The water melon and the mattress (and how they relate to the philosophy of life)

Ok, so this entire post is about a completely made up conversation of what might of happened if I understood Albanian and knew the people involved. I found it amusing so wrote it down. Feel free not to read this. However if you have literally nothing to do with your time feel free to read on and be hopefully amused by my imagination
So was on the way to a rondevu, rocking some sunglasses and looking dapper (I can say that coz by now you have all probably forgot completely what i actually look like) When I came across two men having a conversation by the side of the road.
Of course I had no idea what was being said, however the scean was somewhat odd. One man was standing on the pavement with a mattress (mattresses hear are smaller and thinner and made of form) It was folded in half and had an extremely large water melon on it, thus keeping it folded neatly, the other man was stood on the road looking somewhat puzzled by what he witnessed before him. They were exchanging words and as I passed by I imaged what on earth they may have been disusing and it actually made me laugh to myself in the street.

I think it went a bit like this
Man 1 ‘’So, I’ve got this water melon here, and you see how the precise weight and size holds this mattress of mine folded perfectly in half, leaving my hands fee to motion and gesture to you as I speak’’
Man 2 ‘’ Mmmm, I see how that’s working for you however, aren’t you missing the point slightly?. The water melon is ripe for eating, is it not? and is made for consumption, really you should lift it from the mattress and enjoy the juicy nourishing goodness it would provide’’
Man 1 ‘’ I agree the melon has been produced for the purpose of consumption and enjoyment of its owner however’’, he says while lifting the said water melon just enuff to show his point. ‘’If I lift the melon in question, even just slightly, my mattress will then, not be folded neatly as it is now before you. How would I then keep it folded in the same way. The melon is the perfect object to hold it in place’’
Man 2 seemingly un-fazed by the question why he would need a mattress to be folded by the side of the road continues ‘’I appreciate the point, and you portray it extremely well, however I think you are sadly missing the point of the water melon’’
Man 1 scratched his head now somewhat bemused by man 2’s inability to understand his logic. ‘’ What then would you suggest? how can we solve the issue in hand, it certainly is a conundrum to us both’’
A third man appears ‘’c’kemi (alright)’’ ‘’may I offer some advice?’’ ‘’Please do both men motion. Man 3 says I see the points from both sides and also notice the juxtaposition on life that is presented in this road side debate. Both are opinions are valid, will you use the item for its created purpose of will or indeed use it for what it was not created for to satisfy you need to resolve your issue?
All three men stand back and look blankly at the neatly folded mattress with the ripe water melon shining in the late afternoon sun
Man 3, after a long pause for dramatic effect, offers an incite ‘’I guess the question is this, will chose one of the two ways in front of you, or maybe, will you choose a higher way, the true way, the simple way. In segmenting the melon slowly you will be able to enjoy the natural nourishment that is intended on offer and slowly will be able to judge the amount required to hold the mattress in place, thus being able to receive both benefits in one while easing the decision and how this situation will play out. This involves thinking outside of the possibilities two a third option, perhaps some may say, A different perspective?

By this time I’m far gone and of course (as this is fictional) I never got to find out which decision was eventually taken. However one thing is sure and should not be forgotten.

But by this time my mind had wondered to the next random thought, seemingly interesting at the time, so in fact Idid forget.

It’s about time for a poetic perspective

Is this what drowning feels like?

To be able to see the shifting shapes of the light among the mercy ripples
But somehow,
to keep going down
Is this what it feels like to drown?
Abandoned the wise words of wisdom, given
Saying ‘’what good are they to me know?’’
Survival instincts kicked in
Holding breath
Trying, holding on
Desperately reaching
But yet
Hopelessly sinking
From a world
That barely noticed I’d gone

Falling and failing
in each desperate second
Hoping that it wasn’t last

Is this what it feels like to go down?
Still reaching for the light
It’s still just in sight

With every ounce of strength and energy
Every breath I’ve got left in me
Self indulgent motives and focuses lay heavily
Helping
and holding
me down
And the light
Keeps its distance
Regardless of perseverance

So then, just stop
Forget wots on top
Concentrate now
You got hear some how

All the surroundings are hazy
I can barely see wot’s lying in front of me
Holding on to what’s just about holding on to me
Feeling like I can see it slipping away, tragically slowly
So I can watch while it’s taken away
Weightless I’m floating
Held in the uncontrolled emotions
That the move with the waters motion
Lost to the senses



Then a hand
reaches in

Just maybe, I’m gonna be all right?

So reach for it and grip it tight
As it pulls with confidence that I will make it out of this
And holds on to you,
Real tight

From the depths of desperation
Senseless, self obsessed
and consumed lost to darkness
Of split seconds that fell like a life time

Now,
Re focus,

Switching the kaleidoscope you’ve been viewing through
to clear,
concise
focus
Round the way thinking too much
A loss of perspective
Like gazing through the frosted perspects
And how I tinted this view with my perspective

It’s getting closer now

The freshness of air
The counter action to despair
Keeping your fixed focus there

Pulled out,
Takes the breath away
Who’s Idea was it ta get out of the boat anyway

Seemed like a good idea at the time

But,

When I looked at it with my natural eyes
Figured I must be out
of my tinny little, over thinking, mind

I Lost direction
Took eyes off the source
That’s when I started going down

But I’m clinging to those wise words now

In Total belief
Ok
I’m prepared
Let’s have another go now.

Wot more can I say

Wot more can I say?

Three valuable lessons

Lesson 1) Learning to find God in a culture - On the left is the clock tower the symbol, and strength of Gjakova. Next is one of many Muslim mosque towers from which the call to prayer rings out 5 times a day a day across the city. Next is the imposing catholic cathedral that is still under construction and, thousands of pounds later is still, not open, however continues to dominates the sky line. Here are the imposing features of the Gjakova skyline. Where do you see god?
Lesson 2) Take the opportunity to speak. Speak up when you have the chance.
"I do not know how to speak; I am only a child."
7 But the LORD said to me, "Do not say, 'I am only a child.' You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. 8 Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you," declares the LORD.
9 Then the LORD reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, "Now, I have put my words in your mouth. 10 See, today I appoint you over nations and kingdoms to uproot and tear down, to destroy and overthrow, to build and to plant."
Lessons 3) don’t leave the toaster on.

