In the summer, we would occasionally lose electrical power. Food in the refrigerator might spoil. As the weather got colder, we get less and less power. After Thanksgiving, we were down to about four hours of electricity, every other night.
So we adjusted. We bought and connected a generator that will run most of our appliances, though none but the smallest of heaters. But the noise (and expense) of the generator really bothers Hamroz. So we have wood stoves and lanterns. Hot water for showers is available from the pipes every two days (unless someone has to wash clothes in hot water), but you can always bring up some boiled water from the kitchen and pour it over yourself. We would generally run the generator for guests, but wait for, “city power” for our own enjoyment. Recently, we missed, “city power night” every night for two weeks. Finally, last night, we declined going to an ISK staff party at the Director’s house to stay home and enjoy electricity.
I found the refrigerator door wide opened the other day. I left it opened, thinking that perhaps someone was cooling the food with room temperature instead of waiting for electricity.
They are constructing a power line, coming down from energy-rich Khazakstan through Tajikistan, Afghanistan and Pakistan and on into the lucrative energy market in India. Some day. It will provide 24 hour/7 day per week power to Kabul. Some day.
Last night we invited a guest over (one of my friends) to enjoy the electricity with us. We even watched a movie. At ten o’clock, as usual, the power was cut. Then it came back!! It stayed all night!!! It was still on this afternoon!! I got a hot shower this morning, and can get one again tomorrow!! And the clothes are washed!! And ironed!!
Some say it is the legendary power line, finally in place. Some say it is a three day gift from the government to celebrate the upcoming holiday of Eid-al-Qurban. Only time will tell.
I told Hamroz that it made national news when a few states in the US lost power for a few hours, back in 2003. They called it a blackout. There is no translation for the word, “Blackout” in the Dari language. Yet.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Power of Praise
I Pe 4:11 Whoever speaks, is to do so as one who is speaking the utterances of God; whoever serves is to do so as one who is serving by the strength which God supplies; so that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belongs the glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. NASV
The utterances of God are living and active; they accomplish things all by themselves. All was dark when He said, “Let there be light”. But because He spoke, even though it had not yet appeared, light was the truth about the universe. God’s Word is truth, over and above what our five senses tell us. Because He said it, it will happen. He speaks calm to the storm, healing to the sick and by the power of what He speaks, it becomes so. And our speech should imitate His. We should speak words with intrinsic power.
Prayer is a connection between the divine and the earthly. In it, our requests, our sins, our problems meet with His divine presence and power. When we intercede, occasionally that powerful conviction arises in our soul that allows us to speak a powerful word that we know that we know will be fulfilled. It is an error that I have often made to continue to repeat my perspective, my desire, when that conviction does not arise.
What is lacking is usually not more of my perspective. Instead of arguing the validity of the prayer request (trying to help God understand the problem) what is more likely necessary is a deeper connection with His divine presence and power. What is lacking is praise. If there is a word like His, a powerful word that will fulfill itself, in my heart, I should speak it out. Otherwise, I should remember His characteristics, call them to mind, speak them out - until such a powerful word wells up inside me. It is more often His perspective and power, not mine, that lacks in my prayers.
The utterances of God are living and active; they accomplish things all by themselves. All was dark when He said, “Let there be light”. But because He spoke, even though it had not yet appeared, light was the truth about the universe. God’s Word is truth, over and above what our five senses tell us. Because He said it, it will happen. He speaks calm to the storm, healing to the sick and by the power of what He speaks, it becomes so. And our speech should imitate His. We should speak words with intrinsic power.
Prayer is a connection between the divine and the earthly. In it, our requests, our sins, our problems meet with His divine presence and power. When we intercede, occasionally that powerful conviction arises in our soul that allows us to speak a powerful word that we know that we know will be fulfilled. It is an error that I have often made to continue to repeat my perspective, my desire, when that conviction does not arise.
What is lacking is usually not more of my perspective. Instead of arguing the validity of the prayer request (trying to help God understand the problem) what is more likely necessary is a deeper connection with His divine presence and power. What is lacking is praise. If there is a word like His, a powerful word that will fulfill itself, in my heart, I should speak it out. Otherwise, I should remember His characteristics, call them to mind, speak them out - until such a powerful word wells up inside me. It is more often His perspective and power, not mine, that lacks in my prayers.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Why You Haven't Seen Me Around
In the beginning, God set up the pattern of a seven day work week. Six days of work and one day of rest. It is a spiritual recipe we were designed to follow with all of our hearts. The “teacher’s life” seems a perversion of this - one is constantly looking forward to a summer or winter break to finally take a rest. “Rest” is usually lurking too far in the future (hope deferred makes the heart sick), and this lifestyle increases the risk of burnout. The biblical model instructs us to keep much shorter accounts on our rest cycle – to rest up every week.
I have learned to rest where I am. Rest, for me, often means a 10-15 mile run – it takes up to two hours. My place of choice is Kabul University, shaded and relatively car-free. On weekends (Thursday and Friday, here) and perhaps twice more after a school day, you might see me passing by there.
Rest, for me, also includes having company over. Hamroz is a great hostess and it is our privilege to have a house frequented by, perhaps, 15-20 visitors per week. We try to keep Thursdays open to spend together, and it sometimes works out.
Rest, for me, features especially time with my wife. We date. We play. We host. I can usually come home for lunches. The dark and dangerous nights without power usually mean more time alone. Lots of pillow talk.
So breaks from school do not have to be breaks from “work” for me. They have been times to learn language (which I wish could be my full time job for a season – wish thus far unfulfilled; what a privilege it was for the first year and a half in Costa Rica when all I did was learn Spanish), times to run the ISK facility (not my cup of tea), time to run children’s programs (I can handle that), times to court, get married and honeymoon, times to make friends across this immense cultural barrier.
Having a friend like Hamroz, as well as all the short two-hour vacations at Kabul U, lessens the need to take breaks seasonally. Were I in the habit of leaving Asia for summer breaks, I would likely be single, relatively friendless and unable to communicate, except in English and Spanish. As it is, I consider myself a blessed and fruitful man. Can my family and friends in the USA bear with the sacrifice? Please post your comments.
I have learned to rest where I am. Rest, for me, often means a 10-15 mile run – it takes up to two hours. My place of choice is Kabul University, shaded and relatively car-free. On weekends (Thursday and Friday, here) and perhaps twice more after a school day, you might see me passing by there.
Rest, for me, also includes having company over. Hamroz is a great hostess and it is our privilege to have a house frequented by, perhaps, 15-20 visitors per week. We try to keep Thursdays open to spend together, and it sometimes works out.
Rest, for me, features especially time with my wife. We date. We play. We host. I can usually come home for lunches. The dark and dangerous nights without power usually mean more time alone. Lots of pillow talk.
So breaks from school do not have to be breaks from “work” for me. They have been times to learn language (which I wish could be my full time job for a season – wish thus far unfulfilled; what a privilege it was for the first year and a half in Costa Rica when all I did was learn Spanish), times to run the ISK facility (not my cup of tea), time to run children’s programs (I can handle that), times to court, get married and honeymoon, times to make friends across this immense cultural barrier.
