Recently, I came across a list of nine things that one has to do if she/he wants to live in a country like the Central African Republic. I found this list so accurate that I want to reproduce it here:
First, take out all the furniture: leave a few old blankets, a kitchen table, maybe a wooden chair. You’ve never had a bed, remember.
Second, throw out your clothes. Each person in the family may keep the oldest suit or dress, a shirt or blouse. The head of the family has the only pair of shoes.
Third, all kitchen appliances have vanished. Keep a box of matches, a small bag of flour, some sugar and salt and a handful of onions, a dish of dried beans. Rescue some moldy potatoes from the garbage can; those are tonight’s meal.
Fourth, dismantle the bathroom, shut off the running water, and take out the wiring and the lights and everything that runs by electricity.
Fifth, take away the house and move the family into the tool shed.
Sixth, no more postman, fireman, government services. The two-class-room school is three miles away but only two of your seven children attend anyway, and they must walk.
Seventh, throw out your bankbooks, stock certificates, pension plans, and insurance policies. You now have a cash hoard of $5.
Eighth, get out and start cultivating three acres. Try hard to raise $300 in cash crops because your landlord wants one-third and your moneylender 10%.
Ninth, find some way for your children to bring in a little extra money so you have something to eat most days. But it won’t be enough to keep bodies healthy, so lop off 25 to 30 years of your life.
There are, of course, many other things that are missing on this list: no health care, for example, which results in a variety of different diseases; no employment, and for those who do work, no salary for months on end; women generally have no say on how many children they end up having, which more often than not will mean a lifetime of bearing children and caring for them, etc., etc.
But while this is true about the vast majority of places in the CAR, you will also be surprised to see that a small minority, especially in the major cities, still enjoys access to some of the same amenities that we here in the West have.
For example, we were traveling through a little town and I noticed a line of young men outside a rectangular shaped building. I went in and was amazed to see a big screen with the most strikingly beautiful picture I had seen anywhere (much better than I have at home). They were watching European soccer and having a blast. You could hear the sound of the generator blasting from a distance, but once inside the young men were in a transe-like state, glued to every movement coming out of that incredible Panasonic screen. Don't ask me how they came up with the money for the ticket to get in.
In Berberati, the second largest city in the CAR, I had the best Internet connection in the country. Here, in a room with about eight computers, men and women took turns checking their e-mail and being connected to the rest of the world for $1 per hour. Of all the times I went there, there was never a free computer in the room. It was here that I also met a rapper who performed for me both in Sango and in French. I got him on my video camera and he put on quite a show. He told me that his idol was
"50 cent." I had only heard about "50 cent" a couple of times, but while traveling in the CAR, I noticed that he was bigger than life there. Young men in the markets proudly wear an entire "50 cent" outfit and can readily repeat some of his songs, in English! I also saw young men watching old footage of Michael Jordan's basketball days while he was playing for North Carolina.
At moments like this I thought: no matter where they live, young people are the same. But then our car would move on and I would see dozens of young men gathered along the roads, doing nothing; children showing signs of severe malnutrition, some with skin diseases so devastating that their hair was completely gone. Then, I would quickly change my mind: no, these kids are nothing like our kids, for no matter how hard they try, they may not have a chance to be here tomorrow.
Pastor Ivanildo Trindade
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Outrage
Outrage! Injustice! Unnecessary suffering! Madness! Senseless dying! Inhuman! Ungodly!
Never had such strong words entered my mind as often as they did during my recent two weeks in Africa. Then I came home, turned on the television, and found so-called news organizations obsessed with the story of a disgraced congressman whose hypocrisy finally caught up with him on a spring morning. People were “outraged,” They were crying out for “justice.” They screamed for punishment as their teeth tasted the blood of the fallen man.
I am mad at some of the reasons why we get mad in this county. I am outraged that in the 21st century, when America can collect samples of the atmosphere from a drone thousands of miles up in the air over North Korea, people are still dying in Africa -- 6,000 per day -- from diseases that are totally treatable in the West.