FYI

Some other interesting things to the day, Had Drama practice. Oh yeah.
Ate dinner with some English folks who work here.
Ate an entire Pizza to myself. Felt a bit greedy
Got caught in a thunder storm so went to the coffee shop to wait it out. Felt a bit awkward in there on my own having finished coffee and just waiting for the rain to stop.
Saw slap in the face guy again, we were both walking from different paths to a cross over point in the park. As he approached he threw some kind of fruit like object in my direction so I was preparing for another face off, then he just walked passed without real any acknowledgement. Fair Play.
Oh yeah I have a new Albanian teacher, she is called Eleiona, I think, she’s 8. She doesn’t know English but she’s trying hard. Good times.

Later on

Oh yeah gona try and blag the smile guys to see if I can use their washing Machine tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Yeah, that wot I though you just said.

So it’s Saturday, so it Barum Curri. I got to drive there and back (except across the border, apparently there’s some little discrepancy with papers or something) So it’s amazing, driving in the shadow of the ‘Albanian Alps’ just appreciating God and his creation, of course mixed with the gun out post’s, relics of communist rule. Faton says, ‘Its good for you to share tomorrow at church’’ Ay, mmm Yeah, that wot I thought you just said. Tragically I’m not a well seasoned preacher with a back catalogue to search through. Bearing in mind we’re just off to Albanian, it’s like 12 midday and after this we’re in Gjakova at another kids program thingy. Rest assured I took the opportunity. So we did the barum curri thing. Not so many this week as last week was cancelled. Some of the kids seemed to take a liking to trying to teach me some Albanian and laughing when I got it wrong, I have a bit of a bad feeling what they were teaching me wasn’t good words to be recited. I also think I managed to promise to find one boy and English wife. I’m not sure how I get into these situations but I just seem to say Po (yes) to everything, regardless of weather I know wot is being asked. No change there then

On a slightly serious note we meet this guy in the road (literally) can’t have been more than 16/17 he’s like the local crazy kid, he had no shoes on, a t-shirt on backwards and some old shorts. He had that look in his eyes that makes you wish you maybe hadn’t made eye contact. Faton explained his family are very poor; he has 3 (I think brothers) all with learning difficulties or psychological problems. At one point when he was getting a bit excited some guy came over called him across, they had a few stern words and the guys gave him a belt round the head. As much as this little fella was a bit scary I dread to think wot happens to him when people aren’t around if that happens literally on the street.

We also visited Martina’s flat, she was just on her way back from hospital in Montenegro (I think) as she had some issues with her dualities. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being amazed after meeting amazing bright talented people sold out for God. Then seeing their humble, basic surroundings and the places they live their lives. It’s a lesson to all in humility and in our own journeys of faith and so call necessities of live. Five people hear live in 3 rooms. One of them is a bathroom!

So Gypsy Street, to catch the end of the children’s work. It seems to be the hardest crowd, and the kosovan way of dealing with crowd control is always an interesting one, but I love it there. Really praying that something more can happen there.

Then to preparation, by now its like 7.30 and a bit of diner and sorting myself out it’s like 8.30 bit of prayer it’s like 9 and I’ve got nothing to share yet. Oh well better leave it in God’s hands.
So there’s little me, treading the hallowed grounds of victory church, Gjakova. Where such speaking legends as Russell Godward, John Peters, Eddie Gjoni, Graham Blake and Faton Berisha have stood many a time before. Under the flourishing grape vines just out of the unrelenting sun. And I share.
Based on some words of incredible wisdom and inspiration that a good friend gave to me before I left I talked about what I have seen in Kosova and in the people over the past few weeks, but more importantly What God sees in them, How he loves them unconditionally, how he longs for relationship with them. How God sees the potential in people not looking with natural eyes but seeing the heart (the David story) And also how we can’t do it alone so God sent his spirit to help. Then wot we do, pray, cultivate relationship, receive the Holy Spirit, over and over. Then not to keep this all for ourselves coz when the Holy Spirit comes you will have power to be my whiteness...............etc. That’s right ay big rus, intro points and a challenge. Good times, Thanks God

How kool is this?

So tonight we had a youth meeting, bout 10 youngish people there. This girl shares from the bible she reads from Corinthians about spiritual gifts and what that all about. She talks a bit about her understanding and what she thinks but share that a lot of it is confusing and she’s not sure about speaking in tongues and interpretations etc. So everyone shares their thoughts and discuss the subject. It’s such a privilege to be a part of. I guess when you been around this stuff for a while then you just take it for granted. But it just such an honour to be with a group at this stage of discipleship when, like in the early church, they’re discussing these things to get a real grasp on all aspects of faith. What a blessing to be able to pass on some of the transit teaching, some of the back ground to the letter and a bit about spiritual gifts. It was a really lovely time with these guys.

So then after this same girl is talking to Faton, I’m standing next to him. I don’t understand much Albanian, but I do recognise prayer and my name. So, she asking about the global day of prayer! Have we heard about it will we be doing anything, maybe a night of prayer, maybe Stevi could help. Ahhhhhh, I’m not prepared for that yet, Ahhhhh I was gona build up to the whole prayer thing. AHHHHHH I guess when God is calling his people to pray he isn’t waiting for me to take the lead He’s gona just push people to pray.

Good times

Oh yeah I gota be in a drama for this youth meeting thing. Wot, a drama?. Mmmmmmmmm. Wot to do, wot to do?

Who is my neighbour?

