Dancing with...um...on the Dictators

Qaddafi. I have known that name nearly as long as I can remember. I don’t think I knew how to spell it until the events of the last couple of months. I suppose it was familiar to me because of growing up a few thousand miles from his regime, but perhaps it was because we were more likely to hear BBC growing up than Rush Limbaugh and American news sources haven’t always focused too keenly on Africa and its “(less than) benevolent” dictators.

Thanks to Steve Jobs (another recent major news item), I am able to read the news most mornings from sources like NPR, Fox News and The New York Times-I like my news varied. This can be a bit depressing since I can only do this on the internet as soon as I get to school, but it helps me feel a little more connected with the world around me. I suppose I have the best of both worlds here, connected in town and nearly cut off at the farm; like a little oasis from all the problems in the world.

I was given the gift of freedom. I have never (even in Africa) lived under oppression and fear. These are buzzwords that I hear from talking heads, but have no experience of myself. I say this to preface the remarks to follow should anyone wish to castigate me for speaking out of turn.

My heart has been troubled. This started actually when Osama bin Laden was executed by our armed forces (not by Obama personally as you would nearly gather from the gushing in the media). I have never seen such unbridled hatred and vengeance spewed out through social media from those that call themselves Christ followers. Twitter accounts and Facebook statuses became the western equivalent of dancing in the streets with an AK-47 in an impish display of glee. I never thought I would see so many Christ followers actually delighted when someone was, quite literally, shot to hell.

I think we feel removed from Qaddafi. Those old enough to remember know him as Reagan’s “mad dog from the Middle East.” He paraded around in harlequin robes of grandeur and made seemingly unremitting speeches at the United Nations. I haven’t studied the matter personally, but according to the media it would seem he was something of a devil cloaked in human flesh, and that being true, then he deserved justice.

There is a sense of “justice” that rises up in all of us when we see a bully begging for mercy at those he abused. We enjoy the switch of power, the sudden twist, the falling towards a denouement where all is returned to order once again and chaos is destroyed. In a sermon entitled, “God of Love, God of Judgment,” Michael Ramsden looks at the life of Jonah and his misinterpretation of justice for vengeance. Pointing to popular media (movies) he shows how popular vengeance is as a substitute for God’s justice.

I expect this sort of attitude in popular media and in Twitter trends. The vengeful spirit is a hallmark of fallen man (i.e. Cain who thought he was wronged in his offering). To see unregenerate man taking photos and laughing while holding the bloodied corpse of a violent man is not only ironic, it is expected. But this morning I read in Proverbs 17:5b:

“…he who is glad at calamity will not go unpunished.” (ESV)

But shouldn’t we as followers of Christ be different? In my reading of the Gospels I cannot see that Christ would advocate such behavior. Yes, it says that God will laugh at their calamity, but He is perfect in justice and vengeance; we are fallen and do not have the right to play God in that respect. Look at the beautiful stories of redemption that we love and see if you see the trend that I saw on Twitter and Facebook statuses. Look at Corrie Ten Boom and the soldier who made her endure untold humiliation and suffering and then asking her for forgiveness. What if she had reacted like those freedom fighters?

I am not condemning the U.S. intelligence decision to take out a threat to national security. I do not condemn the longing for freedom in the hearts of the Libyan people who disposed a man who had made their life stagnate in misery while he glided throughout the world in opulence. What I do condemn is my reaction of joy at the news. I applaud justice, but I will not, I cannot dance in the streets.


*Image from CBSNews.com

A royal engagement...

I told you some time ago that an important post was on its way...here is the promised important post. Many of you may be aware of a very important fact, that I was engaged to be married to the love of my life, Delani, back in June of this year. At the time, I decided that I wouldn't blog about it since it was of a very personal nature; however, it is important and therefore I think worth sharing here. I am a fairly private person. I do not have much time for Facebook or much of what goes on there. The self-revelatory phase of my life where I drew my estimation of myself or my value from comments and friend's approvals or "likes" is now past. I don't say that to mock people who are on Facebook as that would be highly hypocritical since I still have a Facebook account. I have, however, seen the value in sharing little details of my life, especially since I am on the other side of the world from most of my friends and family. So, here is a faithful narrative of all my dealings with blackouts, Greyhound bus service and one of the most magical places on earth, Cape Point.