Think of this: two twin towers, six Katrinas, in the last 24 hours. The equivalent of an entire village wiped out while we vacationed, slept, ate, went to work, and watched our favorite team play on television. I am tired of the tunnel vision of American television. I am sickened by the collective numbness of some T.V. news executives, who charge a high price to have this kind of “news” delivered to our homes 24-7. And I am embarrassed that we keep on buying this kind of product.
I just spent two weeks in the Central African Republic and my life will never be the same for it. When you witness the kind of suffering I did, all historical discussions about whose fault it is become meaningless. As a pastor, I am no longer interested in theological arguments about whether helping the poor is an integral part of the gospel or not. Our involvement is no longer optional. As long as there is a need, I will seek to make a difference, there is no question about that.
Now I know that there is a crisis of gigantic proportions happening in Africa today. People are dying from AIDS, malaria, diarrhea, parasites, and tuberculosis. They die from diseases that cost twenty cents to cure but they cannot afford to buy them. Twelve million children are orphans from AIDS. Many more will die if they continue to have no access to the medicines that can cure them. We would not for a moment tolerate this kind of suffering in the West or even in Japan. Why are we not outraged? Is it just because Africa is far away? Is it because we don’t know? Is it because the media insists on feeding us selective news, including high doses of political drama every night?
Please, don’t get me wrong. We should be outraged at a man who broke the public trust and preyed on our children. As moral people we should be crying out for justice. I am not questioning the wisdom of reporting such story. I question the insane repetition of the same story night after night while thousands of little ones are dying every day, often hungry, in a cold hut, without anyone to offer a prayer for them. I fear that more often than not we have been robbed of information that really matters and thus we go to bed thinking that everything is OK with the world.
NO! Everything is NOT OK with the world. And we must learn what that means, and how we can make a difference. Turn off that television and read information about the Darfur, if that’s what it takes . Buy only fair-trade coffee. It’s going to cost a couple of dollars more, but it is worth it. Sponsor an orphan from the CAR. Shop for one of those “product red” products. That will help combat AIDS in Africa. Go on a mission trip to bring relief for those who are suffering.
Channel your outrage toward something useful. In other words: stay outraged, but be on the move with a heart of compassion. And start acting today while we still have a chance to make a difference.
Pastor Ivanildo Trindade
Never had such strong words entered my mind as often as they did during my recent two weeks in Africa. Then I came home, turned on the television, and found so-called news organizations obsessed with the story of a disgraced congressman whose hypocrisy finally caught up with him on a spring morning. People were “outraged,” They were crying out for “justice.” They screamed for punishment as their teeth tasted the blood of the fallen man.
I am mad at some of the reasons why we get mad in this county. I am outraged that in the 21st century, when America can collect samples of the atmosphere from a drone thousands of miles up in the air over North Korea, people are still dying in Africa -- 6,000 per day -- from diseases that are totally treatable in the West.
Think of this: two twin towers, six Katrinas, in the last 24 hours. The equivalent of an entire village wiped out while we vacationed, slept, ate, went to work, and watched our favorite team play on television. I am tired of the tunnel vision of American television. I am sickened by the collective numbness of some T.V. news executives, who charge a high price to have this kind of “news” delivered to our homes 24-7. And I am embarrassed that we keep on buying this kind of product.
I just spent two weeks in the Central African Republic and my life will never be the same for it. When you witness the kind of suffering I did, all historical discussions about whose fault it is become meaningless. As a pastor, I am no longer interested in theological arguments about whether helping the poor is an integral part of the gospel or not. Our involvement is no longer optional. As long as there is a need, I will seek to make a difference, there is no question about that.
Now I know that there is a crisis of gigantic proportions happening in Africa today. People are dying from AIDS, malaria, diarrhea, parasites, and tuberculosis. They die from diseases that cost twenty cents to cure but they cannot afford to buy them. Twelve million children are orphans from AIDS. Many more will die if they continue to have no access to the medicines that can cure them. We would not for a moment tolerate this kind of suffering in the West or even in Japan. Why are we not outraged? Is it just because Africa is far away? Is it because we don’t know? Is it because the media insists on feeding us selective news, including high doses of political drama every night?