Tuff question or not? I never use to think so, You know, its everyone right? But who’s in need the most. How do you support them? Shopping on Monday doesn’t feed the kids by Friday. Money only last so long. But then If you do support someone then they are doing better, when do you stop? Do you punish them for being sensible and using their money wisely or do use still support them even though there are people worse off? What about aid distribution, how much how often who to? Who’s really in need of it, who just doesn’t want to work?

A lot of questions sorry.
So I’ve spent the past few days with Paul and Angela who run the Smile centre (smile is an international aid agency/Christian mission organisation across the world with a centre in Gjkova) There task has been to visit some of the widows on their ‘adopt a widow’ program to assess their needs, see how they’re doing, report back to the people that support them. So they have to asses who’s still in need, if they still fit the criteria and what the next steps are. Imagine the scene. A village in Kosova, Krusha. 113 men and boys killed in one day. All rounded up and butchered. This is a fair place to carry out mission work, right? I felt like I was in that 2pac track, ‘trading war stories’ but this time it’s not plastic getto gangster stories of shoot outs and court cases its stories of actually war, actual death and actual reprocutions. But then 10 years on, should you still be helping the families that have done ok. And do you carry on helping those who seem to be living week to week, hand out to hand put. Such are the decisions these guys have to make. It’s a tuff job but someone has to do it. It’s been really good to see these guys operate. They’re not part of one church or denomination, they don’t try to do their own thing, They look at what’s happening, who’s involved in what and seek to help in any way they can, support, aid distribution and encouragement. I recon this is a really good way to operate.

Today we brought like 200 boxes from there loft (4 floors up, off a landing with a glass ceiling) to the ground floor so leaders from churches, aid agencies and people doing good work in the city can come, find the stuff they actually need and facilitate the correct distribution. Good work people of smile. And thanks to Paul and Angela for looking after me, feeding me a load of information on the country and the struggles it faces( and getting kebabs and ice cream) . Its weird, I guess its coz I’ve got a really small brain, but I came here to work with Faton and Victory church coz I love the guys here and I’m constantly amazed by what they do. However I didn’t even consider what else is going on really. And it’s really good to see that there’s other good things happening. I think the next step is a bit of unity. Apparently that’s not as straight forward as it sounds though?

So, wots the answer to the questions. I guess ‘’...If one man has 100 sheep and one wanders away, will he not leave the 99 and go looking for the one that wandered off’’

Everyone hears is poor. God loves them all and is crying out for them to come back to him. I guess if that’s the goal and everyone is our neighbour its a place to start, but From there though. I’m not sure?

Whatever you did for the very least of these.....

This morning I finished up the red moon rising book. Woo hoo. I read about Jesus and when he sent out the 70/72 (I recon Id been the 72nd) and how the first instruction was to declare peace on the house you approach and how in this very act of inviting God in to a situation to bring peace, just that can break strongholds that have excited for time. Little did I know how soon it would be apparent to do just that.
I’m still in a bit of shock as to the events of the past few hours. I’ll do my best to explain it in the most sensitive way possible. We went to a school, Faton has a friend who is a teacher in England and is hoping to twin with a school in Kosova, I learned they also support two other schools in Kosova (is there anything these guys don’t do?)

So we’re travelling back to the city, and we pull of the road and on to a dirt track. Such is the routine, we just stop off to see a family, that are ‘’very poor’’ When you hear those words you make certain assumptions (but as a very wise person once told me ‘’to assume make an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’) when you’ve been here for a while and they say by Kosovan standards, these people are very poor. Then you need to prepare yourself. So we pull up in front of the usually redish orangey brick house. The first striking thing is that there’s a door with space for glass panes but no glass. At first, as its hot, It doesn’t register but when you look up and see all the windows have no glass in and relies the winter take the temperature down to minus 13 you start to see the harsh realities of life. We are met by the lady of the house. At least one of them, she’s a simile girl of about 7. She takes us inside to a house, I can’t describe well enough. To say it was in poor condition would be to deny the extent of the English language but that’s all I can say. There was, I think a wash room with a hose and water on the floor amongst bricks old cement and blue tarpaulin. The front room has bare concrete walls there’s a light bulb in the middle of the ceiling, held up by some twisted wire and trailing a lead that drapes across the ceiling down one wall and one the front door. The little girl tells us there are two families living in the house, and that she has two brothers. She then, with hardly time to think about being sad, tells us one of the sons of the other family, a boy the same age as her, just 3 days ago died! He had some kind of tragic accident with the rope of a tree swing!
We pause,
what do you say?
The girl, it seems, is almost unshaken by the fact, weather because it hasn’t sunk in yet or weather because they are so accustom to the depths of poverty, to the struggles of life and to the harsh realities of their situation that this isn’t a surprise, that something of this nature would happen to her. Her 7 years in this world have seen far too much suffering for the oldest of faces. Her mum has gone to the city to find bread for the family? The mum of the other family comes in, the mother of the boy, we offer our embarrassed, unprepared awkward apologies for her loss and listen as she tell us how the two families don’t really get on, about the girl who has so happily welcomed us, and her farther who only comes back once or twice a month, such is the separation between them. Little did I know, the instruction to invite God to bring peace upon a household that so desperately needed it would present itself in such a raw way so soon.
As we leave we decide to buy food. A quick stop at the convenience store and were back on the road. As we offer our humble gift of food, I’m met with a contrast of emotion. On the one hand I feel almost pleased with myself to be offering food to the hungry. On the other the terrifying reality that in a week the food will be gone, the window still will have no glass, the families could still not get on, the wash room won’t improve the danger from the barely held together electrical system will be ever present. And nothing will bring back the son, brother and child of God.
Kjamalina leaves a selection of clothing for the family and we leave. I pray franticly as we walk out and on the drive home, I feel as emotional as always, and as we pass hundreds of other similar houses my heart almost shatters at the thought of what we might find behind each door, as we get a little deeper beneath the surface
I also so amazed by the work hear. These guys walk a daily tightrope, not quite the tightrope of street cred that Mike Skinner refers to but of desperation and hope.

