I See Dead People

We had some incredibly fun mini missionaries come during the month of June for two weeks. (Not only were they fun, but they were cute, too!) Our daughter Kari came back to see us again, and she flew into Liberia with our nieces, Heather and Heidi. The girls were so helpful. Heather (an R.N.) helped with medical stuff in the mornings, and then she assisted at school in the afternoons. Kari and Heidi (educators) worked at the school all day. They tutored several students and taught the art class for two weeks.

For the art class, the medium was clay, and each student made a self-portrait. This was a project that took several sessions to complete, as the students had to form the clay person, then dress the person and add details (buttons, hair bows, belts, etc.). The last step was to paint their clay person after it had been hardened in the oven. Our kitchen became a kind of crematorium, with "dead clay people" laying all around, in various stages of being "cooked". It is a little disconcerting to open one's oven, thinking you are going to bake a casserole, and come face to face with six dead people.

This project was quite an accomplishment for many of the children. Most of the day students had never done anything like this before; they had never even played with play dough, so the experience of working with clay was brand new for them. It was fun to see the students enjoying the clay and forming details. Some girls made wild hairdos. Some boys carefully added belts and socks. Then they painted themselves. The finished articles were great! And the students were pleased with their work.

We had an art show, and placed the clay self-portraits on tables for viewing. We hung other art projects for display: chalk drawings, watercolor paintings, pen and ink designs. It was a nice art show and the budding artists were quite proud. Our Home Office personnel from Florida came for a visit while we had the art work on display and they were impressed with the quality of projects being made by our children. One does not usually consider Liberia to be cutting-edge in the art world, but we are going to change all that!

Sand Mining

Things are looking up here in Liberia. Crime is down! I just got the latest weekly update from our friends at the UN. Because you all pay for the gathering of all these valuable statistics, I thought I would pass on one of these reports to you. This is for the country of Liberia which is about the size of the state of Virginia.

"Crime Situation: During the reporting period two (2) armed robbery cases reported, a reduction from five (5) recorded last week. Firearm was reportedly used in one (1) of these armed robberies. Meanwhile, the number of rape, corruption of minor and sexual abuse cases decreased to twelve (12) from fifteen (15) in the previous week. Four (4) homicide cases were reported, as against six (6) recorded last week and one (1) mob incident reported, as compared to three (3) reported in the previous week."

Also mentioned in the report was that a group from the Ministry of Lands and Mines (for a long time I thought it was the Ministry of Land Mines, because their signage was not clear, but they have a new sign now) was issuing a "cease and desist" order to sand miners near our village (they haul loads and loads of sand off the beach to mix with cement for construction). The sand miners got angry and went after the government officials with knives and machetes. Fortunately, locals from a nearby village intervened and help the Feds to back out without losing any of their extremities.

Sand mining is not very complex. A dump truck of yester year, comes down the road, blowing it's air horn. Young men from the villages come running, shovel in hand, and jump up in the back of the truck. They proceed to the beach and the truck backs up to the most accessible place to shovel sand. The young men line up around the perimeter of the truck and fill it with sand, one shovel full at a time. This has been going on for four years here. What used to be a real nice beach is now a very large hole.

One might think that the Dept. of Land and Mines finally stopped this practice because soon there will be no beach. But, no, the reason they stopped the beach mining is because during the rainy season, the sand trucks destroy the dirt road so badly. Just past us about two miles, there are holes in the road in which an SUV could disappear into and not to be seen again until the dry season.

This shutting down of the sand mining in our area has left many young adults males out of work. Since they have no money, some have turned to robbing their neighbors and beating up people smaller than them. Since they no longer have an occupation that tires them out, they roam the roads around here at night causing much concern from yours truly.

Sand mining may not be the most environmentally correct thing to do, but it does give some pocket money to the young men, keeps them busy, and the hard work causes them to sleep at night!

Dave

Creative Spelling 101

I have come to understand that correct spelling is just not important to many people. This can make things interesting sometimes. Once, when we were picking up a child from a government ministry, we asked how to spell the child's last name. We were given several different spellings. When we asked which one was correct, we were informed they ALL were correct!

