Communion

I wrote this poem after service on sunday. I walked into the bathroom and saw the grape juice in the sink, I LOVED the imagery. peace.

COMMUNION

Jesus lives in the bathroom sink
at Christ church of the Deaf.
Sunday I watched him drip down
the porcelain towards the drain
infiltrating every vein of our sewer system.

Catholics drink and wipe
drink again wipe again
until jesus is devoured.

We dump him down the drain.

Chalice raised high
Prayers signed in remembrance
“This is Christ’s blood shed for you”
Catch it quick
before it sloshes in the sink
and you have to wait until next month,
or rip a piece of the body
and scrape it along the bowl
and taste body and blood and soap,
How appropriate.

Thank God
Jesus doesn’t live in the toilet.

Or does he?
Jesus lives in the toilet on Payson street
where mothers don’t
speak the language of their children.
Jesus lives in the toilet of isolation
The Deaf feel in prison.
Jesus lives.

In the sink at Christ church of Deaf,
in our throats
in our hands
we rip him apart,
drink him in then dump him out
into the sewer system
to continue ministry

Garbage bags full of dreams

Today I walked into the office and sitting on my desk was a nasty, old looking, garbage bag with a note attached that said

" Hi Mary, Let your dreams come alive! Thank You, Mike"

As I stood there and tried to image what dreams of mine might come out of a yucky, dirty, garbage bag I realized...this is my life.

It's my life here at the Zone to put on a superwoman costume and jump around during the sunday service signing how to be spiritually healthy... It's my life to walk into church and take inventory over what is here and what is missing "Do I need to call the cops today? Did we get robbed this week?" It's my life to drive ex-cons home after church, and to teach the youth that internet porn and sex at church is not healthy or good or appropriate.

What is in this garbage bag that could make my dreams come true? Outcomes! One garbage bag that we are working with right now is the foster care system in Baltimore. The current system tells us that they don't have any Deaf kids but, we can smell their trash and we personally know 15 Deaf Children who have been placed in homes that don't sign. The dream in the bag that we will get to one day, after sifting through banana peels and old batteries, is a theraputic foster care program that will place all Deaf Children and CODA's (Children of Deaf Adults) in homes where there foster parents sign. These will be homes where the foster parents recieve specific help for raising Deaf children or parenting classes for Deaf adults. That is one dream of mine that is wrapped in a garbage bag but will not be thrown to the curb and will sit and ferment and mature in my office.

This is my life, garbage bags and all and I love it. peace.

I am purposely not telling you what dream was in the bag, but I will tell you it was wonderful and tasted delicious.

Americorps

All I have to say is, the program may have its faults and difficulties BUT being an americorps member just paid off $4,725 of my student loans! Oh Man that is a good feeling!

Being a US-2, Americorps member, Jesuit Volunteer, any of these kind of programs not only gives you one to two years of experince right out of college (needed for most jobs) but it also pays off your student loans through educational vouchers! I encourage all undergrads to look into these programs it will change your life! peace.

Who has faith?

On sunday a well meaning hearing man took my pastor aside after church and told her that he felt sorry for the Deaf and would like to come and hold a healing service to heal them from their Deafness.

"Deaf do not have enough faith." the man said "That is why they are Deaf."

My pastor stood politley and listened to the man and then said "Sir I am Blind in one eye and have a glass eye. I have prayed many times for my eye to be healed. I went to a healing service when I was a teenager where they laid hands on me to heal my eye. I took out my eye and placed it on the altar for the lord to heal me, and I am still blind. Do I not have faith?"

The man told her that he did not want to answer that question and he insisted that she allow him to have a healing service. My pastor is wonderful and she did not want to answer for the Deaf of the church so she brought the issue up at our board meeting that day. She asked the Deaf members how they would like her to respond.

oh, man! the hands were flying!

"There is nothing wrong with our faith! We know the lord and understand God's love!"