One side lies the utter deprivation of situations, the other, a desperate hope, hope for more than this, hope for justice to reign, hope that the very spirit of a living God would be poured out on all people and bind the broken hearted, and proclaim freedom to those stuck in the ever-present poverty trap struggling just to stay alive.

Please pray as if it all depends on God as these guys strive to work as if it all depends on them

For the moment the strength simply comes from those resounding words, whatever you did for the very least of these you did for me, (no matter how seemingly little it may have been)

Postman Pat

So yesterday we went to Kajmalinas parent’s house, to drop off her sister and to have dinner with her family. It was stunning, they live in a catholic village (generally catholic by tradition more than anything else I think) it’s just outside Prisren, the second biggest city in Kosova.
It’s up a little way into the mountains. With the rolling hills, dry stone walls, open fields and single track roads you could be forgiven for thinking you were in the Yorkshire dales, or down in Dartmoor. It’s the type of place you expect to Simeon Bayton walk round the corner with his walking stick in one hand and a rabbit he’s just snared in the other then Postman Pat in his little red van with his black and white cat, passing by with a happy wave and your post for the day. We had a little walk around and had the privilege of praying in an Old Catholic church with is barely used twice a week for some prayer. The village is mainly deserted for 9 or 10 months of the year as the inhabitants travel to Croatia for work.
However it seems in this county, tragedy is the norm, even in a place of such natural beauty, calm and peace we walked past the remains of a shop where Kyamalinas God father was killed by Albanian raiders from just over the border. The shop hasn’t been touched since!
So we eat homemade food, the crazy uncle turns up and for 3 hours talks about irrigation systems, water supplies, his experience of architecture in Germany, his view on cenial dementia and a few other topics. I’m leaning when to smile and laugh even though I didn’t know what has been said. But all in all it was super; the family are lovely and twas a real privilege to be there. On the way home the Berisha’s tell me bit of their story, how they meet got married and their hopes for the future. It was lovely

Gypsy street and Albanian Big Brother

So sorta getting into the swing of how things work here. Faton is back and somehow his, just being aroundness is makes me feel a little easier about life. Saturday was fairly quiet day; we didn’t go to Barum Curri as the guys were a bit tired. Apparently they walked quite far or something?
So Saturday we trod the holy ground of Gypsy Street. This is like the dregs of the city. It’s the dodg bit of town. When you walk up there’s groups of teenagers sitting on steps outside little bars with ridiculously loud, music pumping out. There’s groups of older guys smoking and just looking. You know when you walk past a people and they just look, hard eyes, fag in mouth, messy looking, and beer in one hand. Just looking, sometimes you wonder what they think, what lies behind the blank stares, then before you can commit it too much to thought, a shop keeper throws a bucket of water at some kid coz he’s been standing out the front of his shop for too long. A few more meters, a few stray dogs and some guys cutting wood and bending metal in the street and we reach the spot. Victory church have a house at one end of the street. I wouldn’t quite say it’s a rescue shop, and its not quite the gates of hell, but I don’t think it’s too far off. For some reason this is like my favourite part of the town. The team, as always are ready and waiting, however when the kids come into this place it takes even more shouting moving, lifting, breaking up little scuffles before things can get going. My usual friendly translators aren’t hear so I can really do much but observe. Some of the kids I recognize from a previous visit, a couple recognize me, then take great pleasure is showing us how they have learned to back flip one another in the smallest of spaces. Good times (child protection, wot protection)
So tina and the guys kick off, a song a memory verse a story. Some questions about the story a prayer and a game – that’s where it gets interesting? All the kids in the middle, A worker at one end of the garden and one at the other. They have a ball they throw it at the kids, if they get hit they go, not just out of the game but off the property, it’s a good way to end the sesh. Some kids fall over some cry a bit, but it’s all in a day’s work in Mahala Shafers ‘Gypsy street’
I’ve been thinking you could do so much hear, home work help, kids club for a week in the sumer, some kind of mentoring thing (but the kids are all young under 12 i recon, prayer in the middle of the getto? there’s a whole host of potential hear but once again the frustrations of language come into play and I’m stuck as to how I can help and inspire.
So I walked back with Tina, we had an odd conversation with her minimal but clear English and my none existent Albanian. I think (somehow lost in translation) I offered to buy her a car at one point (I hope this was cleared up but can’t be sure? Mmmmm) She just passed he driving test. Good work.
We get to the house, and I asked what they were up to tonight. She said I could come over to their place to watch TV if I wanted later.
Now it’s worth mentioning that I had made an agreement with myself that, at least for the first month or so, I would make the most of every opportunity and take up any invitations. As long as they weren’t too dodgy. So I agreed. 9PM I turned up, to watch the final of Big Brother Albania. I understand the concept of Big Brother, I have wasted plenty of my life numbing my mind with the English version. But other than that it was all a bit confusing. They were on the last 4 people and in true Big Brother style they managed to hang it out for as long as physically possible. When I say long I mean, 4 hours long. I wasn’t aware when I took the offer that this was gona go till 1 in the morning. However, as always, in broken dialects and with small parts of both languages we all try to communicate, Tina who actually speaks a good amount of English and makes me feel quite ashamed at my lack of language skills, her brother, who tries hard and we have a laugh, his wife their baby who was nearly 2 months old and didn’t really join in the conversation much, (at least I could speak more Albanian than someone in the room), another sister and little David (who says thank you very much in perfect English) All in all kool night.
Church Sunday Jap spoke before leaving for Holland Monday, we prayed for folks, that was kool. It was quite humbling to see the guys we had met in Slovan a few days earlier had made the trek to the church. Maybe just in recognition of the churches visit to them, maybe in seeking some help in their situations or maybe searching for something more, something deeper some other kind of comfort. It was a privilege to be able to pray with them.

