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Web log by J.J. McKenna of prayer requests and streams of experiences for prayer consideration.
12.10.04
Well, I learned of something that infuriates me more than I could have imagined. Hail. Torrential hail. Friday afternoon we had hail. Hail of the mammoth proportions that I have not seen since I lived in Texas. According to our neighbor this hail happens once every 4 years about. I happened to have been in Potosi at the time of the storm, so I was only to see the residue and the destruction that this hail caused and which specifically affected me by crippling my communication. The hail on the roofs here caused flooding in our house and in my apartment, thus damaging my computer and keeping me offline for a couple days, thus I apologize for the lack of communication but as in the immortal words of John Malkovich, "It was beyond my control."
This was actually one of my lesser stresses. Lately the poverty of the area has been pushing in on my gleeful state. On Thursday morningI went in to church early and saw a girl who was doing recycling. By that I mean that she was wandering from garbage basket to garbage basket along the street taking what she could bring to the recyclers for money or drugs. Her mode of transport was a rickshaw style cart which is rather popular here and is about the size of a compact car. This girl was in front of the church and had overburdened her load. She could no longer pull the handles down far enough for her to pull the cart even with all her weight, which couldn't have been more than 100 lbs. I walked over to her cart and pulled it down for her and was then able to see that her sister was asleep on top of the pile of cardboard. I nearly broke. This girl has been haunting me in this past week as I've driven through the rain and seen the foot of hail collected on my porch.
It has been her dirty face that I've thought back on when I feel the petty nothings that annoy me. This computer fiasco is NOTHING compared to sleeping in the freezing cold to wake in the predawn before the garbage truck passes. My car had a broken clutch, nothing. I just can't help feeling utterly useless in the face of such palpable need.
So, after cleaning the house and airing out the bedding which was eventually to be my damp repose I passed out early in preparation for the Saturday rush. Saturday was a hoot. I spent the morning helping out a friend from church who owns a restaurant. I was introduced to the mad wonders of the plaza wherein one can find just about anything, especially on a Saturday. The place was Brownian motion unsettlement in a most particular degree. My spirit felt molested after leaving that place of sensory overload. We then picked up some tables from a rental joint and headed back to the restaurant where Geena's family was in full swing for a 80 person meal. I was put in charge of meat ( yum) and felt like Mel (y'know, the cook on Alice).
There is a certain allure to the insane industry of food service and I had a most frabjous time cooking and serving after which I raced off to Potosi. I am confident that the group at Potosi will be a delight to work with as they have so much heart for what they do in a place where they are of the dust caste. It is a danger to leave a car unattended for 5 minutes here. The pastor, Mario, has purchased purchased
This was actually one of my lesser stresses. Lately the poverty of the area has been pushing in on my gleeful state. On Thursday morningI went in to church early and saw a girl who was doing recycling. By that I mean that she was wandering from garbage basket to garbage basket along the street taking what she could bring to the recyclers for money or drugs. Her mode of transport was a rickshaw style cart which is rather popular here and is about the size of a compact car. This girl was in front of the church and had overburdened her load. She could no longer pull the handles down far enough for her to pull the cart even with all her weight, which couldn't have been more than 100 lbs. I walked over to her cart and pulled it down for her and was then able to see that her sister was asleep on top of the pile of cardboard. I nearly broke. This girl has been haunting me in this past week as I've driven through the rain and seen the foot of hail collected on my porch.
It has been her dirty face that I've thought back on when I feel the petty nothings that annoy me. This computer fiasco is NOTHING compared to sleeping in the freezing cold to wake in the predawn before the garbage truck passes. My car had a broken clutch, nothing. I just can't help feeling utterly useless in the face of such palpable need.
So, after cleaning the house and airing out the bedding which was eventually to be my damp repose I passed out early in preparation for the Saturday rush. Saturday was a hoot. I spent the morning helping out a friend from church who owns a restaurant. I was introduced to the mad wonders of the plaza wherein one can find just about anything, especially on a Saturday. The place was Brownian motion unsettlement in a most particular degree. My spirit felt molested after leaving that place of sensory overload. We then picked up some tables from a rental joint and headed back to the restaurant where Geena's family was in full swing for a 80 person meal. I was put in charge of meat ( yum) and felt like Mel (y'know, the cook on Alice).
