Sacred Hands

Spread over 400 miles of the South Pacific and consisting of 176 islands, (a few only visible at low tide) the Kingdom of Tonga is the only remaining Polynesian monarchy in the Pacific. Only 36 of the islands are inhabited and the main, and biggest, island Tongatapu is the seat of power with the Royal residences, Parliament and The Salvation Army located in the Capital Nuku’Alofa. (It’s about 134km around the island and there are 45,000 people on Tongatapu.)

As you fly into Tongatapu you notice that the island is completely flat with coconut trees and other tropical vegetation. It hasn’t rained for three weeks so it is dry and dusty and the supply of fresh fruit and vegetables is short.

Tonga is a Christian Kingdom which is reflected in a conservative, reserved and generous people. (On Sunday’s it is illegal to play and work, and there are no sports on TV).

As I drove into Nuku’Alofa I passed schools with male students wearing the traditional tupenu (sarong) and ta’ovala (mat), a common practice for all levels of society and for both men and women. A symbol of respect the ta’ovala is indicative of the attitude of a people for whom family and face are both the foundations and reason for life.

Nuku’Alofa has not begun rebuilding after the riots of November 2006. Some of the damaged and burnt out buildings still stand empty and desolate, (including what was the new site of The Salvation Army’s Headquarters). Other buildings have been demolished and only concrete slabs remain. Many businesses have moved out of town, others have gone out of business.

In the middle of Nuku’Alofa are the royal graves, with the newest grave being that of the late King Taufa’ahau Tupou IV. Yesterday the people called “the sacred hands” were beginning to dismantle the decorations that surround the new grave. These are a group of people from a specific village on the east of the island who have for hundreds of years been the custodians of Royal funerals. They are the only people allowed to tend to a Royal body and grave. Dressed in black and wearing the ta’ovala as a sign of respect they go about their work with reverence.

God Celebrating Culture

The theme was "Follow ME" for the Celebration of Culture that was held on this Sunday past. 170 people, dressed in all kinds of national dress, joined in with the celebrations as members of a number of nationalities led the worship in their own styles.

A group of Zimbabwean women and young Samoan's danced and sang (separately), followed by a Hindi solo from India and a Rotuman Choir. Prayers were raised in Cook Island Maori, choruses sung in Sinhala and grace prayed in Scottish Celtic.

In between all that the children played Simon Says (Follow ME) and sang about the fact that Jesus loves them, and played happily amongst the crowd. It was certainly a lively congregation!

It was also an opportunity for people to give sacrificially to the annual Self Denial Appeal; after six weeks of hearing about the work of the Salvos amongst those less fortunate our people responded with love, and in hope, giving over $5,000.00 to help these ministries.

But of course we couldn't go without an amazing culinary spread: there were foods and smells from every corner of the globe, and plenty of it.

What an amazing sight! People from all nations sitting and eating together: sharing life stories and hopes. The church of God can be an amazing place.

Obscene Selfishness?

They say the week long wedding and celebrations cost about $6 Million and the dress that bride, Erica Baxter wore to marry James Packer cost $100,000.00.

I know that a wedding, and the dress, are special - but isn't that kind of money just a little bit obscene?

Consider that the dress was worn for this occasion only and it's future is probably a special place in the cupboard or maybe eBay. And consider that for the price tag of this one dress The Salvation Army could build about 20 houses in the village of Gituro in Rwanda. Or 5,000 families could be fed for a month. Or we could sink and fit out about 10 wells so that people had safe, clean water.

A wedding should be special - and to do that you have to spend some money - but come on isn't this just a little obscenely selfish?

Maybe James and Erica could give the dress to the Sallies (Salvos) to auction - and give some of the world's forgotten people the chance to eat, drink and live.

Church IS Fun, (and FOOD).

This Sunday (coming) we will be Celebrating God through Culture. We have a number of people from different nations including, Zimbabwe, Fiji, Tonga, Cook Island, South Africa, Australia, India, Samoa, China, Malaysia, Sri Lanka, America, and of course Maori and Pakeha New Zealanders.

Some of us will get dressed up in 'traditional' clothing and then we'll worhip together in all the styles represented. We may even try and wrap our tongues around each others languages. Following that we'll participate in that most important of cross cultural startegies - FOOD!