Met some English folks that had some connection with the boiler room in Reading, their hear working in an orphanage I think. Told them I wanted to do like a prayer room at some point and 24 hrs of prayer. They seemed up for helping, good times. Had Kafe at Tina’s again, I think they just feel sorry for me as I amble aimlessly around looking for stuff to do. It was kool learned a lot about her and her role in the church and what she would like to do in the future.
Please pray for her she had big dreams for this city and is really seeking Gods guidance in it all, the family are Muslim so in just attending church she is breaking all their traditions let alone being a single parent working almost full time for God. Also for Faton and Kjamalina as Valon has asked to come back to the church. For wisdom in the situation.

Nice one bruva

Oh oh oh, The sweetest thing (in a U2 style)

So, hears a story that will make you say ahhhhhhh. W went to the youth meeting, Friday evening and there’s a little boy there from Colony. He can’t be more than 5. Really cute little fella. If you give him like 50 cents he’ll sing a song with you name in it, ahhhh.

So Jap and Faton are back from hiking up and down the mountains of Albania. Jap is an older guy and this is quite an achievement, as he is also a long standing friend of the church he has a great deal of respect. As he walks in everyone’s stand up and gives him a clap. He sits down and this little fella runs up to him, throws his arms around the guy and gives him the biggest hug. I figure he musk know Jao but I’m told this is the first time they have met.

A bit of laughing and explaining later and the story goes. The boy had been told about Jesus and when he got to the church he had been looking for him. As Jap got such a warm welcome the little lad assumed this must be Jesus so wanted to hug him for all he’d done. In true Christian style Jap explained to the boy he wasn’t Jesus but he had Jesus in his heart, and so did everyone there and he could have that too. The boy sits down quite content and says. ‘’I’ve been looking around the church for Jesus but now I know where he is’’, Ahhhhhhhhh

Business as usual

Thursday night we travelled to a village called Skivean, to do another Kids program. The routine normally goes that we meet at the church run through the program, pray and go. We get to a village, usually we are met with at least one angry local who protests at the presence of Christians and then he clears off and things get going. We walk around a bit gathering up the kids (we are the gavers in every sense of the true Essex lingo) there’s usually lots of shouting to get things under control then it starts. The crowd in most of these situations is the same, little kids at the front, older kids at the back, teenagers who act like they’re not interested gathers on one side, far enough so as not to look interested but close enough to see and hear everything, a few random kids rome the outskirts and there’s a few adults around, half watching their kids, half intrigued by the goings on. The team shoot into action, one opens and intros, one brings a verse from the bible, the kids say it out loud a few times, and then they take it away and see who can still remember. Sometimes there’s a prize if you can. The weird, token English guy share why he’s hanging around, they sing some songs, you the type with actions and that get faster and stuff. Then someone bring a bible story, they pray, amazingly most of the crowd is quite for this part. Then they play a game.
I know I’m still new to this but, it never fails to amaze me how these guys week in week out love to live out their faith, stick up for it against the crazed villager, and shout at kids to get them to be quite for 90% of the session. They are flipping good at this. And its working.

Today (Friday) we went out at 11 to a village just outside Gjakova called slovan. I haven’t been hear before so it’s new to me. Once again the back drop of intense beauty, and reflection of all that’s good in creation is marred in the face of desperate poverty. I’m sure the people of slovan barely even realise the immense natural beauty that surrounds them as the struggle to find food to eat. We are just hear to visit families, no more no less, we come bearing no physical gifts, no program in toe, no shoe boxes for kids or aid to distribute. But if we choose to use what we have in our hands, we have so much more. As we rome the village visiting family after family it’s not easy to not be shaken, the inhabitants of this, I guess it’s like a trailer park, live in porter cabins. I use to do a pirate radio show from a building much the same as a family of 4 were living in. One lady told us in the summer its just bearable in the heat, in the winter the cold is terrible, and in between when the rain isn’t coming through the gaps the mice are. These are the conditions that human life is reduced to. Yet there is hope, the people of the village hear are open the Jesus, as I travel with Kjamalina and Feta their stories of how God provided for the caravan family colony, how we were protected in babaloce and how God is bigger than any of our problems, don’t fall on deaf ears. If anything its easier for these families to except these facts in there desperate situations than, the content, employed, middle class citizens in the city.
Then a beautiful moment, just after we pray with one lady, kjamalina turns to me and in her beautifully broken English and says ‘’it’s good to cut for Jesus’’. Before I had time to be too worried about the implications of what she had said, she had walked over to this lady lifted up her hand and was clinging to a bracelet around her wrist. I’m told these are taken from the burial materials of wise men that have died and in some Muslim sects they worship these men of honour. Kjamlina explains to this lady, that may well of received this from one of her parents that this is not a good thing and that there is only one God and that we should not have anything or one at the same level in any way that we should worship, with tears building in her eyes the lady nods in agreement, kjamalina, also with tears now forming asks if she can break the bracelet as a symbol of freedom. As the lady agrees Kjamlina begins to shed tears in prayer as she pulls the band from this fragile wrist, in doing so she brakes ties that may well have gone back for centuries and releases, at least in part, the destiny of this family and their future hear and in the realm of the spiritual. It was a beautiful moment, one I’m sure will be in my favourite of my time here. I played no part in this just mealy witnessed the brave faith of the pastors wife, who was also visiting the village for the first time, and the almost life changing decision of a lady, desperate for a change, desperate for someone to help he, to love her and to meet her in her desperation.

Blessed are the poor in spirit for Theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Peace.

The first, of, what I’m sure will be many, apologies.

So, the other day I wrote a post called riding the storm. In which I managed to make a situation that, technically I had nothing to do with completely about myself. It’s not that I think the world revolves around me (well not always anyway) but I guess when you in a place like this, translation is tuff, language is different all the stuff that I experience is kinda revolving around in my own little bubble. So sorry folks, so today I heard a bit more of the actual story...