There is a certain allure to the insane industry of food service and I had a most frabjous time cooking and serving after which I raced off to Potosi. I am confident that the group at Potosi will be a delight to work with as they have so much heart for what they do in a place where they are of the dust caste. It is a danger to leave a car unattended for 5 minutes here. The pastor, Mario, has purchased purchased
6.10.04
Alright, if there wasn't a loud enough plea for a laptop here's one. I need a laptop. I can't keep up with the blog well since I'm only at home for a couple of hours waking. I spent all the day yesterday finishing the invitation to the 200+ pastors who we've chosen for our mailer. I almost got something done in a day. I had the help of one of the church elders for several hours, but I still had to wake up at 5 to get everything finished. I made off to the embassy today and forced them to take my ballot. I arrived at the embassy to find that my car windows no longer functioned, a major security issue in the car crime capital of Colombia. I raced to my electrician's office and found out that my clutch was blown. I drove around for a while without a clutch by turning off my car at stop signs. Car ownership is annoying to say the very least. I have to get up again in the morning before "pico y placa" which starts at 6am, so I have another early morning.
Laptop please.
ttfn
Laptop please.
ttfn
4.10.04
Ok, so I nearly was in a coma. Sunday was an exhausting blur of lifting, eating and sad moments. The bazaar was a hit with all sorts of foodalicios delights. Unfortunately, I was so tired from the experiences of Friday night that I had to steal a nap at church for a skosh. I might have eaten something that was bad. Today my left lymph node in my neck is apple sized and tender as a stolen moment. Went to bed earlier than I've gone in a while. I'm rather sure I'm sick and presently closer to full exhaustion than I've been. Spent the day in the office again and this evening went to the associate pastors house. A friend brought by another who is suffering at this point in her pregancy. Must sleep. ttfn
2.10.04
Long day. Friday thru Saturday. Exhausted am I. Friday I went into the office in the morning to lend computer assistance to a fairly large project. We are sending out invitations to the churches of Bogotá to learn about the rehab program so that they might have some resources in combatting this horrendous issue. There are 670 registered churches in Bogotá. None of them are in an address book. We located an excel file containing names and addresses of the pastors, but due to special characters in the spaninsh language, transfer into the address book was quite a bear (as Mr. Lozano would say). At the end of my "office space" incarceration, the principal and pastor from Potosí School came into town to meet with me at 5 and discuss my scheduling. Tuesday and Friday I'll be teaching english and systems at the school. Every 15 days on Saturday I'll have a music class before my rehearsal with the worship team at Potosi.
Then I had youth group from which I left early to prepare Mauricio's feast. Mauro turned fifteen on Thursday. The party was great. There were at least40 people here till 1 am. A smattering stayed the night here downstairs from my apartment in the old office of the Bogotá Mission Committee. Now it is the Youth Group room. They were still partying away till 3:30 in the morning. I have a commission which I pay daily at 5 am. An hour and a half of sleep was not enough to prepare me for today. I made breakfast for 10 in the morning for the few who had been able to get a couple hours of sleep.
I was to pick up my car today at 9:30, but it wasn't ready. Instead, Arturo and I spent till 2 walking about the neighborhood where my car was being prepared talking to the afflicted. The addiction problem here is EVERYWHERE. Hanging out with Arturo was amazing. He was stuck on drugs for about 13 years but was liberated after going through the program. He has no problem now just stiking up a conversation with the filthiest of sketchiest looking person on the street. They carry aroung recycling on their backs usually to take to a local depot. At the recycling center they can either be paid in pesos or in "bazuko" (sp?). This is the drug of choice for the majority of these wretched refuse.
Bazuko is made from the slough of the cocaine production process. When cocaine is being refined, there are a large number of impurities that are removed from the white death powder. This run-off is collected and dried. It varies in color depending on which acids were used for the coke production. This gum is mixed with any whitish powder from drywall, cooking supplies or best of all ground up bone, often human. This is then smoked and, according to Arturo, it is instantaneously addicting. The drug using community of Bogotá finds crack too expensive and not nearly as "buzz"worthy as bazuko which eats away the body like a demonic and acidic parasite. Some of the guys we spoke to had no teeth left and all their faces were sallow mockeries of human forms with eyes bulging and cheeks sunken in. We took a lunch at 12:30 and I just cried.
At 2:30 my car was ready and we quickly made off to our meeting with Pastor Jurado at Unicentro (big mall!). We were handing out fliers for the drug rehab program. I learned about flash bangs. They are small handheld explosives used to drug people in the street and thus rob them of their belongings. To get close enough to the victim's face, the assailant will often hide this small package in a stack of fliers, thus no one will take a flier from you in the street unless you shove it into their hand.
A better alternative, while slightly more dangerous is to wait at the red light and then walk from car to car that has an open window. It is best to show both your hands and hold out just one flier at a time, this way the drivers know you aren't carrying a gun. The people are much more friendly and actually say "thank you" since you've just given them something to while away the eternity they'll be spending at that stop for free! In this manner, I quickly went through my handouts and then took off for church.
