My Friends are on TV

Last year PBS came and shot footage for a special they were doing on Deaf Histroy. they spent two days shooting at my church. Finally today I heard news about the exact dates that it would be on tv. below you will find all the information if you would like to watch. I am very excited about this. I can't wait to see how they honored the Deaf in our community. Three of my friends were chosen to have one on one interviews Stephon, Sandy (Lasander is her full name, they might use that on the show) and Peggy my pastor (many of you have met her)

I encourage you to check it out! I will post my reactions to it once I have seen it myself or "eyes myself" as the Deaf say. also if you strain your eyes and look very very closely you might see me walking around in the background, but don't hold your breath.

I am pledging from now on to write one blog entry a week since I have been falling behind lately. Blogging helps me to center my own thoughts as well as inform others of what I have been up to lately. Peace.


Remember TO MARK THIS DATE: March 21, 2007

PBS documentary explores 200 years of deaf life in America“Through Deaf Eyes,” a two-hour PBS documentary exploring nearly 200 years of Deaf life in America , will air early next year. The film was inspired by the exhibition, “History Through Deaf Eyes,” curated by Jack R. Gannon of Gallaudet University .The documentary will air nationally on PBS on Wednesday, March 21 at 9 p.m. ET (check local listings).The film presents the shared experiences of American history – family life, education, work, and community connections – from the perspective of deaf citizens. Interviews include community leaders, historians, and deaf Americans with diverse views on language use, technology and identity. Bringing a Deaf cinematic lens to the film are six artistic works by Deaf media artists and filmmakers: Wayne Betts, Renee Visco, Tracey Salaway, Kimby Caplan, Arthur Luhn, and Adrean Mangiardi. Poignant, sometimes humorous, these films draw on the media artists’ own lives and are woven throughout the documentary. But the core of the film remains the larger story of Deaf life in America -- a story of conflicts, prejudice and affirmation that reaches the heart of what it means to be human. Major funding for “Through Deaf Eyes” is provided by the National Endowment for the Humanities, Corporation for Public Broadcasting, PBS, The Annenberg Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts. Private individuals have also contributed to the funding of this project. The extensive outreach campaign is funded in part by Sign Language Associates. Outreach partners are the National Association for the Deaf, Gallaudet University , the National Technical Institute for the Deaf at Rochester Institute of Technology, and California State University-Northridge. As part of the outreach campaign, numerous local organizations, some in association with their public television stations, will mount events and discussions exploring the issues raised in the film.A comprehensive Web site, found at www.pbs.org, accompanies the film. The site includes interviews with the deaf filmmakers whose work is featured in the documentary, while also inviting viewers to submit their own stories, photographs, and films. These will become part of the archival collection of Gallaudet University . A companion book is being published by Gallaudet University Press.

June 1, 2006

I debated only telling one story about today so that I could really give it the attention it deserved but I decided against it due to its depressing content and my extreme optimism.

Today Laurel wore a shirt that she made with her campers at Deaf Kids camp last year. The front was plain and the back was covered in handprints. Of course nobody thought anything about it, amongst our team. In the car, well, piled in the back of the truck, on the way to dinner, after a long day at Nzeve Rick* turned to Laurel and said. "Laurel, do you have a jacket?" Laurel, kind of quizical replied "Yes." and Rick* said "If you would please, you might want to consider wearing it until you arrive home this evening." Which was Shona culture for put on your jacket and do not take it off until you arrive home tonight! Don't take it off if your life depended on it! Shona culture is very "round about."

What was happening is that we had been at Nzeve all day which is a sort of compound, so it didn't really matter, but when we went into downtown Mutare Rick decided to let us know that the open hand symbol was a sign of the opposition party to the government. That T-shirt alone could have landed our whole team in a Zimbabwian jail or gotten us "politically disappeared" which is a phrase meaning visited by the military officals at night and never seen again. I am censoring this entry because I do not know the readers of my blog and you don't need to hear the horrors I heard today.

*___________________*

Political rallies are completely forbidden in Zimbabwe and 2 people can technically be considered a rally, so even if you are just waving to your friend you can be put in jail for using the open hand shape.

On our trip we are not allowed to take pictures of, or even have cameras out in front of policemen. We are absolutely forbidden from saying anything political in fear that someone might hear it. *______*

Dear Lord in that moment today, I was scared and on the 12th I get to leave. Please be with all the Zimbabwians *______* I don't understand it Lord, help me understand. Amen.