Please, don’t get me wrong. We should be outraged at a man who broke the public trust and preyed on our children. As moral people we should be crying out for justice. I am not questioning the wisdom of reporting such story. I question the insane repetition of the same story night after night while thousands of little ones are dying every day, often hungry, in a cold hut, without anyone to offer a prayer for them. I fear that more often than not we have been robbed of information that really matters and thus we go to bed thinking that everything is OK with the world.
NO! Everything is NOT OK with the world. And we must learn what that means, and how we can make a difference. Turn off that television and read information about the Darfur, if that’s what it takes . Buy only fair-trade coffee. It’s going to cost a couple of dollars more, but it is worth it. Sponsor an orphan from the CAR. Shop for one of those “product red” products. That will help combat AIDS in Africa. Go on a mission trip to bring relief for those who are suffering.
Channel your outrage toward something useful. In other words: stay outraged, but be on the move with a heart of compassion. And start acting today while we still have a chance to make a difference.
Pastor Ivanildo Trindade
Monday, October 09, 2006
Darfur and the CAR
For most of us "Darfur" is just another foreign word. We may not know that it refers to a region in Sudan where thousands of people have been killed in the past few months. We need to learn about Darfur.
First we need to know that this is not a Muslim against other religions type of conflict. The government, the rebels, and the militias are all Muslims. This is, however, in a broad sense, an Arab against non-Arab type of conflict.
Second, we need to know that the United States have called the conflict in Darfur a "genocide," although the UN has not gone that far. Millions of people have been displaced from their villages, as many as 450,000 may have died already, though exact numbers are impossible to have. For a comprehensive analysis and history of the conflict in the region, go here
As recently as August 28 attacks in the Darfur region (far western Sudan, bordering the Central African Republic, the Chad, and Libya, a region about three-quarters the size of Texas) were widespread, lasting for several days, and resulting in chaotic displacements, family separations, and many children who have disappeared. Hundreds are now feared dead, according the the UN High Commission for Refugees. Read story here
Darfur impacts the Central African Republic in a major way. First, Sudan has for all intents and purposes invaded the northeast part of the CAR with a proxy of Chadeans who are not living in caves waiting for the dry season to come in a month or so they can presumably join forces with a larger force of Sudanese puppets to try to topple the government of Chad and perhaps the CAR as well. These forces are rippling out from Darfur and have left this country in utter chaos.
Journalist Nicholas Kristof, from the New York Times, who traveled recently to the CAR, wrote on a column dated October 1, that "the north of the Central African Republic is now a war zone, with rival bands (some from the government) burning villages, kidnapping children, robbing travelers and killing people with impunity." He contends that if this kind of random violence is not stopped, "the legacy of Darfur may be that all of Chad and the Central African Republic will collapse into Somalia-style anarchy."
The human cost of this tragedy is mounting. Mr. Kristof speaks of visiting a hospital run by Doctors Without Borders, where a French doctor was treating Arthur Demongoy, a 2-year old suffering from severe malnutrition. "Children like Arthur," he says, "are heartbreakingly impassive; they are so starved they never cry, for every calorie goes to keeping them alive."
Though we didn't visit this area of the CAR, the description is eerily familiar. And I am convinced we must do all we can to try to make a difference. President Bush has called the tragedy in Darfur a "genocide." Why not ask the President to let the United States be more active in stopping this kind of genocide from spreading even further into the neighboring countries of the region. I would urge you to contact your representatives and express your concerns.
Pastor Ivanildo Trindade
First we need to know that this is not a Muslim against other religions type of conflict. The government, the rebels, and the militias are all Muslims. This is, however, in a broad sense, an Arab against non-Arab type of conflict.
