Everyday here, exciting or seemingly extraordinary events occur that an inner dialogue sways me to believe I could expand that instance into a well scripted and dramatic or comedic narrative. However, despite Egypt's 3rd world country status, it remains a place busy enough to keep me from the desire to write. Not only that but, it seems that the times I do have to write, the proper pen and paper (or keyboard) are not accessible. So tonight I bring to you a story written by some friends of mine while we voyaged down the Nile on a simple yacht name The Christina. This is their recount of our quest:
"We all played Sleep Olympics. We were on the middle of the boat on a big soft cushion that's smooth, wrestling for my (Kyle's) over shirt. Asena and Iasonas spied on a man from the crew. We saw cows and sheep eating grass from the green land. Wind was blowing hard and the food was delicious, especially the spicy chips. When we wrestled, the nice boy and girl tried to throw my shirt in the Nile, as well as my flip-flops. In a mad and mean warning, I tricked them by saying I would throw them in the mucky green water, almost the color of the grass. The shade of the bridge brought relaxation from the buckling heat. When the fast speed boat passed by, the wake it left caused an explosion (in our imagination) on the tiny police boat nearby. Also, there was a field on the boat for soccer. Asena reminded us she is an expert on everything. An 88 year old windsurfer named George Washington glided up near the helm to try to steal our yacht but instead we invited him aboard to join the party. He was so overwhelmed and surprised with joy, he decided to stop stealing but the police took him to prison anyway. But we informed the authorities how nice he really was and they let him out."
I did assist in the construction of this story but mostly just in grammar. I might have helped with a word or two, but the story is truly theirs. Iasonas and Asena are approximately 7 or 8 years old. You might imagine, we had quite the fun on this tiny ship. These stories are worth 100x anything I might spew out attempting to perforate a cut out picture for you to take home with you. I thought a little coloring might look a little prettier. Thanks Asena. Thanks Iasonas.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Last week
It has been a few days since we last spoke, so please allow me a insufficiently quick description of a few of the activities I’ve lately participated.
Cake delivery
Last Friday marked the 23 years my friend and brother-from-another-mother, Kevin P. had been on this earth. Because of the generosity of the community here as well as his general genial persona, he received to whole birthday cakes. One of which he did not want to go to waste. Since we couldn’t eat both, Kev decided we should pass out the remains to some of the locals around his villa – i.e. the guards, the police, the street sweeper, a nearby family of squatters, etc. In all honesty, when he called me, I had no desire to join him as I was in the middle of a mission on my most current video game. Alas, the Spirit won and drug me off my fat butt to do some Kingdom work. It was good.
Diversity
Every so often something will happen that reminds me of the awesome diversity of youth with which we work. On Monday, I jumped in on a basketball game with an Egyptian, Sudanese, South African, and American. Does it get better?
Rite of passage
Last Saturday 7 adult men took one 12 year old boy into the desert, for within the week, that boy would become a man. Not in the way western culture defines it; in fact, just the opposite. The culture we call home has divorced rites of passage into manhood thus leaving us with clueless, confused boys trapped in 40+ year old bodies. The 7 of us decided we would train this one differently and spoke words of affirmation and encourage into this (now) young man's life. We also tried to explain a bit of what he could expect but also remind him that we would be there to walk with him along the perilous journey.
One week from tomorrow I will baptize this young man into the body of Christ. Unreal.
Weather/ sickness
Most places around the world claim to have four seasons of weather. Cairo fits that mold but in a slightly unexpected format. Normal seasons = Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. Egyptian seasons = Spring, Khamsin, Summer, Pre-spring. There is no Autumn, but rather when the heat becomes too unbearable at the end of Spring and into Khamsin, then any leaves that managed to sprout wither and die. It takes less than a week for the whole process.
Now you might be saying, "Kyle, what is this new Arabic you've learned? We uninformed Westerners don't understand that funky language." Well my friends, consider this your first lesson in Arabic. A khamsin (phonetically: hard kh like your [k]hawking up a pile of mucus from the back of your throat, kh-ah-m-seen) is what the Egyptians refer to as the 50 days of intense winds and sand storms that sweep the country. Allow me to paint this desert picture for you with a quick tale. Last week, a couple of us jumped out to the local wadi (dried river valley) for a swift 5k jog. When we reached our turn around spot, we stopped rub our eyes in disbelief (and to clear the sand now raining in our faces). The usually visible-despite-the-smog skyline of greater Cairo had been removed and replaced with a massive, "thick and dreadful darkness".