Okay now the heart warming stories about cute babies and deaf toddlers. Today we thought we were going to get to sleep in, but Libby called last night and said she had an unexpected meeting so she needed us to come to Nzeve and teach the Deaf Pre-schoolers all day. We didn't even have a lesson plan, but it was a blessed day. We taught about feet and the letter "F." We took off our shoes and passed a feather around the circle in between our toes and I laughed and ignored the ring worm and aids scabs on the children because they were smiling. At tes a toddler with CP and Deaf, of course, was sitting at the table next to me. We said our prayers and began to eat. Then this boy that I had not seend make one facial expression all day, turned to me, twenty seconds after the prayer finished and when half of the kids had their sandwiches as mushy peaunut butter pulp shoved in their cheecks like chipmunks. The boy turned to me, struggled to get his hands to meet one another and he signed "A......men." Then my melted butter heart ripped out of my chest and slapped on the table with my jaw.

God provides success through great struggles. This boy lives in an extremely poor area of Zimbabwe, a country where the inflation rate has gotten so buy that it costs 1.3 million Zim dollars to buy 3 ice cream cones. He is Deaf which means most likely he will never have a job or be thought of be hearing people as equal and he has Cerebral Paulsy so he has to be carried everywhere he goes, but today he accomplished something that made him proud of himself (and me, and god, and the universe and beyound)

Just like the struggles the Zimbabwians are having with their poverty and oppression *___*, I am sure they will accomplish great things they can be proud of and we can all join together and cheer and cry and sign "A........MEN!"

http://www.aslpro.com/cgi-bin/aslpro/aslpro

* indicates name change

*________* indicates material removed because it was too dangerous to post it on the internet.

May 31, 2006

Africa University Yea!

This morning we woke up bright and early and headed to Africa University. Kirk preached at the chapel service and there was a certain flavor of reverance in the air that is hard to describe. Also ironically enough, Kirk chose the same scripture passage that the Deaf preacher chose on Monday, 1 Peter 2:9-10. He talked about being chosen by God. He idn't know he had chosen the same scripture because Monday was the night the electricity was cut and we were trying to watch the Zim sign language through one candle.

After the Service a young man came up to me and asked me if I was from Indiana; there was a VIM group from Indiana there also. I explained to him that I was actually from Michigan and his eyes lit up. he said "really? I lived there!" So I said "WOW! no way! small world! Where?" assuming that his answer would either be Detroit or someplace I didn't frequent. "Boyne Falls" my jaw hit the floor. I grew up on Lake Louise. That has been the only constant place I have ever been able to call home. It turned out that he had been a camp counselor at camp Kinawind on Lake Louise. Now this small world of mine has turned int a small petree dish sized world. Praise God for connectionalism.

After I picked my jaw up off the ground we went to meet the Vice Chanciler of Vice President of the university and butter him up about the idea of Deaf ministry courses. Then we did the same with the director of education. One thing led to another and Kirk got a job. He will be teaching the first ever Deaf ministry course at Africa University.

Thank you Jesus, Amen
(a shona song sung by the Hilltop Deaf)

Africa University is in the process of preparing for their first blind student. All the higher ups expressed a desire to have AU be recognized as a school that specializes in special education. It was a mind blowing experience to be invited in on conversations about how to best set that up. It felt to me like that first sip of Vernors on a hot summer day. All the bubbles travel up into my brian and tickle the insides of my cheekbones.

After the second meeting a man led us into a small room where Laurel and I got to read a few passages of a text book into a tape recorder so it can be given to the blind student in August. And wouldn't you now it, I read the roman numerials wrong. That is one of those things that I am sure I said "When am I ever going to need to know Roman Numerials?" ... Well there you go. Today in Zimbabwe, at Africa Univesity, I did.

I must admitt that the biggest frustration on this trip, which is a minor frustration, is the language complications. I am still learning ASL, I have yet to take my last ASL class. I get to Zimbabwe and I am now trying to switch back and forth between Zim Sign and ASL depending on whether or not there is a Zimbabwian Deaf person in eyesite. I am also trafing back and forth between two spoken languages, English and Shona. I have obviously not picked up a lot of Shona but I have learned "See you tomorrow" "Jesus Loves you" "Hello" "thank you" and "I Love you" and.. that is it.

Our evening Deaf week services are crazy, tonight Kirk who uses ASL as his native language was Signing Zim sign, Carol was voicing in English and the Pastor Dzobo was then translating into Shona. It was a little bit like this:

Kirk: Sign, Sign Sign.. Wait
Carol: Voice, Voice, Voice ... wait
Pastor Dzobo: Shona, Shona, Shona... THEN the congregation would laugh. or atleast the hearing people would laugh.

so actually I guess it was more like this

Kirk: Sign, Sign, Sign...wait
Zim Deaf: Laugh
Carol: Voice, Voice, Voice... wait
Laurel and I: Laugh
Pastor Dzobo: Shona Shona, Shona... then everyone else would laugh. and the whole process would start over with the next phrase.