Having a friend like Hamroz, as well as all the short two-hour vacations at Kabul U, lessens the need to take breaks seasonally. Were I in the habit of leaving Asia for summer breaks, I would likely be single, relatively friendless and unable to communicate, except in English and Spanish. As it is, I consider myself a blessed and fruitful man. Can my family and friends in the USA bear with the sacrifice? Please post your comments.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Rest
Why? So many horrible things are happening so near, to those I love. And they are looking at us next. Why are they allowed? The temptation to live by fear instead of by faith, to let terror, not the Holy Spirit determine my next moves, looms dark in my heart. I sometimes feel fatigued and heavy. Why did my Father call me here, just to become so heavy-laden?
You can’t rest unless you are tired. When you exercise, tens of thousands of microscopic tears are ripped into your muscles. And, when you use the chemical ATP, which is stored in your muscles to release energy, it changes into lactic acid, which makes you feel more and more fatigued and heavy as it accumulates. Rest consists in repairing the muscle tears (each tear repaired becomes stronger than it was originally) and converting the lactic acid back into ATP (which also stimulates extra ATP production). Here is the rub: if you don’t have any muscle tears nor any buildup of lactic acid, you can not properly rest, no matter how much time you spend laying around. You just atrophy – turning your body’s proteins into fat.
As with the body, so with the soul. Jesus said, "Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and YOU WILL FIND REST FOR YOUR SOULS. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”
Which might somewhat explain the impossible trials each one of us must pass through. Unless we are first weary and heavy-laden, there is no invitation into Christ’s blessed soul rest. The things we see, the things that are happening, rip our soul apart. Only then, we are ready for healing rest.
You can’t rest unless you are tired. When you exercise, tens of thousands of microscopic tears are ripped into your muscles. And, when you use the chemical ATP, which is stored in your muscles to release energy, it changes into lactic acid, which makes you feel more and more fatigued and heavy as it accumulates. Rest consists in repairing the muscle tears (each tear repaired becomes stronger than it was originally) and converting the lactic acid back into ATP (which also stimulates extra ATP production). Here is the rub: if you don’t have any muscle tears nor any buildup of lactic acid, you can not properly rest, no matter how much time you spend laying around. You just atrophy – turning your body’s proteins into fat.
As with the body, so with the soul. Jesus said, "Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and YOU WILL FIND REST FOR YOUR SOULS. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”
Which might somewhat explain the impossible trials each one of us must pass through. Unless we are first weary and heavy-laden, there is no invitation into Christ’s blessed soul rest. The things we see, the things that are happening, rip our soul apart. Only then, we are ready for healing rest.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
The Chill Sets In
My body is accustomed to 15 mile outdoor workouts in all kinds of weather. As a result, I adapt easily to more moderate variations in temperature. Starting in October, as my wife is getting cold at every chill, she repeats the question, “Aren’t you cold?”
“I don’t believe in cold,” is my October/November reply.
Now Thanksgiving approaches. Awaiting relief from the chill of the street, the corresponding chill lurking unexpectedly inside my house foreshadows the true danger looming in Kabul’s coming winter - the inability to take refuge from the freeze. January temperatures are only slightly below zero, not in itself a colossal disaster, if only it would stay outside. But the houses here are poorly constructed and poorly heated. The electricity comes and goes – and in the frozen, dry winter time (hydroelectric power being an important source) it mostly goes. The chill slowly but steadily mounts, on both sides of the front door. The refrigerator doesn’t work without electricity, but only the freezer is really a loss. Almost anywhere in the house will do to keep something refrigerated. And ice making capability, sans electricity, is only weeks away.
Still in memory are the winter nights spent in sleepless shivering under every blanket and piece of heavy clothing that I own. Still in memory are those winter mornings of bundling up to brave the outdoors, only be pleasantly surprised that the strong desert sun had warmed up the city without warming up inside the house. Even in the dead of winter, I sometimes lack enough faith to be cold.
“I don’t believe in cold,” is my October/November reply.
Now Thanksgiving approaches. Awaiting relief from the chill of the street, the corresponding chill lurking unexpectedly inside my house foreshadows the true danger looming in Kabul’s coming winter - the inability to take refuge from the freeze. January temperatures are only slightly below zero, not in itself a colossal disaster, if only it would stay outside. But the houses here are poorly constructed and poorly heated. The electricity comes and goes – and in the frozen, dry winter time (hydroelectric power being an important source) it mostly goes. The chill slowly but steadily mounts, on both sides of the front door. The refrigerator doesn’t work without electricity, but only the freezer is really a loss. Almost anywhere in the house will do to keep something refrigerated. And ice making capability, sans electricity, is only weeks away.
Still in memory are the winter nights spent in sleepless shivering under every blanket and piece of heavy clothing that I own. Still in memory are those winter mornings of bundling up to brave the outdoors, only be pleasantly surprised that the strong desert sun had warmed up the city without warming up inside the house. Even in the dead of winter, I sometimes lack enough faith to be cold.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Walking
Walking is something most people take for granted. In Camden County, NJ (suburbanized in the early 1900’s), there is pavement for pedestrians down almost every street. I used to run from borough to borough in all directions on them. In bordering Gloucester County (suburbanized in the late 1900’s), sidewalks exist only occasionally, to walk within certain neighborhoods. But there are large parks with internal walking trails.
Walking is the first casualty in Kabul when security emergencies arise. “Lockdowns” occur and the streets are cleared, especially of foreigners. The fact that suicide bombers do not generally target pedestrians does not embolden most to ambulate freely around the city. Add to that the threat of kidnapping, and there are many compelling reasons to feel uncomfortable taking constitutionals in Kabul.
Women, in particular, have a hard time getting out and about here. First of all, they need to keep their heads covered at all times when outdoors. That is not comfortable in the summer. Then, staring at women is socially acceptable. Touching and poking at women is not always acceptable; but you have to be (or be with) a stout hearted person to take on the crowd and establish the right to walk without being molested.
Afghans consider it a sin punishable by death that an Afghan woman, who must all by law be Muslim, would marry a non-Muslim (foreigner). Since my wife looks like an Afghan, though she is not, there are those who get more than indignant when they see us together on the street. Going with her to protect her can cause more problems than it solves.
So during Fall Break when, after a personal tragedy (that is another story), my wife was invited back to Dushanbe for a week (trip to be detailed slightly in my snail mail Christmas letter) we accepted the “excuse”. The most powerful immediate blessing of the journey was the freedom to be ordinary pedestrians, walking together, strolling around town, wandering among the restaurants and shops, hiking through what remains of a botanical park the Soviets once planted, hoofing over to friends’ houses. No one was staring at us. No one was looking even remotely interested in inflicting the death penalty on us.
Our love was designed to prevail over whatever. However, short breaks from whatever can be a godsend.
Psalm 119:45 And I will walk at liberty, For I seek your precepts NASV
Psalm 138:7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You will revive me; You will stretch forth Your hand against the wrath of my enemies, And Your right hand will save me. NASV
Walking is the first casualty in Kabul when security emergencies arise. “Lockdowns” occur and the streets are cleared, especially of foreigners. The fact that suicide bombers do not generally target pedestrians does not embolden most to ambulate freely around the city. Add to that the threat of kidnapping, and there are many compelling reasons to feel uncomfortable taking constitutionals in Kabul.