So the guy from up the road started shouting, telling the kids they had to leave they looked to Tina for reassurance and she told them they could stay. The kids insistently told the man, they were there to learn about Jesus and to play games and didn’t want to go. When the police got there, one of the team explained the situation, and before the commotion, actually let the team finish the kids program before doing anything. Meanwhile, back in the house, while I was sitting quietly, the guys that had turned up later were the village bosses, who, at first had said to Ismet, ‘’why do you bring these people hear, you know in our village we don’t have any religion, Muslim, catholic, Christian, nothing’’ they chatted to the people that had been coming to see if they had been brain washed and, of course they hadn’t. Then they said to this Guy, Baca Feta ‘’you, tell us who you are, who you represent and why you are hear’’. Baca feta in true old skool style proceeded to explain the gospel, that we were there to teach people the good way to live and to care for the children. This situation ended with these guys saying that what we were doing was fine and why didn’t Ismet get hold of this crazy guy and throw him off his property. Of course he then explained that wasn’t what we believed in.
However, to make a relatively ok situation worse this guy, had got together a couple of goons and has since told Ismet that if he holds another of these meeting they will burn his house down.
Needles to say we will probably not be meeting there this week. However Ismet the relentless evangelist is intending to build relationships share the gospel on a personal level until such a time as he hopes we can meet there again (which they hope will be in a couple of weeks!)

So, apologies about the direction of the first story. But please do pray for this guy, Ismet, he’s a soldier and an evangelist, however he is little worried for his family, pray for the people of Babaloce, and for this guy, that his heart would be broken, that his eyes would be opened and that his conversion may just lead to a turnaround in the entire village.

Thanks folks

Sorry.

An hour lock in and a big slap in the face

So after yesterday’s trauma, I was still feeling a bit down. I got up late, had food, did some emailing, got like the best couple of emails from that guy Sean off of New Zeland, so that brightened my day a bit.
Read the responses to the last blog, cheers guys, guess wot. On my transit reading today (yes I am still quite behind) was Acts 19 about the riot and on my prayer wall in the bed room was Galatians 6 v 9 good times.
So I thought I’d go out, walk the land, pray, attempt to buy a phone card. Got down stairs and there like this little gated bit around the door of this flat and the next door. The neighbours like to keep it locked for the kids. Fair play, so I tried to go out. But. No matter wot I did with the keys I couldn’t get the gate open, I tried for ages (and I prayed, maybe not too convincingly, I think God had another idea) So at this point, not only I’m I feeling lost in a foreign country, struggling to find a way, now I’m actually lock in my own flat. Good times (said in a sarcastic voice)
So wot do ya do, go and pray. I went in and spent like an hour in prayer, prayer for lots of stuff, people back home, the bus, Kosova, then just listened. Really felt like God used that odd situation to talk to me bout some stuff. I won’t write it on hear coz it’s a bit long and I don’t know if you’ll be that interested. But let m know if you wanna hear it.
Anyhow, finished up praying, went down and the gate was open, I like to think of it as a miraculous act of God himself, but I fear the guys next door went out and left it open. Either way it was a good result. So I walked into town (yes I did rock some shorts and sunglasses, I was feeling brave), prayed a littler but just let my mind wonder a bit, after some inspiration from New Zealand Sean. Found the IPKO shop, found a lady who could speak English, got a top up card, all was going well.
Walking back I saw a man in the street, everyone was avoiding him as he looked odd, he had on an old pair of shoes barley held together and pair of cord trousers held up with string and that was it. He was an old fella just wandering seamlessly aimlessly in to the road. I caught eye contact, and with a sudden rush of desire aand inspiration to be the hands and feet of Jesus and to care for the poor and needy I walked towards him, he held out a hand of friendship, I took it, we shook hands. Then the realisation of language dawned, he said something and pointed at my arm, still holding my hand. By this point my faith rush was dwindling and I was just felling weird, he rubbed his head as if to gesture something about being hot and pointed at my arm again. He let go of my hand and pulled out 2 Euros from his pocket, of course I didn’t want to take anything from this guy as he appeared to have nothing, I shook my head and said no. On hearing this he promptly gave me a firm slap in the face, nice. I simply said easy bruv (of course the international language of chav didn’t seem to get though) so I promptly left. I am aware that the correct response would be to turn the other cheek; unfortunately I bowed out prior to that happening. Strangely no one in the street seemed too bothered? Maybe this happens a lot? Maybe they just don’t like the English and were quietly smiling to themselves? I don’t know, it’s like the kiros training game all over again. I’m still struggling to understand the significance of what happened but I’m sure at some point it will become clear. Until then, rest assured I am one step closer to being immersed into kosovan culture.

Riding the storm,

I’ve been trying to think of something useless, something that was probably made for a purpose or that someone thought would be a good idea at the time, but now serve no purpose. You know like a shoe horn, or that little grabber thing my Dad brought that is basically no longer that you arm so you could just reach and grab the thing you wanted anyway, or like hand soap in the mens toilets? (just joking on the last one) ((I hope))
That’s how I felt today. Good morning, went shopping on my own, managed to buy some stuff and tell the shop lady I was in kosova for 3 months. I was feeling quite good about life. Prayed, wrote down some stuff I was feeling from God it was kool.

And then. I tried to learn how to say what I had done that day so I could impress all my new Kosavan homies, when I ment Kjamalina and her sister I attempted it, and she looked at me with those eyes, you know ones that say Ahh bless his obviously tried to learn something but I have not idea wot hes saying, good boy for trying, have a gold sticker (I flippin hate stickers)

So on a Wednesday evening the guys hear go to a village called Babaloce. A guy became a Christian back in October (the legendary Andy Biddlie prayed with him) his name is ismit? Or something similar. He has since been an advocate for Christ, spreading the word and even opening his home to have a house church/group meeting each week on a Wednesday evening. Faton and Kjamalina run this (yet another responsibility for a group), they have some guys that take the kids outside and run a little program, and then they are inside with the older folks. Pastor Faton is still in Albania so it was Kjamalina, who opened the gathering, me. I was to tell why I was in kosova, I said a bit then said how this little group reminded me of the early church, meeting in a house, reading the bible seeking God, and caring for each other, so tried to encourage them to meet regularly, read the bible together as often as possible and care for one another and the community, I thought it sounded great, but no one seem to really take it in, it’s possible it got a bit lost in translation, but these things we just have to offer up and leave with god to water I think, so that was kool. Then I realised they only had like one bible between them ( maybe I should offer to buy some bibles?) Then Baca Feta shared from the 10 commandments.