"I like being Deaf, I don't want to be hearing!"

"He was wearing glasses! where is his faith?"

The deaf memers decided to write a letter to the man thanking him for his concern and explaining about Deaf culture and their faith.

Is God's power that limited that God can only communicate with those who can hear or do we limit God ourselves? We don't know why things happen; we don't know why people get sick, why people die, why some are blind, some have C.P, some have mental issues, some are Deaf, and some wear glasses. We don't know and that is ok. It is not our job to know, it's God's job. Our job to to understand God and love God despite our own personal issues because we better believe God loves us! =) peace

Stories

From Jan 3-14th we at Christ UMC of the Deaf hosted 16 seminary students for a Deaf culture immersion class. Two intensive weeks where we taught them all there is to know about Deaf Culture. We visited the Deaf school, we taught them sign language every morning, they visited the mental hospital and prison where we teach bible studies, they visited the MD relay center, and we had plenty of talks about issues such as CODA's (Children of Deaf Adults), parents with Deaf children, cochlear implants, Deaf with AIDS, Mental health issues, etc...

This was the second year that I have been involved with this immersion class we offer and each year I have learned a lot. I am doing the work, and I am involved with the culture but it is different when you take that information into a classroom to teach others; it is surprising how much I learned that I never knew.

one story I heard this year broke my heart. There are only two counselors in the city and pretty much the state too that know sign language and Deaf culture issues. One of those counselors came to speak about her job and things she has seen. She told this story about a young man.

She said that she had been working for a few months with a young man around 12 years old who was Deaf. The boy had hearing parents who did not learn sign language because they wanted him to be forced to lip read so that he could be "normal". The boy was having issues and the parents could not communicate with him so that brought him to the counselor. While he was in counseling he was focused on the fact that he was going to die. When the counselor asked him why he was so certain he was going to die soon he replied

"All Deaf people die before they grow up. That is why there aren't any Deaf adults"

In the parents effort to make their child hearing they had never introduced him to any Deaf adults. The boy lived in constant fear that he was going to die because his parents didn't know how to communicate with him to figure otu what was wrong.

That story isunfortunately not uncommon. Parents often want their children to be like them and they experience so much pain when their child is Deaf that they make poor decisions due to denial.

Dear God,
please be with all the families that are experincing this kind of pain. Be with all the Deaf children who think they are alone because no on ewill communicate with them. Help the hearing parents to have wisdom and make good decisions. amen.

Christmas pagents galore

On saturday 20 of us from my church drove to a mega church outside of the baltimore county line for "the Splender of Christmas". This church had all the bells and wistles from live llamas and shaggy dogs, to real flying angels suspended

30 feet above our heads. The church had been kind enough to pay for two interpreters so that we could attend and the Deaf loved it because it was so visual. There were about 500 people at the preformance and it was a struggle to get out of the parking lot.

The next day after church while 20 little kids, 3 group home clients and our sunday school teacher were running around dressed as angels with dollar store wings and I was lifting the giant paper-mache' camel head that we had rented for our own pagent a wise man behind me voiced "same story! Yesterday!" It sounds silly but that is when it really hit me that we were actually putting on the same story. Granted our story was done in sign language and instead of a real cow had a 40 year old Deaf man walking around giggling and trying his hardest to voice "Moo!" but yes, it was the same story.

Just as the 3 kings and the lowly shephards both visited Jesus in the manger. The mega church and the Deaf, group home, mental hospital patients, visit together also. That really touched me.

By the way, a group from nasville is coming next week to video tape our pagent for a dvd that will be given to UMC sunday school classrooms next year. Look for us under the section of how the Deaf celebrate christmas. peace.

My soon to be sister in law showed me this on thanksgiving and it has been stuck in the back of my head ever since. I cried at a U2 greenday video and felt silly for that, but how great would this whave been. I am sorry this is not about Deaf culture, but it is about our culture in the states and I think that it is quite poignant. peace.

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!

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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