If I want to keep a secret, I mean REALLY keep a secret; I have found a fool proof plan. Tell no one. When I decided in my mind, after much thought and prayer (my fiancee and my mother would say, MUCH thought and prayer) that Delani Smith was the woman that I wanted to spend the rest of my days with, I began to put a plan into action of how I would ask her. I knew that it would not be a simple matter. Delani's parents are divorced and her father keeps a fairly busy schedule and all I had was a weekend in which to accomplish this. So, here was the original plan. I was to board a Greyhound bus in Bloemfontein and travel all through the night, arrive in Cape Town the next morning where Delani and I would go to lunch with her father. That was as far as that plan had gotten. I did not yet know how I would single him out and ask his blessing with out Delani getting suspicious. Since I would be staying at her mother's house, that plan had little or no contingents.

I was shocked when the bus arrived at the bus station in Bloem on time or very nearly on time. This almost NEVER happens. I settled into a comfortable, downstairs seat and tried to think out how I was going to do everything up on my arrival in Cape Town. Somewhere during the middle of the night, after passing Colesberg on the N1, I fell fast asleep. I recall vaguely wondering if we had hit a section of roadworks where there was no tar, but it felt rather rough to be a graded road. The bus seemed to be lurching its way through some heavy dirt track (which it turns out we were making). Apparently, the driver had a "blackout" and drove off the road, through a barbed wire fence, across a ditch (which should have rolled us if not for God's protection) and into the open field of some poor Karoo farmer's land. For those who were awake, I heard it was a terrifying experience; particularly for one poor guy on the top level sitting at the front window who saw it all. So we had a three or four hour delay standing in the cold Karoo, making new friends and jokes about the incident. One man said that all the dirt piled up on the floor of the cab was where the stewardess, "Fred-Flinstoned" the bus to a stop. I found myself sitting on the steps of another bus, then finally into a seat and at least arriving in Cape Town much too late for a dinner with Delani's father and not sure what to do about it.

I took her to dinner that night at a place called "The Cattle Baron" and I think she secretly thought I was going to ask her, but a pleasant evening passed and no question was asked. The next day, I was fortunate enough to eat a private lunch with her father while she went to visit with a friend. God worked it out perfectly. I asked his blessing, he gave it and that night I asked her mother (while being violently ill in-between the two and drinking the most beastly medicine). I was scheduled to leave Saturday afternoon and so I suggested that we rise very early Saturday morning and get into Cape Point just as the sun rises and have a picnic. To my surprise, Delani agreed. It was the most magical time I have ever spent at Cape Point. There was hardly a soul in sight and certainly no tourists; just some surfers and a photographer.

We set up our picnic spot in between two sand dunes looking over False Bay where the sun would rise over the mountains on the other side. There were baboon tracks everywhere and so I was a little nervous about our picnic being interrupted, but luckily we ate undisturbed. I was very nervous, though I don't think she knew that and so before I asked, I am not sure I really enjoyed the ambience of the spot and the moment so much.

I told her I wanted a picture of her against the rising sun and so stepped back and had her look away; thereby giving me enough time to get on my knee and get the ring from my pocket (a struggle in itself). She nearly turned around, which would have been a bit disastrous, but I was able to stop her, get the picture and be ready to ask her when she did turn around.

Oh, and she said "Yes."...she also said I should blog this; and I think she was right, it was a good idea.

Twin Oaks...

Part of the program at Hope Christian Academy, is a reward system. This system has various forms, but perhaps the biggest is at the end of every term. At the close of the term (the last day generally) we take the children on a Field Trip. This is a non-academic field trip designed entirely around having a good time. The school year here goes from January to December and is made up of four different terms with short breaks in between each term; a longer break being in the winter months (generally part of June and into July) and a longer break in the summer months at Christmas. Attending this field trip is contingent upon a few factors. First the student must achieve at least 21 PACEs passed within that term and it must be done with academic balance. Secondly, the student must have all their Scriptures recited to date. This is perhaps the biggest hurdle. So, after boring you with the 'nuts and bolts' of what happens, on to the field trip. We went to a guest farm called "Twin Oaks" that belongs to one of my student's family. It is a beautiful farm set in a slight valley with plateaus behind it and open ground to the front extending on into more plateaus in the distance. It was my first time there. We don't have a school bus per se, so it required some careful manipulation of bodies and the compressing of pelvic and collar bones to make everyone fit, but it worked. The students are always supercharged on a field trip day, so discipline and decorum always become a bit of a challenge, but fortunately, on a farm there is plenty of room for "venting" of those energies. There was a jump castle lined up by our hosts as well as four-wheeler, pony and canoe rides.

Probably the highlight, as far as laughs are concerned, was playing "musical clothes." We took an old bag of clothes, mostly large and very out-of-fashion. The students had to pass the bag around the circle while the music played; if the music stopped while the bag was in their hand, they had to take an article of clothing out of the bag, without looking, and put it on. Many of them were fairly normal apart from size differences.

To the very funny...

Sorry for the quality of this picture, but here is the whole group.

blossoms...