This (The Meeting House - The Salvation Army, Mt Albert) is an awesome place to be. We get the opportunity to experience God through the eyes and lives of so many different worldviews. Many of our church members have such amazing stories: stories of pain, confusion and frustration and yet they continue to celebrate a God of grace and faithfulness.

So it's with this church that is experiencing the thrill, (and chaos) of living lives intent on being transformers in our community that I get to worship on Sundays. (I bet you wish you could join us!)

Thoughts on Transformation

I read an article about Sustainable Livelihoods and Development which suggested that in days past successful community development has been measured by an improvement in economic reality which hopefully resulted in the alleviation of poverty.

There is nothing wrong with that assumption - except that development is surely about more than economics. As important as an increased ability to create income is, maybe it is not always the best method of development, or even the most essential need!

Development is too often limited to a one-dimensional activity; the dream result of a predetermined agenda imposed by a well intentioned but ethnocentric (or even egocentric)professional. Development needs to begin where the people are at, with what they have available and in a direction and methodology they can control - which is why I prefer the word Transformation.

Transformation does not begin with the assumption that some one/thing needs to be different or better. It does not begin or occur in a vacuum. It takes seriously the pre-existing context and seeks to act together to create a new more relevant environment that empowers and benefits.

Transformation is a multi-dimensioned strategy that assumes nothing but operates in a cyclical pattern of listening, waiting and acting. Transformers exist for the other.

The same theory operates in the Church. Too often leaders presume to know the direction and strategy that the church wants. With little or no knowledge of the context they arrive with a predetermined tool kit of ways to fix and develop the community of faith - often ignoring the hopes, dreams and capacities that already exist. Often they assume that their 'pet' strategies are universal and will work despite the context.

The Salvation Army created new sustainable communities of faith because it was not predictable - and because leadership acknowledged that the context must dictate the method (without ever altering the Message). We come unstuck (irrelevant and unsustainable) when we attempt to unilaterally deploy a methodology that seeks to achieve predetermined outcomes regardless of context.

It’s Tonga Next

At the end of this month I have the opportunity to visit the Pacific Island Kingdom of Tonga. It’s only a three day visit, but an opportunity for me to see the work of The Salvation Army first hand.

The Salvation Army in Tonga, administered by New Zealand, currently has five worship centres, Court and Prison work, an Addiction Program, two Kindergartens and a mobile health clinic.

Among other work that The Army has done in the Kingdom, we have assisted in the provision of clean water for a local community. The projects that are currently on the books include building a worship complex and officer’s residence, kindergarten redevelopment and equipment purchases to aid in the delivery of ministry to the community.

So, when I get back I’ll put up a bit of a show and tell for any that are interested.

The Latest From Rwanda

At last! 223 Returnees recieved their passport photographs and on Tuesday and Wednesday last week they were issued with the card that will enable them to access the subsidised health care system. This is fantastic news for the people. Not only will they be accepted at the hospitals and clinics now, but it also goes toward their feeling of belonging to their new community.

Bricks are being made by the community members, with the help and training of four local experts. So far there are enough bricks for about 25 latrines, and most of the pits have been dug. So the project is well on its way to being completed.

The members of the community have also received some training to build their capacity as a community. Workshops on conflict management and committee management have been held, as well as some practical sessions with the women on income generation and support.

Now we wait for someone to pick up the funding for phase two in the hope that we will be able to house this community and offer them every opportunity to reach their dreams.

Now I'm Home

It's a surreal feeling! Just over a week ago I was living in a country half way around the world, getting excited about a water pump and a pit latrine and celebrating with people who were thrilled to get a bottle of Fanta and a biscuit.

I find myself torn between feelings of guilt and privilege. I have so much: food and water, more than I need - and they have so little. I have never gone without, I have a house, a motorbike, a job and my daughter even has shoes for school. Here I am, living in comparative luxury and people whose names I know and whose faces I can see, will continue to struggle for food, water and life.

So what is my role now? I have a job to do and a life to live, apart from Rwanda. But I cannot ignore nor forget! So for now, when people ask me about my journey, I tell them about the faces in my memory. I tell them about the difference one life, or some money, can make to people like the returnees of Gituro.

And I remind myself, that there are millions more, in countries all round the world that need help - I can't go to them all, but the church can and must. The International Salvation Army does some amazing work amongst many of these people.

