Dukoral … I just took my first dose.  This is supposed to help prevent all kinds of intestinal parasitic problems, I hope so.  I leave for DRCongo in about 10 days.  This time I head to Uvira, up in the remote areas.  I have been at the back end of nowhere the last few times, but Uvira is supposed to be really, really out there – I am curious to see what people in Bukavu think of as really remote.

Last year we were in the middle of a large $2.5 million dollar food aid project in this region. This time I am going in to see what we can do to work with the population to stabilize food security. Hopefully we will be able to determine a project that will be of real and lasting benefit. Hopefully the rebels don’t take it all away.

My second and last dose of Dukarol is to be taken in a week – it should keep me safe from cholera, a water-borne disease for three months. Since contaminated water is a real problem we may also be looking at a well project in one of our project areas, it would be great to reduce illness without the need for a few thousand (expensive) Dukoral doses for the community

I will also be scouting for Mike and Amy Boomer who I am helping to the field this fall. This is a double-duty role for me – I will train and facilitate them through our Mid-Termer Process at STMN (check it out stmnetwork.ca) and I am also their project manager for ERDO.ca They are a great couple and are inspiring many others to support them, check out their blog at www.theboomers.org maybe they will inspire you to head overseas – let me know, I might be able to help …

Mark Crocker

Dateline  Haiti. Feb 7, 2010

Michel drove us through the heart of downtown Haiti.  We were left reeling by the complete destruction.  CNN images only supply a small slice of the reality.  Through the busyness of our documenting, observing, and evaluation; we stopped in the realization that people lived here, died here and still remain under the concrete.  We paused for a moment.  A child’s photograph lay on top of the rubble outside of a broken prison wall.  A Christmas tree, white with dust, lay wedged under the weight of two floors collapse.

People pick up the pieces and move on.  Street vendors sit outside of what were once shops and businesses. Dazed, overwhelmed by loss and yet forced by the urgencies of hunger, thirst and shelter to continue moving.

We met with a number of the agencies that were first on the scene.  Our review of the efforts to this stage had us connecting with the Samaritan’s Purse relief team director; with CRI, the coordinator of the medical response facilities in the country; as well as our long-time partners at the Canadian Food Grains Bank.

We drove out of town to listen to rural community leaders describe their plight.  Large businesses have collapsed, not only burying buildings but also employment in the aftermath.  The nations flour-mill is gone, the flour for bread will now need to be imported.

We visited with David, who until a month ago was simply running a small orphanage of 50 children.  Today he was heading out for his second distribution as he attempted to feed the 5000 people who are calling for help.  The local mayor called and asked him to care for another 200 children.  David would like to say yes, but he is not sure if he has the supplies or the capacity.

Notions such as relief, recovery and rebuilding suddenly take on a depth of meaning beyond another headline.  These priorities may actually mean life and death for the hundreds of thousands who remain camped in the temporary shelters on any spare bit of rubble-strewn ground.

The government directive has asked the people to continue to sleep outside rather than go back inside of the listing walls of their homes.  Very few were inside anyways, fear rules here, wondering when the next shock will come.  For thousands there are no more homes only blue tarps and braided palm tree walls.

We are challenged but committed to simply walk forward into the next step.   This is what we know:  we need to pray, continue to listen, engage, and give.

It is 10:30 pm and the rain has just begun, the first since the quake.  It looks like the brief delay in the start of the rainy season is over; these temporary shelters won’t last long.

David Adcock and Mark Crocker

Nov 09 marked the end of a highly successful food aid response to 21 000 of the most vulnerable people in the war-affected areas of eastern DR Congo.

If you have read any of my previous posts on the subject, you have already heard of my first of three visits to the region, during a visit into Nindja, we spent 8 hours on the road. That got us to and from a one-and-a-half hour meeting.  The total distance we travelled was probably about 269 kilometers - 130 km each way, and about 9 in climbing in and out of potholes.