Second, we need to know that the United States have called the conflict in Darfur a "genocide," although the UN has not gone that far. Millions of people have been displaced from their villages, as many as 450,000 may have died already, though exact numbers are impossible to have. For a comprehensive analysis and history of the conflict in the region, go here
As recently as August 28 attacks in the Darfur region (far western Sudan, bordering the Central African Republic, the Chad, and Libya, a region about three-quarters the size of Texas) were widespread, lasting for several days, and resulting in chaotic displacements, family separations, and many children who have disappeared. Hundreds are now feared dead, according the the UN High Commission for Refugees. Read story here
Darfur impacts the Central African Republic in a major way. First, Sudan has for all intents and purposes invaded the northeast part of the CAR with a proxy of Chadeans who are not living in caves waiting for the dry season to come in a month or so they can presumably join forces with a larger force of Sudanese puppets to try to topple the government of Chad and perhaps the CAR as well. These forces are rippling out from Darfur and have left this country in utter chaos.
Journalist Nicholas Kristof, from the New York Times, who traveled recently to the CAR, wrote on a column dated October 1, that "the north of the Central African Republic is now a war zone, with rival bands (some from the government) burning villages, kidnapping children, robbing travelers and killing people with impunity." He contends that if this kind of random violence is not stopped, "the legacy of Darfur may be that all of Chad and the Central African Republic will collapse into Somalia-style anarchy."
The human cost of this tragedy is mounting. Mr. Kristof speaks of visiting a hospital run by Doctors Without Borders, where a French doctor was treating Arthur Demongoy, a 2-year old suffering from severe malnutrition. "Children like Arthur," he says, "are heartbreakingly impassive; they are so starved they never cry, for every calorie goes to keeping them alive."
Though we didn't visit this area of the CAR, the description is eerily familiar. And I am convinced we must do all we can to try to make a difference. President Bush has called the tragedy in Darfur a "genocide." Why not ask the President to let the United States be more active in stopping this kind of genocide from spreading even further into the neighboring countries of the region. I would urge you to contact your representatives and express your concerns.
Pastor Ivanildo Trindade
Friday, October 06, 2006
Reflections of an American-African. By Pastor Tom Peters
It’s been about two weeks since our team from Wooster GBC returned from a great trip to the Central African Republic. Over those two weeks, I’ve been able to share on several occasions some of the things that we learned while in the CAR. I’d like to share a few more here with you.
This was almost a perfect African experience for our team. A lot of things that I remember experiencing either as a kid
growing up in the CAR, or as an adult missionary, our team was able to experience in just a few short weeks. From the chaos of arriving at the Bangui airport, to the heavy tropical rains, to the near-impassable roads, to breakdowns on the road, to the incredible expanse of a clear, star-lit night, to the joy of worship of our Pygmy brothers & sisters in Christ, to the somewhat stoic worship of
some of our other African brothers & sisters, to the joy of a deaf-mute man seeing some long-lost missionary friends, to seeing some wild elephants, buffalo and monkeys. The only thing that the trip lacked to make it a near-perfect African experience is that we didn’t see any snakes or scorpions! Crikey, that’s too bad!
If you have been following our blog from the beginning, I earlier wrote about taking a picture of Albert (a recently deceased long-time friend and mentor) back to his wife, Anne. At Bata, I was able to present her with the picture and spend some time with her. That was really a neat experience. You see, when you talk after the fact to people in Africa about the funeral of their family member, there are usually some complaints about what should have been done differently or of someone who did not honor the deceased by their words or actions. But in this conversation with Anne, there were none of those negative comments. All she could talk about was that “Albert’s funeral gave joy to God.” What an awesome testimony! Albert left an incredible legacy for his family and friends of a man who loved God and lived daily for Him! It was an amazing few minutes that I was able to spend with Anne. Continue to pray for her and for her family, that they would not forget Albert’s legacy of walking with God.
As some of the other team members have written, we learned first hand about a lot of the work that is going on among orphans in the CAR, both by Grace Brethren International Missions (GBIM), and by ICDI. For me, it was really good to experience the difference between the “orphan
care” that these two organizations are providing. Through this type of care local people through churches are empowered to care for the orphans among them. This is done through sponsorships from outside the country, which lessens the financial burden of caring for the orphans. But the spiritual and social development of the children is carried out through the people who have agreed to care for them.
