers apply: my plans can and will change, some dates are approximate, my mother did not endorse the blog name, etc etc. Hope to see some of you at Winter Camp before I leave.

Note: If you would like to have "Filth-Man" emailed to you, so you don't have to do the arduous work of checking the web page, I now have a "subscribe" function. Just enter your email adress and follow the instructions. You will still have visit the blog if you want to leave a comment- please do. I like the feeling that someone is actually reading this stuff.

January:
I am leaving Edmonton, Canada on Jan 3 and arriving in South Africa on Jan 5.

I will spend 1 week(ish) in Cape Town, possibly at the YMCA. I plan to get a room so I can orient myself to the 9 hour time difference, sleep a lot and get to know Cape Town a little. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cape_Town) I also plan to climb table mountain, and catch a fish bigger than I am.

Afterwards, I will spend January 12- 18 (ish) with some missionaries I worked for last time. I want to help them out with whatever they are currently doing.

Jan 21: Begin to volunteer at the Cape Flats YMCA. http://www.saymca.org.za/programs/youthdevelopment/ywi/index.php?pageno=211 I will be living with a host family in the town of Strandfontien (http://www.mapsofworld.com/south-africa/cape-town-city-map.html, look near legend.) If you try to search for Strandfontein on the net you will get the other, more touristy one.

Feb- April:
My work hours and exact jobs will be determined when I get there, but I plan to teach life skills and possibly Christian stuff in schools and prisons around the Cape Flats area. (The Cape Flats are the so-called "ghetto" of Cape town, where poor, mostly coloured people live. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cape_Flats). I also hope to wrestle for a local club team, and try to qualify for the South African or African championships (I have no idea how feasable that is.)

At the end of April, my work ends and I become a tourist. My girlfriend Kathryn is coming to visit around April 23. After a week in Cape Town, we will travel the Garden Route by bus, stopping at various scenic locations. (http://www.gardenroute.org/capetown/index.htm) After a couple days on a beach south of Durban (in which I plan to catch enormous fish) we plan to take a bus to Johannesburg. From them we will be taking an organized safari to the Kruger park ( http://www.sanparks.org/parks/kruger/) from May 13-18.

May-June:
Kathryn goes home on May 2oth. I then have until June 8 to seek adventure. (I can change my date of departure if needed but it will cost me money). I plan to spend a lot of that time in the bush. My plans for this time are necessarily fluid, but some things I might consider:

1) Doing cool stuff with relatives. They are aweome. (For example: http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2006/12/to-catch-giraffe-from-archives.html)
2) Visiting the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park (http://www.sanparks.org/parks/kgalagadi/).
3) Drive to, and look at Botswana. Possibly visit some missionaries. "Lonely Planet" practically dares you to bike through Botswana, so if I can find some feasable way to do it that would be awesome.
4) I dunno. Shark fishing, I guess.

June 8: Depart for Canada from Cape Town.

Merry Christmas people! NO UTENSILS FOREVER!!!

No Utensils!

2006-12-18T08:49:00.000-08:00

If you still want to read about the problem of Hell, click here. http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2006/12/problem-of-hell-since-i-am-going-to-be.html.

Anyways, you are invited to join me on the front lines, in the glorious WAR ON UTENSILS! The next great battle will be fought in the hallowed halls of Winter Camp, where the resistance first began.

Our song (with apologies to the Arrogant Worms http://www.poemhunter.com/song/carrot-juice-is-murder/)

"Come now my brothers and sisters,

Come hear my desperate tale,

I speak of our friends the Utensils

Trapped in our drawers like in jail

Cutlery lives in oppresion

Used at on our tables each night

The use of Utensils is madness,

I say it just isn't right!

Salad-forks are only for murders,

Spoons are a fascist regime!

Don't think that they dont' have feelings

Just 'cause Utensils can't screa-eaaaaam!!!"

"I've heard the screams of the cutlery

Shoved into our mouths at meals

Made to serve food without mercy,

How do you think that feels?"

Save the World... NO UTENSILS!!!

The Problem of Hell

2006-12-14T08:20:00.000-08:00

Since I am going to be working for a Christian organization in Africa (which may or may not involve evangelism) I want to understand my own faith before teaching it to others. This is my attempt to think through the "problem of hell", my biggest struggle with Christian beliefs. If you're not into theology, this post might not be for you. And yes, it's too long.

Disclaimers: Biblical Inerrancy is not the topic of this post. I am going to assume the Bible is the Word of God and thus tells the truth. However, is prone to drastic mistranlation by it's incredibly errant readers, including myself. If you expect a neat solution to the problem of hell, you're reading the wrong blog.

The Problem of Hell can be summed up as "how can a loving God punish human beings for ever?" Since the Bible seems to teaches both God's omnibenevolence (total goodness) and His sending people to hell, this creates a problem for people such as myself. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Problem_of_hell)

I freely accept that neither my understanding nor my morality is perfect. I disagree the Bible about a lot of things, and realize that I am probably wrong. For me, the problem I have with hell becomes worse a) the more torturous hell is and b) the more difficult it is to avoid hell. While I will focus on b), there is lots written on a).

While the conservative view of hell has people literally burning forever, modern theology tends to teach hell as seperation from God, bringing emotional pain, rather than physical torture. J.P. Morland argues "the punishment of hell is seperation from God, bringing shame, anguish, and regret... so it is punishment, but it's also the natural consequence of a lfie that has been lived in a certain direction." I don't feel qualified to comment on the nature of hell, but I do find it interesting that the Bible describes hell as both a "lake of fire" and as "darkness" which makes it hard to take both literally. However, as C.S. Lewis points out, "metaphorical" flames can be as bad as real ones. The Bible also seems to state that in the afterlife, we will be punished or rewarded in proportion to our deeds (see Matt 11:20-24 or Revelation 20:12-13). Thus, someone like Stalin might be expeccted to suffer more in hell than a run-of-the-mill atheist.

On to point b: does everyone really get a fair chance to avoid hell?

Conservative Christianity argues that God is justified in sending people to hell because people break God's perfect laws. However, because God is merciful, Jesus was punished instead through crucifiction. Thus God can accept people into heaven. This is pretty basic Christian theology, if that is not your strong point read here. (http://www.new-testament-christian.com/salvation.html), or go to the source and read the book of Romans and the Gospel of John in the Bible. The trick, of course is that we have to "accept Jesus" to be saved. Statistically, 1/6th of the world is Christian. I'm sure God uses different numbers, but these statistics do point out that a hell of a lot of people have not "accepted Jesus". Are they all screwed?

This seems unfair for the following reasons:

a) Some people have no chance to accept Jesus because they are too young, or mentally deficient, to choose Him.
b) Some people that do hear about Jesus in circumstances not conducive to faith. It is difficult to expect, say, a Muslim during the Crusades to feel affection for the Christian God.
c) Some people, after much thought, can not believe in Jesus for whatever reason. They are honest non-believers.

A conservative might argue that God is not obliged to save anyone, and that hell is actually a fair fate for people. (A Calvinist might argue that God has already pre-picked people for heaven or hell.) This is a Biblical belief, certainly- that is, you ignore all the verses about God's infinite love and mercy and justice. (Or if you have a radically different concept of justice than I have. Lots of people do. A Christian soldier fighting in Iraq or Afghanistan, for example, might find it totally just that a devout Muslim go to hell.)

So anyway, I don't want to believe the Conservative viewpoint (and I totally admit to being biased and emotional when it comes to the doctrine of hell). If I must believe in a God I think is unjust, this creates a big problem for me. Therefore, I look words of hope for the billions who die without being conventional Christians. And some of the loopholes I actually find convincing...

Universalism: this is the belief that everyone eventually ends up in heaven. Hell is either non-existent or non-permanent. A hell-less Christianity seems to me to be flat out anti-Biblical. I am intrigued by the idea of a temporary hell, meant to purify evil people until they are ready for heaven. However, I need to research more before commenting on this. So, for now, I will assume that the "hell is forever" verses in the Bible were correctly translated. The site http://www.savior-of-all.com/ for those interested in Universalism, argues they were not.

Age of Accountability: this belief suggests that people too young or handicapped to know Jesus properly will be saved by God's mercy anyway. Even hard-line convervatives often believe this. An AOA believer sites David's belief that he will see his child in heaven (2 Samuel 12: 23) , or Jesus' comments about little children, for example Mark 10:14-15 "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."

Conscious Rejection: This suggests that people that go to hell consciously reject God. That is, they willfully and defiantly refuse God's grace, and, in effect, choose hell for themselves. C.S. Lewis' "The Great Divorce", as well as modern Catholic theology have variations of the CR belief. J.P. Moreland argues "If we fail over and over agin to live for the purpose for we were made.... the God will have absolutely no choice but to give us what we've asked for all along in our lives, which is seperation from him... that's hell."

Of course, there are a lot of people that don't reject Jesus out of spite- they just don't find Christianity convincing, or feel secure in their own religion, or never hear about Christ. A CR believer would thus argue either:
a) that, despite appearances, non-Christian DO willfully reject the faith. People who claim to be honestly unconvinced are liars who would rather sin than follow Jesus. (I'm sure some people fit this category, but find it hard to believe all non-Christians do.) As for people who never heard of Jesus, if they really are looking then He will reveal Himself through miraculous means. (http://www.brokenmasterpieces.com/archives/000347.html for example. ) I'm not sure what I think of the "miraculous revelation" idea. It's cool, but I doubt that it's widespread.

b) The earth is a battlefield for souls between the forces of good and evil. Sometimes the devil wins through deception. Matt 13:19 says "The seed sown on the path is the one who hears the word of the kingdom without understanding it, and the evil one comes and steals away what was sown in his heart." However, the lack of understanding that allows the evil one to steal the seed is suggested earlier in the chapter to come from the willful hardening of one's heart. Perhaps God allows the devil to decieve those who "want" to be decieved? I find it hard to believe a God willing to die for a human salvation would let billions go to Hell as collateral damage, unless they precipitated it by their own free will.

c) perhaps people are judged "based on the light that is shown them." It is pretty clear Biblically that people can be condemmned withou hearing about Jesus (Romans 10), but can they be saved? According to the "light shown them" belief, people who don't hear about Jesus are judged based on their response to God shown through the natural world and their conscience (and- in my personal heretical view- perhaps their own religion). Thus they are saved or condemned based their response to what they have. The book of Romans 2 suggests such a theology, epsecially veses 7-8 and 14-16.

Romans 14-16: "For when Gentiles who do not have the Law do instinctively the things of the Law, these, not having the Law, are a law to themselves, in that they show the work of the Law written in their hearts, their conscience bearing witness and their thoughts alternately accusing or else defending them, on the day when, according to my gospel, God will judge the secrets of men through Christ Jesus."

Romans 7-8: "to those who by perseverance in doing good seek for glory and honor and immortality, eternal life; but to those who are selfishly ambitious and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, wrath and indignation."

To me, these verses strongly suggests a judgement the possiblility of salvation, based on a response to one's own conscience. "Seeking for glory" isn't exactly a convential Christianity, but it is the honest desire to please God.

What response, exactly, is acceptable for a God who saves people through "faith in Christ"? A common answer (and perhaps the only possible one) is "we do not know and can only trust in God's mercy and fairness... We do know that the tribesman will have a better chance if he is told about Christ, so let's do that and leave the rest to God."

The Bible is rarely as clear-cut as systematic theology. I personally love the "light shown them" idea, and there is a bunch of verses that can be used to support it. Below are some.

A) The Jesus of the 1st 3 gospels, who talks a lot about hell, seems to point to avoiding evil deeds and doing good deeds as a basis for salvation or condemnation, instead of intellectual belief. (Matt 5:29, 5:30, Mark 9:43-47, Matt 31: 41-43 among many). His parable of the "sheep and the goats" (Matt 21: 35-46) suggests the way we treat our neighbor is what we are judged on. The parable of the ungrateful servant (Matt 18: 21-35) suggests God's forgiveness depends on our own. Also, Jesus tells several people that they will be judged much more harshly, having seen Him and His miracles face to face, then others whose sin will not be counted against them because of their lack of knowledge. (Matt 11: 20-24). These Gospels suggest, to me, that people who do not know a lot about Christ can still show love to their neighbor, obey their conscience, and forgive others and thus please God. (Yes, I realize this poses another problem, since I believe that I AM assured of heaven through my belief.)

B) The Bible says that God loves everyone and wants them in heaven.If God wants everyone to go to heaven, why would he create people with no chance to do so? A sampling of verses, some of which seem downright Universalist:

1 Tim 2:4 [God] will have all men to be saved, and to come to knowledge of the truth

1 Tim 4:9-11 This is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance- and for this we labor and strive- that we put our hope in the Living God, who is the Savior of all men, but especially those who believe.

2 Peter 3:9 The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient towards you, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.

C) Hebrews 11, the ultimate "by Faith" chapter, mentions a bunch of people who have never heard of Christ, because they were born before Him. Nor were they especially moral. Yet the Bible suggests they went to heaven. Abrhaham came from a pagan culture. Joshua was a brutal warlord (though a God-sanctioned one.) Rahab was a Caananite prostitue. Samson was an egotistical psychopath whose big act of faith was a cry for vengenace, which allowed him to kill thousands. Yet all these, not one of them Christians, are commended for their faith. Jesus is called the "author and perfector" of our faith, right after a bunch of people are listed for their faith... but they didn't know Jesus! Interesting. Could it be that God looks at our hearts, not our knowledge?