Recently, a taxi was spotted with "God's Define Favor" painted on it's bumper. There is a "No Traspassing" sign on some property up the road from us. In downtown Monrovia, a man on the sidewalk was selling some colorful alphabet posters. They were quite large and printed on a good, heavy quality paper. I was thinking about buying several for the village until I spotted the spelling errors. For example, next to the letter "S", there was a picture of a pair of brown loafers and the word SHOSE printed next to them. OK, skip the posters.

A local school teacher was teaching a lesson about birds and wrote "fellows" on the whiteboard. And she then proceeded to teach about feathers. Not knowing how to correctly spell the word feathers was certainly no deterrent to teaching about them!

"A Wachted Pot Never Boil" and "Don Worry" are painted on taxi bumpers. A large house has a "Be Where Bad Dogs" sign on the gate. A local business sells "Used Trucks & Equipmant" and yesterday we passed a store that had "Mattresses 4 SAEL". There is a "Car Seat Repairler" on Somalia Drive, and the "Best Quilty Tires Money Can Buy" are sold off Roberts Highway. On SKD Drive, there are "Bangelows and Appartments For Rent".

Downtown, a nicely painted sign announces "Insurance Agenyc." I think they were writing what they heard ("a-gen-cee") but they also knew that someplace there was supposed to be a "Y" in the word. Yes, I guess that "close" only counts in horseshoes, hand grenades, and spelling!

Wishing you a letter-perfect day!

Love, Babs

Back In The States

(We are in Florida for a week for meetings; then on to California to see family and friends)

This morning, I got a cup of coffee in a nice paper cup with a nice plastic lid from the hotel lobby and headed for WalMart. I walked for fifty minutes on a smooth sidewalk. No one honked at me or made smoochy sounds at me. There were no disabled vehicles alongside the road. I tossed my empty coffee cup into a garbage can sitting by the litter-free parking lot.

I walked into WalMArt. A lady greeted me with a cheery "hello". I shook her hand and told her she was doing a wonderful job of making people feel welcome. I think she might have called Security, to warn them that there was a demented lady in the store.

I found the lady's restroom. There was tissue and running water and soap. Commodes and sinks were clean; the floor was scrubbed. I saw the cleaning lady, and I thanked her for doing such a good job of keeping the bathroom clean and well-stocked. Possibly this lady called Security, also.

I shopped. The aisles were wide and clean; the store was well-lit, and the electricity was on the whole time I shopped. All items were clearly marked with a price. All items were in their original packaging. And there was more than one of each item on the shelf. I went to the check-out stand and the checker was friendly and efficient. I pulled out my credit card, swiped, signed, and I was ready to walk out the door. A nice stock boy helped me load packages into the taxi.

For someone who is a little retail-deprived in Liberia, this was a wonderful, wonderful experience. It is great to be back in the States!
And it is no wonder that many people in the world want to come to America!
See you at the mall-
Babs

A special birthday

He came to live here at the orphanage in April 2008 after a pastor in his village became aware of his situation. His mother had passed away the previous year, and his aging grandma was attempting to care for him and his younger sister. Grandma, however, was unable to deal with an angry, confused boy and his baby sister. The pastor's first encounter with this boy was during church services: the boy would run through the church aisles, kicking the parishioners in the shins during worship. The pastor had heard of this orphanage, and recommended to the grandmother that both children come to us. When it was time to pick them up, it was difficult, because the boy had climbed a tree and would not come down.

At the orphanage, he would run away from his new mama. He would pick fights, and when disciplined, he would kick, scream, and bite. Often, he would do the exact opposite of what was asked of him. He threw things and broke items. He was a handful, for sure. But it soon became apparent that he craved consistency. He needed order, firmness, and love. He needed to know that the boundaries were the same everyday, and that he was not in control. He needed to learn that he was a little boy who could depend on the adults in his life. He was also extremely bright, and he needed to be challenged intellectually, also.

This wild little boy just turned seven years old. For those of us who have watched this angry fella' get to this point in his life, it is a wonder and a joy! Putting the alphabet and phonics together into learning to read was a turning point for him. He reveled in sounding out words for himself, and enjoyed the challenge of mastering sentences. This all made sense to him, and opened up a much bigger world. He is now a happy little boy.