This is totally different from “orphanage ministries.” The orphanages we saw in the CAR didn’t seem to provide much individual
care to the children because of the shear numbers of orphans that the caregivers were trying to cover. The other problem we saw with orphanages was the fact that the amount of money that comes in to care for a large number of children has been too much for the managers of the orphanages to handle. They don’t seem to be able to keep their hands out of the treasuries of the orphanages, so the children are the ones who suffer. So, I applaud what both GBIM and ICDI are doing through their “Project Hope & Charité” and “Vision Trust” programs to empower local people to provide the care for the orphans. This is really effective and sustainable in the CAR.
One of the hardest things for me on this trip was to see the attitude of some of the people located at Yaloké. Sue, Mike, JP and I had spent the first two years of our ministry at this place and it had been a thriving ministry center. But after the rebellion in 2003, villagers had ransacked the ministry center and now those thriving ministries such as the hospital and the Christian High School are gasping for air. The worst part about it wasn’t the destruction, but the attitude of the local people. Instead of taking ownership of the ministries and really putting some sweat into getting the works back on their feet, the locals were basically standing around with their arms crossed saying, “Once the missionaries come back, then things will be good again.”
In contrast, Bata saw just as much destruction from the rebel troops as Yaloké had from the local people, but at Bata, they wasted no time in getting the Bible Institute and Seminary back on their feet under their own power. It was very easy, then, for GBIM and other churches & individuals to come along side the local leadership at Bata and join them in the ministries. At Bata, local ownership was very evident, so it was a joy to see the work there, although there is still plenty of evidence of destruction. Please be in prayer for the work at Yaloké; that the local people would see that God has given the ministries into their hands and that they need to be good stewards of what He has supplied to them as ways to reach their community for Christ.
I would like to close with a thought about the attitude of humble worship among the Pygmies that was evident to our team. At Bayanga, we were able to experience the joy of the Lord in a whole new way! Upon our arrival with the Swedish missionary, Tomas, the Pygmy widows expressed their praise to God through song and dance for not only getting machetes to help them in their work in the fields, but also for bringing Tomas and his guests safely to Bayanga. A day later, we were able to go to a Pygmy village where a water well had been put in and see their joy in worship at the clean water that was now provided to them.
Later we were able to sit in the Pygmy church that was there and be humbled that, even with only logs for benches, the Pygmy people would faithfully come to hear the Word of God shared with them. It was very convicting to see that church, because many times we here in the U.S. complain about this type of music in our worship service, or the uncomfortable pews that we have to put up with, or that style of
dress that we may deem inappropriate for a fellow-worshiper to be wearing. For the Pygmies, take one look at their church and its benches and it becomes obvious that their worship is not about them; it’s about “KOMBA” (GOD in the Bayaka language)!! Perhaps we could learn a few things from our Pygmy believers that would put us in a true attitude of worship that is "in spirit and in truth!"
This was almost a perfect African experience for our team. A lot of things that I remember experiencing either as a kid
growing up in the CAR, or as an adult missionary, our team was able to experience in just a few short weeks. From the chaos of arriving at the Bangui airport, to the heavy tropical rains, to the near-impassable roads, to breakdowns on the road, to the incredible expanse of a clear, star-lit night, to the joy of worship of our Pygmy brothers & sisters in Christ, to the somewhat stoic worship of
some of our other African brothers & sisters, to the joy of a deaf-mute man seeing some long-lost missionary friends, to seeing some wild elephants, buffalo and monkeys. The only thing that the trip lacked to make it a near-perfect African experience is that we didn’t see any snakes or scorpions! Crikey, that’s too bad!If you have been following our blog from the beginning, I earlier wrote about taking a picture of Albert (a recently deceased long-time friend and mentor) back to his wife, Anne. At Bata, I was able to present her with the picture and spend some time with her. That was really a neat experience. You see, when you talk after the fact to people in Africa about the funeral of their family member, there are usually some complaints about what should have been done differently or of someone who did not honor the deceased by their words or actions. But in this conversation with Anne, there were none of those negative comments. All she could talk about was that “Albert’s funeral gave joy to God.” What an awesome testimony! Albert left an incredible legacy for his family and friends of a man who loved God and lived daily for Him! It was an amazing few minutes that I was able to spend with Anne. Continue to pray for her and for her family, that they would not forget Albert’s legacy of walking with God.