Moreland argues "[people] don't consciously reject heaven and choose to go to hell instead. But they do choose not to care about the kinds of values present in heaven every day." C.S. Lewis thinks "There are two kinds of people: those who say to God, "Thy will be done," and those to whom God says, "All right, then, have it your way." "

D) The book of Jonah in the Bible is an interesting case study, though it's not about the afterlife. It's about God sending Jonah to Ninevah, the Capital of Assyria, to warn them that God is going to destroy Ninevah for it's people evil deed.

The first interesting thing I find is that when Jonah is on the ship, the pagan sailors who have many gods, instinctively respond with humility and obedience to the real God despite their lack of knowledge. Jonah, who hears God's voice personally and has no reason to doubt His existence is the disobedient one.

Eventually, Jonah gets to Ninevah and preaches his message of destruction. And the Ninevites, shockingly, repent! They go around "giving up their evil ways" and begging for God's mercy. (Which God? Assyrians hardly have the same concept of God as Jonah.) And God shows mercy, as he often did to the Old Testament Jews when they repented. Jonah, however is angry. He wants to see fireworks. God tells him "Ninevah has more than a hundred and twenty thousand people who can not tell their right hand from their left, and many cattle as well. Should I not be concerned about that great city?" The mercy is given in response to an honest desire for forgiveness, not knowledge of correct doctrine.

E) Finally, and this is more a philosophical than a scriptural argument, if correct doctrine is necessary to go to heaven, we run into a problem of degree.

Let us propose, for example, that C.S. Lewis got Christianity 100% correct. (Lewis is a good example because he was well aware that he did not.) C.S. Lewis understands the Bible, and Christian theology, as well as is humanly possible. Thus his faith is not only saving, it is also "correct."

Few people would argue that anyone who disagrees with C.S. Lewis is going to hell (least of all Lewis himself.) John Calvin, Martin Luther, Mother Theresa, Philip Yancey, Billy Graham and so on... Most Christians would agree that, dispite their substantial doctrinal differences, they are all saved. Hang on! Mother Theresa? She's Catholic... she believes stuff that (I think) is flat out contra-Biblical! Yes her faith still saves her. How far can we go with this? Is the genuine, God-centered faith of the Jehova's witness enough to save him, while the Mormon goes to hell? How about Ghandi, who lived an amazing life based on Jesus' teachings but remained a Hindu? How abouta a devout Muslim in the heart of India where the Gospel rarely penetrates? A modern person who is "spirtual but not religious"?

I don't pretend to know where, or if, God "draws the line". It seems to me, however, that a fair and loving God would look at the heart of each individual person more than their mind. It a person genuinely submits to God (as they see him) and throws themselves on the mercy of God (as they understand Him) will he refuse them and send them to Hell? I don't know... I don't pretend to know... but I sure hope not. After researching for this blog post, I have found enough Biblical reasons to keep hoping.

I would be remiss if I did not mention that many ideas of mine were taken from the following sources (in fact, very little of this post is my own ideas):

http://www.danhickerson.net/Non_Christians.html

http://www.catholic.com/thisrock/2003/0302fea3.asp

http://www.savior-of-all.com/

Philip Yancey. I've forgotton the book names but remember the ideas. Sorry, Philip.

C.S. Lewis. The Great Divorce and The Last Battle

Lee Strobel: The Case for Faith. His interview with J.P. Moreland is about the problem of hell.

http://www.twentyfeet.blogspot.com/. My good friend Jacob always writes about stuff like this and I steal ideas from him liberally.

God. The Bible. (I've always wanted to write that.)

To Catch a Giraffe

2006-12-09T08:36:00.000-08:00

From the Archives... this is from an email I wrote back home last time I was in Africa in 2003, after editing for legibility and relevance. At the time, I was priviledged enough to participate in giraffe capture. I post this because, well, giraffe catching may be the most fun I have ever had.

The really exciting surprise happened on Tuesday when my uncle said he had a job later in the week and I could go with him. You see, he has one of the most exciting jobs on the planet. Trained as a veterinarian, he decided to go into the game capture business. Game capture- catching wildlife- is a small but lucrative business in Namibia. Both the government-owned nature reserves and the game farms are constantly buying and selling and moving wildlife, but of course you can’t just tell the animals to go from one place to another so my uncle atches them. The animal we were going to catch is giraffes. A group of guys who capture animals for a living needed a vet (by law, a vet must be present when large animal tranquillizers are used, since they are 10,000 times more powerful than morphine, and lethal to human beings) and so he had to go off into the bush- near the Etosha pan, for those of you who know Namibia. Off we went.

We finally reached the farm we heard the whole story. The farmer was going to sell the farm and wanted all the giraffes- 10 of them- off of it so that he could sell them separately. It turned out the capture crew- a large group of small but incredibly muscular Africans- were experienced and fearless in game capture but had never caught giraffes. We soon fixed that deficiency. Even better, I got to be a part of the team and help with almost all the parts of the capture.

The giraffe is probably the most technically difficult and dangerous of animals to catch. The reason is that they don’t react well to tranquillizers- they die. However, since a giraffe is much too fast and powerful to catch without being drugged, the game capture guys have come up with an intricate system. A helicopter pilot will fly the vet (in this case my uncle) around over the land until they find a giraffe and then chase it towards the capture team- a bunch of guys waiting in a Landrover. This was especially difficult in our case because the entire area was covered in almost impenetrable bush, so the chopper had to chase the giraffe onto one of the various paths the vehicles travelled and keep them there, at which they were moderately successful. The chopper let us know where he was headed by 2-way radio, and we drove to the place at breakneck speeds, sitting in the back of the Landrover and ducking branches. Once vehicle, giraffe and chopper were close together, my uncle would shoot the giraffe with a tranquillizer dart and the fun would begin.

The capture team then has to catch the giraffe. This has to be well timed- if it goes after the giraffe too quickly, before the drug has taken effect, it will outrun them with ease, but if it waits too long the giraffe will fall on its own and might die. We wait until the giraffe is slowing down and stumbling (as if drunk, and indeed the Afrikaans word used to describe its condition is “dronk”) and then position the vehicle in front of it. Two guys holding a long rope run towards the giraffe, stretching the rope across his chest. As soon as that is done a bunch of other guys grab the rope as well. We then let it slide around the giraffe’s legs and, by pulling, take the giraffe off its feet. As soon as it falls one man runs to its head and holds it down, which keeps the giraffe from rising. Another puts a blindfold over its eyes. Meanwhile the vet has been dropped off by the chopper and rushes over to deliver the antidote to the tranquillizer by injection into the giraffe’s neck. Once that happens the giraffe is safe from poisoning, and we can afford to take our time. Of course, the recovered giraffe is now a lot more difficult to deal with.

While several people keep the animal on the ground by controlling its head, two ropes are looped around the neck. A second Landrover, pulling the giraffe trailer, gets as close as possible to the animal (easier said than done in thick bush). Then the giraffe is released, given a push, and everyone scrambles away as it gains its feet. Using the ropes around its neck, as well as a pair of long ropes tied to the trailer that are crossed behind the giraffe, we then get it into the trailer. This is often extremely difficult since the giraffe struggles, especially when feeling the unfamiliar ramp of the trailer beneath its feet. It is also dangerous for the giraffe, which can break a leg if it falls in the trailer. However, by using a whole lot of manpower, pulling on some ropes and loosening others depending on how the giraffe reacts, one can eventually wrestle it into the trailer. The giraffe is then driven to the larger loading trailer, while my uncle and another man hang on to the top of the trailer, manoeuvring the blindfolded animal’s head away from overhanging branches (and receiving some wicked slashes from thorns in the process.) The poor giraffe is, understandably, anything but calm and makes an awe-inspiring din as it tries to kick its way out of the cast-iron trailer.

Once the large main trailer is reached ropes are passed through the body of the trailer, which as bars like a cage. If there already giraffes in there, the ropes are thrown through one side of the cage and caught on the other. One rope is used to restrain the giraffes already present, two to pull the new giraffe in. The doors to both trailers are flung open and the pulling begins anew. It is pretty easy, though, to transfer the giraffe since it has no where to go but into the main trailer. Once it is inside the doors are slammed shut and some of the more nimble men climb to the top of the trailer and remove the blindfold from the animal.

Throughout all these complicated and difficult processes, the one all-encompassing and oft-repeated mantra is “don’t get kicked.” There is a good reason for this. Any nature book will take you that giraffes can kill a lion with one kick, and they can decapitate a person with ease. Giraffes are inoffensive creatures- they don’t attack people like a buffalo or a hippo might- but anything will defend itself when threatened and the giraffe does so very effectively. It can kick with any one of its four legs, and the hard, saucer-sized hooves slash with lightning speed

No two captures were the same, of course, but the one that will be forever etched in my mind was the fifth giraffe we caught, a big female. The capture should have been picture perfect- she was drugged and driven along a path next to the fence, and was too “dronk” to avoid us as we headed her off. However, the guy on the capture rope lost his nerve- not that I blame him- because the giraffe was huggin the fence, and he was in danger of being crushed by running around to that side. I was running behind these two guys, ready to help with the pulling once the animal was trapped. When the giraffe got past them I grabbed one end of a “head rope” (the head-roping guys run behind the original capture team), ran in front of the giraffe, spanned the rope nicely across its chest and dug my heels in. The result was predictable- I am not as strong as a giraffe.The giraffe tore the rope easily from my hands, but not before giving me wicked rope-burn on my left hand and causing me throwing me rather spectacularly onto the ground, twisting my right ankle. It did slow the animal just enough that the capture team could catch up to it and encircle it with their rope. This time we got it right, and with many people on the rope- I made sure to get my left, healthy hand on it- we threw the massive animal down. I felt a savage joy as it crashed to the ground.

However, this was not the end of the story. While we were still getting the head-ropes fastened, and before the trailer was positioned properly, the guys holding the giraffe down slipped and it staggered to its feet, shaking the blindfold off in the process. What followed was a truly incredible spectacle that I wish was caught on tape. Able to see, the giraffe decided that a good offence was the best defence. Lashing out with its hooves, shredding bushes like paper, it rushed towards the guys on one of the ropes, which fled for their lives. The giraffe would then turn and run towards another group of guys- remember, there were three ropes around the giraffe- sending them scattering while the team that had fled before rushed after the rope they had just dropped to stop the animal. All of us had our turn running and pulling and it was pretty intense. The giraffe soon rid itself of every rope except one, and it would have gotten clean away, but one of the guys wrapped the rope end around a tree, and while he and I and several others hung on, the rest of the team grabbed the capture rope and wrapped the giraffe up again. Everyone was relieved then when animal came down a second time, and once we got the blindfold back on it was loaded without further difficulty.

Back in Edmonton

2006-12-06T08:43:00.000-08:00

Here are some random pictures, first of all.

1) "Heeeyyyy!" kids at the children's home love pictures

2) A child gets her "Operation Christmas Child" box. "Let's take lots of pictures and show them around... everyone likes happy children."

3) The "dhobie ghat", where people was your clothes

4) The milk project, where kids who don't get enough protien in their diet are given milk and egg once a week.

5) "Hey... if we miss the bus to school, we can play guns!"

6) Ummm... it's another tiger picture. Wait until I see a cheetah up close, you will never hear the end of it.

7) Look closely at the tourist's head. Up above it are the wild pigs the tiger is stalking.

8) Frick, I love monkeys. Everything about them is funny. (Except maybe this picture)

9) Trained elepant. Surrounded by both elephant poo and pee.

10) A beautiful man on the beautiful Amber Fort.

First things first: Seems like I've written a lot lately (I enjoy it for some reason, plus lots has been happening) so you might want to look at other, more important posts before this one if you haven't read for a while.

So, I,m back... Everything went well, except for some foolish lady in Toronto, who got some luggage misplaced after we went through customs. (I had to fly from Toronto to Edmonton.)

Woman at counter: "Place your luggage on belt 2"
(Jens obediently places his luggage on belt 2)
Woman in uniform standing there: Stop! Put your luggage on belt 1! Jens: Uh, the ticket agent said to put it on belt 2. Besides, the sign for belt 2 says "going to Canadian locations' and belt 1 says "going to the U.S."
Lady: "Don't listen to the signs, just put it on belt 1!!!"

Shockingly, our luggage did not make it, but the airline is kindly gonna drive it to my house. On the flight back to Edmonton, I sat between a newlywedish couple that didn't want to give up their ailse-and-window seats to sit together, so I spent 4 hours trying to sleep while the two of them teased each other over top of me, and grabbed my arm every time the girl needed to pee, which seemed to happen a lot.

I'll be moderately busy and out-of-town for the next month. I may still blog stuff as it comes to me... but my travelling begins anew on Jan. 3, where (Internet acess permitting) I will try to write more stuff.

To everyone that took the time to read about my India trip, thank you.

Final Report (for Real this Time)

2006-12-03T03:32:00.000-08:00

Today I went to see the Taj Mahal. The Taj, for those of you who don't know, is an elaborate tomb built by a muslim king for his favorite wife. Their names escape me, but I do remember that they were married for 17 years, in which she underwent 14 childbirths. The last one killed her, and the king built the Taj in her memory The building is- well, I think the technical term is "friggin cool". It looks awesome from the outside- the structure is well known- and also from the inside, where cameras are not permitted. The hand-carved marble bears floral designs in the distinctive Mogul muslim style (of which I know exactly this sentence). Inside the taj, the flowers are brightly colored, inlaid with gemstones. As my mom keeps mentioning, the Taj is one of the only clean places in India. Everywhere else, the streets are lined with filth and refuse, paint peels from hotel walls, mangy dogs and garbage-eating cows roam the streets and children beg for money. In the Taj, food is prohibited to keep out garbage, and armed guards make sure everyone takes their shoes off to avoid soiling the polished marble. (Aparently nothing is as disgusting to people her as a shoe.) I have yet to see the Taj with the lighting "just right" (sunrise, sunset and moonlight are popular times), but it's plenty awesome with regular lighting. If I were a romantic, my heart would melt. Since I am not, I turn to more bitter thoughts...