Now that you know what it looks like outside, how about a brief explanation of how it feels. Today it did not get hotter than 28C (82F). The previous day it was nearly 40C (104F). Needless to say, this weather will jack with a person's immune system. Many people I've encountered complain of headaches, soar throats, and overall weariness. I am not immune.
Warnings
I never have actually met anyone who experienced persecution for their faith until lately. One of my yoga buddies and local saint seeking simply to bring cup of cold water to the thirsty has recently received some serious warnings regarding his status in the country. He travels a lot. It has happened to others without warning, they just don't let you back into the country. And I complain about the weather.
Prison visit
To cap it off, our team took a visit to one of the Egyptian prisons. After multiple frisks and personal space violations we were allowed to interact with the prisoners. We met a group of Nigerian inmates who had been arrested for anything from drug possession and trafficking to simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. MCC sends a man a couple times a week to maintain our cell ministry there (bad pun, but not intended). These men held sweet joy in there smiles and conversed with pleasure and ease.
One of the men who joined our team for the day was on business in Cairo from Nigeria and heard, by the grace of God, that his childhood friend happened to be held in this prison. Upon their reunion, the tears, joyous tears that wrecked his face darkened and dried as they rolled down that black-as-midnight skin into a prideful finger pointing to the gloomy reality of cold, gray prison bars.
After all these events, starting with my entrance to this country, then culminating in Romania and perusing my life still this is the one thing I’ve learned: serve others before yourself. It suddenly makes sense.
Cake delivery
Last Friday marked the 23 years my friend and brother-from-another-mother, Kevin P. had been on this earth. Because of the generosity of the community here as well as his general genial persona, he received to whole birthday cakes. One of which he did not want to go to waste. Since we couldn’t eat both, Kev decided we should pass out the remains to some of the locals around his villa – i.e. the guards, the police, the street sweeper, a nearby family of squatters, etc. In all honesty, when he called me, I had no desire to join him as I was in the middle of a mission on my most current video game. Alas, the Spirit won and drug me off my fat butt to do some Kingdom work. It was good.
Diversity
Every so often something will happen that reminds me of the awesome diversity of youth with which we work. On Monday, I jumped in on a basketball game with an Egyptian, Sudanese, South African, and American. Does it get better?
Rite of passage
Last Saturday 7 adult men took one 12 year old boy into the desert, for within the week, that boy would become a man. Not in the way western culture defines it; in fact, just the opposite. The culture we call home has divorced rites of passage into manhood thus leaving us with clueless, confused boys trapped in 40+ year old bodies. The 7 of us decided we would train this one differently and spoke words of affirmation and encourage into this (now) young man's life. We also tried to explain a bit of what he could expect but also remind him that we would be there to walk with him along the perilous journey.
One week from tomorrow I will baptize this young man into the body of Christ. Unreal.
Weather/ sickness
Most places around the world claim to have four seasons of weather. Cairo fits that mold but in a slightly unexpected format. Normal seasons = Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. Egyptian seasons = Spring, Khamsin, Summer, Pre-spring. There is no Autumn, but rather when the heat becomes too unbearable at the end of Spring and into Khamsin, then any leaves that managed to sprout wither and die. It takes less than a week for the whole process.
Now you might be saying, "Kyle, what is this new Arabic you've learned? We uninformed Westerners don't understand that funky language." Well my friends, consider this your first lesson in Arabic. A khamsin (phonetically: hard kh like your [k]hawking up a pile of mucus from the back of your throat, kh-ah-m-seen) is what the Egyptians refer to as the 50 days of intense winds and sand storms that sweep the country. Allow me to paint this desert picture for you with a quick tale. Last week, a couple of us jumped out to the local wadi (dried river valley) for a swift 5k jog. When we reached our turn around spot, we stopped rub our eyes in disbelief (and to clear the sand now raining in our faces). The usually visible-despite-the-smog skyline of greater Cairo had been removed and replaced with a massive, "thick and dreadful darkness".
Now that you know what it looks like outside, how about a brief explanation of how it feels. Today it did not get hotter than 28C (82F). The previous day it was nearly 40C (104F). Needless to say, this weather will jack with a person's immune system. Many people I've encountered complain of headaches, soar throats, and overall weariness. I am not immune.