(Many people have asked me what you can do - here's one thing: In New Zealand and Australia, in the next few weeks, Sallies (Salvos) have a chance to help this work through the Self Denial Appeal - instead of looking for creative excuses for not giving why not just bite the bullet and give more than you can afford!)

The Last Days

Tuesday turned out to be a blistering hot day, and just for something completely sane to do we decided it’d be a good day for the opening and dedication of the water pump and shelter. It was planned for 2:00pm, and we were assured the Mayor was on his way.

As the people gathered around the water pump the choir began singing to welcome him – 45 minutes later and about a litre of sweat later he arrived. But at least he arrived! Along with The Salvation Army’s Regional Leaders, Majors Stephen and Grace Chepkurui, he officially opened and dedicated the pump and shelter – which was an event that took an hour.

During his speech the Mayor pronounced Gituro to be a “Salvation Army village” and after a challenge from the Regional Leaders has ordered the allocation of land to The Army for future permanent Community development. (A touch of dejavue for me – I seem to have memories of another village in Sri Lanka in 2005.)

Until recently the women and children walked 7km to collect stagnant, brown, contaminated water, this afternoon the guests were led by the Rwandan national and Salvation Army flags on the short 600m walk to a water source that is delivering clear, clean safe water. And after the guests planted some trees around the village we celebrated with the people over a soda and biscuits in the shade of their new shelter.

Thanks to some family back home in Australia I was also able to distribute some soap for each family and lollies for the kids. If you’ve ever tried to give out lollies to children in an orderly fashion you can imagine the scene; 150 hungry children and me with a bag of lollies! I ended up retreating onto the bed of the 4x4 vehicle to get out of their way.

It was a fantastic afternoon, which stretched into the evening as I began to say goodbye to the people with whom I have shared life over this past month. I was humbled to overhear the Regional Commander comment to his wife, as the kids climbed over me and I spoke my Kinyarwanda with a really bad accent, that “he has been accepted as one of them”.

My Rwanda experience has once again convinced me that the key to sustained transformation is TRUST. You can make a difference for a short period with a charitable heart, but tourism and welfare will never be transformation; you can only become an instrument of enduring transformation by your willingness to walk (sit, eat, drink) and share the life of another. It’s in taking time to develop a mutual relationship of trust that you will restore dignity and worth in the other, and in doing so earn the right to speak into their circumstances.

Today I say goodbye to Rwanda. And I want to say thank you to all of you that have shared my journey and given me a thought along the way. I want to say a special thank you to my wife and daughter for their continuing support and for being two of the people in this world that inspire me to care.

(I’ll continue to update my blog: I can’t imagine that it is going to be quite as interesting as these last weeks, but as I continue to see God in, and learn from, the people I work for, I’ll blog it and invite you to tell me I’ve lost it!)

Throne Room

There are now 39 latrine pits underway, with 20 of those completed. We’re almost half way there with the pits. It’s a bit of a safety and care nightmare really; 38 pits about 1.5m wide and between 10 and 2 meters deep, no warning signs or covers, and 140 children from 5 months up – you do the maths.

But finally, and just before I leave, we have a latrine being built. The concrete slab was cast last weekend, and today lifted over the top of one of the 10m pits, and then the foundation squared up around it.

Due to a hold up with brick making we decided to buy some adobe (mud/straw) bricks from members of the community and the walls are going up. Hopefully by the end of the day the walls will be complete and the roof on. The next step will be to fit a door and open up the hole that is in the slab and then the only thing left to do is… I’ll leave it to your imagination. But how do you dedicate a throne room?

Tomorrow’s the big day – we’re going to celebrate with Sodas and biscuits: hopefully the Mayor will be there, and various other levels of government as well as officers from the Rwanda region. (There are twelve officers in Rwanda including Isaac and I. Six of them are native Rwandese, but they will be joined by the 7 cadets that are currently in training and will be commissioned in August this year.) Together we are going to open and dedicate the pump and the community shelter, and plant some trees. It should be a good day. (I’ll leave it to the Mayor and the Regional Commander to fight over who gets to christen the throne!)

Church On The Move

I had the opportunity to worship at the Miracle Centre at Gituro again today. It was just as well the village is so small, because they had moved from under the tree; they have upgraded their facilities and are now meeting in the Community Shelter in the middle of the community.