He has come into his own. He is one of the best readers in his class. Often during reading time during school, he has two books open: the one the class is following and the book he has checked out from the library. The reader that the class is reading is not challenging enough for him, so he has another book he is reading simultaneously, careful not to lose his place in the school reader. After class, he tutors a newer classmate, and he reads to his brothers at home.

He is taking piano lessons, too, and is one of the better piano players. He practices diligently everyday. He also loves to play soccer and he is good! He is incredibly fast and makes a great goalie. He hates for a ball to get past him! We keep this guy busy and engaged, as that is when he is happiest. From kicking worshippers to kicking field goals, he has made good progress!

He is a smart boy who has been chosen by God for great things. His constant frown of past years has been replaced by a smile of contentment and confidence. We praise God for bringing him to this place.

Dave

Restoration of Hope

Hard to describe this place...a swamp, a landfill, low cost housing. This is where our hunt for two children led us. We had heard about a boy and his little sister whose parents were killed in February. The parents were doing business in the Ivory Coast, and got caught in a village that experienced fighting between the rebels and the army. War is usually hardest on the young and the old, and here, too, both were affected. An aged grandma now had total responsibility for her two young grandchildren. She could not afford to care for them. This was the swamp where Grandma lived. The pictures say it all. There is no money for clothing, food, and school. There is a whole community out here, living in tin and thatch shacks on stilts. Amazing!

So we met the children: a boy five years old and a girl, three years old. They were sweet kids; polite and thin and hungry. Taking them for medical exams, we fed them. Bananas, eggs, and crackers disappeared quickly. Neither child had ever been to school, and the prospects of them attending school while living with Grandma were slim to none.

They came to the orphanage the week before Easter. The boy knew immediately that this place was better than the swamp. His sister was not so sure. But when she was bathed and dressed in a pretty dress and she received shoes and new underwear, things began looking better! She played with brightly colored blocks her first afternoon while her brother joined an impromptu soccer game. That first night, she snuggled in her clean bed with her own new baby doll. Yes, this might be O.K. after all!

Now, a week later, the boy is attending school. He is learning the alphabet and how to print letters. He is learning the words to songs and finger plays. His sister is learning that there will be food again in a few hours, so she does not need to scarf everything on her plate in two minutes flat! They both have energy to run, a sparkle in their eyes, and a joy in their faces that was missing that first time we met them.

These children now have hope for a future.

We think it is fitting that they arrived Easter week, as that is the time we celebrate the restoration of hope that has been made available to us also. We have been reminded that we were picked up out of our personal "swamp" of hopelessness and separation from the Father, and brought to a safe place of joy and security with a restored eternal relationship. Easter is officially over for another year, but we do wish you the peace and hope that Easter symbolizes every day.

Blessings to you all!

Dave & Babs

Do You Know the Way to Sanniquellie?

We met Tony about three weeks ago. He had called us after hearing about the work done here. Tony works for a NGO that works in remote areas of Liberia. His organization works to prevent child abuse, promote education, and they set up day care facilities for children while the parents are out working on the farm. Tony is focused on their objectives, but like us, he sees so much more that needs to be done. Tony is a concerned Liberian with a heart for his people. In the town where they have set up office, there are many orphaned children. The road that leads there is very rough. When there are medical emergencies, there is no way to get people out to a hospital quickly. Many women (and babies) die during childbirth.

While Tony was working on his office in February, a young lady with a three month old child came up to Tony, asking for money. She offered to clean his office, haul water, or cook for him; anything to try to earn a little money to buy food for her and her baby. Every time she would pass by, she would talk with Tony and proudly show off her baby. Tony would give her a little money from time to time.

In March, Tony heard of a girl who had been bitten by a snake on her way back from the farm. She had died within hours of being bitten. Later, Tony discovered it was the same girl who had stopped by to talk to him on many occasions. Now, her baby daughter was another orphan added to the thousands of orphans in this country. Tony began looking for someone that could take care of this child. Who would be this child's advocate and caretaker? How would this child grow up well and healthy in a place where everyone had too many children of their own to sustain? Tony went looking for someone who would be the answer to these questions and he was pointed in our direction.