Thank you lord for making us different and Thank you for making it possible for us to communicate wiht one another. I will never understand it. I am so grateful I didn't have to create a universe. I can't even draw stick people. Amen.

May 30, 2006

last night as I was locking the door to our bedroom I broke the teeth off of our skelton key. We had to find the "hotel" employee, Teddy, and search around for the spare, when we couldn't find the spare we decided to change rooms which was suprising to Carol when she came to wake us up this morning.

Today we went back to Libby's school, Nzeve, to observe Sangani in action making things to sell. We also participated in pre-school classes. The ambulance came today and the for the most part were ecstatic. One boy though, was beside himself with fearful tears because he had been run-over in the streets a few years back and I was suddenly aware of how scary an ambulance can be.

In America an ambulance for the most part is a sign of help and care, but in a country full of aids and malaria and cholera and death before 30 the ambulance can easily turn into a hurse in the eyes of children who are the only ones left in their family. One of the interpreters two days ago told me that he and his youngest sister were the only two left in his entire family. The interpreter, Albert, is 17 years old.

Kirk told us that in Zimbabwe when parents die and grand parents are already gone it happens often that the children, no matter how old, are left in their empty parentless homes to fend for themselves.

Lord,
These stories hurt my heart.

In the afternoon today we met the distrit super intendent. We sat down with her to talk about Deaf ministry at Hilltop UMC. It isn't right, but as Americans, people take our opinions seriously here. Also, the fact that we had traveled all the way from Maryland to see the lowest and most marginalized group of people here says something.

The D.S's eyes were opened; she had never even considered coming to the Deaf conference and was a little embarrassed when we flat out said "we look forward to seeing you this weekend!" She said it was a great and humbling challenge.

Monday night our preacher for the Deaf week event signed in his sermon "Before we were not people, but NOW! we are people!" The Deaf ministry here has given life and support and jobs to people who before did not consider themselves to be people.

Praise be to God

I am going to sleep now to think of the 6 year old boy who was eating bread by himself in the kitchen at Nzeve this morning and, as cheesey as it sounds, whose smile melted my heart like butter in a microwave. I also hope to dream of Colin a a6 year old boy at Nzeve whose favorite toy is a dingy old tire. This afternoon when we came back to the school he saw the huge tires on our truck and he hugged them in the sunlight for a beautiful minute. Praise God. Amen.

AFRICA PICTURES FINALLY!

| View | Add Favorite

MAY 29, 2006

Today was relaxing. We woke up late, 8am, ate breakfast, took long hot showers complete with spiders, then sat down in the sun on the courtyard in front of our rooms and planned the presentation we are going to give tomorrow. This week Hilltop UMC will be putting on an event they are calling "Deaf Week". Each night different presenters are coming and then this weekend we will be a part of the frist Deaf conference ever held at Hilltop UMC and as far as we know, the first Deaf ministry conference ever held in all of Zimbabwe.

Since today was slow I will take the time to give you the history of Deaf minstry in Zimbabwe. In 1999 Carol Stevens traveled to Zimbabwe with Bishop May and members of the cabinet from the Baltimore/ Washington conference to check out what was going on in Zimbabwe for the Deaf. They attended a church service at Hilltop UMC and Carol interpreted the service for a Deaf member of the team that had traveled. At the end of the service a man named Amos came up to Carol and said that he felt called into Deaf ministry. Amos joined the team for the next two weeks as they went all over Zimbabwe looking for the Deaf.

Now 7 years later Carol and Amos have set up a Deaf ministry at Hilltop Church. Amos currently is serving as the pastor. They set up a Deaf club called Sangani that meets to socialize and make things to generate profits for the Deaf which is great in a country where 80% of the hearing residents are unemployed. Amos has also been very strategic about where he wanted the Deaf ministry. He set it up at Hilltop UMC because it is the place that practically all of the seminary student interns go to before recieving their own churches. He is essentially planting seeds for the other Deaf minsitries. Also Amos has started setting up groups of interpreters that not lonly interpret but also go out into the communities and train other interpreters.

So there you go you are now up to date.

This evening just as the first ngiht of Deaf week was about to start the load shedding cut off the electricity in Sakubva the extremely poor area where the church is located. A hearing man told me that they do this in order to save electricity for the downtown area of Mutare. Who cares about the poor anyways right? This left us with 6 candles and one flashlight to light a sanctuary that can hold 500 people. AND it was a DEAF presentation so being able to see is pretty important. It pretty much cut off all communication for the Deaf that attended but because this was the week specifically set aside for the Deaf, the show went on and aboslutely no one complained. I can't wait to get home and listen to people gripe about the LCD projector no working on a sunday morning.