They have more room now and the move has attracted people from the surrounding communities. These returnees have found it hard to be accepted by some of their neighbours. They have moved into an area that was open grazing ground for surrounding cattle keepers; resources were already scarce and the pre-existing communities have shown a bit of resentment for the loss of their grazing ground, and the sharing of their water resources.

But today, some of those same people came to worship with the returnees. Not many just a handful, but the signs of inclusion are beginning to show and that’s exciting. Of course the fact that this community has the responsibility for managing a clean water source isn’t hurting their reputation either.

We sang, danced and prayed together for another three hours this morning, (I have never really been thankful for those plastic church chairs – I am now). Each person that was new had to respond, and respond they did for about 10 minutes each. Then three choirs performed: first the young girls (3 items, 20 minutes), followed by the mammas (3 items, 17 minutes) lastly a combined group (3 items, 13 minutes). Following these items the preacher revved us all up for about 25 minutes, (by this time I think my backside was numb), before the singing and dancing began again so that we could all file to the front to present our offerings.

It was a clear day, warm and fresh, and the people were happy and praising God for clean water, and for life. Next time you hear me whinging about what I don’t have, remind of these people and these days!

When All I Can Do Is Dream

I sat under the shade of an acacia tree with a doctor, an ambulance driver, a successful business woman a school teacher and a minister of parliament or at least that was what they dreamed they would be one day.

Liberratta, (the doctor) is one of those sitting with me. She is twelve years old and nine months ago she lived in a nice house in Tanzania where her family owned some cows and grew bananas and coffee beans. One of her chores was to help milk the cows before school which she liked doing because it meant she could drink the fresh milk.

Her family would sell some bananas and coffee beans and earn money, enough to make them completely self sufficient. They could afford to buy Liberatta and her brother school uniform and shoes; whilst they were not wealthy they were certainly happy and comfortable.

Liberratta loved school. She was in Year 5 and had lots of good friends. She went to school with some of her cousins but most of her friends were Tanzanian’s and they loved playing together after school. Whilst at home her family spoke Kinyarwanda at school she was learning in Kiswahili.

But then one day whilst Liberatta was at school her family got the news that they had to leave. Any person of Rwandan origin was being forced to leave Tanzania and return to Rwanda. They had little time to pack and leave; they were forced to abandon their cows, their small farm, and most of their personal belongings as they were herded on to whatever transport they could find to get them across the border and into the reception camp.

After a few days in a crowded camp Liberratta and her family were again on the move, this time crammed onto the back of a pickup truck, but they were on their way to their new home, and Liberratta was excited to see where they would be living. But when they arrived in Gituro, (North East Rwanda), Liberratta says, “I felt bad, there was nothing here, we slept on the ground like our cows in the open for four days, until my family could find enough wood to make a shelter.”

After a month the family had built a small mud and stick house, about the size of a four person tent but only about five foot high. Liberratta had a new chore, now she walked seven kilometers, at least once a day to collect water from a dam used by cows and goats. Often she had to wade in amongst the cattle to fill her container with the dirty brown water. Because they had used most of the wood in this barren savannah for their houses, (there was now 70 families) they had little firewood, what they could find was used to boil the maize the government gave them, they didn’t have enough to boil water to drink as well.

At last Liberratta was able to attend school, “but when I got there they put me down a year because they teach in English and French, and I couldn’t speak them – I felt sad”. Adding to this embarrassment of ‘demotion’ was the fact that Liberratta looked different too because her family couldn’t afford to buy her a school uniform or shoes. Despite these setbacks Liberratta tells me that school is good and she has made some new friends and she is happy.

When asked what the hardest thing about being back I Rwanda was, Liberrata and her friends said that they miss their own houses and their cows. Liberratta misses being able to drink as much fresh milk as she wants, and being able to eat until she’s not hungry. She misses having enough clothes, and she misses her shoes.

One of the hardest things about being back in Rwanda is that they don’t feel like they are home. In Tanzania they were happy, but they were often made to feel like they didn’t belong because they were Rwandese. Now, back in the country of their origin they feel like they don’t belong because they are returnees, “this is supposed to be our home”, says Liberratta’s mum, “but even here we are made to feel like we don’t belong.”

So as they sit beneath the tree telling me their stories, they dream of a better day. They dream of a day when they can eat what they want, drink what they want and pay for it themselves. And, interestingly of all to me, almost unanimously they dream of being engaged in work that transforms other peoples lives (although there was one little boy, Caleb, who wants to buy a motorbike).