Warnings
I never have actually met anyone who experienced persecution for their faith until lately. One of my yoga buddies and local saint seeking simply to bring cup of cold water to the thirsty has recently received some serious warnings regarding his status in the country. He travels a lot. It has happened to others without warning, they just don't let you back into the country. And I complain about the weather.
Prison visit
To cap it off, our team took a visit to one of the Egyptian prisons. After multiple frisks and personal space violations we were allowed to interact with the prisoners. We met a group of Nigerian inmates who had been arrested for anything from drug possession and trafficking to simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. MCC sends a man a couple times a week to maintain our cell ministry there (bad pun, but not intended). These men held sweet joy in there smiles and conversed with pleasure and ease.
One of the men who joined our team for the day was on business in Cairo from Nigeria and heard, by the grace of God, that his childhood friend happened to be held in this prison. Upon their reunion, the tears, joyous tears that wrecked his face darkened and dried as they rolled down that black-as-midnight skin into a prideful finger pointing to the gloomy reality of cold, gray prison bars.
After all these events, starting with my entrance to this country, then culminating in Romania and perusing my life still this is the one thing I’ve learned: serve others before yourself. It suddenly makes sense.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Daily Scedule Archetype
Some of you may be wondering what it is we youth interns do with our time each day. You deserve to know how your money serves the Kingdom. Allow me to recapitulate today’s events as a paradigm:
7:30 am – Alarm
7:31 – Flap arm in the general direction of snooze button
7:40 – Repeat
7:50 – Wake up
7:55 – Cereal (Breakfast #1)
8:00 – Yoga
9:00 – Waffles and yogurt (Breakfast #2)
Somewhere in the next two hours – Read & pray some
11:00 – Morning meeting or office work
These appointments usually consist of a rundown of that day’s major events (i.e. Contact, Collision, special events, etc), some type of assessment of some current or proposed program, making fun of each other, and pretending like any of us knows what we are doing.
12noon – Walk to Rd. 9 or Home
If home, then –
12:15 – Leftovers for lunch, accompanied by conversations to solve the problems of the world
12:45~1:00ish – Meander back to the office to pretend to follow up with any of the work we discussed at our 11am meeting
1:00-3:00 – Drift into a zombified status of half-work, half-drowsy head bobbing.
If Rd. 9, then –
12:15 – Discourse about where we should eat
12:30 – Stroll up and down the active street once or twice waiting for someone to make a decision
12:45 – Go to Lucille’s anyway
1:00 – Sit down
1:05 – Receive menu
1:06 – Order Brinks (a.k.a. drinks, but entertainingly misspelled)
1:07 – Decide to order a delicious BBQ Chicken sandwich
1:08 – Laugh hysterically at the other menu misspellings and comical errors while waiting another 20 minutes for the waiter to remember we haven’t ordered yet
1:28 – Order delicious BBQ Chicken sandwich
1:58 – Double check to make sure they put our order in
2:00 – Receive delicious BBQ Chicken sandwich and pray
2:00:30 – drool over delicious BBQ Chicken sandwich waiting for Kev to finish praying
2:00:31 – Inhale everything on our plates
2:15 – I polish off any remnants of uneaten food and lick the fallen delicious BBQ sauce from our plates
2:30 – Ask for check
2:55 – Waiter remembers to give us check
2:56 – Hurriedly toss L.E. (Egyptian Pounds) as we rush out the door
3:00 – Full out sprint to our meeting with individual youth
3:15 – Nearly barf after arriving at specified meeting location to find youth has cancelled or forgotten but neglected to pass along that valuable information to the other party.
3:30 – Convince a different youth that we are not lame, at least not if no one sees them with us
5:00 – Move some equipment for that evening’s group event
5:30 – Scream at lawless Egyptian drivers from within the safe and soundproof confines of my car for nearly crushing the side of said vehicle
6:00 – Hopefully grab a snack resembling dinner before night’s event(s)
6:15 – Arrive and set up equipment
7:00-9:00 – Event/Program
9:30 – Clean up after numerous unsuccessful attempts to get youth to clean up after themselves
10:00 – Start home
This process, and it is a process basically looks like hopscotch through fearsome, unregulated traffic and mentally omitting taxi honks aimed at my American female friends.