Dear Lord,
I know I have only been in Zimbabwe for 3 days but please help my transition home. Lord I have heard it said but now I am experiencing it myself. The people here have nothing, no jobs, money that is worthless, no electricity yet they are still grateful, they are still satisfied because they have you. I am in awe of your presence on the earth. help us to be wise with our money in the states help us to not be ashamed and guilty but to not be wasteful and wanting. The people in Zimbabwe need your help too God. The average age expectancy is 29 years old. Help them to find health and jobs and prosperty without losing year. Thank you for all that you already do. You are precious and amazing Lord. Amen.

MAY 28, 2005

Today I woke up to the pitter pattering of kitten paws on my tin roof and I incorporated them into my dream like you do when you hear your alarm clock and you wonder why somebody isn't answering the telephone. I walked outside, on time today, and saw kirk pointing and saying "MONKEYS!" they weren't kitten paws after all. The Monkey sat perched on the porch just long enough me to scream "COOL A MONKEY!" and run into my bedroom to grab my camera. However, in true monkey fashion or atleast what I assume would be monkey fashion, he ran away just as I had him in my view finder.

We headed to church this morning at Hilltop UMC where we were the honored guests. The place was packed; the drums were loud, and the music was tribal and beautiful and just right. Laurel and I were given two translaters because we could not see the interpreters over the heads. My translaters sign name was mustache but, for the life of me I can't pronounce his spoken shona name.

Sadly enough, everyone was astounded by our offerings since I alone gave $20 US which with the black market reate is 4 million Zim dollars and their goal for the Harvest collection was 500 million. Why didn't I give $50 or the entire $300 I brought? I know I can live without that $300. God forgive me.

On our way to the youth prayer group that Laruel and I were invited to at night, our driver Abraham, whose name sign is "fat"... ouch..., told us that in 2007 it is rumored that Zimbabwe will be out of electricity because they have no way to produce it and no other country will except their worthless cash. He also saith that the other countries will only except US cash because it is excepted everywhere as oppsed to the Euro which is twice the value of the US dollar.

At the prayer group we spent time singing and explaining to eachother about the structure of the US and Zim youth groups and then the holy spirit came. It blew through the doors and washed over all of us as we got off the pews and slunk to the floor and faced our benches, bowed our heads and prayed aloud. "Make a joyful noise to the Lord all the earth." The Shona and English, Zimbabwe accents and our two American accentsmixed together like waves aplashing against the gritty sand shore and nothing was distinguishable. It was magnificant and for a moment I was glad that I was not there with a Deaf person because just how there are things that are so visibly beautiful about sign language that you can't interpreter them for the poor hearing people that don't understand, this moment was not interpretable. Thank you Jesus.

There are so many things happening here that the English major in me wants to describe for you but I don't have the time or the ink like all the monkeys we saw when we came home this afternoon or the dinner we ate at the "fancy" but TACKY American style theme resturant that cost us 17 million 200 thousand Zim dollars... or the way the entire valley shouted for joy when the electricity was turned back on and how the cheers of the children made me cry as I listened from Hilltop church... or the way the lizard crawled into Carol's room... or when Zellie chased a bug for 20 minutes so she could pretend to take a picture with me and throw it on my instead... or when we drove back in the back of the truck to christmas pass and I forgot my sunblock as I ws standing just under the equator or when...

Amen.

MAY 27, 2006

Today was a dense and delicious day. My roommate Laurel and I woke up to Carol, our alarm clock, pounding on our door. We yelled that we were awake and then went directly back to bed. Thirty minutes later Zellie knocked and this time I had to answer the door because Zellie obviously can’t hear us yelling. I opened the door in my long johns with feet attached to them that my mom bought me for Christmas. I like them, they are warm. As I peeled open my eyes and winced as it felt like ripping a sticker off glass I saw as Zellie took one look at me and did a “good morning, lets go, why are you wearing those ugly pajamas” jig. Needless to say, we were late.

While we were eating breakfast Libby came to pick us up. We had heard many stories about Libby and her husband who had decided to move from the UK to Zimbabwe in 1980 right after independence. Libby opened a pre-school for the Deaf called Nzeve and Geoff worked as a doctor in downtown Mutare. We finished breakfast and pilled into her two seater truck that she called a “van” Libby and Carol sat in the front leaving Zellie, Kirk, Laurel, and I in the back with the fire wood, bread, butter, and meat. As I was jamming myself into the back Libby the sweetheart said “Don’t mash the bread.” And I thought “Yeah right lady!”