Women, in particular, have a hard time getting out and about here. First of all, they need to keep their heads covered at all times when outdoors. That is not comfortable in the summer. Then, staring at women is socially acceptable. Touching and poking at women is not always acceptable; but you have to be (or be with) a stout hearted person to take on the crowd and establish the right to walk without being molested.
Afghans consider it a sin punishable by death that an Afghan woman, who must all by law be Muslim, would marry a non-Muslim (foreigner). Since my wife looks like an Afghan, though she is not, there are those who get more than indignant when they see us together on the street. Going with her to protect her can cause more problems than it solves.
So during Fall Break when, after a personal tragedy (that is another story), my wife was invited back to Dushanbe for a week (trip to be detailed slightly in my snail mail Christmas letter) we accepted the “excuse”. The most powerful immediate blessing of the journey was the freedom to be ordinary pedestrians, walking together, strolling around town, wandering among the restaurants and shops, hiking through what remains of a botanical park the Soviets once planted, hoofing over to friends’ houses. No one was staring at us. No one was looking even remotely interested in inflicting the death penalty on us.
Our love was designed to prevail over whatever. However, short breaks from whatever can be a godsend.
Psalm 119:45 And I will walk at liberty, For I seek your precepts NASV
Psalm 138:7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You will revive me; You will stretch forth Your hand against the wrath of my enemies, And Your right hand will save me. NASV
Monday, November 5, 2007
Fruit from Playing the Foreigner
I had almost forgotten the heart wrenching price paid to enter the world of Spanish speakers. Remembered were all the successes, but forgotten were the early struggles. How much of a trial it was to “hang in” conversations, how awkward it was to hear people talking and only have clues about what was being said, not really knowing if my friends were really friends. Playing the foreigner is a humbling role.
Fruit is an amazingly engineered substance. Inside you will find mostly energy, stored in the form of carbohydrates. Since the tree, by design, takes in more energy from the sun than it needs for its own growth and development, it stores energy in its fruit (making them sweet). Sugars and so much more - vitamins, minerals, things that a tree has little use for but that are very useful for animals - are deposited there.
Upon returning to the US, I was done with misunderstandings, being able to speak both languages fluently; God had done His work in my soul through the humiliation of playing the foreigner. Or so I thought. Yet the veil of reverse culture shock of return was more impenetrable than that of cross culture shock of being overseas. After eleven years spent there, the world of the suburban Evangelical church in America is still a foggy mystery to me, and I to them. What use were all those years?
Recently scientists discovered anti-oxidants, chemicals that (when dissolved in blood) bind harmful free radicals, eliminating them before they can burn. Anti-oxidants are not much use in a tree, yet they abound in fruits. No doubt we will discover other previously unimagined vital (for animals) chemicals that plants produce and deposit in fruits. What need of a tree is met by producing all these chemicals?
Now, I am called anew into cross cultural situations where both the competency to discern what is going on around me and the ability to distinguish dangerous people and situations from friendly ones are lacking. And the stakes are high. The call comes from on high, day after day, over and over again, to leave my familiar English speaking environment, without any apparent corresponding capacity from on high to understand the new environment. Already having been through this type of humbling, I do not need it again for my own development, do I?
Plants and trees produce what they themselves do not need, but what is designed for consumption by others. So it is with us. We were designed to produce spiritual fruit. God’s first command to men is that we be fruitful. We are to store up and later give what was designed to sustain life in others.
Fruit is an amazingly engineered substance. Inside you will find mostly energy, stored in the form of carbohydrates. Since the tree, by design, takes in more energy from the sun than it needs for its own growth and development, it stores energy in its fruit (making them sweet). Sugars and so much more - vitamins, minerals, things that a tree has little use for but that are very useful for animals - are deposited there.
Upon returning to the US, I was done with misunderstandings, being able to speak both languages fluently; God had done His work in my soul through the humiliation of playing the foreigner. Or so I thought. Yet the veil of reverse culture shock of return was more impenetrable than that of cross culture shock of being overseas. After eleven years spent there, the world of the suburban Evangelical church in America is still a foggy mystery to me, and I to them. What use were all those years?
Recently scientists discovered anti-oxidants, chemicals that (when dissolved in blood) bind harmful free radicals, eliminating them before they can burn. Anti-oxidants are not much use in a tree, yet they abound in fruits. No doubt we will discover other previously unimagined vital (for animals) chemicals that plants produce and deposit in fruits. What need of a tree is met by producing all these chemicals?
Now, I am called anew into cross cultural situations where both the competency to discern what is going on around me and the ability to distinguish dangerous people and situations from friendly ones are lacking. And the stakes are high. The call comes from on high, day after day, over and over again, to leave my familiar English speaking environment, without any apparent corresponding capacity from on high to understand the new environment. Already having been through this type of humbling, I do not need it again for my own development, do I?
Plants and trees produce what they themselves do not need, but what is designed for consumption by others. So it is with us. We were designed to produce spiritual fruit. God’s first command to men is that we be fruitful. We are to store up and later give what was designed to sustain life in others.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Season of Passivity
Though my expectations are high that good things will continue to happen through my growing ability to speak Dari, an epoch of life is presenting itself where the linguistic brakes are on. The upcoming months should be devoted to getting closer to God and developing my relationship with Him. The fact that you can only speak English at my school is one thing that has always put the dampers on language learning. But now there are new obstacles, as well.
- Hamroz and I speak English most of the time. This is a time for love, and English is (more often than not) the language of our love.
- I have been convicted about reviewing what I had memorized in the scriptures. There are over 100 chapters (thousands of verses) just in English (more in other languages) that I am in the process of forgetting.
Spring is time for revival, but we are passing through a sort of winter, for now. This is a season for cold consolidation. Now is the time for marital love to congeal. Now is the time to concentrate on drawing near to God. Not that we will forget about serving others, but this is a special season to focus on our relationship with Him. Friends are still dropping by, and we make time for them. We have enough life to share. But our focus is horizontal, not vertical.
- Hamroz and I speak English most of the time. This is a time for love, and English is (more often than not) the language of our love.
- I have been convicted about reviewing what I had memorized in the scriptures. There are over 100 chapters (thousands of verses) just in English (more in other languages) that I am in the process of forgetting.
Spring is time for revival, but we are passing through a sort of winter, for now. This is a season for cold consolidation. Now is the time for marital love to congeal. Now is the time to concentrate on drawing near to God. Not that we will forget about serving others, but this is a special season to focus on our relationship with Him. Friends are still dropping by, and we make time for them. We have enough life to share. But our focus is horizontal, not vertical.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Three mitigating circumstances
It’s been an important part of the morning routine for a long time now. From the stairway a melody from a Praise and Worship song wafts in just for a few seconds, sung energetically if poorly, in God knows what language - whenever the sixth grade teacher is passing by. Later, on the playground, everyone is running and jumping and trying to slap at something. Instead of calming the kids down, the 6th grade teacher will be getting them all excited, over nothing in particular.