Usually, seeing stuff like this annoys me. While forts and palaces have a practical use at least, millitary defense, nut monuments and fancy tombs seem to be extravagant displays of self-importance, foolish monuments to egotism built on the backs of those that have nothing, with money that could be used to feed the starving. The obvious difference here is that the Taj was built for someone else. (Also, as far as I know the king paid his workers, though he did lop off the had of his architect to keep him from designing another such masterpiece).

The Taj, then can be seen as an enormous labor of love (of which I am ceremoniously reminded by wild monkeys having sex on the enterance gate). It can be the pride of an entire country which still provides joy to millions (and indeed, most of the visitors are Indian), or a colossal waste of resources for someone who is still dead.

Speaking of... I've been thinking a lot about the Christian doctrine of hell lately. (I know, my posts just keep getting happier.) Seems to me that, like the Taj, my faith can be seen in two ways. Either Christianity is a beautiful light in the darkness, a banquet of God's amazing grace, in which all are invited and only those that refuse to enter are excluded. Or my faith is an exclusive club, in which the lucky (predestined?) few get love and mercy while the multitudes (most of India, for example) get eternally tortured for believing the wrong things. Both views are at least somewhat scriptrual, I think. Obviously, I would like to believe the former, especially in a country where many people have devout faith in God (or gods) but don't know about Christ. The doctrine of hell is something I need to figure out, I think, before I grow spirtually because it keeps sticking in my throat, blocking out all the good I want to believe about God. Perhaps when I get my thoughts together I'll write about that.

On a much lighter note (and I am enjoying myself immensely, not sitting around thinking about hell all the time), we went on an elephant ride up to a fort. I envy the mahouts, whose job it is to direct an elephant... what a sweet job! At the same time, I'm acutely aware that an elephant is about 20 x your size, and it only needs to get ticked off once... anyway, elephant riding rocks.

Wildlife Pics

2006-12-01T05:54:00.000-08:00

1) Tiger stalks across the road
2) WAAYYY too close to comfort
3) Monkey business
4) sparring sambar

So, we are on the road again, which means I am glad to be male. In the cramped compartments of public transport train travelling, females have two distinct disadvantages:

1) Young men stare at them, shamelessly and openly. My beautiful blonde-haired blue eyed sister constantly attracts a gaggle of obnoxious admirers, who do everything but drool. Sometimes we glare back and it helps for a little while.

2) Toilets. There are "Indian Style" toilets that are a glorified hole in the ground, western toilets that refuse to flush, a hotel room toilet that sprays water all over the room every time you flush... oh yeah, and in lieu of toilet paper you wash yourself off with a bucket. Luckily for me, if there's one thing you learn tree planting, it is to poo in less than ideal situations.

We are currently in fort-exploring mode. Ranthambore had a truly spectacular, vine-encrusted and monkey-filled fort straight from "the Jungle Book". Tempes to Hindu, Muslim and Christian gods cover the top, and fearless monkeys boldly snatch wreaths from the worshipperts.Jaipur is filled with old castles, palaces and towers which are covered in grafitti but still radiate thje majesty of the mogul hordes whcih built them. Jaipur is fairly touristy, which means the locals make a fine living off the exchange rate. However, if you are willing to drive a hard bargain (walking away works wonders) you can get some pretty cool stuff.

Perhaps the best part of the day was when our autorickshaw ran out of gas on the road, and the one with my mom and sister in it promptly slammed into us. Undeterred, the "Back" rickshaw powered us to our location, a local sitting in the passanger's seat and pushing ours with his foot. Ingenuity, hilarity and a little excitement (we dead this into oncoming traffic) all in one.

Sorrry to make this post so short, but I had to re-start 3 times and it's dinner time.

India Report 8 from Ranthambore

2006-11-29T04:37:00.000-08:00

ite INDIA REPORT # 8 FROM RANTHAMBORE

The tigress lay in the grass, long, thick limbs relaxed beneath her. She paid the stinking vehicles absolutely no heed... what harm did they do? Instead she focused on the deer. A herd of sambar were deep in the swamp, eating the lucsious water plants, 0blivious to the cat hidden in the grass. Herds of spotted deer- chital- and wild boar also ambleed past. On dry land lay a pair of truly enormous sambar bulls. In her younger days the tigress might have given them a go- her 250 kg of muscle were a match for any creature- but she had recently lost some canine teeth in battle with a 15 foot crocodile. She had killed the croc, but now found it harder to kill other prey.

A herd of wild boars stumbled by, oblivious, nervously regarding the vehicles. The tigress pressed herself into the grass, making herself flat, but she was painfully aware that she was visible from one side. The pigs came close... closer... almost... the tiger's explosivenes and power are equal to none, but once they hit full stride a pig or deer could outrun her. She shifted position, trying to hide in the thicker grasss, but the pigs saw her and galloped away, snorting in alarm.

The tigress got up, slowly, majestically. Every inch of her body rippled with he power that had made her the biggest and dominant female in the entire park, the power that enabled her to provide for 2 small cubsl with only one fang left. Using the vehicles as shields, keeping them between her and the sambar, the slunk closer to another patch of grass. The gawking humans above- clicking pictures and making awed faces- would have been easy meat, but she saw the trucks as one giant entity, made of rubber and metal, not meat. She gained the long grass encircling the marsh, but as she did a deer on the hill behind her saw the orange creature and snorted loud alarm. Instantly the chital that had been feeding in the vegetation scattered, and the hunter disappeared into the grass to wait.

We saw the tiger from the back of a canter, a kind of flat-bed safari truck were tourists sit in the bed, and yes, she did use it as as a shield from the deer. We waited for over and hour, tense, willing the tiger to make a kill. Several deer came close, but not close enough, and when she finally came out of the grass they took off. She made a half- hearted lope after them, perhaps hoping one was injured or lazy, but no deer was close enough to catch. Finally, the cat gave up and the canter drove us home, elated.

We have two safaris left, but it will be difficult to top this one." We had hoped to see a tiger, even just one, but never dreamed of seeing a friggin' hunt where the cat stalked by almost close enough to touch. (Oh yes, there will be pictures, when I find a computer where I can upload them. If you search for "tiger vs crocodile" or similar on google or youtube, you can see the tigress and her battle with the crocodile. (Thanks to our guide for providing background information on the individual animal.) The same guide also pronounced our sighting "the best one of the entire season." Not much else to say... that was sweet.

India Report 7

2006-11-25T06:57:00.001-08:00

INDIA REPORT # 7

"The lynx was dead. But the she-wolf was very weak and sick."- White Fang

"Rather than seek pity, sensing rather that weakness of any kind is something to be ashamed of, the animal crawls away to await the outcome: recovery or death"- Lassie Come Home

So there I was, sick as a dog, and for some reason I thought of quotes about sick dogs. I don't know why, though I blame the fever, and the hours spent lying there doing absolutely nothing. (By the way, I read those books when I was about 10, so the quotes are most likely wrong.) Anyway, I caught a pretty nasty flu bug the other day, had a bit of a fever, a vicious headache, and spent a day and a half in bed. Nothing like lying in bed, feeling like suck and having your mom and sister discuss malaria, and your presence or absence of it's symptoms. Rest assured however, that I do not have malaria, nor any other cool tropical disease, but simply the flu. By the time you read this I will be healthy again (I am already vastly improved.) Also, due to a lack of eating and sudden disgust at the thought of greasy, spicy curry, I will be thinner, with much less work, than weeks of running could do!

So, we head off tomorrow. Our itenerary for the last weekish is as follows:
We will travel to a nearby city with the Reverend and family, to see a project his daughter is running that gives milk and eggs to poor children

We will take the train to Mumbai. From there, we will train to Ranthambore National park. From there to Jaipur, which I know absolutely nothing about, except that it's both filthy and pretty- just like me! From there, probably to the Taj Mahal, and then to Delhi, where my mom and I fly back, while my sister travels with friends.

And finally, my"deep" thoughts for the day: this is the kind of stuff my mom and sister were discussing deep into the night, making me sleep deprived and thus subsceptible to ilness. (In their defence, my decision to do push-ups instead of trying to sleep did not help.)

# 1) To what extend it morality cultural? (I know the standard Christian answer is "it's not"). Most of us would agree that, say, dousing your wife with kerosene and lighting her on fire is wrong no matter where you do it. (This was how more than one of the kids here got orphaned.) However, in some cases it's much less clear cut. Although the Indian Christians disavow the caste system, we've noticed that they still seem to have a bit of a class-oriented attitude. Those with less money, less prestigous jobs, etc are expected to do simple but menial tasks for the wealther and lazier: "get me a glass", "here pass this Bible to that person" etc. Uncomfortable? Certainly. Immoral? I'm not sure... I like to think that, while I was a "holy crap it's a white person!" visitor in the villages, I set a bit of a good example for the Indian pastors by rolling up my sleeves and getting into the mud to help get a truck unstuck. Not that the Indian pastors don't do an enormous amount of good, or show a ton of love, for those less fortunate, mind you. They do, and they are much more to be admired than questioned.

And an enormous thanks go out everyone who helped to contribute financially to the mission, both readers and non-readers of this blog. (Yes, I realize that you need to read the blog to read the thank you, but the mission recieved generous gifts from people who have never heard of filth-man.) Most of the money was spent to buy rice, which is much cheaper now (it is just post-harvest) than later in the year. Thanks largely to your donations, the mission has been able to purchase over 600 sacks of rice. (We need 1000 for the year.) That's awesome.

India Report 6

2006-11-22T20:30:00.000-08:00

Given that I leave the mission in 3 days, and I might not be able to blog again for a while, I'm gonna write down a bunch of random stuff that I haven't jammed into a previous entry. Do not expect order, flow or any kind of rational continuation (kind of like an Indian pastor's progress report). There are pics at the bottom.

When people in India want to say "yes" they don't move their head up and down like we do in Canada. Rather, the wobble it from side to side, kind of like those bobblehead dolls some people have on their dashboards. Straight side to side means no (just like in Canada), side so side wobble means yes. It gets confusing. I try to imitate the wobble, but due to my notoriously stiff neck it turns invariable into a Ricky Martin type hip shuffle.

The "hill" I wanted to run up has turned more into a "walk" up, due not to lack of effort, vut due to steepness and heat. The whole thing is a catholic shrine... you start out at the bottom, at a catholic church, zigzag up the path past devout catholics, many of whom are doing ridiculous feats that I can only assume are a form of pennance- crawling over the cobblestones on their knees or carrying heavy sacks on their heads. At the top is a statue of Jesus crucified, and it's quite a religous experience, staggering up to the cross, gasping for breath and totally exhausted. There are moments of comedy too, usually involving the locals. Trying to find a shortcut through the bush, I quickly realized it was going nowhere, I ran back to the path, realized there was a 5 foot drop to the road, jumped off it, landed in a crouch and hit the ground running. But not before seeing the look of sheer horror on the face of a couple of women and children.., may never have seen a white man before, let along a sweat-soaked wild-eyed one jump off a ledge in front of them.

Some interesting cultural differences (so far as I can tell):
Men show affection to each other in public, but not to women. One man in particular shows too much affection, repeatedly, until I finally threatened to beat him up. Really. Ask me for the full story.
Women don't expose thier legs in public. However, they do explose their bellies, in between the "skirt" part of thier sari and their top, a sports-bra-like upper body garment that they also wrap their sari around.
Chubbyness is almost a status symbol. Since the majority of the are either hungry or laborers, and thus skinny.wiry, having a bit of a belly shows that you are not poor.

Man, the kids here lead regimented lives. They are happy (as far as I can tell) but very busy.
They get up very early to do chores, have school from 10-4, come home, do homework for 2 hours, have devotions, eat an enermous supper, and go to bed. They do get some free time in there, but not a whole lot. We've been spending an hour a day playing with the kids. The boys stop being sweet little kids and become competitive athletes very quickly. They fight over the ball (even with teammates), rally around the biggest and strongest, yell and scream and basically make good candidates for "Barbarian camp". Their hand eye coordination is just sick.. one of their games is whipping a tennis back back and forth- hard- and snagging it from the air one handed.

Speaking of sports, I think my retirement from wrestling may end. I found out that I can train in South Africa- perhaps even with the 84 kg African champ, which would end in beating for me I'm sure but might be fun. they have the South African Greco championships while I am over there, so I might go try my luck. I have done ok in Canada in Greco, with 2 national bronze medals, but that's with a small talent pool that's pretty inexperienced in the style. "Umm, arm throw? Hip toss?" As a bonus, Greco seems to require less cardiovascular fitness!

We went to a village of "bull dancers". The men of the tribe dress up a bull in bright color that is better seen than described (see bottom of post), and then make the bull "dance." there are some cool tricks- who knew that a bull could fit a man's neck in his mouth? but mostly the run around with the bull like crazy, getting him close enough that you think he's gonna run you over. The control over the massive animal is impressive. Funniest of all is the village boys, who are supposed so stay away (the bull dancers will smack them if they get within range), but who really want to be bull dancers themselves and play chicken with the big animal while imitating the dance steps.