At the school, Libby and her fellow Deaf teachers put on a “parents of the Deaf” workshop. They spoke in Shona the first language of the Zimbabwe people; the language used in most of the rural areas. The interpreter singed in Zimbabwe Sign Language or “Zim Sign” and I tried to follow along using a mixture of both languages, but God blessed me with a coherent brain today so I think I held my own. Zellie and Kirk picked up the language much faster because they are Deaf.

After the workshop was over Laurel and I were introduced to the young interpreters. I say young, not because we weren’t introduced to the old ones, but because there weren’t any old interpreters to be introduced to. We had great conversations about their training and ours. Our training in the states is a 2-4 year college degree and then a stressful national test. The interpreters in Zim are lucky if they have three months of training. One thing I noticed was that practically all the interpreters were boys, in the states mostly all the interpreters are middle aged women.

After lunch, where I had my first taste of Sadza, we met with Sanganai, the Deaf club set up in 2000 by one of Carol’s teams and Amos; sanganai means “let’s meet.” We sang songs, Kirk preached, and Zellie taught a song although she got most of the Zim signs wrong because she was trying to translate them into Zim signs on the spot and was given some bad advice. Amos then asked Laurel and I to lead a song and the poetic me would say that I instantly felt like I swallowed a softball but the slightly vulgar still immature side of me would proclaim “and then I crapped my pants.” It turned out to be ok though because Zellie got up with us to have her second hand at the frist song and all was well. I love God’s sense of humor.

We traveled to Amos’s house in the “burbs” of Mutare for dinner. We ate and drank while watching WWE Monday Night Raw (on a Saturday) in Zimbabwe. That was odd. The experience also gave me the opportunity to take a look at Americans through the eyes of an outsider. SO Embarrassing. But, Da da da da God saved the day by cutting the electricity. Zimbabwe residents have to deal with what is called Load-Shedding because there isn’t enough money to keep the electricity running for the whole country, so randomly the government turns off the power in areas. This would normally seem problematic because we were all using a foreign sing language to communicate and darkness doesn’t help when communication is visible. Although with candles and a flashlight the communication continued and God was present in our hands. Those hands holding the flashlights, those making dinner, those communicating, and those cleaning up the broken glass from a cup knocked over.

Right before bed Laurel screamed and I saw the biggest spider I had ever seen in my entire life. It, by far, out beat the previous spider that held this title. This was a wonderful moment for my arachnophobic self, it gave me a chance to thank God for many things: I thanked God for the fact that it was not on my side of the room, that Laurel decided to kill it while I ran out of the room screaming and spitting my toothpaste out of my mouth, and that she was not such a wuss like me and could play the “what would be worse than a giant spider, which was now reduced to spider guts halfway up the wall, walking on your face.” That was a fun game, you have to try it sometime.

Ok it is time for bed. I made a promise to myself that I would decide in Africa whether I was going to be an Elder or a Deacon and I still have not had much clarification on the matter, but I trust that God is in the process and is helping me with this decision. Peace.

MAY 24-26, 2006

11:00pm Zim 10:00pm London 5:00pm US

We began our trip 2 days ago and just arrived this evening. Carol, Laurel, Zellie, and I were taxied to Dulles international airport by Peggy and Jason where we met Kirk. Our first flight was a short 6 hours and it left at 6:30pm EST arriving at Heathrow airport 6 hours later at 5:30am.

I didn’t sleep at all.

London was beautiful in all its rainy splendor. During our 15 hour layover we got to ride the London Eye where I jumped back and forth from the window and the bench in the middle where I could sit and be scared. I was free to let my imagination run wild while saying things like “holy crap wouldn’t it suck if this bubble broke off and we tumbled down into the Thames?” I realized how my hamster must have felt when he rolled his little hamster bubble of the edge of the table I had left him on when I was eight and he squeaked the only noise I ever heard him make.

Anyway back to London. We left the Eye and went to eat at a pub called the Slug and Lettuce then walked to Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus before catching a double decker bus to take us back to the airport. By 7pm London time I was exhausted. We boarded our second flight from London to Harare and I fell asleep before the plane even took off. I love that God has blessed me with friends like Carol who know me well enough to grab me a diet Pepsi from the flight attendant while I lay sleeping with my neck pillow, eye mask, and ear plugs.

We arrived in Harare 10 hours later at 5:55am Zim time and basically the first thing I did could have gotten me arrested. Apparently you are not allowed to take video footage at the Harare airport or at least that is what I was told by the cop. Things are strict in Zimbabwe but only on strange issues for instance you are not allowed to say anything bad about president Mugabe but they let us right through customs with our 16 bags without asking any questions.

The rest of the day was spent in transit to Mutare. We spent the morning at a friend of Amos’s house and then spent 4 hours on the road, stopping at the Half Way house for Stoney’s Ginger Beer.