We drove to Soacha at 4:30 and made it there by 6. It is 30 miles away, but as usual traffic here is ridiculous. We had a wonderful time with the youth group there who were celebrating their day of Friendship and Love. It's kinda like Valentines day without the Saint, and it seems to be celebrated on an arbitrary basis. For instance, we celebrated it 2 weeks ago at Normandia. I don't get it really. Culture shift. The youth group there really is a youth group comprised of 13-17 year olds. We all drank mulled wine and had some great noodles and cake. We played a number of games which were par for funny large group icebreaker type games and then we just hung around and talked. This church works with the displaced populations from farms taken by guerillas.
We tried to get home at 8, but Monica directed us in the wrong direction during a switch back while trying to get out of the standstill traffic. We ended up in a part of town where we could no longer see the city lights and the roads were no longer paved. We headed back the way we came and were in sight of home quickly once we went up the Avenue of Americas. Even with me dropping off every one of my passengers home, I still made it back within 10 minutes of Mauricio who took a bus from Soacha. Traffic is insane.
Ok, I got church tomorrow and a bazaar afterwards. I will be comatose by Monday.
ttfn
Then I had youth group from which I left early to prepare Mauricio's feast. Mauro turned fifteen on Thursday. The party was great. There were at least40 people here till 1 am. A smattering stayed the night here downstairs from my apartment in the old office of the Bogotá Mission Committee. Now it is the Youth Group room. They were still partying away till 3:30 in the morning. I have a commission which I pay daily at 5 am. An hour and a half of sleep was not enough to prepare me for today. I made breakfast for 10 in the morning for the few who had been able to get a couple hours of sleep.
I was to pick up my car today at 9:30, but it wasn't ready. Instead, Arturo and I spent till 2 walking about the neighborhood where my car was being prepared talking to the afflicted. The addiction problem here is EVERYWHERE. Hanging out with Arturo was amazing. He was stuck on drugs for about 13 years but was liberated after going through the program. He has no problem now just stiking up a conversation with the filthiest of sketchiest looking person on the street. They carry aroung recycling on their backs usually to take to a local depot. At the recycling center they can either be paid in pesos or in "bazuko" (sp?). This is the drug of choice for the majority of these wretched refuse.
Bazuko is made from the slough of the cocaine production process. When cocaine is being refined, there are a large number of impurities that are removed from the white death powder. This run-off is collected and dried. It varies in color depending on which acids were used for the coke production. This gum is mixed with any whitish powder from drywall, cooking supplies or best of all ground up bone, often human. This is then smoked and, according to Arturo, it is instantaneously addicting. The drug using community of Bogotá finds crack too expensive and not nearly as "buzz"worthy as bazuko which eats away the body like a demonic and acidic parasite. Some of the guys we spoke to had no teeth left and all their faces were sallow mockeries of human forms with eyes bulging and cheeks sunken in. We took a lunch at 12:30 and I just cried.
At 2:30 my car was ready and we quickly made off to our meeting with Pastor Jurado at Unicentro (big mall!). We were handing out fliers for the drug rehab program. I learned about flash bangs. They are small handheld explosives used to drug people in the street and thus rob them of their belongings. To get close enough to the victim's face, the assailant will often hide this small package in a stack of fliers, thus no one will take a flier from you in the street unless you shove it into their hand.
A better alternative, while slightly more dangerous is to wait at the red light and then walk from car to car that has an open window. It is best to show both your hands and hold out just one flier at a time, this way the drivers know you aren't carrying a gun. The people are much more friendly and actually say "thank you" since you've just given them something to while away the eternity they'll be spending at that stop for free! In this manner, I quickly went through my handouts and then took off for church.
We drove to Soacha at 4:30 and made it there by 6. It is 30 miles away, but as usual traffic here is ridiculous. We had a wonderful time with the youth group there who were celebrating their day of Friendship and Love. It's kinda like Valentines day without the Saint, and it seems to be celebrated on an arbitrary basis. For instance, we celebrated it 2 weeks ago at Normandia. I don't get it really. Culture shift. The youth group there really is a youth group comprised of 13-17 year olds. We all drank mulled wine and had some great noodles and cake. We played a number of games which were par for funny large group icebreaker type games and then we just hung around and talked. This church works with the displaced populations from farms taken by guerillas.
We tried to get home at 8, but Monica directed us in the wrong direction during a switch back while trying to get out of the standstill traffic. We ended up in a part of town where we could no longer see the city lights and the roads were no longer paved. We headed back the way we came and were in sight of home quickly once we went up the Avenue of Americas. Even with me dropping off every one of my passengers home, I still made it back within 10 minutes of Mauricio who took a bus from Soacha. Traffic is insane.
Ok, I got church tomorrow and a bazaar afterwards. I will be comatose by Monday.
ttfn
