Come Holy Spirit

This past Saturday (6/11/11) I left Monrovia and took a long detour before heading off to the site where I will be located for the rest of my time here in Africa. I had the honor of seeing the Episcopal ordination of Reverend Anthony Fallah Borwah as the third Bishop of the Diocese of Gbarnga. This diocese has been without a bishop now for about two years, so it was quite a celebration. And appropriate timing, too, because when the diocese was created it was placed under the patronage of the Holy Spirit. The cathedral which I now found myself in was in turn dedicated to the Holy Spirit, and the Feast of Pentecost is the feast of the Cathedral and of the Diocese of Gbarnga.

As I said before, this was quite a celebration. The Mass went on for about four hours, easily being the longest Mass I have ever attended. And Fr. Gary (my new boss…more of his story will come later) said that it was the best enculturation in a liturgy that he had ever seen. They were able to mix the traditional liturgy with African culture in a way that was respectful and not scandalous.

Reverend Anthony Fallah Borwah is Liberian born, so many of the different local tribes were represented during the Mass. From the two choirs (one traditional and one African) to the offertory (which lasted about fifteen minutes because they brought up not only the bread and wine, but also a parade of other donations ranging from water to fruit to gasoline), I was able to get a true glimpse into the culture of the people. Even the presentation of the ring, miter, and staff were brought in by separate tribes with song and dance.

By the end of it all my mind was blown. As I was sitting there I wished that each one of you could have been there to experience it with me. Unfortunately, this entry is unable to give any justice to the beauty of this Mass. This is such a rich culture and I have only scratched the surface. I can’t wait to see what’s to come.
Come Holy Spirit!

P.S. - I was also sitting about four pews from the Vice President of Liberia…

-Dan
written 06/13/11

No Poetry

“These are the times that try men’s thirst.” That’s what Fr. Francis said after he slid me a beer, congratulating me on my first week of teaching the young minds here in Sierra Leone. I will certainly affirm the goodness of a cold brew after lecturing on the mechanics of verb usage and “how to begin your paper without irritating your professor,” especially if that brew was received around one in the afternoon on a weekday, which it was.

Not having much clue about what to teach, I have decided to start with the basics of essay writing. One of the teens of the parish recently told me of his struggle to “get” English. Sierra Leone has 23 living languages; most in this area grew up speaking Temne, a tribal language to the north, before moving on to Krio, the English/tribal hybrid. Only a certain percentage of the students here move on to learn English, and the adult literacy rate for the country stands at 31%. What an American college student would likely consider rudimentary English skills cannot be reintroduced enough here to the collegiates. It certainly has led me to reflect on the blessings of my own upbringing, notably my parents’ successful efforts to implant a love for reading early in my childhood (in turn, I began reading to my brother when we were very young. He lazily assumed that he would never have to read since I would do it for him; not much has changed).

One of the students asked if we could have a class on writing poetry. I smirked, realizing that my college professors had effectively hammered into my skull the absurdity of using fluff or flowery language to make any intelligible point (unless you are Ronald Reagan, trying to “slip these surly bonds of earth to reach out and touch the face of God”). I assured him that I would be a poor poetry teacher.

Thank you for all the prayers. Hard to believe that my first experience of teaching at a university would be in Africa. God continues to shatter what I consider to be the limit for my “wildest dreams.” May the Spirit rain down blessings upon us and make our hearts overflow this Pentecost.

-Bob
written 06/09/11

Monrovia

I made it here to Monrovia safe with only a few delays, but this journey has already been full of excitement and emotion. As soon as I made it past the trams at the airport in Tampa, I grasped at the mission crucifix in my pocket and thought that this is it, I’m on my own leaving for Africa now.

The flight to Atlanta went smooth and I boarded my flight to Monrovia (with a stop in Accra). I thought that the flight couldn’t be too full, cause how many people are going to fly to Liberia, really? It’s not the most renowned tourist destination. To my surprise, however, it was full, and mostly with youth. I was shocked. There were different groups from organizations all over the States going to serve and be with the people. All of those groups, however, were getting off at Accra to serve in Ghana. I apparently was the only missionary whose destination was Liberia. We had some time to get to know each other, however. Especially with the two hour wait we had sitting on the plane while they were fixing the front door! But I made some friends in the mean time, the girl sitting next to me in particular who had never flown before…but we all had a fun flight.

When I got off the plane in Monrovia and picked up my luggage, I stepped out and found the CRS agent waiting (for a long time because of our delay). We drove for about an hour and a half from the airport to the CRS headquarters. It was a rather eye-opening drive. I definitely wasn’t in Florida anymore…

I spent the night down the street from their headquarters in a Liberian style bed & breakfast. Here I will be staying through the weekend until I head over to Bomi where I will be for the rest of my stay. It was a tough night, knowing I was in Africa now, alone with no cell phone or other means of communicating with all that I knew back home. At that moment I knew that it was only the Lord that would get through this journey. I foresaw that this experience would really stretch me and allow me (if not force me) to rely on the Lord in a way that I never have. When I woke up for breakfast this morning I met two women who were visiting from the States. We talked and exchanged some stories, and I found out that they will be there through the weekend. It is a comforting thought that at least I will have some friends that I can have breakfast with each morning.

