Thoughts from the Pressure Cooker IV - the least of these

Continuing on in thoughts gathered in the 3 weeks I was in Mali following the coup d'état that started on March 21. 

One of the hardest things every westerner has to deal with when they arrive in West Africa is the great disparity between what you have and those around you have. You step off the plane and suddenly you go from being middle class to someone who is immensely wealthy. People show up at your door weekly with great needs and you have to figure out whom to give to and how much. And you also have to learn to deal with the fact that you can not help everyone. Over the years, you end up with a list of people you help because you are in some sort of relationship to them.

That disparity between what I had and what others didn't kicked into high gear with this situation. Everyone I knew, even those normally doing okay, was pushed down into a precarious situation and those just barely getting by were suddenly desperate.


Economic sanctions beginning on April 2nd meant temporarily closed borders and skyrocketing prices for basic commodities, and shortages of fuel and electricity. This was compounded by a food security crisis that pre-dated the the security problems - the worst in a generation. The ordinary Malian, even in the peaceful southern section of the country where I live, was facing tremendous pressure. Extended family were showing up at his door due to the famine or insecurity. The price of rice was so high it was hard to buy enough to feed his family, much less those being added to it. In the North, I knew of one man who had 32 people move into his house with him fleeing insecurity and famine.

Grain prices are skyrocketing due to the insecurity and a famine. Many areas of Mali received no rain at all in the 2011 growing season.

The vegetable lady I buy from several times a week and the guy who owns the little boutique down the street both sell to the expats in the neighborhood. They suddenly had no more customers as 95% of the expat community left at the request of our embassies. My refugee friends from Sierra Leone and Liberia, who have survived since 2000 by dying tablecloths to sell to foreigners, also found themselves without any clients. I knew it was bad when on my last day in Mali, one of these refugees came to me and begged for help to get his wife and kid out of Mali.


Suddenly I knew what Jesus meant by "the least of these".
And I found it hard to know how to help. My three weeks in the pressure cooker were spent trying to maximize and prioritize resources and help where we could.

On Easter, I asked all the expats who were leaving in the coming days to bring all their extra clothes and bedding, and food they would need to get rid of from their fridges and freezers. We gathered a decent-sized impromptu offering for the brothers and sisters fleeing from the North. It was a great coming together of need and opportunity.

But that was just "the first pass". Two days later, I met a man who had fled with his family and left everything behind in the face of looting and persecution. I showed him where he could wash his clothes at our center, only to find out they just had the ones on their backs. I went back to my closet to see if I could maybe find something more for him.
Later that day, my refugee friend came just as I was doing the final cleaning out of my fridge. He got EVERYTHING else that was left, including some of the canned goods I was saving for when I came back.

But there are so many more who need help. My prayer is that the Malian Church can step and do its part sacrificially, and they are doing a good job so far. (Below: clothes and food collected by the Churches in Bamako) Do pray for them and those they are ministering to.


 

 We who are now "out of Mali" will do what we can from afar. And then leave it all in the capable hand of Him who clothes the flowers and birds and you and me and the least of these. 

Thoughts from the Pressure Cooker III - Consider the Sunflowers of the Field

Continuing on in thoughts gathered in the 3 weeks I was in Mali following the coup d'état that started on March 21. 

The passage from yesterday's post (Matthew 6:25-27) goes on to say,

And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don't work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if god cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. . . . Your heavenly Father already knows all your needs.Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.

There is nothing like packing that one "just in case" suitcase you are allowed on the evacuation plane to put everything in perspective. I have lived in the same apartment in Bamako since 1999 and filled it with things brought from America 2 suitcases at a time or bought locally.

On April 4 (day 14 of the coup), as I lay in bed at midnight reading news articles on my phone, I decided that things were looking like we might be leaving sooner than I'd thought. And given that I had a huge amount of things to finish at the office, I could see myself on the last day, running home with one hour to spare to pack. So I got up and worked from midnight to 3 a.m. to pack my suitcase. Walking around the house in the wee hours you realize that there is VERY little that you really need and can't live without. I ended up with

• some tax, medical and legal records, 
• a few changes of clothes
• very basic toiletries, and medicine
• family pictures 
• a few special items that I had made or people had made for me. 
• my journals

Everything else, you can do without. It seemed so anticlimactic and in a sense so contrary to the party game where you ask what you would save from your house if it was on fire, or what you would take to a desert island because it really was a no-brainer.

I did not leave until a week later and flew out on a regular commercial flight and so had 40 kilos and so was able to add a second small suitcase - more clothes, some books, some work files and some cycling items - just in case I could find a bike. In the end, my suitcases were even 3 kilos under the limit.

It's easy to feel somehow spiritual about leaving all behind, but I know in my heart of hearts that I have a vast network of people overseas who can and will help me to replace what I need, and also a credit card.

But what of "the least of these"? (more on that in part IV).

Thoughts from the Pressure Cooker II - Consider the Birds of the Air

Continuing on in thoughts gathered in the 3 weeks I was in Mali following the coup d'état that started on March 21. 

Initially there was a lot of gunfire to be heard, including 5-6 shots fired in the air down the street from our office on the afternoon of March 21st. The first night there was heavier artillery across the river and nearer the centers of power. For the next two days, there was a lot of shooting into the air by soldiers (not fighting, just celebratory or for show) and you could hear this all over town but none immediately near where I live. (Thankfully there was very little bloodshed).