Then what followed was commotion, I’m still unsure as to what actually happened. I think it went a bit like this, there’s an old guy who lives in the village, he doesn’t like the whole Christian thing, when he saw loads of kids in the garden of this guy’s house singing and having fun, first he tried to call them away. When it was apparent they didn’t want to leave he called the police and made some kind of accusation. So the police turn up. Now they wanna see everyone’s documents licenses insurance for the cars, they wanna know why we’re there. Oh yeah a couple of ladies from ‘smile’ are there too, one gets her driving licence taken off her. So as this was all going on I was in the house, they said it’s better to stay inside otherwise another face makes it more complicated they would want loads of details etc, it all seemed a bit sussed. So there was lots of talking in loud voices (the kosavan dialect is sometimes a bit aggressive, it’s hard to tell, especially with the guys, if their arguing, or just talking) So I’m thinking wot would the early church do in this situation, unfortunately with my lack of authority and balls, mixed with people coming in and going out by the time I offered to pray I was quickly (but nicely and politely) shut down by Kjamalina as a few other guys had come in to assist (I think) but had not been to these meeting before so didn’t really know about God and they didn’t want to freak them out. Fair play, I guess all that talk about being sensitive to a culture is coming out. Then they guys were talking about this fella and how he was a bad man and always causing them trouble. I had just read from James I think, that morning about loving those who curse you and stuff, I so wanted to share that and offer a prayer for the guy, but due to lack of translation, loads of conversations going on and being just a little fella, I wasn’t able to get it out there. I believe in the end Tina, who FYI is only 22, a young girl trying to prove herself in a man’s world and is doing it well, she has the ability to take control of a situation straight away, yesterday we had to move the kids program as this guys needed the grass for his cow, he was shouting/talking, about this (difficult to tell which with the language) and she was right up in there giving all she had. She’s quite amazing but I’m trying really hard not to upset her. So her and Angela from smile went to the police station, gave some details, the police were kool but advised them to get a list of the kids names and some parental permission so there are no problems next time (if that will happen I don’t know but it sounded like a good plan) and while all this was happening we were in the house, a massive thunder and lightning storm was going on outside, kids were crying, the guys were shouting, Baca Feta was telling this one guy, unrelentingly about Jesus.

Then there was me, I couldn’t say anything, or help in any way. I felt completely less of use, i.e useless. Then the lady of the house made me coffee, apparently coz they felt bad for me, being my first time in the village and having these problems. Wot? Bad for me! Flipping chickin, I felt like a proper mug, but of course you have to drink the coffee, it’s rude not too. The guy Ismit, was, at one point telling his pal, who wasn’t a Christian. Look at this guy (me) he’s come all the way from England to follow God, to help us and look what he has to put up with. Wot I’ve come to help them, flipping chickin. I proved no help at all, in fact just me being there with whole police thing actually made it a bit more difficult for them
Mate what a tuff night.

N E Way, that being said, I do of course appreciate there will be times like this, when you can’t see the point in being there, and I know it will change (I hope) but in that moment and this, I just feel useless. I feel a bit like even the group I’m with must be thinking what is he doing here he not really helping just getting in the way, every time we go somewhere I am asked to share why I’m hear. Mostly I talk about what God has done for me and that I wanna serve but now I’m thinking it may come across like check me out I’m following Jesus and serving you. You need to do the same when in effect their doing so much more than I’ve ever done already. Sometimes you feel out of depth, sometimes it might take a while, but this was my moment. Don’t worry, I’m not thinking bout packing it all in, and I relies all the challenges are good to help us grow and all that malarkey but this was a tuff night. I’ve got till 6pm tomorrow to pick up and get back at it. C’mon. Then I have to share with another village about why I’m there. God help me. Literally.

On a brighter note, just to see this guys work is so kool. I’ve been thinking bout church and how it should be for a while and these guys, without any big name teachers are doing it. There just getting out into their community, serving, spreading the word, helping the poor and needy. These are the modern day missionaries, these are people taking the black and white words of the great commission and doing it right it front. Maybe I’m not here to help at all, maybe just to learn? Interesting.

I’ve got a few thoughts on the structure and stuff, but at the mo it’s just a pleasure to see how this happens, how it starts and they just wanna be the hands and feet of Jesus in Gjkova, Kosova, and to the ends of the earth, well at least into Albanian for the moment..

Today’s dilemma

Todays dilemma is a simple one - Sunglasses - practical Vs Fashion Vs looking like a mug
So I get sunglasses, they keep the sun out of your eyes, good. I drove a car yesterday and wore some and that was fine. But then after parking the car I walked home (ha, it’s funny to say home in kosova, but kool too) so I put em on walking home and felt like a prize plonker, like I was trying to be kool or something (and not doing too well) so today I need to go to the shops (an adventure in itself) but can you wear sunglasses to the shop or that just poncey? Are they purely for practical purposes? And is just walking round town a practical place for sunglasses?