I always find extremely spiritual places, like foreign missions, a little stressful. A constant focus on God makes think about all the doubts and questions I have. I find it hard to relax when topics like the suffering of children and the eternal destiny of human beings is constantly being discussed. What this says about my own spiritual life, and dedication (or lack thereof) to my faith I'm not sure.

I don't think I've ever met people who pray as much as the pastors do here. I've written up all their progress reports, and standard is several prayer nights a week, plus a long church service on Sunday, plus several days of fasting and prayer, and all night prayer vigils, every month. then there's family and personal praying time. I can't decide if this is amazing or excessive. However, you can't argue with results, I guess... Churches and new christians are springing up everywhere like wildfire, and this among the Hindu people, which are notoriously difficult to convert.

These pastors may wear their big bellies proudly, but they are not soft. They live in what we would consider huts. One of the big goals of our mission is to build them parsonages, houses with electricity and toilets, and most importanty, good roofs. That way, rain and snakes dont' get it. Cobras are actually a common problem. I was in one hut where feral cats came in through the roof, which means a) loads of room to get in and b) lots or mice around for the snakes to eat. One pastor actually lost a kid when a friggin' snake crawed into his hut and it. Sucks.

I would also be remiss if I didn't ask for money... I hate doing it, but the money is sorely needed, and Ive seen enough to convince me that it will be well spent. Total cost to:
build a pasonage or church-$5000
buy a 75 kg bag of rice to feel childen- $25
Sponsor a child or pastor- $25-30 per month

Email me if you are interested, please. I will gladly provide more details, but I feel uncomforable providing personal info for others over a blog anyone can read. We are currently making DVD's to "advertise" the mission, I will gladly share some when I get back home. Making these DVD's is a rediculous amount of work, since the software is posessed by anti-productivity demons.

Finally, we are in the process of booking enterance to Ranthambore national park, supposedly THE place to see tigers in the wild. Tigers! My one stipulation when going to India was "I want a chance to see a tiger in the wild." My mom and sister could plan everything else (which they did quite excellently, I might add) but I wanted that shot at seeing a tiger. Now it looks as if I may get it.

Pics:
1) A bull eats someone's head
2) awww... children with puppies! Who can resist the double cuteness?
3) Some local villagers

Pictures 2

2006-11-21T18:42:00.000-08:00

Not so many, and you'll have to ask my sister if you want good ones, but here goes.

1) The tradition Indian welcome- garlands. We got about 10 of them (at least).
2) "Operation Christmas Child" boxes at work
3) Jens fearlessly touches a water buffalo, and realizes it's much like touching a cow
4) happy children
5) The Haji Ali mosque in Mumbai

er for

India Report 5 (nothing happens)

2006-11-19T09:59:00.000-08:00

So, I cut my arm today...

Relax, just a scratch. I was scrambing down a hillside, grabbed a tree to slow a skid, and got a little scrape. The way people reacted to it, you'da thought I'd rammed the arm through my kidney. Anyway, I found a "mountain" to climb... a hill, actually. It's right behind a catholic church, and all along the steep, cobblestoned path are stations of the cross. It was very wierd, put at the top, watching people pray and then turn and ask us for pictures and autographs. The obsession with white people/foreigners here is insane.

Without betraying anyone's privacy,here is the history of most of the children that are taken care of by the mission. (There are roughly equal girls and boys, but writing his/her every time is a pain, and because I am male, will be our prototypical child.) I've typed up about 10 billion progress reports. These are double-translated: they are written in Telegu, translated into English, then I translate them into "Western" English, changing such interesting phrases as "their father plays with bufallo" and ones that readers might find offensive, like "the child is not intelligent." Christianese phrases are left as written.

Child so-and-so hails from such-and-such a village. His father is a daily wage laborer/has another low paying job, and his mother is also a wage laborer/homemaker. His father is/is not an alcoholic. The parents barely make enough money to pay for food and education for the children.

After the ilness/death/alchohol or adultery induced departure of one/both parents, the child is cared for by the other parent/grandparents. However, the meager income is not enough to support the child.

The parents/grandparents approach pastor whats-his-name, and with his cooperation the child joins the mission home.

The child joined the mission in some year, and is now so old and in a grade. He does well/struggles in school. His favorite subjects are this and that. He attends Sunday School and has learned singing and bible stories. He is shy/mischivous/a natural leader with his peers. He is growing strong spiritually in the Lord. He wants to be a doctor/nurse/engineer/pastor and help the poor and bring Glory to God.

The children live in 2 different dorm houses, one of which has a school attached. They have house parents to care for them. They get plenty of food, though it's simple. Rice forms the majority of every meal. If you'd like to donate a bag of rice, now is the time to buy and it's $25 for a 75 kg bag. Please leave a comment with contact email or email me if you are interested. They are well educated in local schools, and brought to the doctor when necessary. The one thing they seem to lack is personal one-on-one attention to adults. This can nor really be helped, as there simply aren't enough adults to go around. We are trying to do our part by spending time with the kids. They especially like photos. The boys are very athletic, and like to play "soccer"- kicking a tennis ball into the wall of the opposing building to score. Bicycles, geese, passers-by and girls are considered natural obstacles. They also love cricket, which is a dumb to play as it is to watch.

Not much has actually happened since my last blog, we continue to be treated like kings, and to work in the office. The internet here- no wait, if I try to describe the frustration I will descent into cursing. Let's just say mega-suck and leave it at that.

India Report 4ish

2006-11-17T08:03:00.002-08:00

(disclaimer: my comments on "Indian culture" and the like are based on my observations, and people telling me stuff, not statistics or objective study or anything. Probably not true in all places in all cases.)

So, we've spent a couple of days touring villages. Despite the enormous cities in India (1 million people rates a "town"), the majority of people still live in rural villages. The villagers grow their own food and/or work as daily wage laborers on the farms of the wealthy few. Visiting them (with several area pastors) is an experience to remember. The pastor at the children's mission also leads a program that builds parsonages and trains evangelists, and he and his compatriots go to "visit the flock" whenever they have guests, once every few months or so.

A typical village visit goes something like this:

1: We drive the the village by taxi. My mom mentions the insanity of the traffic roughly once for every 7 minutes of driving. All of us roll down the windows to take pictures, undoubtedly looking very stupid.

2: We arrive and walk to the parsonage (pastor's home, plus church hang-out place). The parsonages, like the other houses, are simple structures with a couple of rooms. They have electric lights and- importantly- celing fans, but few modern conveniences. These people don't have much. They- being Indian Christians- are also a huge minority in the country. The majority Hindus are usually, but not always, content to let the Christians do their own thing. Some Hindus will even come to the church gatherings.

3: The villagers line up enthusiastically to greet us. We are given garlands of colorful flowers, a traditonal method of greeting. Everyone is grinning wide, waving and cheering and laughing. You put your hands together straight up and down, bow a little, and say "namaste" to greet them in the traditional style. We were very uncomfortable with all the attention.... the pastor's non-PC (but it seems to be very true) comment that "one white person makes an entire village happy" didn't help. Finally we realized that the villages really do love to have guests, and are basically looking for an excuse to celebrate, so we decided to enjoy being Rock Stars for a couple of days.

4: There is generally some sort of church worship. Long, somewhat redundant (especially if you can't understand) songs are sung in Telegu, the local language. (There is no language called "Indian", rather there are a plethora of them. The most common is Hindi.) A pastor speaks, messages ranging from a short greeting to a full fire-and-brimstone, yelling every sentence type sermon. (The pastor yelling in English is very quite funny, as he crechendo-decrechendos at the end of every sentence. "You must accept the Lord JEEEsus!") One of the "honoured visitors" has to give a short greeting and Bible reading, with translation from a pastor.

5: Food! The villagers get to feast, but we are served first. In India, being a good host is of vital importance socially, and serving food is 1a on the list. People bring you water to wash your hands, bottled water (it is common knowledge, I guess, that foreigners are too pansy to handle Indian tap water), and fill plates with food. They will continue to fill your plate once it becomes even remotely empty. This makes eating a tricky venture when visiting 4 or 5 villages in a day. It is rude to eat nothing, but downright gluttonous to eat a full meal every time. (I might have taken the eating challenge, if nor for my wanting to get back into shape. As well, it seems poor form to stuff yourself with food the villagers could otherwise eat.) And yes, it's the women who cook and serve food. A lot of them also work in the fields with the men. Tough girls.

6: "Playing" with the kids... they are shy at first, but once you approach them with a smile they can't get enough of the attention, though the only Englsh the little ones speak is "my name is". They take great pleasure in our attempts to pronounce their multisyllabic names. The magic of digital cameras lets us take pictures and then show them to the kids (and delete later if necessary). The kids get an unbelievable kick out of this and swarm you like happy puppies, smiling and laughing and shaking hands. I started taking flowers from the garlands and putting them in the hair of little girls. They smiled, put their hands to their faces, and beamed. It was great.

The younger women get in on the action too, waving their babies and asking to get their picture taken. They are so slight of build that I constantly worried that I would accidentally pat a mother on the head. Only the men stand back, polite and even friendly, but the young ones seem a little wary. Perhaps they want us to realize that it is THEIR women and children we are playing with.

7: Leaving, followed by waving, cheering throngs. It was bizarre, I felt like Angelina Jolie. Incidentally, the funnest part of the day was when I actually got to do something useful... Our driver got one of our 2 vehicles thoroughy mired in thick greasy mud. Since the villagers don't have cars and the pastors don't have mud, no one had the slightest idea what to do, so I got to more-or-less run the show. We roped the two vehicles together to pull the stuck one out, and the drivers almost blew out the engine on the first one. He gunned it hard, while the second driver did not bother to even turn the stuck vehicle on! A quick explanation of "drive forward with BOTH cars- and other people push" later, and we were on our way.

The villages are hard to describe in their awesomeness, so I will try to upload pics at some point. Small, crumbling houses, roofed with leaves, are surrounded by lush tropical greenery. The women and girls are dressed in bright colors, somehow keeping their Saris spotless. There are animals everywhere- manegy feral dogs looking for scraps, chickens nervously bickering in the dirt, a wobbly-legged calf chasing the chickens, and the placid water buffalo everywhere. These buffalo are more like cows than their savage African cousins, easily herded with the tap of a stick.

The sheer entusiasm of the villagers is mind-boggling. I am reminded that we generally equate "developing world" with "horrible suffering"... and certainly, suffering happens. If a villager can't get work, or his crops fail, food becomes immediately scarce. Many people can not afford medical treatment. After typing up the stories for many kids .I am acutely aware of what can go wrong. However, when things are going well, they seem perfectly content, even joyful, with their "simple" lives. Theu don't need a ton of stuff. They are thin but don't look starving. (Incidentally, most people here are naturally pretty small. It feels very strange to be tall for once. Those that eat to much get the amusing skinny-fat physique: narrow shoulders and a big belly.)

I was also impressed by how hard the children work. It is perfectly acceptable for an adult to ask a child- any child- to get him something, and the child obeys without question. However, the kids do not seem to be intimidated or bullied into doing it. They work with smiles on their faces, and it is clear that their parents (the vast majority, anyway) love them very much.

The only part I didn't like was being made to feel very soft. It feels very wussy to get treated like a king; sitting there getting fanned by a 10 year old girl is slightly rediculous. As is getting your feet washed by hand because they are muddy. As is getting asked "are you too hot? Do you need a rest?" after a 10 minute walk. I wanted to scream at the guy: "I used to carry trees up moutains in this weather! Am I made of freaking glass?"

As far as our doing any work? Apart from bringing joy from our glorious presence, well, yes, we are. We are writing a bunch of letters to sponsors, doing videotaping and scripting for promotional DVD's, and taking pictures of children for the files. Yesterday we went assembly line style through a hundred kids or so at a school: Line up, snap picture, next! The strategy of the Mission people is becoming clear, and it's a pretty good one: make us feel welcome, make us feel part of the work, so that we will want to support, and send more people to the mission in the future. Works for me.

Finally, I am speaking in the English service on Sunday. If you are the praying type, I would appreciate you offering up some on my behalf.

Pics chosen at Random

2006-11-16T17:46:00.000-08:00

These were chosen completely at random, by clicking on unseen images. I'm sorry there are not more, but my computer is determined to prevent me from upoading pictures. Getting these on my blog was an hour's worth of work.

1) Spice vendors in a big market in Mumbai.
2) "No Utensils" is cultural! Eating Indian food in our hotel cell
3) cute kids at the children's home
4) palm trees from a rooftop
5) my sister at the enterance to a Hindu temple
6) drinking coconut milk in a village

India Report 3

2006-11-15T09:09:00.000-08:00

I have a personality clash with Indian culture, I think. Not just the man-touching, which I wil refrain from mentioning, except right now. Indian hospitality (or at least that which I have experienced) is all about doting on one's guests, giving them your finiest food, drink and location, ensuring their comfort and giving them gifts. I feel uncomfortable without my own space, my own time, my own (as in, bought by only me) stuff. The fine food is amazing, of course, but it does wreak havoc with my plan to get back into wrestling shape. Ahh well, it is foolish to complain about being treated like a king. Especially in a place where so many have nothing. So I guess I will enjoy the lavish hospitality.

Today we went shopping, which I deplore. Specifically, we went Indian garb shopping. The way to the store was travelled by auto-Ricksaw, basically a cross between a golf cart and a tuna can. My mom wants me to mention that the streets are even crazier in an auto-Ricksaw- I entertained myself by touching the occasional bus as it went by. The Indian garb store, called "Venus" was populated by no less thast 11 workers, most of which rush to help you put on clothes (there is no privacy when changing... note to self, wear more underwear next time). The girls bought a bunch of Punjabi suits, and I got some sort of black-and-gold man-cloak. The grinning shopkeepers ensure me I look like a prince. I'm thinking "Haloween", but it really is a very nice man-dress.