The hotel we will be staying at is liveable. I wasn’t expecting anything posh, so the hole in the floor for a toilet doesn’t bother me too much.

On the way through Zimbabwe this afternoon we saw many rock formations that the local’s call balancing rocks, to look at them you wonder how they are even staying up. We asked if there was any folklore about them and when Amos said no, I said they reminded me of Ebenezers (which was fun to fingerspell in Zim sign language)

Thank you God for my jet legged mash potato brain. Thank you for the safe flight and the London Eye and the little boy that I watched who was deriving great joy out of smashing Doritos into the floor at the Zim airport at 6am. Help me to find that kind of joy in myself and others on this trip. Amen.

“Here I raise my Ebenezer,
Hither by thy health I’ve come,
And I hope by thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home,
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God,
He to rescue me from danger,
Interposed his precious blood.”

Zimbabwe

I am leaving today for Zimbabwe Africa for the next three weeks. I would really appreciate your prayers! I will have many stories for my blog when I get back. Thanks for all the support!

Mark

Gracious Creator,

Thank you for the life of Mark Masters. Please be with Kathleen and her family. We never know your plan lord and sometimes it is frustrating. Help us to heal. Amen.

http://gbgm-umc.org/global_news/pr.cfm?articleid=4040

US-2 so far...

Gallaudet Protest

Read one student's opinion on the protests at Gallaudet
http://www.insidehighered.com/views/2006/05/05/mowl

APRIL 24, 2006

Today we woke up bright and early, 4am to be exact, we cleaned the apartment and left our extra food and children's gifts for Karen then we met Kurlean at the bus.

Going through customs was easy both in Grenada and Puetro Rico.
"Citizenship?"
"US"

"Any Food?"
"No"
a lie that I instantly felt bad about when I realized I did have a bag of Karen's coconut cakes stashed in my backpack.
"have a nice day"

We spent the day in the dry hot heat of San Juan, snaking in and out of art galleries and tacky tourist shops. Then we rejoiced "Thank you Jesus!" as a taxi pulled up right when we had decided we had enough.

Now we are on the flight home. American Airlines, and just as with any great trip, I had a blast but I am egar to get back to work. I can't wait to report my findings about the Deaf in Grenada; which is that they are much more margenilized that they are in the states. That says a lot. Maybe a future Deaf missions site in the making, we will see.

Thank you God for this mountain top experience complete with a rainbow over the ocean, black sand, and puppies. Help me prepare for Zimbabwe and the adventures to come. Amen.

APRIL 23, 2006

Today is exactly on year since I graduated college. This has, by far, been the absolute best year of my life and I am celebrating my aniversry in Grenada on a vacation with 5 really great people.

We woke up extra early today and met Kurlean at the bus on the hill. We exchanged the routine pleasantries that have come to be an inside joke with out team.
"Goodmorning Kurlean!"
"Okay!"

"Goodnight Kurlean!"
"Alright!"

Our first stop was St. Georges's Methodist cuhrch for their 7am service. Kim gave the sermon, Scott and Ezzie read scripture and I got mawled by the children while passing out books and crayons, pencils, paper, lollipops, bubble gum, more lollipops and more bubble gum.

We were quickly bussed to Worburn Mehtodist church to do the whole thing again. At worburn the youth group sang "Oh happy day" beautifully with an out of tune ancient guitar and the rain quickly tapping on the galvenized roof. Lunch was served at Mr. Lowe's house where him and his wife fed us organic spaghetti with all the ingredients pulled from their own garden. They also fed us fresh plantains, sweet potatoes, cashew fruits, wax apples, and mangoes... ofcourse. Then they took us on a tour of their garden where we got to watch their four dogs eat dropped soft mangoes and we met May, the donkey.

Mr. Ceasar and Mr. Winston then drove us home by way of St. George university a campus on the shore with black sand beaches and to another hot sand secluded Grenadian beach. Kurlean picked us up at our sterile apartment at 3:30pm for our tour around the island where we saw waterfalls with young boys shampooing their hair and rinsing it in the shower while their buddies showed their masculine prowess by jumping off the cliff into the water in front of their lady friends. All the while my brain was screaming "NO!"

We saw the view from the highest road in all of Grenada, 1,910 feet, above sea level, and walked through the rubble of what used to be the Methodist church with the best view in all the world before Ivan picked it up and crumbled it all over the valley like feta cheese. We drove around the island and waded in the warm Atlantic water in the cove while the sun went down.

Just before devotions Miss. Karen brought us over coconut cakes and wished us safe travels. We donated the rest of our EC's to her and the church and siad our goodbyes.

today was packed and fast and productive and delicious and I am tired and sad and anxious to be home. Yesterday I bought D saffron and Cory a steel drum. My souvinere is the tea towel with an embroidered pear on it that Ms. Baine gave me. Oh, and a bottle of Ting. "Goodnight!"
"Okay!" Amen.