After meeting with Tony, Dave asked Babs how she would feel about driving six hours to go see this child , and what day would work to make a trip up there. The baby was located in the most northeastern point of Liberia, close to the Ivory Coast border. Monday would not work: the kitchen was out of rice and powdered milk, so a grocery run was needed. Tuesday was out, as there were physicals scheduled on three prospective new children from Monrovia. Wednesday was not going to work as generator oil needed changing plus a myriad of other items needed attention. O.K., Thursday was the day.

However, Thursday morning everyone at the village had "important"needs that needed to be dealt with, and so it was 10:30 am before we were going down the road. Not a problem; even if it took us seven hours, we would be there by dark.

We picked up Tony up at his office in Gbarnga, which looked about half way on the map. We had been traveling for four hours. As soon as we left Gbarnga, the roads deteriorated considerable. When we got through a town called Sanniquellie, it was getting dark. Not a good thing. We had been traveling a total of seven hours now.

An hour later, it was very dark and we were on a road that had an unspoken speed limit of 5-10 mph. Rocks, crevices, mud holes, narrow wood bridges, oh my. After going through mud hole after mud hole, one can get a little complacent, and then you drop into one where the muddy water rolls over the top of the hood. That wakes you up! At this point, Dave was not asking Tony how much further, because he had heard "about one more hour to go" several hours ago. When we went through areas where the brush had completely covered the road overhead, it seemed as though the head lights dimmed as the light was soaked up in the darkness. The noise of the crickets, frogs, and multitude of various other insects and creatures became so loud, we found ourselves talking louder in the car to be heard over the noise. Babs was sure she heard raptors in the distance, and she kept waiting for a T-Rex to appear. (Did anyone else see "Jurassic Park"? ) About this time, Babs asked Tony if he is sure we are on the correct road. Tony replied to Babs, "I told you it was far". Dave just kept driving.

When we reached the village where Tony's regional office was located, it was well after 8pm. We were given a lighted room with a mattress on the floor. To Babs' chagrin, the latrine was about seventy five yards away from the house. We were given hot water in a bucket for a bath that was much welcomed after ten hours on the road. (What happened to six hours!?!) We were informed that the generator would go off after 11pm.

While sitting in the yard of Tony's office, some brave girls sneaked up to our circle of chairs to get a closer look at the white people. They brought their bench and sat nearby. They were scared of us. It was explained that they had seen white men before but had never seen a white woman (and now one with red hair!) After a while, Dave motioned for one of the little girls to come over to him. The three older ones pushed the youngest out front; she advanced toward him with great caution until she got within an arm's reach. Dave pulled her onto his lap. After a few minutes she relaxed and fell asleep. Now the other girls were envious.

The next morning we were up at seven. Bath water had once again been prepared. Dave had to escort Babs to the latrine. After he got her there, he thought his work was done so Dave returned to the circle of chairs where many of the world's problems had been solved the night before, only to find out that Babs was having trouble with the latch on the bathroom. Walking back to the latrine to fix this door problem, Babs pointed out to Dave that the whole village was watching. That Babs exaggerates so! Except, sure enough! the whole village had lined up their chairs and benches to face the yard where the white people were staying. Dave told Babs she better make it work this time or all of northeastern Liberia would think that white women had problems going to the bathroom!

By 8:30 am we were doing child assessments with the town officials looking on. One place we visited is one of the oldest missions in the country. It was built over a hundred years ago. This was a very beautiful site with houses and a school that had been built well, but now suffered from years of neglect. We saw several needy children. By 11 am, we were done doing assessments and bouncing our way back to Monrovia.

Back through the water, dust, sludge, rock, ruts and pot holes. A nine hour trip home (NOT six hours!). The next day our bodies reminded us that sitting in the same seat for nine bone jarring hours is not easy. Then there is the thought of the paper work, and hassles of getting good medical exams on the children, and then more paperwork.... If we pursue these children, it will mean at least two more trips to this village, and the adventure aspect will diminish expediently with each trip.

But the lives of children are at stake here so we will try to make time for this adventure again, soon. We just feel bad for our car. It needs some work before we can do the next trip. It, too, is not as young as it once was!

Dave & Babs