I am- still- too tired to do written justice to the children's home. Also, I am kinda paranoid to write too much detail about someone who can easily read it.... for now, we live on a compound with a Reverend, his (older) family, some household helpers, and about 40 kids. The rest live in a seperate "children's home" which we will visit tomorrow. So far our work had not involved the kids directly; rather, we are helping to create DVD's and letters for present and potential sponsors, so more children can be adopted. The home has the space but not the money. A lot of our work involves transcribing "Indian" English into "Western" English... example: "so and so was menstruating constantly. Then God gave her a womb. She is now 9 months pregnant." beomes "So and so was unable to concieve for a long time, but now God has granted her a child".

Sorry about the lack of pictures, they were almost uploading but then my computer quit. Maybe next time.

India Report 2

2006-11-14T07:29:00.000-08:00

"... two thousand pounds of education, falls to a ten rupee jezail (Afghan sniper rifle)"- Rudyard Kipling

"People go to India to learn great spiritual wisdom, but for some reason they don't see India, or what that belief system has done to those people over there. Karma, ugh!" - Frank Peretti

"If they just picked up all this trash sooo many more tourists would come"- my mom.

"Soap. You need soap. And I can see you are very sensitive. Are you a sensitive man?"- man on train.

A 24 h train ride is a lot of time to talk, think and read. I read a book called "the Afghan", a trash thriller with a technological and millitary (rather than political take on the War on Terror. The Kipling quote stuck in my head, mostly because of how cheap the rifle is. While you couldn't get a gun for ten rupees (30 cents) nowadays, but you certainly can get a lot for very little. Everything is dirt cheap in India. If you don't like the price, you can generally barter. There's always a ton of people trying to help you for tips as well- carry luggage, show you around, sell you things... We had 4 different kids come on board the train while it was stopped and offer to clean the floor with a rag cloth for money. It is most helpful if you are trying to get all your luggage onto the train, but most annoying if you only need to carry it 10 feet to a taxi.

Frank Peretti, a Christian writer who will never be accused of Political Correctness, blames the Hindu belief in karma for much of the suffering in India. He claims that the (now outlawed, but still widely practiced) Caste system, that places people in different social strata from birth, excuses the rich from helping the poor because "they earned it. That's your karma. If you are born to be a beggar you're meant to be a beggar." I don't know enough about Hinduism, Karma, or the Caste system to pass judgement.. however, we did have an endless conversation with a very nice gentleman on the train that scared me.

He imparted all his wisdom upon us, and while he certainly had some good things to say, his belief that you can discover someone's destiny and criminal nature from their hands and facial features was, to say the least, disconcerting. Someone should tell the FBI, would make their job a lot easier.. no, wait, did I just suggest racial profiling? The Peretti quote makes a lot of sense to me now. Anyway, a lot of the guy's credibility was lost when he "predicted" my age to be 21, AFTER being told my birth date. (I am 23). Also, his palm reading skills told him that I am a very sensitve man. My mom and sister actually went into convulsions of laughter upon hearing that. Oh yeah, and those destined to be poor have a certain feature on the top of their ear... don't remember if the "fortunate" have a flat or bulbous ear, but thanks to the magic of cauliflower earI now have one of each.. perhaps they will cancel each other out?

The third quote is in disgust at the incredibly disgusting streets of Mumbai. Filth everywhere. We went to a Hindu temple and a Mosque... inside they were clean, reverent, and filled with worshippers. Since it is considered disrespectful to wear shoes in the places of worship, "shoe guards" watch your shoes as you walk around. Outside the mosque/temple, beggars beg and mind-boggling mounds of trash accumumate. It's very strange to be a in a very devoutly religious country, where the majority if not Christian. Dunno yet quite what to make of it.

Our train ride was interesting to say the least. We sat 3 to a bench facing each other, facilitating the long conversation. At night time, we sleep 3 high, on bunk "benches" strapped to the wall. Because of our enormous amount of luggage (largely supplies for the children's home), positioning both ourselves and our stuff became quite an adventure. We got a good tongue-lashing from an irate 80-y-old, who eventually became quite friendly, and I had to sleep on a sack of random supplies, finding a soft comforable notch between a big tub of hand cream and a coathanger. My mom, in the bunk below, ticked my feet in her sleep. Twice. No, I don't know why.

Finally, I thought the man-holding-man-hand thing was wierd... much wierder when a man puts his hand on your inner thigh to talk to you. Takes some getting used to for sure. The grabbing of my belly was a bit too much.

We have arrived safe and happy at the children's home... but I will write about that after we have spent some time there and I have actual information. For now suffice to say the accomodations are very comfortable, the hosts are embarassingly gracious, their food is delicous and the children- dark, skinned, almond eyed and kind of shy- are adorable. And the people here don't own cows... they have WATER BUFFALO! Tame, domesticated water buffalo! How cool is that?

I realize as I am typing that my writing sucks today. I am sorry. I am very tired. But good tired.

Jens

India Report 1

2006-11-12T03:51:00.000-08:00

So here we are in Mumbai (the former Bombay), exhausted... just got here and already been an exciting trip.

The flight(S) were long, boring, turbulent and uneventful. I break 2 long-lasting streaks of mine... the "can not sleep" streak and the "sucky movie" streak, the latter being broken by screenings of "Driving Miss Daisy" and "Rounders". Nonetheless I was bored enough to read two books, one on comlex biochemistry (Darwin's Black Box). Ah well. Our final flight, Delhi to Mumbai, was by "Spicejet", a family-owned flying company. We took a shuttle bus to the terminal in the middle of the night, driven by a Saddam Hussein look alike, complete with bristling mustache and ancient machine gun. (All the guards have huge mustaches, it seems, but they are good-natured and helpful.) My mom thought we were getting kidnapped, especially when the shuttle bus passed through two heavy gates manned by armed guards. The airport really does look like a secret millitary base- albiet with wussier planes- at night.

Spice Jet's luggage x-ray machine is in the middle of friggin' nowhere. You put your luggage through one end, then open it up for their satisfaction, then pick it up and carry it to boarding. The flight times are indicated in dry-erase marker on a white board. I was quite relieved when we got onto an actual airplane. I was half-expecting a giant catapult or something.

Finally we had to pick up my sister, who was flying in from South Africa, before finding accomodation. We are spending the night at a Hotel called "the Palace Hotel", and by "palace" I mean "prison." Prisoners would riot if they were locked in cells as small, or had celings as low, as ours. It is run by a mob of passport-obsessed Indians (they had to take ours to photocopy them twice) who entertain themselves by sweeping, so the place is immaculately clean. We ordered in some Indian food, and have yet to vomit. (Apparently everyone gets sick from eating the food here.)

We've spent the day touring Mombai, walking the streets and taking the taxis to various "famous" locations. The streets of India are a varitable cacophany of sight and smell. Men wear (almost invariably) dress pants and button up shirts, but the brightly colored Saris and traditonal garments of the women are something to behold, shining bright against the filthy backgrounds. The stench is palpable from the streets- a pungent mix of known odors (pee, poo, sweat, fish, cows and spices) and unknown ones. It mixes with a humid, sticky smog, to create a truly unique experience. The streets are incredibly diverse- the wealthy walk by the shacks of the poor. People sl;eep wherever it suits them, as do dogs, which otherwise laze the sidewalks between playing children who pay them no heed. Even cows wander around aimlessly. Men, curiously enough, walk arm-on-shoulders and hand-in-hand everywhere. In Indian culture this apparently means friendship, not homosexuality, but it takes some getting used to, especially when a man-man "couple" walks by a loving heterosexual couple who are also holding hands.

In some places the blaring constrasts are downright sickening. We crossed the street from India Gate, shaking off the prying hands of a legless beggar boy crawling around on padded knee-stumps, and strode into the most opulent of hotels. Rich and poor, fat and starving, so close together.

Transport is by way of taxis, and it's kind of fun. The taxis compete for travellers, of course, and are not above a little bald-faced lying to get you into theirs. However, the drivers are good-natured and (in comparison to South Africa) unarmed, so it's pretty safe. The roads are something else though- narrow free for alls, with people and animals jockying with drivers for space. Drivers lay on the horn constantly, not with malice, but as way of warning: "I'm coming through!" It seems to double nicely as a turn signal also. They take great pleasure of squeezing in between other vehicles, even when it offers no actual speed advantage. It didnt' help that my mom began to squeal in fear, convincing the driver to try even harder with a grin on his face.

So, ya, India's been good. Lots to see and we haven't actually done anything. Tomorrow afternoon we take a 24 hour train ride- something I am NOT looking forward to. I am out of books and I hope I can sleep most of the way. My mother and sister are quite exhausted, and am I, and I hope to eat a spicy Indian supper (man Indian food rocks) and have a long, blisfull sleep in my cell.

Good night.

Flying to India

2006-11-09T11:22:00.000-08:00

Well, we are off to India tomorrow morning. Apparently the Moron-checkers were asleep at their post, for they have given me a visa to their glorious nation.

We appreciate your prayers during our journey. Specific prayer requests:

a) That our stomachs would survive the change in food- several friends of ours have been pretty sick in India.

b) That I might be able to lead effective devotions- apparently I am teaching the story of Joseph to 300 kids with the aid of a translator.

c) That we would be an effective help instead of a nuicance to the children's home.

d) For safety. This should not be a dangerous journey, but it's always good to have prayers for safety.

Too see our itenerary, click here: http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2006/10/indiatinerary-greetings-to-those-of.html

To ask questions just click on "post a comment". Your comments will not appear instantly.

Rambling's from Cave-Man Land

2006-11-07T09:29:00.000-08:00

(my mom has NOTHING to do with this post)

Looking up from a miserable streak of planting one day, I locked eyes with an enormous black bear. He was right across the dirt road, 30 odd feet away, looking at me. I cursed my luck, looked at him, and wondered what to do. Bears are common in Northern BC, and they usually don't bother you, but this one was very big and very close. I yelled for my co-workers (bears don't like crowds) but no one was in shouting distance. I wondered if they would be able to hear my screams as I was being dismembered. I looked longingly for the truck, but it was nowhere to be found. I tried to ignore the bear, but such a thing is hard to do.

Finally I screwed up my courage, smiled to myself at the absurdity of it all, raised my shovel and started yelling. Yelling screaming, making myself look big. I advanced a couple of steps, waving my pathetic weapon, and the mantra in my head was "please don't eat me please don't eat me". As I got closer, the bear rose to face me- for one wild moment I braced myself for the charge- and then with the fluidity that all wild things have, he disappeared into the bush. As my heart rate slowed down, relief began to flood over me, and something else... a tiny sliver of regret. So small you could almost ignore it, yet so foolish it borders on machismo. "I was ready", it said. "Why won't you fight?"

I'm fascinated by the concept of man-eating animals. Not a man-killer, who acts in self-defence or anger and takes a human life (such as a rampaging bull or an angry pitbull) but a true man-eater, who hunts down a human being for food. The black bear I encountered was obviously not one. In fact, every bear I have ever met has given way. Some dash off into the bush, some retreat more grudgingly, but I have never even been threatened. I have been circled by a yearling wolf, a lean and gangly thing, and as I wondered if my size could compensate for his speedI remembered that entire species- cheetahs, african wild dogs and North American wolves among others- have sworn off man-eating.

I have stared into the eyes of a shark from a shark cage ( see http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2006/08/instead-of-info-i-have-decided-to.html), looked down on a hunting lion from the back of an open jeep, fished in a crocodile-packed lagoon and observed an irate leopard through an open window. (For what COULD have happened, watch this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCAoIywxFk8. My leopard took off). These are some of my greatest memories. Perhaps my most memorable experience is catching giraffes with my uncle- huge, majestic creatures that are subdued by hordes of men with ropes- and the sheer exhileration of realizing it could- and wanted to- kick my head off but I was just out of reach.

The true man eater is rare. This is due to one of two reasons (and yes, they may both be true): Either a) animals have learned to avoid messing with man because he has guns and bombs and a long, bitter memory or b) because God has put man fimly in charge, as the book of Genesis seems to suggest. Man eating is very much location-dependant, which suggests that a) has a lot of truth to it. In Southern Africa, where proliferation of guns is a major social issue, leopards exist on the outskirts of major cities without ever being seen. In India, where peasants have no means of self-defence, they become a snack. Basically, predators eat people where they can get away with it.

African Lions, the scariest animals I have ever seen- just look into the pitiless eyes of a big lion and try to feel no fear- are nonetheless safe enough that, when I was on Safari 2 years ago we slept in the Serengeti, the Okavango Delta and the Ngorongoro Crater in fabric tents. (Lion safety lesson.. a) stay in your friggin' tent at night. b) If a lion comes by be very quiet. c) if it tries to get into your tent, kick it in the face. d) If it really wants to eat you, you are screwed.) Sure the ocasional tourist gets nailed- usually because they are blatantly violating park rules (one moron tried to re-arrange some lion cubs for a picutre)- but all in all, if you are careful you are relatively safe. This is not the case in more primative areas, where human beings have the ablility to deplete a predator's natural food source but not enough technology to protect themselves. Some remote parts of India, for example.

Yes, this does tie into my upcoming trip: I was researching national parks in India to find one to visit. Specifically, I want to see a Tiger. I found out two things:
a) Most National Parks were created to protect diminishing Tiger Populations
b) These tigers eat a crap load of people.