APRIL 22, 2006

Today we slept in a bit then rushed to get our clothes on, eat chocolate chip cookies and diet pepsi for breakfast and head out to Ms. Baine's it felt like being at home except I wasn't wearing make-up or carrying my cell phone or my sidekick.

We spent the morning finishing up our painting and carpentry then we sat down to our last lunch at the worksite. White bread slices, no butter, fresh tomatoes, chicken hotdogs, sweet bread with raisins and mangoes... of course.

We took thousands of pictures, exchanged addresses and took off in Kurleans bus to the city to wear our flip flops and clean shirts and buy gifts in the open air market. When we finished buying our saffron, curry, and fresh cocoa balls, we headed up the typical Grenadian street at a 90 degree angle towards the catholic church. The church of the immaculate conception.

All the hubub of the streets and market and cruise ship muffled away when sleepy Father Mark awoke from his nap to peel away the galvenized sheets and let us into the devastation. The blue sky was visible above as Father Mark told the horror of Ivan and how he ruined his parish. After long stories, touching grafiti and many guilty pictures we headed down the street to find the Methodist church. On our way we found the Anglican shell and the Presbyterian tower and wall.

The Angelican priest was praying in the corner of his rubble when we entered and I realized that when there is no insurance or other space all you have to worship in is rubble. I took a photo of the blown out stain glass that revealed the still gorgeous view and the cruise ship. At first the sight of the ship angered me and then I heard the priest admitt that it is tourism that nwo sustains the island and I began to love that tacky boat. Kurlean finally showed us the Methodist church as we drove to dinner, we had been walking in the wrong direction.

Dear Lord,

It is hard to see your face when we are standing on tables and bailing water out of our churches and homes but you are there in the new life weeds that grow through the concrete rubble. Help us Lord. Help us help. Help us pray. Help us thank you, praise you. Help us see you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Amen.

APRIL 20, 2006

Today I'm tired, my kneww aches and even though I don't like to admitt it, my mom was right. Red heads aren't made for heat.

I felt drained all day in our little room with no ventilation and our oil based paint. Although when I felt sick I would take a few minutes to sit and pray or talk to Ms. Baine about living through Janet, then Ivan, then Emily.

"As the legend goes..." She starts, softly in a voice all Grenadians use. "Janet came and did her damage on the island and then got trapped in one of the houses. Later her lover Ivan came and lifted off all the roofs on the island in pursuit of his love. 10 months later Emily came through after her parents, throwing temper tantrums and breaking all the windows."

Through the stories and oil paint, the waiting two hours for supplies, and feeding fo the huge chicken bones to a tiny emaciated cat then watching her eat it whole the holy spirit was present. Present in the constant wind that arrived with the waves on wednesday and blows the knotted curtains of our apartment windows.

The beauty of the island exists in the life created from death. How appropriate for the week following Easter. All the trees and vegetation were demonlished in the hurricans and yet today we picked fresh limes, papas, mangoes; we ate plantains and plucked peas. We dug our feet into the sand on the beach and ate a meal at a local resturant with gas lanterns and the worshiping stars for light. I chose to be adventerous and I ordered Mahi-Mahi with mango chutney and it tasted delicious.

At the very end of our work day Mr. Ceasar "the poor one" he says this joking so that we know he is not Julias Ceasar, took us to his house on the top of the mountain and we were struck speechless at the site of the island and the ocean and the kytes flying in the holy spirit wind. Then we drove to Fort Frederick to see the view from another location and even at the top of the island we were baptized by the salt crystals from the Atlantic. We felt the Lord and looked down into the living rooms of mansions missing thier roos from Ivan and we enjoyed life.

Tonight before devotions I took fresh picked limes and rolled them under my palms. I cut them in two and felt the sting of the juice in my carpenter wounds then I added pure sugar cane and bottled water and we sat and talked of God and sewing seeds and drank and enjoyed the Lord. Amen.

APRIL 20, 2006

Today we woke to Joshua obnoxiously banging at our door and Kim screaming "Joshua! What do you need??" After scrunching my eyes tight to block out the hardly visible light in our dark cinder block cave, I jumped in our olympic sized shower and felt defeated as I watched the single stream of warm water curl around the shower head and lick the bathroom wall. Some of the magic of last night had worn out, but like my favorite holey jeans I continued to wear the day.