Seems like it shouldn’t be that way in this town. Here, electricity is a sometimes thing, (making refrigerators a good place for food to rot); here, well water needs to be pumped into a high tank, or there are no showers, no cooking and no washing; here, shopping is a daily international relations conundrum; here there are dust storms and suicide bombers, corrupt cops and criminals posing as corrupt cops. Here, the only traffic law is not to blow yourself up, and the penalty for doing that is supposed to be a ticket to paradise. That sixth grade teaching guy must be on some kind of pollyanna high.
There are three somewhat mitigating circumstances to be offered in my defense. First, my wife and I are in between honeymoons. Again. Yes, we loved each other on the first one, but as we enjoy more time together it just keeps getting better and better. Hour by hour, we look forward to any amount of precious time we can manage to be together. Any joy we share (there have been a few) brings us closer and any loss we share (there are many) brings us closer even more quickly. Home is a good place to be.
Second, I love my work. Here there is such a clarion call to deeply teach the process of logical critical thought. The sixth graders are eager to form their own conceptual maps for the first time in their lives. As those inquiry skills come alive now, they will be difficult, if not impossible to extinguish later. If they are extinguished at this age it will be almost impossible to nurture them back to life later on. They come ready to laugh and expecting to learn. Most of their families have earned my deep respect. They have responded to a call, at considerable risk, to come to a very special place at a very special time. Work is a good place to be.
Third, the world is transforming around me. An incredible metamorphosis has already occurred here between 2001 and 2007; it will likely be even more strikingly different in 2014. Visitors keep dropping by and each one seems hungry with a vision to live out something new. A team of celestial guards hovers above the fence around our house. Here reigns an atmosphere of peace; for many, ducking into our home is like taking a short break from the stark temporal realities of planet earth. There is conceptual space to ponder things as they might be, as they could be, as they should be. When we can’t spend time alone together, we are involved in things of significance, things that make a difference. It is a good feeling, one that makes you want to get out of bed in the morning.
Let the so called Talibs rage in ignorance against Truth. Dust, whether blown in by God or kicked in by man, does not dampen the joy of loving your wife, loving your work and loving your community.
Seems like it shouldn’t be that way in this town. Here, electricity is a sometimes thing, (making refrigerators a good place for food to rot); here, well water needs to be pumped into a high tank, or there are no showers, no cooking and no washing; here, shopping is a daily international relations conundrum; here there are dust storms and suicide bombers, corrupt cops and criminals posing as corrupt cops. Here, the only traffic law is not to blow yourself up, and the penalty for doing that is supposed to be a ticket to paradise. That sixth grade teaching guy must be on some kind of pollyanna high.
There are three somewhat mitigating circumstances to be offered in my defense. First, my wife and I are in between honeymoons. Again. Yes, we loved each other on the first one, but as we enjoy more time together it just keeps getting better and better. Hour by hour, we look forward to any amount of precious time we can manage to be together. Any joy we share (there have been a few) brings us closer and any loss we share (there are many) brings us closer even more quickly. Home is a good place to be.
Second, I love my work. Here there is such a clarion call to deeply teach the process of logical critical thought. The sixth graders are eager to form their own conceptual maps for the first time in their lives. As those inquiry skills come alive now, they will be difficult, if not impossible to extinguish later. If they are extinguished at this age it will be almost impossible to nurture them back to life later on. They come ready to laugh and expecting to learn. Most of their families have earned my deep respect. They have responded to a call, at considerable risk, to come to a very special place at a very special time. Work is a good place to be.
Third, the world is transforming around me. An incredible metamorphosis has already occurred here between 2001 and 2007; it will likely be even more strikingly different in 2014. Visitors keep dropping by and each one seems hungry with a vision to live out something new. A team of celestial guards hovers above the fence around our house. Here reigns an atmosphere of peace; for many, ducking into our home is like taking a short break from the stark temporal realities of planet earth. There is conceptual space to ponder things as they might be, as they could be, as they should be. When we can’t spend time alone together, we are involved in things of significance, things that make a difference. It is a good feeling, one that makes you want to get out of bed in the morning.
Let the so called Talibs rage in ignorance against Truth. Dust, whether blown in by God or kicked in by man, does not dampen the joy of loving your wife, loving your work and loving your community.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Safety
There is no safer place to be than in the will of God. It’s cliché, but it’s also truth.
Stepping off the airplane was the beginning of a surreal experience for me. I had worked at the language so diligently and dreamed so much of being here. In the US, Dari speakers were hard to find. The poor owners of the Philadelphia area’s only Afg. restaurant had put up with my weekly visits for an entire year. Finally, a part of the world where Dari is the norm was under my feet! Crater pocked roads, people living in destroyed buildings, men with machine guns and armored military convoys everywhere provided the backdrop, not the substance of daily life. Kidnapping is a constant concern; there is always a relentless behind-the-scenes pressure while the pleasures and routines unfold. Occasionally, there is an explosion in town – I try not to let that impact my day, even though there will be extra detours and traffic jams. I try to keep the war somewhere else, beyond the mountains, or on the other side of the TV tube. As far as it depends on me, count me as a non-participant in this war.
It is quite natural to want to be a non-participant in spiritual warfare, as well. No one in their right mind wants to be involved in any type of real war. The Spirit will lead us right into the middle of some confused battle, and incoming shots will be aimed at our soul. At this point, most people refuse to believe that a loving God is directing them. Yet it is the Holy Spirit who, in the Father’s wisdom, positions us in the battle.
During time spent running it has always been important for me to let my mind wander – that is why I do not need vacations. Now, it is always necessary to focus on whoever might be interested in staging an abduction, since I run alone. It is also hard on me that my home is such a center of social activity, (just as in Costa Rica) even though Hamroz joyfully bears the lion’s share of the labor. That some neighbors hate me just for living in freedom wears on my phlegmatic personality. As incredible untold problems, challenges and demands spring up, it appears that they were specifically designed to make me quit. Because they were. Thank you, Holy Spirit.
Our strategy for spiritual warfare is to never worry about how pathetic our capabilities are and to keep firing back with whatever we’ve got. No one fights alone; our isolation is only an illusion. Not only are the heavenly hosts often willing to follow our lead, our successes affect others across the entire field of battle. Our little “unseen” advances (and retreats) force turning points in stories of people we will not meet until after the enemy gates have been reduced to rubble. The gates of hell can never go on the offensive – gates are fixed defensive positions. There is great rejoicing when the church, united with Him, is revealed in new, unexpected positions right up under the enemy gates.
Stepping off the airplane was the beginning of a surreal experience for me. I had worked at the language so diligently and dreamed so much of being here. In the US, Dari speakers were hard to find. The poor owners of the Philadelphia area’s only Afg. restaurant had put up with my weekly visits for an entire year. Finally, a part of the world where Dari is the norm was under my feet! Crater pocked roads, people living in destroyed buildings, men with machine guns and armored military convoys everywhere provided the backdrop, not the substance of daily life. Kidnapping is a constant concern; there is always a relentless behind-the-scenes pressure while the pleasures and routines unfold. Occasionally, there is an explosion in town – I try not to let that impact my day, even though there will be extra detours and traffic jams. I try to keep the war somewhere else, beyond the mountains, or on the other side of the TV tube. As far as it depends on me, count me as a non-participant in this war.
