The Saw!

Melodious overtones from church bell towers toll throughout valleys all over the globe as a symbol of joy or perhaps a reminder that God is present. In any case, any bell player should know where the sound of the bell is made. It's not the bottom or the top, it's the sides that vibrate and produce the vast majority of a bell's sound. Such vibrations are not limited to a bell. Last week, I got out the sawzall for a little demolition. A long abandoned water tank needed to relocate but was too bulky and heavy to pass through the gate. Eager to get onto other aspects of the destruction, I tackled the 2000 liter tank. Putting the blade to the edge, I squeezed the trigger and promptly regretted it. The cylindrical drum resonated, producing so much noise a 13 year old's stereo would seem whisper quiet by comparison. But since the tank wasn't going to mutilate itself, I trudged forth. Thankfully, the saw sliced through the thin corrugated sheet metal effortlessly, and within no time, I was cutting below the waterline, providing some much sought relief to my senses.

This wasn't the only project of late. My boss Wes and I installed some ethernet bridges (so we have internet at the house [due to a housing shortage, I am staying with Wes, wife Chrislyn, and kids Kaiza and Andrew]), did some ethernet wiring, cleaned out part of the guesthouse to convert space into more guestrooms, repiped around the community water tank, and installed water meters just to name a few. The first two and a half days I was here, Wes and I worked in Zambia at Mwami Adventist Hospital. There, we joined and laid about a kilometer of pipe from the storage tank to the hospital. I mapped out the village with GPS. We also checked and rewired some of the borehole pumps. Just to differentiate, an open shaft where water is drawn by a bucket is called a well. A borehole is a pump-driven, pipe-encased "well", which provides for the water system. At Mwami and most of the hospitals around, the system always leaks, and repairs are never proper or permanent. Because of this, as well as some other reasons, a new water system is actually cheaper, and, if properly built, will last far longer.

Very few of us would agree that air pollution is beneficial to humans, in most cases at least. Also, very few of us would disagree that Americans use a disproportionate amount of the planet's resources. However, don't think for a second the air on my side of the globe is better than your air. The solution to most problems here fall into three categories: a bigger hammer, a bigger wrench, and a bigger fire. All leaves, garbage, and even fields are burned to remove whatever it is. Yes, the land becomes infertile and yes, I do almost constantly smell of smoke, but that's simply how things are done. This means the air is always stank nasty. But, airborne particulate matter, particularly pollution, makes for some amazing sunsets. This past Sabbath, the sun didn't set on the horizon, it set on the layer of haze, disappearing in a cloudless sky before sunset. Odd? I thought so. Watch out SoCal, your smog has some competition!

This week, another family is coming to Malamulo! The Haytons should arrive Wednesday, with a welcoming potluck this weekend. Last week, some short-termers from Loma Linda arrived to construct a computer lab in the health college's library. Their stint here is between 2 and 3 weeks. In other news, it's hot here and will probably get warmer. The dry season ends about late November/early December. Between now and then, it's supposed to warm up even more. Right now, daily highs are in the mid to high 80s with about 30% humidity and absolutely no cloud cover.

Potluck

You all know that feeling, and some enjoy it more than others (you and I both know who you are). The lettuce, cheese, tomatoes, salsa, and other goodness awaiting consumption above a sound foundation of chips and beans. Yep, haystacks aren't just in America. Today, the missionaries (doctors, engineers, moms, therapists, students, and children from all over the world) congregated for the traditional Adventist meal. Finally, some familiarity! While some may argue that a potluck requires each to bring some dish for the meal, each house brought some portion of the meal, whether avocado or cilantro or rice. After all was said and done, over 15 people had partaken. First question: When do you eat haystacks? The answer is whenever your heart has the least bit of tradition flowing through its atria. Next question: What event warrants such delicacies (including real cheese!)? For many, both today and in most cases, the event is nothing particularly noteworthy. Perhaps a simple meal with the family or a catch up with old cronies. In my case, this was the first time I met many of the missionaries. Some just returned from furlough while others weren't around yesterday. Thus, for me, this was actually an introductory experience. Is this the real intent of potluck? (Input is welcome)

Travel

The sleek body slicing through the fluid effortlessly whilst passengers relish every moment basked in pristine luxury. Truly a bygone era. This adventure started Sunday afternoon in Columbus with a rather familiar airport, cramped seat, lack of luggage space (because of people bringing 63 changes of clothing for their 2 days of meetings), and other usual drab. The first leg took a little over an hour to get to Charlotte with a second leg going to Washington Dulles. From there, things amazingly took a turn for the better. The flight to addis ababa is rather long and the direction of flight made the day incredibly short. Much to my surprise, the seat adjacent to me remained unoccupied until Ethiopia (we made a fuel stop in Rome). The airline even put me up for the night in a lovely hotel. The hotel tried very hard to look good and did rather well, with king's adopted cousin written all over. The next morning, I proceeded to Lilongwe, Malawi. Here the mystery began.

Statistics would seem to indicate that someone like me would be a rarity in central Africa. Upon finishing customs, I walk toward the airport exit having no idea who is looking for me (I knew a name but no face). A person holding a sign saying "Mr. Reddy" seemed like a good bet (yes it was incorrectly spelled but rather close, could have been a pronunciation error). I go to him and he informs me he's going to take me to "my people". After a 30 km taxi ride, I arrive at a hotel. They say somebody from Zambia (which was actually to be my next destination) called and reserved a room for me. While appreciated, I wasn't convinced this was for me. A couple text messages later, the truth erupted. I had taken and paid for someone else's taxi, nearly paid for their room, and missed my job entirely. After about half an hour, all was solved and Zambia approached. For those of you who know me, travel is never something that goes well for me. This happened to be my error than someone else's. All I know is that it could have been worse, and I am thankful it wasn't.

Sabbath is going to be here very soon. I don't know what it holds, but it does beckon. I will gladly heed.

(from my iPod)

Preparation

Many of us know the feeling. Your plane ticket sits in your inbox while you sit on the sofa daydreaming of what wonders await just beyond the horizon. The packing list lays on the table with nearly everything checked off. It could be something so simple as a trip home for the holidays (which will inevitably become a nightmare if you have my luck) or perhaps the vacation of a lifetime. In any case, enraptured with the looming adventure, you ponder what you might have overlooked.

I am certainly in that state of mind right now. Just over a week ago, my older sister departed for Asia. Her stress levels must have been higher than humanly possible, but I watched her thinking I was better prepared. This week proved my naivety. Health forms, malaria pills, appointments, finances, and everything else! How did I dupe myself so effortlessly? Nonetheless, Sabbath arrived just as it has so many times. Can I possibly find rest in it this time?

The rest of Sabbath - what is it like? Most of you know I worked at Sunset Lake Camp in Washington state this past summer. The last day of the week was actually the most taxing for me. Whether it was hiking and biking up mountains or setting up/running/tearing down programs multiple times, Saturday night approached with a promise of sleep. Despite this physical exertion, there was always a certain peace.

This upcoming year, I hope to once again find this peace. Will it be in the same place? Uh, no. Will it happen in the same way? Who am I to say? Will it still be that time where all else fades away? I do hope so. On this day of renewal, let's not only think about what it is we have survived yet again and what today is, but contemplate what we may do to impact most profoundly the world in which we all reside for the world in which we don't yet reside.