During our drive to the community, at first we passed other four-by-fours, large transport trucks with crowds seated on top of the mass of products, and small Toyotas with the suspension about to burst.  Eventually the vehicles dwindled down to the occasional motorcycle, until finally we met no other car on the road, no one passed by, except on foot.  Later we discovered that we were the fourth vehicle into the region that year.

We passed some of the most beautiful country in the world, gentle mountains, lush and green, gave way to groves of banana, tea, pine and countless small farms.  The hillsides were alive with countless women, men and children, each hard at work with worn shovels and smoothed hoes.  The observable evidence of a return to normal cultivation is on the rise.

Still, the problems of DR Congo are significant; the security situation is in constant flux.  While Kimya II, the recent military campaign to rout out the rebel forces has struck a significant blow at the leadership, in many cases the rebels have now decentralized and moved into the communities. While this is a positive reduction in the overall force of the rebels, it has also created a destabilizing influence at the local community level. Over the summer, I was able to interview several beneficiaries in Kaniola (one of the distribution sites), after asking what war meant to each of them, one woman clarified that this was not a philosophical exercise as she had been forced from her home by rebel combatants in the last week.

Other significant problems include the high prices for many goods, while payment for labour remains very low.  Corruption is endemic – border officials, unofficial road crews, numerous check stops, and army protection – all demand payment.   Government resources are limited and are not trusted by the majority of the population.  Even in the regional capital Bukavu, I found that the electricity, internet connection and water supply were infrequent at best.

For outlying areas, the situation is even more difficult.  As a region, Sud Kivu has borne more than its share of pain.  Constant war, subsequent displacement and numerous acts of violence and aggression have continually forced the population out of the normal routines of planting and harvest.  Food security is tenuous for most, and for those on the edges; the ill, elderly, widowed and orphaned, the situation is even worse.  As people have returned home, they have had to start over with nothing, for some, this displacement has happened numerous times.

Against these challenging circumstances, and ably mobilized by the local project manager, Pastor Raha Muzibao has gathered a capable and honest team to accomplish some substantial goals. 7000 families in five remote areas were identified to receive a substantial monthly food package.  The food would prove a decrease in malnutrition, allow people the time and energy to cultivate their own plots, free people to engage in psychosocial support and re-engage children back to school.  Pastor Raha’s nondescript office wall reveals the important results; during an informal poll review, the village leadership revealed a 98% success rate of the project for the 21 000 beneficiaries.

The project leaders respect and appreciation of the principles of good practice was obvious and enthusiastic.  Even where we found occasional misunderstanding, Raha’s collaborative process of learning and improving was not short-circuited.  There was no abandonment of project principle for expediency or personal advantage, instead integrity was rigorously maintained and consistent and significant advances forward were made in terms of capacity development.

For the most vulnerable, exhausted by the continual terror of displacement and war, this ERDO/CFGB feeding program was initiated and proven very successful.  The consistency and quality of the food package was often a source of pride by the participants.   I observed that beneficiaries showed a marked improvement in health.  Standards of impartiality were maintained and all partners unanimously reported a very high degree of satisfaction.  The only requests that remain are for future projects to new, even-more remote and impoverished communities, as well as the desire  for supplementary food security projects to the communities that the project had served.

Mark Crocker

There are so many reasons why you cannot do short-term mission – it costs a lot of money and time,  it will interfere with your career path, relationships and family – these are true.  But there are also reasons why we can get involved.  Which reasons do you listen to?  Here is Jayme’s story:

We were asked to stand in a line, still, eyes shut. He told us there might be people putting things on us—dressing us—but we weren’t allowed to move, weren’t allowed to say anything.

Little did I know how hard this request to stand still, stand still and just receive, would be.

He told us that no matter what we must accept what they were going to give to us. We must accept it so that they can receive their blessing.

An amazing 3 days lead up to this point. A group of Canadians, mostly newly graduated doctors—some of the most highly educated people in the world—together with a group of volunteers from a slum in Zambia—some too poor to pay the $6 a year to send their child to primary school. Two groups thrown together by God, serving each other, learning from each other, freely giving and freely receiving.