It is quite natural to want to be a non-participant in spiritual warfare, as well. No one in their right mind wants to be involved in any type of real war. The Spirit will lead us right into the middle of some confused battle, and incoming shots will be aimed at our soul. At this point, most people refuse to believe that a loving God is directing them. Yet it is the Holy Spirit who, in the Father’s wisdom, positions us in the battle.
During time spent running it has always been important for me to let my mind wander – that is why I do not need vacations. Now, it is always necessary to focus on whoever might be interested in staging an abduction, since I run alone. It is also hard on me that my home is such a center of social activity, (just as in Costa Rica) even though Hamroz joyfully bears the lion’s share of the labor. That some neighbors hate me just for living in freedom wears on my phlegmatic personality. As incredible untold problems, challenges and demands spring up, it appears that they were specifically designed to make me quit. Because they were. Thank you, Holy Spirit.
Our strategy for spiritual warfare is to never worry about how pathetic our capabilities are and to keep firing back with whatever we’ve got. No one fights alone; our isolation is only an illusion. Not only are the heavenly hosts often willing to follow our lead, our successes affect others across the entire field of battle. Our little “unseen” advances (and retreats) force turning points in stories of people we will not meet until after the enemy gates have been reduced to rubble. The gates of hell can never go on the offensive – gates are fixed defensive positions. There is great rejoicing when the church, united with Him, is revealed in new, unexpected positions right up under the enemy gates.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Three Myths
Language Learning Myths
1. Learning a language without much effort just comes naturally to some people.
After about 1,000 hours of effort, the average brain will begin to process in the new language. That does not mean you will be fluent, but rather that you can interrupt a conversation and ask a semi-relevant question. Your question might get people (if they like you) to adjust their language to you, just as when a four year old cuts into an adult conversation. That condescending adjustment made by others on your behalf is key to your being able to hang in any conversation. You can watch the news and, along with the video clues and your own previous knowledge, understand enough to be able to comment on it. Your speech will be unnatural, bordering on unintelligible, and there will still be gaping holes in your ability to understand. At the magical 1000 hour mark, your brain will be synthesizing, though there is no guarantee that anyone will comprehend the product of that synthesis.
Less than 1,000 hours and anything said in a normal conversation in the new language is gibberish; your brain can not so much as process it. Good language learners can get there with maybe only 950 hours of effort. Slower ones take longer.
According to this myth, I’m just one of those lucky natural ones who has miraculously started to, “get it”. But no one has ever been able to produce a person who has put in as many practice hours as me (about 2,000 in Dari) that has not started to “get it”. Progress has been painstakingly slow: my present ability - just surpassing the 1,000 hour level (on good days).
2. Since my Niece has a college degree in French, and my nephew has a degree in Spanish and neither one could ever really speak, learning language is impossible for most people.
A university language degree might require 8 courses, with about 40 classroom hours each. That is 320 hours in the classroom. An excellent student might practice as much on their own as in class, few ever do more than that. So, you would expect to find that University level language graduates’ brains should not normally be able to process the new language, unless they have spent an extraordinary amount of time working in the language outside the classroom. It requires THAT MUCH WORK.
Most people who study a second language never arrive at fluency. Most bilingual people never took coursework in their second language. Most of the world is at least bilingual.
3. The best way to learn a new language is (pick your highly advanced strategy) - total immersion, watching TV, speaking with people in normal conversations, attending meeting with native speakers, etc.. My niece speaks German fluently, and that’s what she did.
People who have survived the odyssey to get to the magical 1000 hour point do not usually stop there. They demonstrated all that perseverance with the goal of employing the language, so they almost always do. They progress and become fluent, which happens after, perhaps 3,500 hours. If you than ask them what strategy worked best for them, they will invariably pick one that worked AFTER the 1,000 hour point. Yes, they became fluent by speaking with nationals in natural paced conversations. No, it won’t work for you (nor would it have worked for them) before the 1,000 hour point. Until you put in that much hard, frustrating work, the strategies that produce real fluency will just be gibberish that never even enters your brain.
1. Learning a language without much effort just comes naturally to some people.
After about 1,000 hours of effort, the average brain will begin to process in the new language. That does not mean you will be fluent, but rather that you can interrupt a conversation and ask a semi-relevant question. Your question might get people (if they like you) to adjust their language to you, just as when a four year old cuts into an adult conversation. That condescending adjustment made by others on your behalf is key to your being able to hang in any conversation. You can watch the news and, along with the video clues and your own previous knowledge, understand enough to be able to comment on it. Your speech will be unnatural, bordering on unintelligible, and there will still be gaping holes in your ability to understand. At the magical 1000 hour mark, your brain will be synthesizing, though there is no guarantee that anyone will comprehend the product of that synthesis.
Less than 1,000 hours and anything said in a normal conversation in the new language is gibberish; your brain can not so much as process it. Good language learners can get there with maybe only 950 hours of effort. Slower ones take longer.
According to this myth, I’m just one of those lucky natural ones who has miraculously started to, “get it”. But no one has ever been able to produce a person who has put in as many practice hours as me (about 2,000 in Dari) that has not started to “get it”. Progress has been painstakingly slow: my present ability - just surpassing the 1,000 hour level (on good days).
2. Since my Niece has a college degree in French, and my nephew has a degree in Spanish and neither one could ever really speak, learning language is impossible for most people.
A university language degree might require 8 courses, with about 40 classroom hours each. That is 320 hours in the classroom. An excellent student might practice as much on their own as in class, few ever do more than that. So, you would expect to find that University level language graduates’ brains should not normally be able to process the new language, unless they have spent an extraordinary amount of time working in the language outside the classroom. It requires THAT MUCH WORK.
Most people who study a second language never arrive at fluency. Most bilingual people never took coursework in their second language. Most of the world is at least bilingual.
3. The best way to learn a new language is (pick your highly advanced strategy) - total immersion, watching TV, speaking with people in normal conversations, attending meeting with native speakers, etc.. My niece speaks German fluently, and that’s what she did.
People who have survived the odyssey to get to the magical 1000 hour point do not usually stop there. They demonstrated all that perseverance with the goal of employing the language, so they almost always do. They progress and become fluent, which happens after, perhaps 3,500 hours. If you than ask them what strategy worked best for them, they will invariably pick one that worked AFTER the 1,000 hour point. Yes, they became fluent by speaking with nationals in natural paced conversations. No, it won’t work for you (nor would it have worked for them) before the 1,000 hour point. Until you put in that much hard, frustrating work, the strategies that produce real fluency will just be gibberish that never even enters your brain.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
How Life is Engineered
I believe that the Creator chose to enter this world as a man. Most believe that God would never show that degree of vulnerability. I believe that the core of the Good News is that God gave His own earthly life up so that we could live and be holy. Most believe that this is an idea invented in the West.
Coming home from our honeymoon, there were girls in our house waiting for us - long time friends of Hamroz, come to express excitement with us about the wedding (and to spend a night away from home). Upon realizing that they were already inside the house before we arrived, two forces tugged my soul in different directions. One, that everything I knew about life for myself was history. Another, that this is what I was created to do.