At one end of the street that I am on is the CRS office, at the other end is a little beach. So, of course, before I walked to the office this morning I decided to stroll on over to the beach first. On the way I passed by a group of boys playing football (soccer to us) in the street. As I passed through a broken fence towards the water I saw a little house to my right with a few children playing out front.

I kept walking and stopped by the water, thanking the Lord for this opportunity. I looked down, and with a little shock I saw the youngest child standing next to me. I laughed as another child came running up as well. I pulled out my camera and asked if I could take their picture, and as I did the other two ran up. I met their mother and said I would be back soon I was sure. It was one of those moments that made me realize why I had come.

Now I am back at the office and have a little time to use the internet (and enjoy some air conditioning while I can). I have been told that the conditions in Bomi are more rural, so I will appreciate the time that I have in Monrovia. I’m not exactly sure what’s ahead of me, but I’m excited to find out!

-Dan
written 06/09/11

Frodo and Quasimodo

Today it will be two weeks since I left home. Today also marks my brother’s departure for his own African adventure. While our countries are adjacent, we are separated by an extremely poor road infrastructure, so we will likely not see each other for some time. Despite this common website we are sharing and our geographic proximity on any globe you may examine (we’re only mere centimeters away!)-—we are on two separate journeys now. Frodo and Sam have officially separated.

Despite my own schedule picking up a bit, I am still finding myself wrestling with some very long stretches of nothingness. The animals all go into hibernation in the heat of the day and so do most of the people. The locals like to rest and "take time." I am daily faced with a five-hour stretch in the afternoon with no personal transportation, electricity, or communication with anyone who speaks in my ‘accent’ or doesn't point me out as the token ‘white man.’ It’s too hot to fall asleep and my compulsive need to “do something” overrides any chance I would have to be content simply with staring into the depths of the paint on the wall.

Boredom and lonelines create an interesting cocktail. When all our comforts and electronic distractions are taken away, I think our personalities will reflect how we keep our sanity. My routine consists of pacing, prayer, pacing, malaria medication, pacing, and reading anything I can get my hands on. There’s an old copy of The Hunchback of Notre Dame here; I am two-thirds through the book already and have the majority of Disney songs flooding back to my mind with no DVD player in sight.

Today in prayer, however, I read some provoking passages from Cardinal Van Thuan: “eternity only touches the present moment and only gives itself to someone who is totally in that moment…This is the only time we have in our hands [and] living the present moment is the most simple and most secure way to holiness.” Sure I can be bored, but what do I do with that boredom? Have I been thankful that I have been given time to accomplish so much spiritual and leisure reading? Am I attempting to “kill time” or am I open to what Christ may be saying in each moment of my day?

I thank you for your prayers; know that I do feel and receive them, and they are keeping me afloat. You all are in mine. Safe travels to my brother, and may we one day reunite to bring the One Ring to Mordor.

-Bob
written 06/07/11

Caritas--Makeni

My list of involvement here in Africa rolls on. Fr. Francis has submitted my services to the local Caritas organization here in Makeni. Taken from their strategy plan, here’s a synopsis of what Caritas is:

“Caritas Makeni is the relief and development agency of the Diocese of Makeni in Sierra Leone’s northern province. Caritas Makeni supports the efforts of disadvantaged and less privileged people in Sierra Leone to promote their own development, irrespective of creed, tribe, gender or race. Throughout Sierra Leone’s conflict (1991-2001), Caritas Makeni was the lead child protection agency of the province, facilitating the reintegration of child soldiers into their communities. The agency continues to work with child soldiers, and other war-affected youth, through trauma counseling, community peace-building programs, and supporting young people to develop and enhance skills that will help provide sustainable livelihoods.”

I will be editing some of the documents that the director is readying for submission to various grant organizations, such as the World Bank and UNICEF (remember those little boxes from elementary school?) Catholic Relief Services is one of their sister agencies and they both collaborate to put the Gospel vision to work here in Sierra Leone. Their joint project within Makeni includes the Life Skills center, comparable to one of our neighborhood recreation centers (but a somewhat new and revolutionary concept here), so I will scratch my itch for youth ministry there very soon. The director said that he would also send me on “field trips” to see what work Caritas currently is performing beyond the town borders.

Far from simply providing handouts, the over-arching goal of both organizations is to get the poor and marginalized on their feet. I am a witness to the fact that both Caritas and CRS are working as best as they can to train and the people here and leave them with sustainable development. It is beyond humbling to read some of the documents I’m being shown, especially first-hand accounts of women raped by rebel soldiers and the staggering statistic that the life expectancy here in Sierra Leone is 38.