As some of the other team members have written, we learned first hand about a lot of the work that is going on among orphans in the CAR, both by Grace Brethren International Missions (GBIM), and by ICDI. For me, it was really good to experience the difference between the “orphan
care” that these two organizations are providing. Through this type of care local people through churches are empowered to care for the orphans among them. This is done through sponsorships from outside the country, which lessens the financial burden of caring for the orphans. But the spiritual and social development of the children is carried out through the people who have agreed to care for them. This is totally different from “orphanage ministries.” The orphanages we saw in the CAR didn’t seem to provide much individual
care to the children because of the shear numbers of orphans that the caregivers were trying to cover. The other problem we saw with orphanages was the fact that the amount of money that comes in to care for a large number of children has been too much for the managers of the orphanages to handle. They don’t seem to be able to keep their hands out of the treasuries of the orphanages, so the children are the ones who suffer. So, I applaud what both GBIM and ICDI are doing through their “Project Hope & Charité” and “Vision Trust” programs to empower local people to provide the care for the orphans. This is really effective and sustainable in the CAR.One of the hardest things for me on this trip was to see the attitude of some of the people located at Yaloké. Sue, Mike, JP and I had spent the first two years of our ministry at this place and it had been a thriving ministry center. But after the rebellion in 2003, villagers had ransacked the ministry center and now those thriving ministries such as the hospital and the Christian High School are gasping for air. The worst part about it wasn’t the destruction, but the attitude of the local people. Instead of taking ownership of the ministries and really putting some sweat into getting the works back on their feet, the locals were basically standing around with their arms crossed saying, “Once the missionaries come back, then things will be good again.”
In contrast, Bata saw just as much destruction from the rebel troops as Yaloké had from the local people, but at Bata, they wasted no time in getting the Bible Institute and Seminary back on their feet under their own power. It was very easy, then, for GBIM and other churches & individuals to come along side the local leadership at Bata and join them in the ministries. At Bata, local ownership was very evident, so it was a joy to see the work there, although there is still plenty of evidence of destruction. Please be in prayer for the work at Yaloké; that the local people would see that God has given the ministries into their hands and that they need to be good stewards of what He has supplied to them as ways to reach their community for Christ.
I would like to close with a thought about the attitude of humble worship among the Pygmies that was evident to our team. At Bayanga, we were able to experience the joy of the Lord in a whole new way! Upon our arrival with the Swedish missionary, Tomas, the Pygmy widows expressed their praise to God through song and dance for not only getting machetes to help them in their work in the fields, but also for bringing Tomas and his guests safely to Bayanga. A day later, we were able to go to a Pygmy village where a water well had been put in and see their joy in worship at the clean water that was now provided to them.
Later we were able to sit in the Pygmy church that was there and be humbled that, even with only logs for benches, the Pygmy people would faithfully come to hear the Word of God shared with them. It was very convicting to see that church, because many times we here in the U.S. complain about this type of music in our worship service, or the uncomfortable pews that we have to put up with, or that style of
dress that we may deem inappropriate for a fellow-worshiper to be wearing. For the Pygmies, take one look at their church and its benches and it becomes obvious that their worship is not about them; it’s about “KOMBA” (GOD in the Bayaka language)!! Perhaps we could learn a few things from our Pygmy believers that would put us in a true attitude of worship that is "in spirit and in truth!"
Monday, October 02, 2006
The tale of two feet
Have you ever wondered what our feet would say about ourselves if they were capable of speaking?