We exchanged our USA currency and I was awarded $65 for my $25 for being a good little American then we made a final stop before heading to Ms. Baine's. We drove to the super market where we purchased a $16.50 roll of pilsbury chocolate chip cookie dough mix, apparently it cost a lot to ship all of our American merchandise to a small carribbean island. $360 later for three days of snacks and breakfast food, and we were off to our destination...

...

...

...

...

life moves slow on this island like the molases they borrow from Trinadad in order to make Rum in an old sugar factory.

We arrived late, had no tools, no contractor waiting, no plan of action. But all was well because our backpacks were filled with balloons and bazooka bubble gum. We spent the day priming a new two bedroom space for Ms. Baine and her grandson Nicholas. She and her friends built the two rooms so that she would have a place to stay when the other groups came to rebuild her house.

The heat was wet but the breeze was constant. We worked hard and took long breaks with Rum Raisin ice cream, Ms. Baine, the puppy named Billy, and the Pregnant Kitten named Sparkle. It was a blessed slow day and afterwards we showered at our apartment, to more avail than the morning, and traveled to the inner city of St. George's to eat Rotis and Sea Moss smoothies at the Nutmeg resturant.

When our bellies were full we came home and shared our "roses and thorns" of the day. We thanked God for the moon, and the rainy season, and the missions, and the love, and our beds. Amen.

APRIL 19, 2006

Today was my first day of international travel for the summer of 2006.

I started the morning standing in a church parking lot in Maryland at 4:40am with people I hardly knew and ended the day standing in a circle holding hands on the beach in Grenada with five people sharring the beautiful moments of the day together and whispering "Thank you God." while exhaling the warm spicy air.

The cool breeze of the holy spirit washed over our bodies as it was pushed from the sea with the waves and the lights from St. George glistened from the dark hills as if all the stars in the sky had grouped close to one another to worship and pray togteher as well. The Island strays had even followed us to the beach to see the lord.

On the way back we met a Grenadian man who told us to slow down, forget the invasion, and advocate for his people.

This day was poetic from the Mangos in the fridge when we arrived to the isolation and familian relationships placed on this rock, as the Grenadian man said, by the vast Atlantic. And I am small, and I thank God for sand in my new flip flops and the bruise on my arm from the Tetnus Shot. And I thank God for air conditioning and sleep. Amen.

Entitlement

I set up this blog in order to share stories about my discoveries of Deaf culture. If I spent the entire two years writing about how Deaf people are perfect angels I would not be painting an accurate picture. Deaf people are creative, and caring, mean, and manipulative. Deaf people are people.

One thing I have learned about people with disabilities is that their entire lives people treat them with extremes, extreme oppression and extreme generosity. Either they are being forgotten about, or they are being showered with gifts. These extremes often lead to a sense of entitlement. The individual believes, consciously or unconsciously, that because they are disabled and oppressed you must shower them with generosity.

For instance:

My first week at the Deaf Shalom Zone a young man who attends the Maryland School for the Deaf as a dorm student, and whose entire family cannot communicate with him because they never learned sign language, came up to me after church. He signed “black suit case, wheels, you have?” to which I responded with “Yes, black suitcase, wheels, have me.” Then the most interesting thing happened. He signed “Good. You will bring to my house tonight. Time 6pm” I was taken aback by the statement but decided that I could spare a suitcase and he really needed it.

Two weeks later the same boy came to me after church and signed “Black suitcase, remember you?” I thought he was about to thank me for giving it to him so I said “Yes, I remember” Then he responded with “Black suitcase broke. I dragged down the steps, wheel fell off. Bring new suitcase to my house tonight. Black. Wheels”

Another example:

Two weeks ago we had an important meeting at church. The night before the meeting I got a message that a young man from church wanted to go to the meeting and I offered to drive him even though it was an hour out of my way. At 10:30pm I received an email from the same young man. The email said “I found a ride; you don’t need to get me tomorrow.”

Relieved, I went to bed and woke up the next morning with enough time to get myself to church. On the way I received an email on my pager that said “WHERE ARE YOU?????” Apparently the young man had emailed me again at 2am and expected me to be waiting at his house to drive him the next morning.

Here is the question I pose, when are we helping and when are we enabling? How can you tell the difference? I have been struggling with this issue lately and I have come to the conclusion that you just don’t know. You have to trust that God will be there with you and that you will make the right decisions.

I bought the first young man another suitcase with church discretionary funds and told him that he needed to take better care of this bag, because it was a gift. I did not pick up the second young man, and he found his own ride. I am not sure I made the right decisions but I am sure that if you care about people and you pray to do God’s will, you are not going to mess them up too bad.

Entitlement is tough, at times it makes me crazy. I feel as though I give and give and it is expected I will continue to give forever, and maybe I will, and maybe I should, but I will always try to empower rather than enable, and I will always pray for guidance. Peace.