It was the last night of this 3 day event together when James made this request of us, this small request: to stand still and receive.

Eyes closed, we heard singing, yelping, shuffling of feet, and when we opened our eyes they were standing in a line in front of us. Smiling widely, James started speaking again. He told us that they had talked about what they wanted to give us to show us their gratitude. This expression of gratefulness was a surprise in itself, they were the ones walking the hard miles every day in their communities, visiting the desperate, trying to encourage the broken, building a school and road to the school and gardens for the kids, and… They were the selfless ones that had taught us so much about loving our neighbor. And now they had decided to give again, from what they had.

They came forward and started dressing us.

Gertrude came towards me, took off her own Zambian cloth wrap and wrapped it around me. Then she took off her head scarf, and dressed me in it. Loveness followed her and gave me her shirt…it just kept coming. It was overwhelming I thought, too overwhelming… and then came the dress. Lovenesswho had just taken the shirt off her back, Loveness, a mother of 5, with no income, spending all her time and energy cooking for orphans in her community.

Loveness, who had the sincerest smile. She came to know love through this community program. She had turned her life around. Kicked out of her rented one room because she could no longer afford the rent after falling ill, almost to the point of death. Loveness made her living as a prostitute. She was found by James and Sukai through her starving and desperate children. Now she is not only healthy, she is beaming because of the love inside of her. Now she spends her days cooking for other vulnerable children. It is hard work with no credit. She said to me once that if she was doing this for man, she would have given up a long time ago, but she does this for God. I could tell by the smile on her face and the light in her eyes that she wasn’t just saying it—Loveness.

This was the Loveness standing in front of me now pulling purple silk out of the package tied around her waist. And with the most genuine smile and a special light in her eyes—like it was Christmas or something and she got the best gift of all—she pulled this beautiful silk dress over my head. Could this be the most precious thing that she owned?

I felt like some one had just spilled the most expensive perfume on me. I will spend my life trying to give as much as she gave me that night.

Follow Jayme and Lynn Chotowetz (as I do) at unhushed.com

Mark Crocker

Short-Term Missions teams often get the benefit of preparation, Long-Term people have to go through a process, but our Mid-Term Missionaries (individuals who participate in international work for 2 months to 2 years) often fall through the gaps in the process.

I recently developed a new process to bring them to the field in the best possible way, as well as developed the new teaching material for the process.

The PAOC (Canada’s largest evangelical denomination) has recently picked it up as the way that they are sending all of their future mid-termers. My colleague Matt Janes and I are presently working with a number of people who have begun the process (close to 30 people at one stage or another – from initial interest to complete training).

If you are interested in Mid-Term Missions (Individuals, not teams, that plan to engage in international work for 2-24 months) … Check out the MTM link at the top of the page!

Mark Crocker

Yes, it is possible, if they meet some policy requirements … (IE.  no bling) and if you check out this link you can see the document for yourself.

Mark Crocker

>Along the way, we passed some of the most beautiful country in the world, gentle mountains, lush and green, gave way to groves of banana, tea, pine and countless small farms.  Most clung to the hillside, at times on a double black diamond slope, women, men and children advancing slowly with worn shovels and smoothed hoes.

The road was appropriately abominable, barely wide enough for us in parts, and deeply rutted with constantly eroding gullies.  Our way forward was bound by other four-by-fours, large transport trucks with the appropriate African cliche of crowds seated on top to cover the mass of products, small Toyotas with the suspension about to burst, motorcycles of all kinds, and of course people. Thousands and tens of thousands of people.

Today was market day, so everyone was out in full force.  The merchants and craftsmen carried their finished products along the long roads.  A carpenter walked along with the carefully balanced wooden framework for the couch on his head.