One of the most striking contrasts I was able to register by pictures while in the Central African Republic was that of two feet that tread the same ground in Bayanga, the Pygmy area we were privileged to visit.
I notice the first feet the moment we entered the compound where a Swedish missionary family has lived for the last five years. I quickly surmised they were the feet of one of the missionary's daughters, a guess not too difficult to make, given that we were in the middle of Pygmy country and I knew that the missionary had five kids. I was struck by the beauty of the barefooted young girl who towered over the Pygmies she was standing side by side with.
(the beautiful feet of a European young girl)
Later I noticed that she also had tattoos in her arms and neck, made from natural henna extracted from the forest. I also noticed that a couple of other local girls also had tattoos on their bodies, not a fashion statement, but a children's game, resulting from having few toys and much nature to explore around them.
I played with these kids for about an hour and eventually shot a picture of the beautiful feet that tell a story of places and privileges that only a Western can claim. These feet are well groomed, even in the midst of Bayanga. They are clean and follow an almost perfect parallel pattern, show no signs of wear, and point to places yet to be visited.
These feet have been in the jungle, but they also have been around Europe, they have skied in the Alps and entered stores and places of learning. These feet open the door of opportunities and speak of a great past and a promising future. These feet invite you to join with them if only to have yours look a little better than they are. They are the golden feet of an European girl living in the end of the world. They look beautiful anywhere in the world.
Not long after finishing with the kids, I sat with a group of Pygmy young men who were admiring pictures from a digital camera one of our team mates was showing them. They were being introduced to the world the first feet belonged to: videos of the trolley at Detroit International Airport, tall buildings in Paris, airplanes at Charles de Gaulle Airport, electricity, restaurants, people looking happy everywhere.
(the man with the foot made of "stuff of life," on the left)
It was then that I noticed the feet of one of the men sitting across from me. They looked swollen, shrunk, distorted and older than its "owner." I immediately thought of the beautiful feet I had just photographed. There couldn't be a more pictorial lesson on the contrast between those who have and those who don't have. The feet I was now seeing spoke of an extremely rough life, lived close to the ground, mostly uncovered, open to the elements, to the dangers of crawling animals, deadly snakes, and flying machetes. Those feet looked like they had been tortured, which they, of course, were, not by men, but by the harsh realities of nature itself.
(the feet that gave me pause)
The feet of this Pygmy man pointed to no place in particular, except the mud of the ground, the harshness of life in the forest. These feet spoke of no privileged position in the world, but of toil and pain and groaning and prayers that went unheard for so long. These feet opened no doors and repelled everyone who was within their sight. These were no golden feet but feet made of the stuff of life. These feet were covered by the thick layer of flesh that now coated what once was an unsuspecting normal looking member of the body.
If you look carefully (click on the picture to enlarge, if you wish), there is a fly on the foot of the young girl as well as on the one of the Pygmy man; but while the one on the beautiful foot almost seems to augment the already ornate feet, the one on the harsh looking foot only augments one's sense of repulsion. It speaks of unsanitary places where one would dare not to walk. The fly almost seems like a bad omen, quietly doing its part in the deterioration of this body part, which already looks to be on life support.
Yes, I have to admit that I did feel repulsed at first, but it didn't take me long to realize that these were the feet of a survivor from Bayanga. That thought gave me pause. I felt a sense of deep respect, being in front of someone who, albeit young, had already been through so much. I was humbled to be in the presence of a man who had not given up and was still standing in spite of all the odds. Yes, his feet may have looked ugly, his sandals torn, but here was a man who would not give up on living. And now some of those prayers had been answered, as he had a chance to hear the good news that God loves him as much as He loves the European girl with the beautiful feet.
Next time you look at your feet, even if they are not that beautiful, think about how privileged you have been to live, work, and have fun in this part of the world we call the West. Think of what you would do if you traded places with that Pygmy man. And think about what you can do today to alleviate the suffering of some of the poorest of the poor around the world.