Really... it's quite bizarre. The descriptions for some of the parks go into long explanations of how they have had, and continue to have, problems with tigers nailing locals. a year What a travel ad that is: "our locals get eaten by tigers. But come on in, you won't." ( http://www.india-wildlife-tour.com/wildlife-sancturies-india/dudhwa-national-park.html. and http://www.india-wildlife-tour.com/wildlife-sancturies-india/sunderbans-national-park-tiger-reserve.html are good examples)

I am fascinated. Fascinated by the whole idea of human beings still at the mercy of nature, who go to bed at night knowing (as I did that night in the Serengeti) that something bigger and stronger might drag you off in the middle of the night and there was nothing you could do. In bear country I sometimes sleep with a big knife, wondering if it would be completely useless in self defence. I have found a common theme amongst my outdoorsy friends- every one of us wants, deep down inside, the chance to fight a bear. Many of us even have a plan, from the truly bizarre (do a flip over the bear and stab it in the back??) to the masochistic. (A friend of my grandfather's, when attacked by a lion, grabbed it by the tongue. The lion ate his arm but was unable to get to his vitals before the man stabbed it to death.) Perhaps this goes back to our anscestral past when, like the peasants in some parts of Africa and India, a man's abilites really were measured by how hard and how fast he could throw a spear. (To make things even worse for them, most of the man-eaters come from national parks. Imagine being told the government is protecting the killer of your children.)

I do not write to incite fear in those who read this. Tourists are well protected- they, after all, bring money. I write to share my fascination. I think there is a little cave-man in all of us, a little primative sliver that feels resignation that wants to prove itself against the wild. In Southern Africa, the animals everyone wants to see are the "big 5": the professed five most dangerous animals, the lion, leopard, buffalo, elephant and rhinocerous. (I think they got it wrong though: hippos, hyenas, crocodiles and snakes would make my list). Much in demand are the Walking Safaris- a guided walk through big game territory. (My mom did one as a teen-ager. A hippo almost got her. She loved it.)

Peope in the Bible lived like this. Biblical threats are written in language the people of that time fully understood- hungry lions, bears robbed of their cubs, angry serpents. Imagine walking to your girlfriend's house, filled with thoughts of romance, and being jumped by a lion. A lion! Then imagine turning around, grabbing it by the head and tearing it apart.. and being so blase about it that you didn't even tell your parents. How cool is that?

Don't get me wrong, I am thankful- very thankful- to be living in a world of safety, where my life is not in constant danger. I do not want to get eaten, and if a bear ever does come after me I will probably wet my pants. But still... I can't keep thinking... how cool is that? I wonder how many other people (especially men, this might be one of those "guy things") agree?

Indiatinerary

2006-10-27T12:00:00.000-07:00

Greetings to those of you who are my mother's friends and are wanting to know what she is doing. She is using my blog for the sake of convenience, and wants it known that she DID NOT pick or approve of the "filth-man" label.

This Friday, Nov 10, my mother and I are off to India. I will attempt to update this blog from India but I can't promise anything. Barring something happening to my camera, I will upload pictures when I get back. Please post any questions or comments you may have in the "comments" section of this blog.

Nov 10: Flying from Edmonton International Airport to Dehli, India.

Nov 11: Arrive in India late at night. Spend the night there in the airport.

Nov 12: Take the plane to Mumbai (formerly Bombay). Meet my sister Anja , who has flown there from South Africa. Spend the day looking at Mumbai.

Nov 13: Take the train to Vijayawada to the Children's Home.

my mom says:
The children's home is home to 300 children. We will help to write letters to sponsors and do daily devotions with the children centered on the story of Joseph. We look forward to learning a lot from the missionaries.

Nov 27 : Take the train back to Mumbai.

Nov 28- Dec 4: Meet up with Anja's friends, who are touring India. We will spend several days with then visiting as-yet-unknown sights in Rajasthan. The Taj Mahal and Ranthambore national park are the ones I hope to see.

Dec 5: Fly from Dehli back to Edmonton. My sister continues to travel with her friends.

Christian Practice Room part 2

2006-10-22T16:36:00.000-07:00

I'm going to stretch my wrestling analogy to tortured lengths, so bear with me. Please note that:
a) I am a Christian writing for other Christians. Christians who believe doing the will of God is important.
b) I'm not making the distinction between "our doing good things" and "God working through us" in this post. I'm not always sure what the difference is, and it's tiresome to write down both. When I talk about a Christian doing God-pleasing things, assume that they are doing it through the guidance and power of God.
c) Finally, I am struggling with the stuff I am writing, trying to work through it. My words are not pure truth, they are one man's perspective. Please remember that.

If the Christian life is a race, a struggle, a war (all Biblical metaphors) than too many of us are sitting on the sidelines. In a world that is filled with starvation, gluttony, lust, violence, hatred and has the capacity to turn itself into a smoking crater, we need a force for good. The Bible presents us with one- the Church. The followers of Christ. Following the greatest Good, with the back up of the greatest Power, and a handy instruction manual (yes, the Bible, don't you hate that cliche?) we are those equipped to deal with the evil (yes, evil, there is no other fitting word) that encompasses our world. However, the popular perception of Christians among non Christians seems to be one of two: either in propoganda-spewing, thoroughly hypocitical Republicans or naive, pathetic shut-ins that don't seem to do anything except sing and pray. This is not good.

I have a lot of bitterness toward the Religious Right, but this post is not about them. It seems to me, though, that a lot of us gravitate towards the second stereotype. Filled with the (worthy and noble) desire to BE good, we barely have the time and energy to DO good.

In wrestling, we have guys- either old retired guys or young beginners, usually- which are willing to practice, to train, to improve, but not to compete. They are- especially the old guys- often quite good, but are unable or unwilling to demonstrate how good.

Too often, we are practice room Christians, spending all the time training ourselves with our Bible-intepreting skills, our worship singing techniques, our lust-controlling marathons, and we forget to step onto the "big mat". Our Biblical knowledge of the verses commanding us to love, help and take care of our neighbour may be tremendous (mine is not, hence the lack of actual verses), but if we don't practice our skills what good are we doing?

World and Olympic champ Dan Gable was famous for his practice room skills as a coach after he retired from competition, thrashing Olympic medallists regularly in practice. He beat a young russian by 20 points in an exhibition match, who then went on to win several gold medals. Being "better" only matters if you can prove it in competiton- Dan will never get the Russian's medals. . Being "better" people, in my mind, is much more significant if we prove it with our actions. You no longer feel lust watching shampoo commercials? Great. Now use that self-control to do the world some good.

"Wait, wait, wait Jens.. Are you suggesting that becoming moral and knowledgeble people is unimportant?"

Hell no. It is of vital importance. Without "training" to BE good, how can we expect to DO good? The havoc wrought by unethical Christians- or Christians subceptible to temptation- is mind boggling.

I remember wrestling a multiple (Juvie and Jr) national medallist a couple years ago... he killed me first round, and then he gassed.. hard. with every ragged gasp from his mouth, I realized that I still had more energy then he. I ran him out of bounds repeatedly with minimal resistance (1 pt each) and eventually won in overtime, lifting him high into the air before slamming him down. (1-7, 3-0, 1-0 OT). He hadn't put in the time to train.

Afterwards, after he had put in his cardio training, I wrestled him four more times. The closest bout was 2-0, 4-0 for him. (not good memory). This is what training does for you. It is vital. Alexander Karelin, the consensus greatest wrestler ever (13 straight World/Olympic wins with no losses in that time) accredited his sucess to training "harder every day of my life then [his opponents] ever trained in theirs". Alexander applied his training billiantly. Do we?

Personal morality is just as important. Improving ourselves (with the help of God, of course) is a vital and never-ending quest. But it is NOT an ultimate goal. To quote John Eldrege: "Morality? Morality is never the point." It is a means to an end, just like the weight a wrestler can lift is a means to an end- more strength to crush his opponent. The end- our end- as Christians is a better world. A more Christlike world. A world with more faith and less hatred, more love and less violence, more joy and less sadness.

We are often so focussed on being good, and exactly what that entails, that we fight amongst each other instead of against a common enemy. How much Christian thought and literature is devoted to the evils of- and cures to- video games, rock music, mastrubation, drinking, dating, and dancing? (None of these, by the way, is expressly forbidden Biblically.) We can be just as nasty on matters of theology... just mention "evolution" in some churches! What possible good does fighting amongst ourselves do?

The Christian who drops the F-bomb upon hitting his thumb might concievable have a negative impact on someone who hears him. However, given the choice, give me the crude vulgarity of Martin Luther (and occasionally the apostle Paul, who told men to go castrate themselves) to change this world for the better any day! While we pay much attention to the small, visible evils of our neighbours, how much do we focus on the evils condemming our fellow Christians?
Tearing each other apart over legalistic issues? Showing judgement instead of love? Anger instead of grace? And no, I am not advocating a tolerate-everything, wishy- washy Christianity. Just a focus on loving God and our neighbour, solving problems instead of causing more. Who cares if the world is 6000 or 6,000,000,000 years old? What matters is that it's a mess and we can help fix it.

As part of my undergoing wrestling withdrawals, I recently spent time watching some of the all-time greats on youtube. (http://www.youtube.com/profile_videos?user=the1qs has some good ones). As interesting as their similarities (domination on the world stage) were the differences. Each one had outstanding technique, but completely different styles. As differently as these men wrestle, everyone agrees that they are master technicians. We can see the results of their amazing technique... Gold Medals.

Perhaps, as Christians, we too should realize our differences. Realize that even what constitutes "right" might differ from person to person. (It is perfectly moral for some people to have a beer, but not for an alchoholic). Perhaps, we should be striving for results, for the proverbial Olympic Gold. "By their fruits you shall know them", Jesus says of his followers. Solve world hunger. End war. Dismantle Nuclear Weapons. Evangelize the world. Revive a spiritually bankrupt West. (Not individually, of course, but each Christian can have an effect. Together, that adds up to a lot). The world needs this, more than it needs people who refuse to listen to an Eminem cd. The Christians should be the ones demanding intervention in Darfur. Running homeless shelters. Sponsoring children. Navigating the elusive balance between waging a war on terror and striving for peace between societies. The world needs us. These are the "big matches". This is the testing ground, the true measure (I think) of our dedication to a Christ-like life. What are we willing to do, to sacrifice, for others?

("Wait a second. Jens... lots of Christians ARE doing that!" I realize that. That's exactly what we need more of. In my humble opinion, those Christians "get it".)

The quest for personal holiness (perfection?) is a noble one, though (to me) it doesn't seem like much fun. I probably underestimate its importance. However, I am deeply convinced that it is no substitute for an outward-reaching faith, a faith that truly seeks to love our neighbour as ourselves. I do note that many of the Great Heroes of our faith were deeply, horribly flawed. Yet they did great things. Why can't we?

P.S. 1
[I relalize this post is long on idealism and short on actual suggestions. Hopefully my trips to Africa and India, which will be spent largely trying to help the poor, will give me suggestions. Also, I wrote down some ideas in an earlier post: http://filth-man.blogspot.com/2006/09/help-poor-so-i-was-given-priviledge-of.html)

P.S. 2
[
A partial list of flawed heroes from Hebrews 11: Noah the drunkard, Abraham the coward who twice offered to give his wife to a foreign king to protect his own butt, Jacob the lifelong cheat and swindler (who also wrestled with God, how cool is that?), Moses the murderer, Rahab the hooker (who did not, as far as we know, quit her job), Samson who scorned God, slept around and killed people recreationally, David who waged some pretty brutal wars and famously stole his own soldier's wife... the list goes on and on. All these were "approved because of their faith", and all of them did great things, so great that God himself applauds them.
]

Not Part 2!

2006-10-21T12:34:00.000-07:00

No, this is not "Part II". This is totally unrelated to anything.

So the new thing in schools is to... wait for it... ban tag. Now that the lethal terrors of dogeball have been conquered, several administrations are turning their gaze on the blood sport that is running around tapping each other gently. TAG!

Back in my day, we had snowball fight bans in our school, and they were looked upon with dreadful seriousness. Packing a snowball was treated like toting an AK-47, and carried with it an instant suspension. Every lunch break we would play a pretty vicious game of backyard football, where the emphasis was less on the score than on the tackle (trips, hits from behind and all that were quite common) and there were even some fights... but man, how we hated that snowball rule. (I suppose a snowball might actually put out an eye, though I've never heard of it actually happening). And now educators think it wise to ban friggin' tag. Lawsuits about kids getting injured, I think... and not just in the lawsuit crazy U.S., but also right here in Edmonton!

During my APT, Ii learned how unreasonable and agressive parents can get, and so I sympathize with the administrators... but just a little bit. Our population is getting fatter by the minute (man, it's hard to stay in shape when you don't have to make weight anymore) and we want to ban games that promote... gasp... moving around? ("Let's get our kids more active.. but only by running on a treadmill.. in a padded room... with supervision by trained doctors, and a life coach... wait, you can fall of a treadmill?")

Maybe some kid will slip and fall? Awww... Comment from some parent: "I'm glad. I've seen too many near collisions". What kind of wussy tag is that? You should be having actual collisions... .

"But Jens, you're a tree planter. You like to wrestle. You don't understand. My child is sensitive." I'm sure it is, but I do know what I'm talking about. When I was little I was always picked last at games, I sucked in gym class, and I was actually tested because my coordination was so poor. (My attempts to play basketball are too poor to even be funny) .