Tomorrow, September 1st, marks the beginning of spring here in Southern Africa. It also marks the seventeenth anniversary of the birth of Joreth van der Merwe, but outside of Fraaiuitzicht, that has limited impact. Spring is definitely making an impact. The pink peach blossoms and white apricot blossoms are splashing color all over a still dull, brown landscape. Bees are busy with their God-given pollination duty and I look forward more every day to when those blossoms will become succulent fruit. This morning I happened to notice the blossoms in the early morning sun and decided to snap a picture quickly before getting into the car and heading to school. I will probably post more later on, but this is it for now.


Last night I tried to get a "head start" on spring and took a walk down to the fields barefoot. After pulling a few massive thorns out of my very soft, winter feet, I was beginning to wonder just how good of an idea it really was. I made it down to where SW was working on his crop irrigating system and I soon realized it was a not quite spring. The alfalfa that had just been sprayed was so cold my feet were hurting. When we headed back to the house, he had mercy on my stupidity and gave me his horse and he walked. I put my numb feet against the horse's warm belly and was able to warm them somewhat. I guess Winter still has a few kicks left in her.

This one is just for fun. An unimpressed Lala and my hat.

A trip up the "Cow's Nose..."

One of Africa's specialties is sunrises. I read a book where the lady called sunset over the high veld, "magic hour," but I think the true magic happens in the early morning. The only ones awake are the birds that chatter incessantly over their morning coffee. The lights of Maseru haven't yet yielded their nocturnal vigil to the morning sun and everything is just holding its breath for Daybreak to make her appearance.

A few weeks ago, S.W. van der Merwe and I decided we wanted to do something we had not done since Father's Day morning, 2008. Climb Bees Neus (meaning Cow's Nose) in the early morning before dawn and watch the sunrise. Chelsea Revell (a student staying on the farm for internship from Gordon College in Massachusetts) and Michelle Waterson (a coworker and best friend of my fiance) and Reuben Rodriguez(a student on internship from Penn View Bible College) joined us in the early morning hike. We walked in the early morning cold, but were soon warmed well enough by the exertion. Our coats-it soon turned out-were later at the top.




We made a fire and enjoyed a beautiful view, some hot coffee and friendship. The only thing that could have made things better is having Delani there. Sadly, she was at home in Graaff-Reinet and could not make it.

a field trip to the farm...

This past Friday I had the privilege of taking my students as well as Mr. Kolobe's Lower Learning Center fourth graders to Fraaiuitzicht Farm for a field trip. The fourth grade curriculum has a project that requires them to visit a farm and to see how it works and why it works the way it does and then to do an in-class, group project. I was quite excited about it since I live on said farm and enjoy farm work and appreciate the struggle that it is to be a small, family farmer like my friend S.W. So, since I had recently taken care of his cattle in the evenings while he was doing mission work in Zambia, I thought I had the leverage to ask him a favor. While riding on the combine with him the one evening after school, I asked him if he would be willing to play teacher and he acquiesced to my request.

So we loaded up the students and took them to the farm to get a taste of what being a farmer was like. They were thrilled to be in the great outdoors and just not to be at school in general. S.W. showed them what we fed them in the winter and how and why they were fed certain foods.





The day wrapped up with horse rides and weighing cattle. Joreth was kind enough to give them horse rides. This is Mammy with Joreth.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

Life has been rewardingly hectic of late. That is my pathetic excuse for silence. In truth, I rarely even communicate with my immediate family these days; a fact which leaves me feeling one part lonely and one part guilty. I may perhaps try and catch up on what has happened in between, but if not I will quickly summarize it now for you:

1. The TLC team was here and brought with them some things I had left in the U.S.

2. Kristel Glick stayed behind from the team and joined Delani and myself in the Cape. It was a great time seeing the sights and just visiting with a college friend.

3. School has resumed and in the absence of S.W. I have taken up farming as well.

S.W. van der Merwe is a childhood friend and the son of the people on whose farm I now live. He is the one actually farming the land and he farms with beef cattle. He recently left to go to Zambia to join H.I.M. on their Bible distribution project and in the evenings someone still needs to look after his cattle and make sure fences, water lines, feed, etc. is all in order. That lot fell to me. I must say, I have never been more aware of my limitations in the farming department as now. When S.W. is here and I am helping him it all seems so easy and simple, but when he is away and a water line breaks or the electric fence gets a short, or the feed starts to run out; it doesn't seem quite so simple anymore. I have enjoyed it, however, and like the outdoor work after a day of just using my head. I will be glad when he can return later this week and take back the responsibility aspect.

Life is good here in Africa and God is teaching me many things. I will try and be more faithful and expounding on that, but then you have heard that before.