10:30 – Eat dinner for real
11:00 – Bask in the peaceful memories country music helps me reminisce and ponder the problems of the world over a cup of tea.
11:30 – Miss my self-imposed bed time
12midnight – Aimlessly squander time online catching up on American social life (mostly on facebook)
12:30 or 1:00am – Cereal (Breakfast #3/ Midnight snack)
1:15ish – Slink into bed, asleep before I’ve fully disrobed – one sock half off, one shoe still tied on, a single pant leg begging the other to follow, shirt removed up to neck where it simply acts as a sun blocker in the morning.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I can say with a genuine heart, I wouldn't trade this year for anything else. Except Heaven.
7:30 am – Alarm
7:31 – Flap arm in the general direction of snooze button
7:40 – Repeat
7:50 – Wake up
7:55 – Cereal (Breakfast #1)
8:00 – Yoga
9:00 – Waffles and yogurt (Breakfast #2)
Somewhere in the next two hours – Read & pray some
11:00 – Morning meeting or office work
These appointments usually consist of a rundown of that day’s major events (i.e. Contact, Collision, special events, etc), some type of assessment of some current or proposed program, making fun of each other, and pretending like any of us knows what we are doing.
12noon – Walk to Rd. 9 or Home
If home, then –
12:15 – Leftovers for lunch, accompanied by conversations to solve the problems of the world
12:45~1:00ish – Meander back to the office to pretend to follow up with any of the work we discussed at our 11am meeting
1:00-3:00 – Drift into a zombified status of half-work, half-drowsy head bobbing.
If Rd. 9, then –
12:15 – Discourse about where we should eat
12:30 – Stroll up and down the active street once or twice waiting for someone to make a decision
12:45 – Go to Lucille’s anyway
1:00 – Sit down
1:05 – Receive menu
1:06 – Order Brinks (a.k.a. drinks, but entertainingly misspelled)
1:07 – Decide to order a delicious BBQ Chicken sandwich
1:08 – Laugh hysterically at the other menu misspellings and comical errors while waiting another 20 minutes for the waiter to remember we haven’t ordered yet
1:28 – Order delicious BBQ Chicken sandwich
1:58 – Double check to make sure they put our order in
2:00 – Receive delicious BBQ Chicken sandwich and pray
2:00:30 – drool over delicious BBQ Chicken sandwich waiting for Kev to finish praying
2:00:31 – Inhale everything on our plates
2:15 – I polish off any remnants of uneaten food and lick the fallen delicious BBQ sauce from our plates
2:30 – Ask for check
2:55 – Waiter remembers to give us check
2:56 – Hurriedly toss L.E. (Egyptian Pounds) as we rush out the door
3:00 – Full out sprint to our meeting with individual youth
3:15 – Nearly barf after arriving at specified meeting location to find youth has cancelled or forgotten but neglected to pass along that valuable information to the other party.
3:30 – Convince a different youth that we are not lame, at least not if no one sees them with us
5:00 – Move some equipment for that evening’s group event
5:30 – Scream at lawless Egyptian drivers from within the safe and soundproof confines of my car for nearly crushing the side of said vehicle
6:00 – Hopefully grab a snack resembling dinner before night’s event(s)
6:15 – Arrive and set up equipment
7:00-9:00 – Event/Program
9:30 – Clean up after numerous unsuccessful attempts to get youth to clean up after themselves
10:00 – Start home
This process, and it is a process basically looks like hopscotch through fearsome, unregulated traffic and mentally omitting taxi honks aimed at my American female friends.
10:30 – Eat dinner for real
11:00 – Bask in the peaceful memories country music helps me reminisce and ponder the problems of the world over a cup of tea.
11:30 – Miss my self-imposed bed time
12midnight – Aimlessly squander time online catching up on American social life (mostly on facebook)
12:30 or 1:00am – Cereal (Breakfast #3/ Midnight snack)
1:15ish – Slink into bed, asleep before I’ve fully disrobed – one sock half off, one shoe still tied on, a single pant leg begging the other to follow, shirt removed up to neck where it simply acts as a sun blocker in the morning.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I can say with a genuine heart, I wouldn't trade this year for anything else. Except Heaven.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Get your life right, and a glimpse of Romania
If you have not yet been to -
mccromania.blogspot.com
- you are wrong.
Go there now for remission of your sin.
mccromania.blogspot.com
- you are wrong.
Go there now for remission of your sin.
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