Our garden tree sits out in the sun performing a feat that no animal could ever pull off - capturing energy straight from the sun and storing it up as carbohydrates, fats and proteins. It is not designed to use all of that energy, it is designed to store it in fruit, together with vitamins, minerals, anti-oxidants and other things animals need (and trees don’t). The tree doesn’t live to feed animals because it has accepted a western mindset; it does so by design.
The struggle to properly express my love for Hamroz is a demonstration of the planetary war between human selfishness on the one hand and life from God on the other. Instead of being cared for on the ISK compound, would I take responsibility to run an independent household (boarders and all, since she wanted ‘em)? Instead of developing my own plans, I will work to establish a family. Instead of that salmon-rich diet, I’ll feed the guests. How sad it would be to live all for myself, yet the alternative is to voluntarily surrender my life.
At the center of every living cell, a huge DNA strand tears itself apart and, sporting thousands of tiny chemical “magnets”, attracts only organic materials (chemicals that have never been alive will not move) to form new strands according to the patterns of its own design. Plants end their lives to be formed into animal flesh. Animals end their lives to be formed into parts of other animals. Everything ends its life to fertilize the earth. Not just in the West – life in Asia works the same way. This surrender of life to sustain life is not weakness, but divinely appointed, very precise engineering. It is the central principle behind all life everywhere.
If the Creator came and lived among us, if He cared enough to participate in the food chain He Himself designed, can you imagine what eating the food His body produces would do to nourish you?
Coming home from our honeymoon, there were girls in our house waiting for us - long time friends of Hamroz, come to express excitement with us about the wedding (and to spend a night away from home). Upon realizing that they were already inside the house before we arrived, two forces tugged my soul in different directions. One, that everything I knew about life for myself was history. Another, that this is what I was created to do.
Our garden tree sits out in the sun performing a feat that no animal could ever pull off - capturing energy straight from the sun and storing it up as carbohydrates, fats and proteins. It is not designed to use all of that energy, it is designed to store it in fruit, together with vitamins, minerals, anti-oxidants and other things animals need (and trees don’t). The tree doesn’t live to feed animals because it has accepted a western mindset; it does so by design.
The struggle to properly express my love for Hamroz is a demonstration of the planetary war between human selfishness on the one hand and life from God on the other. Instead of being cared for on the ISK compound, would I take responsibility to run an independent household (boarders and all, since she wanted ‘em)? Instead of developing my own plans, I will work to establish a family. Instead of that salmon-rich diet, I’ll feed the guests. How sad it would be to live all for myself, yet the alternative is to voluntarily surrender my life.
At the center of every living cell, a huge DNA strand tears itself apart and, sporting thousands of tiny chemical “magnets”, attracts only organic materials (chemicals that have never been alive will not move) to form new strands according to the patterns of its own design. Plants end their lives to be formed into animal flesh. Animals end their lives to be formed into parts of other animals. Everything ends its life to fertilize the earth. Not just in the West – life in Asia works the same way. This surrender of life to sustain life is not weakness, but divinely appointed, very precise engineering. It is the central principle behind all life everywhere.
If the Creator came and lived among us, if He cared enough to participate in the food chain He Himself designed, can you imagine what eating the food His body produces would do to nourish you?
Sunday, September 9, 2007
TCA
The phenomenon of Third Culture Kid or, TCK has become an area of sociological study, especially appropriate at International Schools. When children are raised in a country different from where their citizenship lies, they are not really “from” their passport country nor from their host country. They are forced to develop a “Third Culture” of their own invention to live in.
What has not been studied in such detail are the adults who choose to live in foreign cultures. TCK’s have no choice; but what happens when an otherwise healthy adult generates a personal, “third culture”?
Let me describe one aspect of my own “third culture”: cleanliness. American culture is as inflexible as it is omnipresent – if an American develops a third culture, he is in for deep trouble. But if you relax and enjoy yourself overseas, these things develop themselves without you even realizing it. And it’s worse for kids than adults. Really.
I now have strong personal notions about what is clean and what is not; no one shares them with me. The germ theory of disease transmission lies at the heart of my strange notions. This prompts me to wash my hands often, and thoroughly clean my mouth and throat at least daily (brushing, tongue scraping, dental flossing and mouthwash). This accomplished, my whole world is considered clean. If not, another hand washing will always make it so. Good food (whole grains, fresh fruits and veggies, a little light meat) and lots of exercise and viola – expect a 120 year life span.
This concept of clean has worked for me in each of the four cultures I’ve lived in as an adult – though each tried unsuccessfully to impose its own cleanliness standards on me. My dogged individuality has not earned me any respect, but it keeps me out of the sick bed. The last day I remember taking off for illness was in 1980 when they pulled my wisdom teeth. In a submarine under the North Atlantic “clean” meant (for everyone else) having a washed uniform to put on, no matter how much grease was on your old one. Diesel smell was not considered dirty, since everything on board was drenched in it. In six years, never a watch was missed by me for illness. I ran long distance in every port.
In the rainforests of Costa Rica, clean meant mostly being unstained, though not necessarily dry. Each new day found me at my job for another six years.
The Western mind set is incredulous that one might go out in the winter without a thick coat – something that it considers to be the cause of sickness. It affirms that diseases fester in coffee stains. It relies on toilet paper to prevent the spread of fecal infection (though any paper company that claimed it did so would have its corporate buns sued off). It would rather kill germs than wash them off (though our skin was designed for the outer layer to dissolve into soap, not disinfectant). In my third culture, you can be clean without being anti-microbial. Living and working in inner city Philadelphia, you wouldn’t believe the money they paid for my unused sick and personal days.
During three years here in dusty Kabul, the local sense of clean seems to be more ritualistic than practical. Four days were missed to get engaged, but never a meeting skipped for sickness. Let me go wash my hands again. Register me as a pro-microbe yogurt eater.
What has not been studied in such detail are the adults who choose to live in foreign cultures. TCK’s have no choice; but what happens when an otherwise healthy adult generates a personal, “third culture”?
Let me describe one aspect of my own “third culture”: cleanliness. American culture is as inflexible as it is omnipresent – if an American develops a third culture, he is in for deep trouble. But if you relax and enjoy yourself overseas, these things develop themselves without you even realizing it. And it’s worse for kids than adults. Really.
I now have strong personal notions about what is clean and what is not; no one shares them with me. The germ theory of disease transmission lies at the heart of my strange notions. This prompts me to wash my hands often, and thoroughly clean my mouth and throat at least daily (brushing, tongue scraping, dental flossing and mouthwash). This accomplished, my whole world is considered clean. If not, another hand washing will always make it so. Good food (whole grains, fresh fruits and veggies, a little light meat) and lots of exercise and viola – expect a 120 year life span.
This concept of clean has worked for me in each of the four cultures I’ve lived in as an adult – though each tried unsuccessfully to impose its own cleanliness standards on me. My dogged individuality has not earned me any respect, but it keeps me out of the sick bed. The last day I remember taking off for illness was in 1980 when they pulled my wisdom teeth. In a submarine under the North Atlantic “clean” meant (for everyone else) having a washed uniform to put on, no matter how much grease was on your old one. Diesel smell was not considered dirty, since everything on board was drenched in it. In six years, never a watch was missed by me for illness. I ran long distance in every port.
In the rainforests of Costa Rica, clean meant mostly being unstained, though not necessarily dry. Each new day found me at my job for another six years.