News flash parents... think back on your childhood.... I imagine you had bumps, bruises, scratches, maybe even shed a little blood, and yet you did not die. It might have even prepared you for a world where everyone is not in the business of trying to make you feel good. The "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" cliche may not apply to, say, crippling car wrecks but is sure as heck applies to running around on a playground. But no, the band-aid police is out in full force, protecting their children from the nicks and scratches of a healthy, fun-filled childhood, so they can go home, eat donuts and play "Lethal Carnage of Naked People 3" on their playstation without so much as a sliver because they aren't allowed to have normal fun anymore.

Here's just one link to an editorial that conveys it's annoyance far more articulately. I know the Edmonton Sun is a right wing trash rag bla bla bla but this one time they got it right. http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=32606743

The Christian Practice Room part 1

2006-10-04T17:50:00.000-07:00

So, I finally figured out what I am doing in South Africa....

I am going to be volunteering with the cape flats YMCA. Here's the link: http://www.ymca.jez85.net/. I will be splitting my time (most likely) between the school and the prison programs, thus combining my love of incarceration with the prestige of my Bachelor's of Education. The YMCA teaches many life-skills type stuff, helping the youth from the rough areas of Cape Town to survive and thrive (gee, that rhymes). The "Cape Flats" are the slums of Cape Town and are often considered the crime capital of the world.

Sociohistorical Note: (don't you love big words)
[ The main group of people there are called the "Coloured" people. No, not as in "I'm trying talk about black people while being PC".. they would take offense at being called "black". The Colored people are their own racial and social group. Back in the day, before Apardheid, white men (mostly men, since the first white people in South Africa were soldiers, hunters and explorers) married black women and had, shockingly enough, brown children. When the government of South Africa forbade interacial marriages (which is no longer the case) the "Coloureds" found themselves ostracized by both whites and blacks. Now they are their own group. If that sounds wierd, well, that's South Africa. Legalized racism is out (since the 1994 free elections, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/South_African_general_election,_1994), but people still think of themselves in racial- and tribal- terms.

Looking at the website it looks positively safe and easygoing compared to the 3 weeks of prison ministry I did last time I was in South Africa. "Stay in this room please, there's a big brawl in the other one, we're bringing in the dogs..." I wrote extensive letters about my experiences, if someone's interested I can post them sometime (i.e. leave a comment saying "I am interested). The most exciting part to me is that i get to live with a host family, and thus experience all the culture (and culture-shock, no doubt) firsthand.

Apart from a 3 month(ish) stay at the YMCA, I also hope to (in roughly chronological order): hang out with my South African sister, catch ginormous fish with rods and spears, visit the Andrew Murray Center and JAMM ministries (with whom I volunteered last time), go up the Garden Route, do some "extreme" touristy things (shark diving, skydiving, stuff like that), go to Namibia, visit the Etosha Pan, and I really hope to do some game capture with my uncle again. (Perhaps I'll also post my recollections from giraffe catching- I think every person who has ever met me has heard that story, but you know the drill, if you care post "I'm interested".)

So That's Africa, there will be details aplenty I'm sure. The rest part of this post is my attempt to write something intellectual and thought-provoking, as opposed to simple this-is-what-I-did-then... but it's only a teaser, the first part of what will surely be mind-blowing truth to the highest degree. Part 2 will be the stuff that's thought-provoking, so if I chicken out I can just write "the moral of the story is that Albertan Wrestlers are better than those in British Columbia." (BTW posting that on a Canadian Wrestling forum is about as controvertial as posting "George Bush is my Hero.")

THE CHRISTIAN PRACTICE ROOM: PART ONE

I remember a conversation a few years back I had with my wrestling coach. I was not on the roster of athletes selected (there were 10, I think) to compete at a big tournament in British Columia and I was upset about it. I went up to my coach's office to see him and asked what I needed to do to prove myself. I mentioned my increased sucess- in practice and aprevious tournament. He agreed with me, pointed out some things I still needed to work on, and told me "we have a lot of athletes ready to go to this tournament. Whether I find a spot for you or not, I want you to know you have proven yourself, it's simply a matter of space now. " Later that day I found out I was going to Vancouver.

In my first match, I met that year's 72 kg Canada West Champion, who was wrestling up a weight. It was a scrappy, low-scoring match, all sweat and scraped forheads and dangerous tie-ups. I remember a scramble to the out-of bounds that turned into a throw for me, fighting off a gut wrench in the last moments of the 2nd period, ribs feeling as if they might crack but determined not to go over, and finally being awarded a caution point because my oppoenent was stalling. That proved the winning point. (memory test.. score was.. 0-2, 2-1, 1-1 with tiebreaker going to me).

My feel good-story didn't quite have a hapy ending, as I lost a 3-round match in the semi-finals (1-3, 5-0, 1-4 something like that) and finished 5th, but that win was huge for me. I don't remember being kept out of any tournament I wanted to attend after that. And a rather long-winded trip down memory lane to get to my point...

WHICH WILL BE IN PART 2! BE PREPARED TO BLOW YOUR MIND!

Birth Certificate!

2006-09-25T17:39:00.000-07:00

I have before me... a copy of my BIRTH CERTIFICATE! YEEEEHAAAAAA! And not only that, but what else would arrive today than my SOUTH AFRICAN PASSPORT!!! The one that wasn't supposed to be here for a couple of months! SWEEEEEEET! And life is good again..

So, my paperwork arrived Monday, a day after I posted my complaints.. and also after it was brought up at a prayer meeting. Coincidence? Miraculous occurence? hmmmm.... Thinking about this, it strikes me that so-called "acts of God" always seem to happen on the edge of the miraculous... my passport arrives as soon as people start praying for it, my station wagon fishtails out of the way of an oncoming truck in a manner to defy the laws of physics, and so on. This makes it easy for a charismatic to believe "see right there! miracles" as well as easy for a skeptic to scoff. "Passports arrive ALL the time!" Someone like me is stuck in between. I've been trying to figure out how, and how often, God actually interacts in people's lives. I know some of my other friends have been thinking about this as well, so if you have thoughts please send me your comments. In the meantime though I may not know the mind of God, I do know that my mind is much relieved. India-Africa here I come!!!

Finally, just for fun, some pictures of previous fun in Sunny South Africa. Credit goes to my lovely sister Anja for taking them.

I did some climbing with my cousin, who was both taller and skinner than I. Thus, when he slipped nibly down a chute of rock, I followed- and realized that, while my feet did not touch the bottom, my rib cage certainly touched the rocks- on both sides. Unable to pull myself up, I slipped, and ended up with identical gashes on each side of my chest. Cool!

The "experts" told me it wa the wrong season, I'd never catch anything (other than a truly hideous sandal tan). However, they did not fathom the possiblilty of my stumbling upon an entire school of ravenous bass. "Here, I could only carry this much, I had to let the rest go."
And Napoleon Dynamite was right: bass ARE delicious.

I am not content with the catching of mere fish, it seems. Once upon a time, I was priviledged to assist my vetrinarian uncle (in the green shirt) with the capture of an ostrich. That day I learned that not only am I less powerful than an ostrich, I am actually less powerful than an ostrich that was been winded, tied up, pinnned down by four people and injected with five tranquillizer darts.

Passport Details

2006-09-24T17:55:00.000-07:00

Here is the step by step process for getting acess to India, as outlined by the internet: 1) Apply for Visa 2) Get Visa 3) Fly to India. Unless, of course, you are me (which, by the way, you are not, unless I'm reading my own writing, in which case I should get a life). Then the play-by-play goes something like this.

1) Download Canadian Passport Application forms because my passport has expired
2) Fill them out- twice, because my handwriting is too messy the first time
3) Realize that, for some reason known only to a mythical being that resides in a tower made entirely of paperwork, Birth Certificates issued in Quebec before 1994 are not suitable for passport applications. (I was born in Montreal in 1983. For those of you who are math impaired, that makes me 50 years old).
4) Sit on the phone for a long time trying to get around the Birth Certificate issue without luck.
5) Call Quebec, which tells you to order a new birth certificate- for money, of course. Also, another mythical being (this one sitting atop a fountain of purest bull manure) has forbidden them from telling me when said birth certificate might arrive.
6) Download forms and order birth certificate.
7) Wait a month
8) Call Quebec again, and ask them what's going on. Have them tell you it should have arrived last week. "We'll accelerate your request and call back in two weeks if you still don't have it."

I am now in still in the waiting stage, and time is running low. It sucks. I envision myself flying to Vancouver, where you can get an Indian visa overnight, just to make my plane.

Oh yeah, applying for the South African Passport was fun too. I sent in all my forms, and when we called back a month later (because my mom was having "evil dreams" about my passport, which turned out to be quite prophetic) the consualate "never saw the forms." I'd like to introduce the jerk who tossed my forms into the garbage to a rabid hyena and let them fight it out, but anyway, moving on... We had to get new forms (apparently the old ones were outdated anyway, which involved 3 passport pictures, siugnatures from every human being who is a serial killer (and to qualify for serial killer status you have to make at least three kills, all for the purpose of pleasure), and a full set of fingerprints. Also, a single thumbprint on my other form, which I naively thought wouldnt' be a big deal.

I was partially right, It took about 5 seconds.. and 25 extra dollars. I wish the police would stick to fleecing speeders. Pick up some potheads and find them if you need cash. Then I found out a policeman I know woulda been more than happy to thumbprint me free of charge. Yay.

So ya, I am sitting here waiting for things to arrive in the mail. As to my volunteering in South Africa, I may be working with the South African YMCA. They show great interest (as told to my my sister) in having me volunteer for them. Contacting them, however, is a whole new exciting story, that you'll have to ask me about in person.

That then is the state of my travels... frustrating and incomplete.. hopefully things work out. If you are reading this and am a praying type person, please spare a minute to ask the Big Guy to speed up the Birth Certificate office. I really wanna go to India.

Helping the Poor

2006-09-10T14:49:00.000-07:00

So I was given the priviledge of speaking in church a few weeks back. Yup, for one glorious day I was the pastor, and all the churchgoers sat in their pews, eagerly soaking up all the wisdom I was able to bestow upon them... but anyway, my topic was taking care of the poor. Since helping the less fortunate is to be a major goal of my trip to Africa, and I have reasons behind that goal, this is more or less what I said in church....

A few "disclaimers"

A: Pllease keep in mind that I am basically transcribing the stuff I said, and the words and examples I chose fit well (I thought) into a twenty minute sermon, not so well for a long dramatic written piece.

B: Yes I realize this is way too long for a blog-post

C: Yes, this was a sermon given in church, so if you're not a religious person, you will still see words like "God", "Jesus" and "Bible". Don't be afraid...

The Parable of the Sheep and the Goats (told by Jesus)

From Matthew 25:31–46 (NRSV)

‘When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family,* you did it to me.” Then he will say to those at his left hand, “You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.” Then they also will answer, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?” Then he will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.” And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.’

Our world is an unhappy place. People are suffering. The news is filled with images of war and terrorism. The wrold is a mess. Today, I want to focus on only one aspect of human suffering- poverty. I realize that there are varying kinds and levesl of poverty, as well as spiritual, financial and quality-of-life poverty and so on. I realize that while I might be jealous when a man in a big, expensive fishing boat passes my canoe, there are people on Earth that would gladly use my canoe as a house. For the purposes of today, I am going to define "the poor" as "people who struggle to meet their basic needs"

We, as North American Christians, are among the richest 1% of people who have ever lived. (My friend Andrew put it very well- we are medival kings, carted around on mechanical chariots). The Bible is crystal clear that we, as Christians, have an obligations to care for the poor. The parable of the sheep and the goats has a theology that I do not understand, and therefore I will ignore it, but it does seem to say that there are eternal consequences to our treatment of the less fortunate. In fact, the command to "help the poor" runs through both testaments of the Bible. Here are some verses from Proverbs, the ones that I am supposed to be speaking on:

Proverbs 14:31 "He who opresses the poor shows contempt for their Maker, but whoever is kind to the needy honors God"

Proverbs 22:9 "A generous man will himself be blessd, for he shares his food with the poor."

Proverbs 28:2 "He who gives to the poor will lack nothing, but he who closes his eyes to them recieves many curses"

Proverbs 29:7 "The righteous care about justice for the pooor, but the wicked have no such concern"
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Proverbs 13:21 "He who despises his neighbour sins, but blessed is he who is kind to the needy"

Obviously God wants us to take care of the poor, and obviously they are not sufficently being cared for today. I am going to discuss a few reasons for this. I am going to focus on things that we can do ourselves, not political and corporate solutions. Please keep in mind that we are disgussing on eof th emost complex problems in human history, which has troubled many of the great thinkers throughout time, in only twenty minutes. The reasons I am going to list are, I think, somewhat legitimate ones, and certainly ones I struggle with. However, I will also give reasons afterwards why we should stil continue to care for the poor.

Reason # 1: We blame the poor for their own situation, because their poverty is caused by lazyness, stupidity, substance abuse, poor choices, and so on. Oftne this is true. There are many examples of people falling into poverty through their own sin or poor judgement. During my first student teaching practicum, where I worked with people from an imporverished neighborhood, we told the kids repeatedly that good preformance in their classes and a high school diploma were their tickets to a better life. Many of them flatly refused to to work, even when given time in class, deciding to be lazy and goof off rather than learn.

This may sound harsh, but even the Bible suggestrs laziness as a possible source of poverty. Proverbs 6:9-11, which I love because it's so sarcastic, says "how long is the lazy man going to lie in bed? When is he ever going to get up? "I'll just take a short nap" he says; "I'll fold my hands and rest a while." But while he sleeps, poverty will attack him like an armed robber."