Pastor Ivanildo Trindade
One of the most striking contrasts I was able to register by pictures while in the Central African Republic was that of two feet that tread the same ground in Bayanga, the Pygmy area we were privileged to visit.
I notice the first feet the moment we entered the compound where a Swedish missionary family has lived for the last five years. I quickly surmised they were the feet of one of the missionary's daughters, a guess not too difficult to make, given that we were in the middle of Pygmy country and I knew that the missionary had five kids. I was struck by the beauty of the barefooted young girl who towered over the Pygmies she was standing side by side with.
(the beautiful feet of a European young girl)
Later I noticed that she also had tattoos in her arms and neck, made from natural henna extracted from the forest. I also noticed that a couple of other local girls also had tattoos on their bodies, not a fashion statement, but a children's game, resulting from having few toys and much nature to explore around them.
I played with these kids for about an hour and eventually shot a picture of the beautiful feet that tell a story of places and privileges that only a Western can claim. These feet are well groomed, even in the midst of Bayanga. They are clean and follow an almost perfect parallel pattern, show no signs of wear, and point to places yet to be visited.
These feet have been in the jungle, but they also have been around Europe, they have skied in the Alps and entered stores and places of learning. These feet open the door of opportunities and speak of a great past and a promising future. These feet invite you to join with them if only to have yours look a little better than they are. They are the golden feet of an European girl living in the end of the world. They look beautiful anywhere in the world.
Not long after finishing with the kids, I sat with a group of Pygmy young men who were admiring pictures from a digital camera one of our team mates was showing them. They were being introduced to the world the first feet belonged to: videos of the trolley at Detroit International Airport, tall buildings in Paris, airplanes at Charles de Gaulle Airport, electricity, restaurants, people looking happy everywhere.
(the man with the foot made of "stuff of life," on the left)
It was then that I noticed the feet of one of the men sitting across from me. They looked swollen, shrunk, distorted and older than its "owner." I immediately thought of the beautiful feet I had just photographed. There couldn't be a more pictorial lesson on the contrast between those who have and those who don't have. The feet I was now seeing spoke of an extremely rough life, lived close to the ground, mostly uncovered, open to the elements, to the dangers of crawling animals, deadly snakes, and flying machetes. Those feet looked like they had been tortured, which they, of course, were, not by men, but by the harsh realities of nature itself.
(the feet that gave me pause)
The feet of this Pygmy man pointed to no place in particular, except the mud of the ground, the harshness of life in the forest. These feet spoke of no privileged position in the world, but of toil and pain and groaning and prayers that went unheard for so long. These feet opened no doors and repelled everyone who was within their sight. These were no golden feet but feet made of the stuff of life. These feet were covered by the thick layer of flesh that now coated what once was an unsuspecting normal looking member of the body.
If you look carefully (click on the picture to enlarge, if you wish), there is a fly on the foot of the young girl as well as on the one of the Pygmy man; but while the one on the beautiful foot almost seems to augment the already ornate feet, the one on the harsh looking foot only augments one's sense of repulsion. It speaks of unsanitary places where one would dare not to walk. The fly almost seems like a bad omen, quietly doing its part in the deterioration of this body part, which already looks to be on life support.
Yes, I have to admit that I did feel repulsed at first, but it didn't take me long to realize that these were the feet of a survivor from Bayanga. That thought gave me pause. I felt a sense of deep respect, being in front of someone who, albeit young, had already been through so much. I was humbled to be in the presence of a man who had not given up and was still standing in spite of all the odds. Yes, his feet may have looked ugly, his sandals torn, but here was a man who would not give up on living. And now some of those prayers had been answered, as he had a chance to hear the good news that God loves him as much as He loves the European girl with the beautiful feet.
Next time you look at your feet, even if they are not that beautiful, think about how privileged you have been to live, work, and have fun in this part of the world we call the West. Think of what you would do if you traded places with that Pygmy man. And think about what you can do today to alleviate the suffering of some of the poorest of the poor around the world.
Pastor Ivanildo Trindade
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