We were under 24-hour curfew for 2 days and then 12-hour curfew for a few more, so there was not much going out. Like us, most Malians were staying near to home. There were kids out playing soccer and even a wedding on our street on day 5, but very little traffic even in the neighborhoods.

It's not long in this setting when you find yourself jumping when a car drives down your street: Where's he going? Or when a car backfires or someone slams a metal gate. If you hear sirens in the distance, you wonder what they might mean. You become, for want of a better word, "flighty". My cat Tigger is like this and it always makes me laugh if I should accidentally drop something in the kitchen, how he can fly out of there so fast you can almost see the blurred lines racing behind him like in a cartoon.

On Easter morning (day 19), the remnant was  gathered on our office lawn for our Easter service and a small group of birds flew by in a flurry and swung up by the 2nd floor balcony before flying over to the trees. I realized that they were entirely without care and oblivious to the uncertainty that hung as heavy in the air as the humidity that was suffocating us in the early stages of hot season. Sure, the birds, cats, dogs, goats and sheep in Bamako were certainly as frightened by the gunfire as we were, but their reaction returns to normal within a short time. They do not have the long-term post-trauma anxiety that we do.

Later in the day, we went to a restaurant on the Niger river that had a pool for a very non-traditional Easter dinner. It was 109 F (43C) and the power was out, like it had been for the past 8 days, so there was no point going home to cook and we were all cleaning out our fridges to leave anyway.
So we swam in the pool and had pizzas or steak au poivre vert.
And there they were again - birds, carefree and oblivious. There were 2 goats tied up in the lawn and cranes kept landing and walking around among these goats and then flying up to the wall. 

And the words of Jesus came to me "Consider the birds of the air".

Matthew 6: 25-27 "That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life . . . . Look at the birds. They don't plan or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren't you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?"

Admittedly, the context here is about not having enough to eat or drink and what we might wear, but I think certainly this could be extended to worries about personal security.

I always ask my cat when he goes racing out of the room when I drop something whether I have EVER done anything to intentionally hurt him? Why can he not trust me after years of living in my apartment?

Lord, help me to rest in your arms and trust YOU without flightiness at uncertainties. 

Thoughts from the Pressure cooker - part 1

If you have been following the news, you will know that Mali had a coup d'état on March 21, 2012. 

This is not my first time to be in the "insecurity pressure cooker" having seen and even helped evacuate my colleagues out of Côte d'Ivoire on three separate occasions (2002, 2003, 2004).

As a third-grader, I lived through a week in Lebanon when fighter planes were flying overhead and we had to stay inside. Then in Yemen there were 2 different occasions when the President was assassinated and there was more staying inside. I remember it being tense and uncertain, and also the fact that we had no school.

These past few weeks have been different, the first time in the midst of the situation myself as an adult. In the past, I have been on the outside helping to get others out before and there is intense pressure and then a relief when they are all out.

This time I was on the inside, coordinating with my team, making decisions and trying to get everything in order for those we leave behind, trying to manage resources in the face of an economic embargo, and trying to pack up my own stuff.
The first group of our expats left on March 31 and April 1, getting across land borders. Others left one or two at a time by plane over the next week and the last 4 of us left on April 11. We hope we can go back fairly soon..

It was an intense time, likely one of the most intense I have ever lived. I'm going to try and blog some about it as that helps me gather my thoughts and process things.

Thought 1:  God meets us there. Isaiah 43:1-3
 In the midst of curfews and troubled times, our normal Bible studies and church times and meeting places were disrupted. However, we managed to come together spontaneously for prayer and worship and sharing of scripture where we could. Perhaps it was the uncertainty of the situation, the rawness of our emotions in the midst of harried preparations, or the stripping away of unimportant things, but these were times when the prayers were intense and heartfelt, the worship glorious, with the Word of God ministering simply and profoundly without explanation needed.

The remnant

Our Triennial conference and spiritual retreat had to be cancelled due to the problems, but we went ahead after 1 week with a "mini-retreat" just 2 hours a day singing, testimonies, and prayer in small groups. What a sweet time that was, culminating with communion. God used the time to knit us together as a group for the intense work in the 10 days to come.

We also were taught a new song by our resident ethnomusicologist, Rob Baker, who has been writing a song every week this year. He shared that the Lord had given him this one before the troubles and it  ended up being one that would speak to both his heart and ours deeply. (check it out here).

The third Sunday in the pressure cooker was Easter Sunday! Our numbers had dwindled to 20 and we were all exhausted, but we gathered together on the lawn for a "sunrise" service at 7 a.m. The generator was blaring just 30 feet away a reminder that all was not well in our immediate world. The preparations had been hasty, nothing was polished, but again God met us in the powerful songs of old.

In our sharing time, many of us remarked on how we were so busy doing so much to get ready to leave, but Easter came unfettered by all that was going on around us, bringing hope once again for victory when all looks dark.

After our service, we had our traditional Easter morning "breakfast food" potluck, again hurriedly prepared by tired people. The normal baked goods and sausage and egg casseroles were replaced by some Easter eggs we had managed to color the night before, some croissants from the store, bread and cheese. . . A simple meal but one shared with great fellowship and joy. I recalled how the original passover meal was one eaten in haste with ordinary sorts of food.

So there you have it. Lesson 1.

In the midst of trials,
the simple becomes profound,
the "important" gets stripped away to insignificant.
God meets us there in simplicity in his Word, in a song, in the people he surrounds us with.
And when we get to the other side, wherever that might be, we find that He has gone on ahead to prepare the way.