The Western mind set is incredulous that one might go out in the winter without a thick coat – something that it considers to be the cause of sickness. It affirms that diseases fester in coffee stains. It relies on toilet paper to prevent the spread of fecal infection (though any paper company that claimed it did so would have its corporate buns sued off). It would rather kill germs than wash them off (though our skin was designed for the outer layer to dissolve into soap, not disinfectant). In my third culture, you can be clean without being anti-microbial. Living and working in inner city Philadelphia, you wouldn’t believe the money they paid for my unused sick and personal days.
During three years here in dusty Kabul, the local sense of clean seems to be more ritualistic than practical. Four days were missed to get engaged, but never a meeting skipped for sickness. Let me go wash my hands again. Register me as a pro-microbe yogurt eater.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Writing
I consider myself an above average writer. Not that I’m a great writer – probably shouldn’t quit my day job - yet among those who have college degrees, my rating would be solidly above average. My GRE scores above the 90th percentile would tend to bear that out. So would your interest in this blog.
Millions of dollars is spent yearly on researching ways to teach children to become better writers. Textbook companies are inventing new programs and producing aids to help children learn. Yet no research produced backs what I consider to be my primary qualifications to teach writing. The kids have a great opportunity to improve in their year with me because I:
1) Am a solidly above average writer
2) Relate ideas to them easily (i.e. can teach)
Why does research fail to prove the obvious? Because industry wide “the obvious” will not work. The education industry has no hope of staffing it’s writing classes with solidly above average writers who can teach – the teacher job market will not produce enough of it. And administrators are interested in “interchangeability” – they don’t want to be dependant on a particular teacher. When one cog is absent, another should be able to substitute. Research and text book companies exist to solve real world education industry problems.
Writing prompt (I invented) for a recent sixth grade assignment: “Take three elements of the plot and develop them in separate paragraphs using cause and effect relationships.” One day is for drafts and editing, on the next day it becomes an open notebook test question.
One of my students, (who has had trouble in Language Arts, particularly writing, his entire academic career, in spite of the fact that he is an avid reader) was drawing a blank (again). We had elements from the plot on the board that they could pick from. They had ten to fifteen cause and effect relationships that they had identified from the text in their notebooks (well, they were supposed to - this guy had only one – but he had been attentive while the others were writing theirs.) Here he is with a blank paper, zoned out into his own private lala land. So I had him pick and write a main idea – he copies one down. Then I ask him to stand up, spin three times in circles and then say to him, “Talk to me, talk to me”.
If he talks to me about his main idea, I listen. When his thoughts stray, I give him the raspberry sound. He does not use cause and effect, but he gets the game and laughs. “Now, student one”, I say (names are changed to protect the guilty), “You are not getting a grade for what’s in your brain or what you say. I’m grading only your paper. Make your paper talk to me. I’ll spin it three times when you turn it in”. Thank God for the International School of Kabul, you can probably get sued for good teaching in the States. No research to back it up, you know.
On test day student one asks me for a favor – can I give him an A in Language Arts? He usually gets D’s in that. So I start to tell him how to earn one. And he turns in one very original paragraph (not three) which has a main idea from the plot backed with several relevant cause and effect relationships. Grade: 78 C+
“Good writing, student one. A little good writing to start the year. If you do a lot of good writing, you now know how to get your A.”
I would like to do a research project that shows the effect of having 1) good writers who can 2) enjoy children teach children writing skills. (I’ve never been hired for the job by anyone who asked me to write an essay first.) Learning= fn (teacher’s writing skills, teacher's comunicative ability) – let’s see if the equation holds. Alas, there is no motive for anyone to fund my research.
Millions of dollars is spent yearly on researching ways to teach children to become better writers. Textbook companies are inventing new programs and producing aids to help children learn. Yet no research produced backs what I consider to be my primary qualifications to teach writing. The kids have a great opportunity to improve in their year with me because I:
1) Am a solidly above average writer
2) Relate ideas to them easily (i.e. can teach)
Why does research fail to prove the obvious? Because industry wide “the obvious” will not work. The education industry has no hope of staffing it’s writing classes with solidly above average writers who can teach – the teacher job market will not produce enough of it. And administrators are interested in “interchangeability” – they don’t want to be dependant on a particular teacher. When one cog is absent, another should be able to substitute. Research and text book companies exist to solve real world education industry problems.
Writing prompt (I invented) for a recent sixth grade assignment: “Take three elements of the plot and develop them in separate paragraphs using cause and effect relationships.” One day is for drafts and editing, on the next day it becomes an open notebook test question.
One of my students, (who has had trouble in Language Arts, particularly writing, his entire academic career, in spite of the fact that he is an avid reader) was drawing a blank (again). We had elements from the plot on the board that they could pick from. They had ten to fifteen cause and effect relationships that they had identified from the text in their notebooks (well, they were supposed to - this guy had only one – but he had been attentive while the others were writing theirs.) Here he is with a blank paper, zoned out into his own private lala land. So I had him pick and write a main idea – he copies one down. Then I ask him to stand up, spin three times in circles and then say to him, “Talk to me, talk to me”.
If he talks to me about his main idea, I listen. When his thoughts stray, I give him the raspberry sound. He does not use cause and effect, but he gets the game and laughs. “Now, student one”, I say (names are changed to protect the guilty), “You are not getting a grade for what’s in your brain or what you say. I’m grading only your paper. Make your paper talk to me. I’ll spin it three times when you turn it in”. Thank God for the International School of Kabul, you can probably get sued for good teaching in the States. No research to back it up, you know.
On test day student one asks me for a favor – can I give him an A in Language Arts? He usually gets D’s in that. So I start to tell him how to earn one. And he turns in one very original paragraph (not three) which has a main idea from the plot backed with several relevant cause and effect relationships. Grade: 78 C+
“Good writing, student one. A little good writing to start the year. If you do a lot of good writing, you now know how to get your A.”
I would like to do a research project that shows the effect of having 1) good writers who can 2) enjoy children teach children writing skills. (I’ve never been hired for the job by anyone who asked me to write an essay first.) Learning= fn (teacher’s writing skills, teacher's comunicative ability) – let’s see if the equation holds. Alas, there is no motive for anyone to fund my research.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
"Yes" and "Wait" Answers
In the summer of 2006, a large South Korean Interdenominational youth group announced that they were coming for a few weeks to Afghanistan to organize marches for Jesus in many cities. The international community that permanently resides here, especially the Koreans, told them in clear terms that their objectives were not reasonable and asked if they would please alter or cancel those plans. They chose to ignore good advice, and their snubbing of even veteran Koreans on the field seemed disrespectful, even by American standards. The government of Afghanistan identified them and denied visas and detained leaders so that very few, if any, of the marches materialized.
This summer, 23 Koreans were captured in Afghanistan, and we brought our complaints before God. The leader of that group was counseled not to take short-termers to Kandahar. Refusing that advice, he was advised to go only in small, separate groups. They were captured in Kandahar by the Taliban, all on the same bus, and their leader was shot dead within days. We continue to pray for their release. But the South Korea government’s response – to order all of its citizens (i.e. the people who live here full time and whose counsel has been consistently ignored) out of Afghanistan and to insist on exchange of Taliban prisoners seems illogical and even disloyal to me.