African heads, protected by a twist of cloth, are used to carry almost anything you can imagine.  They balance the large plastic water cans to and from home, children are often the ones sent running down to the well, to slowly and carefully picking their way home along the roadside, yellow jerry cans balanced high.  For everyone else, the black plastic bag full of the days shopping, countless bundles of firewood, long long lengths of lumber and bamboo, an unopened umbrella ready for the rain, ruddy woven baskets, trays of tiny fish, each sway perfectly balanced, atop men and women as they walk the red dust.  Even briefcases, suitcases and backpacks are commonly found on top rather than on the back of a pedestrian. In town, the budding entrepreneur places the metal pailful of coke and orange fanta bottles on his head, using the rhythmically ringing of the glass with a bit of stone or metal to advertise, although not quite the same as an ice-cream truck, it is as musical.

The number of objects that can be carried on your head is exponentially higher in Africa than home.  In fact, after a lifetime, I can’t think of anything that we carry on our heads in Canada. I suppose earmuffs and toques do not really count as they are not something you are carrying but are rather wearing.  Other than that, I think that leaves only headphones – the old-school kind,  not the more prevalent ipod buds – that we might carry on our head. But, even here i hesitate, I think we would say we wear headphones rather than carry them, what do you think?

Mark Crocker

Most peoples first thoughts of Rwanda must be of the genocide, particularly for Canadians who have listened to General Dallaire’s memories of his time here during the 100 days.  I suppose this is why my first stop today was at the genocide museum.   Situated on the side of a hill (like all buildings in Rwanda), the museum walked us through the history of the divide created between Hutu’s and Tutsi’s.  People formally known for their integration, were actively reruited by foreign government policy and interference to discover that which divided them.  Measurements of noses, and the amount of cattle were the defining differences.  With that, the minority Tutsi were elevated and the remaining 82% Hutu and 1%Twa were relegated to secondary citizenship.

Eventually the majority revolted, a new system of discrimination was instituted to replace the old.  The radio called for the cockroaches to be exterminated – dehumanizing the Tutsi.  Militias were trained, they practiced on smaller groups, killing a few dozen here, a hundred or so there.  Eventually you get good at what you practice, you don’t even need to think about it anymore.  The new 10 commandments of the Hutu were developed and promoted in 1990.  1. No Hutu should marry a Tutsi.  Then nine more of the same. This document seems strange to me, it resonates much more strongly than similar lists.   If I had first seen this list of rules in Auschwitz, I wouldn’t of blinked – the Nazi atrocities are so well known that it is easy to simply consign them to evil in the abstract. I can’t do this as easily with this document, it feels to immediate, too modern – I can’t ignore it as ancient since it was written so recently,

The video showed men, women and so many children brutalized and burnt.  the trace of a bullet across a child’s face, the grainy swarming and hacking death of men by neighbors who carried the machetes.  Yesterday, they had fed one anothers children, today they cut off their fingers.

After walking past the images, we heard the voices of survivors, wondering why they are still here?  Guilty somehow, as only a victim can comprehend.

The footage of the Gacaca, the traditional community court, is so unpretentious.  A man in a pink shirt stands and faces the community.  He recounts his story, of who and where he cut his neighbors daughters with his knife, he tells the names and is asked to slow so the official record-keeper can write everything down.  He speaks so matter-of-factly, listing the others who were with him, the people he collected, what they did.  The community listens, it seems to me impassively, perhaps the horror has been so common, too common.  Perhaps the silence is simply the best response to the unasked questions why?  Maybe they have learned that you cannot ask why, there is no rational reason.  Is evil rational?

The wall of photographs only carries the images of  2000 people, of the more than 1 000 000 who died. It seems a pitiful percentage, and yet their faces fill four walls.  They are similar in their commonality, these are not the mugshots of bureaucracy, not the efficient record of a system recording the inputs of the machinery of death such as Cambodian memorial walls.  Instead these are photo plucked from the albums of everyday life.  Young men standing outside a shop, a crate of bottles in the foreground.  A woman, obviously cropped from her wedding photo, the dislocated arm of her husband encircling her waist.  People smiling, posed and unposed, unaware that they were all soon to be images on a memorial of murder.

I pass through the children’ memorial garden and read their bewildered questions, we head towards the car, and as I am about to walk away, a final small wooden sculpture is revealed, the simple caption, “I did not make myself an orphan”

Mark Crocker