It’s enough to make one feel quite helpless. But to paraphrase Blessed Mother Teres: if we cannot feed one hundred people, then we just need to feed one. And if I can end on an irreverant note: if we cannot smash one hundred mosquitoes, then we just need to smash one.

-Bob
written 06/05/11

Off to Africa...(2)

Now, I suppose, it is my turn to embark on this adventure. It has been over a year since I was first approached about possibly spending this summer in Africa working with Catholic Relief Services (CRS). It has been a long journey just making it to this point, and it still seems hard to believe that in only a few hours I will be at the airport starting my leg of this mission.

It has been a blessing walking this far with my brother (Bob) and Chris. They have already been in Africa for about two weeks and one week respectively. Hearing about their journeys, their struggles, and their joys thus far has been a great help in preparing myself for what is ahead. At the same time, however, I know that my own experience will be far different from theirs. And while I admit, I have always wanted to go to Africa, it is much different to just talk about it than to actually do it. It is only with an immense trust in the Lord that this is even possible. So with this trust, I will be heading to Liberia to work at a parish and do pretty much whatever I am asked. Like Bob, I will be shadowing a priest, working with the youth, and building relationships with the people I will encounter. On top that your guess is as good as mine.

Service has always been a passion of mine, and I was Service Chair during my time at UCF for two years. There I helped to coordinate many events and trips, including a mission trip to Mexico, the first trip that the ministry took out of the country (followed by many more now!). I am always grateful for the experiences I am blessed with and the opportunity to reach out to those in need. And while I pray that I will be able to touch the lives of those I meet in Africa, I feel that I will learn just as much, if not more, from the people I will soon encounter.

At Mass this morning, Jesus said in the gospel that, “In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world” (John 16:33). I know that this trip will come with trouble and turmoil amidst the joy, but through the Holy Spirit we are gifted with the courage to overcome these trials. As we approach Pentecost, I pray (and hope you will all pray with me) that I may remember this throughout my journey and that I may rely on the Spirit to strengthen me and guide me. I believe that there is a reason the Lord works in the way that He does, though we may not understand it, and in a time that is ultimately beyond our knowledge. I know that whatever emotional, spiritual, or even physical stress I may be put through during this time, in the end the fruits will far outweigh the troubles.

On a lighter note, a friend told me that he received a comment that went something like this: “Well, it is obvious that Bob was the English major and Dan was the science major, cause Bob is totally out-writing Dan on the blog.” To which my friend responded: “Dan hasn’t even left yet!” So yes, now I begin my life as a blogger, but I have commented to several people already that the idea of blogging scares me more than actually going to Africa does. Maybe that says something about me, but I promise I will do my best to give you all an honest and prayerful account of my journey (and please don’t mind the grammatical/spelling errors…especially you Bob!).

I know there are many of you praying for us, so please know how much we appreciate this and how important it is. It will be your prayers that will lift us up and get us through this time. This time away from you, our family and friends, and this time that the Lord has given us to spread His love to the people we will meet.

May God bless you all, and in the famous words of Shakira…THIS TIME FOR AFRICA!

-Dan
written 06/06/11

Writer's Block

One of my favorite English professors in college had this colorful expression: “In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.” It means that if you know a little about a certain subject matter (finance, computer technology, Star Wars), and you find yourself surrounded by people less knowledgeable about said matter, then they will usually regard you as an expert. I should have just kept my mouth shut and said that I am a seminarian, nothing more. Unfortunately, Fr. Francis got a whiff that I majored in English and thus volunteered me to give a series of lectures to the ‘Millennium Writers,’ a student group at the University, in hopes of re-starting their newsletter that has long since ended.

I never focused on journalism or layout design in college. I don’t even think I can explain writing. For me it is like navigating around Powerpoint or recalling random quotes from movies—I don’t know HOW I do it, I just DO it! But now every Monday and Thursday morning I will be speaking for an hour (about something) to these students about writing. I will need prayers for this endeavor, please! I have NO clue what to talk about. During a preliminary meeting, these students kept thanking me like I was another Hemmingway or Shakespeare (closer to Dr. Seuss) sent to rejuvenate their writers program. They have a tangible hunger to make a difference in their post-war country and an appreciation for the hidden power that language contains.

I know that God will make all things possible and perhaps unlock some secret reservoir of knowledge I may have. But this is kinda crazy. I thought God would use me here to help feed children or perhaps battle a lion to save a village…not to give English lectures. This strange turn of events has prompted me to reflect on the English education I have been given: from the teachers at Holy Family through Northeast High to UF; from random writers’ camps to teen-magazine submissions; all throughout I have experienced a quantity of quality teachers, professors, and mentors. To whom much is given, much will be asked. Sigh...

Before I would serve Mass at the seminary (where all the guys are hyper-critical and always looking for mistakes), I would say this simple yet heartfelt prayer: “Dear God, please do not let me screw this up."

I call it the “Prayer of Bob.” Feel free to use it. I’ll be offering it up before my classes.

-Bob
written 06/04/11