Reason # 2: We feel helpess to stop poverty. The problem is just too big. We blame wars, droughts, international corporations, governments, George Bush and Ralph Klein, even God. And we realize that even when we do try to help it often does little good. The standard cliche that "If I give this guy money he'll just buy booze" is probably true in many cases. In Africa, many children and adults are "taught" to be beggars harassing tourists and asking them for aid instead of finding a productive job by well-meaning visitors, and if the money is given to the governments instead they buy guns. Many people feel that the entire African continent is doomed. The problems, including poverty, are just too big.

Reason # 3: Probabably the most important reason for many of us, including my self. WE would simply prefer to spend our money on ourselves. We buy food, shelter, entertanment, vehicles, and long trips overseas. This is NOT necessarily a sin. The whole purpose of work is to provide for oursleves and our families. The Bible is full of God blessing people financially (David, Jacob, Abraham, Solomon and so on). Ecclesiastes 5:19 says "When God gives any man wealth and posessions, and enables him to enjoy them, to accept his lot and be happy in his work0 this is a gift from God."

Howevear, an attachement to our own posessions that prevents us from helping others is harmful Most of the wealth on Earth is concentrated in relatively few, individuals, and guess what? We are those few. I used to think "Bill Gates should help, He has billions, he should give the to charity". Then I found out Bill Gates does give billions to charity, abotu 2.9 billion or half his wealth according to the internet. So what am I doing?

Reason # 4: We are apathetic or forgetful. This is sometimes a helpful coping mechanism, as it is simply not possible to embace everyone's suffering all the time. We turn of "World Vison" infomercials with straving children on them because we simply don' t want to see it. We may even remember Stalin's twisted quote hat "an individual death is a tragedy, but a million deaths is a statistic". We also have other thing to occupy our minds. AS a rather embarrasing personal ecample, I support a missions group in South Africa, and several times I have had a cheque for them sitting on my shelf for over a month, because I simply forgot to deposit it.

However, while these may be good and valid reasons, they should not preclude our helping the poor. The Bible is crystal clear in both testaments that it is our duty to care for the less fortunate. Now I will give some suggestions why the four "reasons" mentioned are not "good enough".

Reason # 1: While some people are indeed lazy and may deserve to be poor, many other simply lack the skills and attributed necesary to suceed. Even work ethic and motivation can be learned traits. I had friends in South Africa that earned as much in a weekend of labor as I could in an hour of hard tree planting... which of us should be more motivated? One of my personal heroes, Daniel Igali (Canadian Wrestler) came from an impoverished family in Nigeria and became a world and Olympic champion, then used his newfound fame to help his village back home. Daniels' career took off when he learned work ethic by blowing a big lead to a less talented American wrestler who had trained harder. Poor work habits are often learned from parents and friends, and we should not be the ones to judge who is deserving or undeserving of misery. And, even if a person is to blame for their own suffering, we are called to be people of Grace, not of judgement.

Reason # 2: It is simply untrue that we can't make a difference. Daniel Igali, who grew up with nothing, has now founded a charitable organization. (http://www.igali.com/main.jsp) If we ourselves have little wealth it is worth remembering that throwing money at problems is not always the answer. There are many ways we can help. Jesus rarely if ever gave money to the poor- he WAS the poor- but no one was greater friend to the unfortunate than he was. Even small gestures; smiling at a homeless man, sponsoring volunteeringa t a soup kitchen, do make a difference to at least one individial. Imagine if every Christian did so.. and some of our small gestures DO blossom into big, world-changing events. Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King, Ghandi, Nelson Mandela an dso on were not born into wealth or priviledge, They just did what they could. So should we.

Reason # 3: Our wealth is NOT a sin.. but we must find an appropriate balance between keeping for ourselves and giving to others. Jesus says: "No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You can not serve both God and Money."
Jesus does not specify an amout of giving. Many people choose the Old Testament tithe of 10% as a good rule. Jesus suggests to SOME people that they give everything they own... he also warns "when (not if) you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets as the hypocrites do.. do your giving in secret" God does not tell us how much money to give- that would be making things too easy- instead he trusts us to make that decision. However, I believ ehe expects us to take seriously. In addition to givint money we can serve the less fortunate with our time and our job.. and yes, it WILL involve sacrifices. However, you might find the time spend giving these sacrifices enjoyalbe. I spent 3 weeks doing prison ministry in a run-donw building with few comforts and dangerous conditions (ie prisons) and it was an incredible experience.

Reason # 4: How do you make yourself care? Howe do you remind yourself not to forgot? I don't know, but hopefully this is one such reminder. For myself, a good reminder was the NHL playoffs of this past year. With every Oiler victory (and there were 15, unfortunately not the 16 needed to win it all) the crowds stormed Whyte Ave to celebrate. I saw "the poor", street people, living it up and celebrating with the rest of us in their filthy rags. I was reminded that these were people just like me, with even the same interests (hockey) and the same joys. I also find the little "donation" jars in gas stations and fast food restaurants a good remindere to give, and I like to slide a few coins every now and again. It is also possible to link your account to a charity by direct deposit so you won't forget to give money.,

It is easier to give to to someone you know personally, or at least know something about. Pick someone to support regularyly and consistently. Sponsor a child and put it's picture on your fridge. Give money to a poor missionary or a down-and-out family you know personally. Put a human face on someone that you know personally.

Helpin the poor is never presented Biblically as an option. It is rather an essential part of our Christian service, and every Christian (and non-Christians also) should take part in this necessary misison.

Beauracrapcy Sucks...

2006-09-08T17:59:00.000-07:00

So it turns out that due to a bunch of mistakes made by a bunch of people, including but not limited to myself, my South African Passport will not be ready by November. After a week of running around, making phone calls (and many thanks to my parents who made a bunch of calls and reaserch while I was working), getting a billion pictures taken, and cursing the pettyness of the Canadian passport office ("all birth certificates from Quebec must be post 1994, and no there is no good reason why") the general inefficeincy of Quebec ("no we are not allowed to tell you when your birth certificate will be ready") and the South African embassy's amazing paperwork-losing capabilites I am pretty much sick of it all. No plane ticket, no set dates, no nothing... gaaaa! My date of leaving has been pushed back probably to January.

However, I do know the following...

Before going to South Africa, I am going to India with my mom and sister on Nov. 10th, and staying for 3 weeks. We will volunteer at a children's home and touristerize. I also want to ride a tiger.

In South Africa I hope to volunteer for the South African YMCA, which does work in prisons and hard-done-by school, the very type of thing I want to be doing. I hope they email me back soon. I also want to do more prison ministry, catch more wildlife, and perhaps wrestle in the South African nationals. Good times...

Oh yeah, and I am doing a liquids-for-a-week contest, in which we are only allowed to consume foods that can be sucked through a straw. Basically it's been smoothies, soups and chocolate milk all week. Blenderized ravioli, when mixed with soup base and hot sauce, actually makes a great drink! I have yet to work up the nerve to try "meatcream", which sounds gross and only becomes grosser when you describe it- a meat milkshake... but I will try it soon, I think, which reminds me... my brother Nils wants to do a meat-week soon, a week of eating only the flesh of dead animals, and we need participants, so let me know if you're interested. You can eat a pack of bacon for supper and still lose weight!

Random Thoughts

2006-08-31T19:53:00.000-07:00

In honor of "Random Camp" at Crowsnest Lake Bible Camp, where I was recently a counsellor, here are some random thoughts...

Man, this blogging stuff is hard. I don't want to be one of those guys who writes down every mundane detail of their lives and exepects others people to care, but nor do I want to be one of those people who have blogs on the internet that never get updated and basically just sit there collecting technological dust.

It is now time to start wrestling season again, and for the first time in forever I will not. It feels wierd to be retired. It feels strange to be in miserable shape. I got to do learn some submission grappling at camp (I ran a "battle option" with a ju-jitsu guy) and man, I want to get back into it, or maybe give ju-jitsu a try... All the times I sat in the sauna, lips dry and bleeding and still not on weight, all those times I got off the mat, head hanging low in defeat, when I eplained for the thousandth time that my black eye was caused by a head butt and no, it's not allowed and yes, people do it anyway. when I ran my millionth set of stairs, I dreamed of this moment. Now it kinda feels wierd... While I didn't quite go out on top (in fact I went out throwing to my own back), I did medal in my last tournament- the Greco National Championships.. and that'll have to be enough for now. New rules Greco, by the way, is equal parts exhilerating and pure terror. "Here, grab me around the waist and pick me up while I stand there"...

When I go to South Africa, I'm going to catch a huge fish. A shark or a swordfish or a tuna. I've had it with all these people coming up to me and telling me how they caught a 30 lb salmon or a 100 lb halibut and whatnot, makes it hard to feel proud of the stupid lake fish I catch (except the 10 lb pike I caught with my hand, I will boast of that one forever) so it's deep-sea fishing time. By the way, all you people out there with a huge fish in one hand and a scale in the other, I caught giraffes once... wonder what that weighs:)

Barbarian Camp pictures are now on the internet. Here's the link... http://www.crowcamp.ca/gallery/photo_thumbs.asp?catID=9&subID=80

If you're into wrestling, here's a link to watch a ton of cool matches on the internet. If you look through them, there's some Olympic champs and stuff going at it.
http://www.crowcamp.ca/gallery/photo_thumbs.asp?catID=9&subID=80

Finally, I'm very self-concsious of the fact that anything I write down can be read by the entire internet, including my mom, so yes deeper, more substantial thoughts do go on in my head but I am still figuring out how to write down personal and controvertial stuff without getting myself into trouble.

And apparently, in Australia, the word "filthy" means "filled with hot girls!" Take it as you will.

Barbarian Camp

2006-08-17T22:39:00.000-07:00

So I directed a boys outcamp recently at Crow with my friend Caleb Davidson. I wrote up a summary for my friends, and it ended up in the church bulletin.. so here it is again, this time with spell-check and comments so it looks less like it was written by a moron. Again, not directly related to Africa, but I've had lots of questions about Outcamp.

Hey Everyone! Thanks to all those who offered up prayers for us at Barbarian camp. I am pleased to say it went well. I have never in my life heard to many prayers for safety, and apparently they worked, since we had no injuries except for cuts and bruises.

Some highlights of the week: Boys (11-13) just being boys and, in some instances, young men. My theory was correct.. that is, given the chance, boys will gladly burp and fart and cover themselves with mud and eat without utensils and generally be deliriously filthy. Oh, and they love to hack things, we had machetes and axes going non-stop for days. For us older people there was a chain saw! The kids certainly had an enjoyable time. In addition to the straight-up fun of being a filthy savage, I think many of them learned team work and mental and phyiscal toughness. Some of these kids have never been told to "tape it up and go back in" once they scrape their knee, but I think every little boy wants the chance to be tough.

We built a sauna (supposedly the hottest one ever at outcamp), a fighting log in the river, a "chair of highest honor" covered in animal skins, and spent hours making things from wood. Many thanks to my co-director Caleb, who can make just about anything.

Trial, Trial, Trail! Discipline was handled with trials and those found (inevitably) guilty were given the X of Shame, the Rock of Shame (carrying a huge rock in a backpack) or the Dunk of
Shame (jumping into cold water). The kids loved it, so much we eventually had to discontinue the trials and just hand out pushups and chores on the rare occasion it was necessary- the kids were pretty good.

Warfare! We had numerous fighting games, including the "epic battle" on the playing field (fighting with pantyhose filled with flour), jousting matches on logs, wrestling (freestyle and sumo), boxing and sword fighting. Rules of combat were always the same, and the kids chanted them entusiastically.. "No FACE, No GROIN!" (these are the boys parts the kids are not allowed to hit). Oh, and the kids tried to kill a deer with an axe... didn't get anywhere near it, of course, but i got pretty nervous when the savages started chasing cows. I had visions of explaining to a farmer why Bessie had a hatchet stuck in her skull. Those kids were pretty hard core by the end of the week.. we had a "training session" where they lined up and we threw sponges at them for them to block with their shields and they absolutely loved it.

Capture the Woman... we hope that this one will go down in camp histoiry.. it's something that hasn't been done much... our entire outcamp took the bus back into main camp (about 100 people there), painted in war paint, wielding shield and screaming endless war chants. We kidnapped the Program Director of main camp (with her full knowledge and participation) and her campers (who incidentally were at Superhero camp) had to come rescue her. We barricaded a cabin door with nets and shield walls and waged all out medieval style warfare, with water balooons, sponges and socks filled with flour flying everywhere... though the woman was eventaully rescued, the 25 of us put up a great show for over half an hour.. apparently the fearlessness of the barbarian horde and our shield training had worked. Other, experienced staff members told me that they had never seen an entire camp so entusiastic about a game. We couldn't even play a second time for fear of actual war breaking out!

The spiritual side of camp was handled by our speaker, the very barbaric 300 lb Perc Denam, who spoke on different men in the Bible, most of them warriors, who were used by God. He reminded us that, as Christians we are "barbarians"- strangers in a strange land.. and encouraged the kids to make their days count, do somethggn with their lives, like the barbarians of old who wanted to go out on their shield rather than live out their days doing nothing. The messages were pretty good, though I wish we (the program directors) had planned time and devotional materials for the messages better, and given more time for the kids to reflect. Hopefully God spoke to the kdis in spite of our imperfect presentation. Anyway, that was Barbarian camp, I loved it, I'm sorry its over, and maybe someday we can do something like that again.