One of the ORA workers, a German, was kidnapped in our neighborhood. Four gunman forced her out of a local pizza restaurant when she was doing what we all do every day here. We again appealed to our Heavenly Father. Within 36 hours, her captors were in jail and she is free. The Korean situation drags on.
This summer, 23 Koreans were captured in Afghanistan, and we brought our complaints before God. The leader of that group was counseled not to take short-termers to Kandahar. Refusing that advice, he was advised to go only in small, separate groups. They were captured in Kandahar by the Taliban, all on the same bus, and their leader was shot dead within days. We continue to pray for their release. But the South Korea government’s response – to order all of its citizens (i.e. the people who live here full time and whose counsel has been consistently ignored) out of Afghanistan and to insist on exchange of Taliban prisoners seems illogical and even disloyal to me.
One of the ORA workers, a German, was kidnapped in our neighborhood. Four gunman forced her out of a local pizza restaurant when she was doing what we all do every day here. We again appealed to our Heavenly Father. Within 36 hours, her captors were in jail and she is free. The Korean situation drags on.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Orientation
Always able to build solid relationships with local nationals, it is a small wonder that no organization I have worked for overseas has ever asked me to participate in orientation of newly arriving expatriots. Not a big wonder, just a small one. And I think the world is the poorer for the oversight. It is all about balance and “my” side is woefully under represented.
Most cultural adaptation experts would ask that the newcomer take a careful inventory of cultural taboos and their consequences. With that, I would not disagree. The next step would be to carefully avoid crossing any tabooed lines. That is where the heavy disagreement happens. I maintain that you need to break all the taboos – make sure you tick off everything on the list at least once. After all, if you break some rules and not others, nationals might be offended.
We need to enter the new culture as a child, like a five year old. Five year olds are not fastidious rules keepers, as most overseas organizations expect their employees to be. They have space to break taboos because they are…..five year olds.
As newcomers we have the opportunity to have all of our errors, and some of our on purposes, laughed at. This will not be the case later on, so….enjoy! Lighten up and enjoy being with people we don’t understand and who don’t understand us. Don’t waste energy trying to comprehend, just go and draw a laugh.
Afghans are very serious about their greetings. They can take up to half an hour and not say anything unscripted. One of the scripts is, “Life to you. Do not get tired” (it can be said straight and later repeated responsively). Change the negatives around, and with the same rhythm and intonation you get something like, “Drop dead. Exhaust yourself.” Great fun!
Tomorrow, new teacher orientation starts at ISK and I will again be on the sidelines. Great loss. I conducted an extended training seminar for Dari language instructors (all the instructors are local friends of mine who had a role in teaching me Dari) and formed an informal company. Got our first few clients. Let’s see what happens.
Most cultural adaptation experts would ask that the newcomer take a careful inventory of cultural taboos and their consequences. With that, I would not disagree. The next step would be to carefully avoid crossing any tabooed lines. That is where the heavy disagreement happens. I maintain that you need to break all the taboos – make sure you tick off everything on the list at least once. After all, if you break some rules and not others, nationals might be offended.
We need to enter the new culture as a child, like a five year old. Five year olds are not fastidious rules keepers, as most overseas organizations expect their employees to be. They have space to break taboos because they are…..five year olds.
As newcomers we have the opportunity to have all of our errors, and some of our on purposes, laughed at. This will not be the case later on, so….enjoy! Lighten up and enjoy being with people we don’t understand and who don’t understand us. Don’t waste energy trying to comprehend, just go and draw a laugh.
Afghans are very serious about their greetings. They can take up to half an hour and not say anything unscripted. One of the scripts is, “Life to you. Do not get tired” (it can be said straight and later repeated responsively). Change the negatives around, and with the same rhythm and intonation you get something like, “Drop dead. Exhaust yourself.” Great fun!
Tomorrow, new teacher orientation starts at ISK and I will again be on the sidelines. Great loss. I conducted an extended training seminar for Dari language instructors (all the instructors are local friends of mine who had a role in teaching me Dari) and formed an informal company. Got our first few clients. Let’s see what happens.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Back Home
Three weeks in Tajikistan were enough. The language issues were tough - the Persian has been Russianized; they use Cyrillic and not Persian script. The use of Russian as the official language for many years has split the Persian still in use into many highly localized dialects. In the Capitol of Dushanbe, using Dari-Persian can get you by - outside (as in Khujand, where I spent most of my time), forget it. People said that I speak Tajiki - what they meant was, I speak no Russian. After several attempts at buying yogurt, we ended up being stocked with various kinds of butters, creams and cheeses.
We're sending out e-mail letters about the wedding - we do not want to post too much. The Christian church in Tajikistan is small and persecuted. Tajiks as an ethnic group are considered an unreached people group. If I don't have your e-mail, go ahead and send one. Our Pastor (an Armenian) conducted the wedding at a Restaurant.
Antalya, Turkey, was the site of our honeymoon. I will post pictures on this blog as soon as we find the cord for our digital camera. There are a series of hotels along the Meditteranean. Ours was one price for everything - including seven or eight restaurants. When we ventured into downtown Antalya, the shops used high pressure selling techniques. Often, to avoid that pressure, Hamroz would walk behind me. Than, all the greetings were directed at me. I learned to follow her - from in front. It was beautiful and relaxing, but six nights and five days were more than enough. We were anxious to return to (and establish) real life in Kabul.
When we arrived home, some of Hamroz young girl friends were already inside (we have renters). They were so excited to see us that they stayed over that night. We were, and Lord providing always will be, ready and happy to have them. Gives a first glance of what we expect our life together will be like in Kabul. Hamroz starts working on August 4th, I start August 12th. Between now and then we've got time enough to continue a Kabul honeymoon, of sorts. We're also doing a lot of hosting. And fixing the house. And buying furniture. And internet posting. And loving each other.
We're sending out e-mail letters about the wedding - we do not want to post too much. The Christian church in Tajikistan is small and persecuted. Tajiks as an ethnic group are considered an unreached people group. If I don't have your e-mail, go ahead and send one. Our Pastor (an Armenian) conducted the wedding at a Restaurant.
Antalya, Turkey, was the site of our honeymoon. I will post pictures on this blog as soon as we find the cord for our digital camera. There are a series of hotels along the Meditteranean. Ours was one price for everything - including seven or eight restaurants. When we ventured into downtown Antalya, the shops used high pressure selling techniques. Often, to avoid that pressure, Hamroz would walk behind me. Than, all the greetings were directed at me. I learned to follow her - from in front. It was beautiful and relaxing, but six nights and five days were more than enough. We were anxious to return to (and establish) real life in Kabul.
When we arrived home, some of Hamroz young girl friends were already inside (we have renters). They were so excited to see us that they stayed over that night. We were, and Lord providing always will be, ready and happy to have them. Gives a first glance of what we expect our life together will be like in Kabul. Hamroz starts working on August 4th, I start August 12th. Between now and then we've got time enough to continue a Kabul honeymoon, of sorts. We're also doing a lot of hosting. And fixing the house. And buying furniture. And internet posting. And loving each other.
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