It’s a tuff one I know but opinions would be welcome.

cheers

Into the groove

So today sees the start of some kind of normality. But before all that, the challenges of talking. Today IPKO came to put in the internet (good times) I don’t really understand Albanian (bad times) so Tina and lina came to help, also we were going out after so all the folks who were coming turned up (9 in total) 2 IPKO men and tina’s brother came to help. So I had my little house full for the first time and didn’t have a clue wot was going on.
It’s hard to find the steve shaped whole in kosova so far, I offered drinks to people while they were hear and one of the girls, quite nicely offered to help and basically did it all for me, it was really nice but it seems that even quite servant hood hear is already covered so it’s hard to know where to fit ( but you know it’s only been a little while)
I drove today. Woohoo, well after this guy had to jump start the car coz I left the lights on all night. OOpps. They seemed to do it all the time though so I didn’t feel so bad (until I did it again on the next trip out) ooppss. You have to drive everywhere with your lights on? Even in the day. Who knew?
Today also took me back to the kosova i love, into a village, doing a little kids group thing. It’s weird, even thow you can’t talk to them properly and don’t have loads of responsibility in the session, there something about being in those desperately poor villages and seeing the kids so happy to see people that just care about them and are there just for them, it’s an amazing experience.
Strange thing happened, when the kids were trying to speak to me, I thought for a sec that I could speak the language. This kid bust out a full sentence and I answered. By the way he looked at me it was clear I hadn’t said anything that made any sense, but in that moment I thought for a sec Id cracked it. Unfortunately, hard work, study and practice are the tools of learning a language. Not just adding an o or an a on the end of a word and saying it with and accent. Oh well, felt good for a mo.
Had drinks with the team after. Its brilliant, most of these guys don’t have jobs or incomes yet they turn up at the church most days, armed with parachutes, balls (in both senses) bible memory verses and kids songs and they just share Jesus in any way they know how. Sometimes we come here to help out, but maybe we could take a few lessons on getting out into the community from this little bunch of underpaid, overworked mismatched missionaries. They just go to the poor villages, teach the children, give out wot aid they have to the poor, visit families, pray and be present. Sounds like a good idea to me. Where’s your nearest gypsy village? I spoke to Ben freeman before I went. After a conversation with sally about organic church, I was thinking about the worst places around and where we could go and be and meet God (iv just been reading that chapter in read moon rising about going out to meet the holy spirit) and Ben said (as a policeman) the worst places bar none are the gypsy camps. Even the police don’t go there.
Wot do you recon people?

More of the same I think tomorrow. I’ll let you know when I find the whole.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

drove a car on the wrong side of the road. Well hear apparently it’s the right side but it still felt weird. Meet the folks from Smile, volunteered to do basically anything they wanted doing. Hopefully I haven’t dropped myself in it. They seem like really good folks so should be good.
Meet Kajmalina’s sister who’s here for a week, we had diner in a fast food place called Hani Hani (eat, eat) nice. I got like a subway type thing with grilled chicken in for 1 euro. Oh yes 1. Learned a lot about Kosova and the Berishas just from chatting to ‘lina’ so that was cool.
We visited the ghetto, that was fun, we went to see Driton (Richie Ballahs long lost brother) who lives in Mahalle Sahafers, (I don’t think that’s how you spell it) or gypsy street. It was rough but i kind liked it, maybe you don’t feel so venerable or threatened when you don’t understand a language. I just imagine everyone’s saying hello hope you’re enjoying your stay (it’s possible they could be threatening to mug me roll me in a carpet and drop me in the river) but I think maybe it’s better not to know sometimes.
Mondays meant to be a day off but it been a really good day.
Cheers genie.

Asdfhahsdkjsdfjlkdfa

The east and west divide, divided. The last remnance of communism, the literal poverty line, beauty and the poverty beast?

I’ve been trying to think of a title for this post but none seem to do it justice. Today we ventured out to Barum curri (I think that’s how you spell it). It is a little town in northern Albanian surrounded by the remains of a harsh communist land. The firing bunkers the tunnels under the mountains all echo years of oppression, scare mongering and write out the history of this town for all to see.
Pastor Faton and eccentric Yap explain how prior to 2000 no one came to Barum curri, missionaries, aid workers no one. Faton came after the war once entrance was permitted to see this fabled place that was off limits for such a long time. He began to make connections and eventully a church was formed, although the vision would be for local people to take ownership, as yet this is unestablished so leadership and responsibility fall for a second church on the young shoulders of Faton and Kymalina We sit and discuss this outside a normal, unassuming coffee shop and I consider how bad it can be. Then we go to visit some one!
We walk up the steep high street to the statue of Barum curri, from whom the town derives its name. I’m told he was a respected leader who wanted power and more responsibility and land which provoked conflict with the king at the time, the events ended in him killing himself. So he is now a hero and they named a town after him? I’m not sure how that works, and to be fair I probably don’t do the story justice.
So we turn off the road down a narrow dirt track that snakes down toward the river, across a rickety old bridge that should be a scene from an old children’s story. As you look in one direction you can see down the valley, the river that is almost electric blue with water from the mountains. And rolling hills leading to the snow toped mountains in the distance. In the other direction the mountains are more apparent, having to look right up to see how high they stretch above us. As we walk up the other side of the hill with the scenery becoming ever more beautiful and breathtaking, we are then faced with a form of poverty that takes away your breath, in a completely different way. We meet a lady that Yap has been supporting, through his modest organisation, for some years. (I don’t think it’s right to put her name in) she lives in, let’s call it......I don’t even know. It’s square with a flat roof and echoes the style of the town. It has 4 windows front and back all with wood frames, but no glass. There is no running water other than access to a well further up the hill. As far as I could tell there was no electricity. There was a shed, hitched on the side with space for two cows (both supplied by Yap and the good people of Holland) This is her routine, she gets up at 4am, to tend the minimal ground and nurture what she can grow to eat. There are some chickens to collect eggs from. Two of her children attend a school down the hill, the other has been sent to high school by yaps organisation. For the rest of the day her job is cleaning sheep skins to be sold. Her face tell a story possibly older than her years but she tells us its hard work, it smells and for her family in brings her (I think I got this right) 14 Euros a month. In the evenings she knits, scarves and socks which Yap buys and sell to his countrymen. Yap pays for some food each month and Faton and Kymalina take it to her. 14 Euros a month!. It safe to say that sitting on a blanket outside her house the value of the shoes that were taken off could probably have doubled, if not more, her yearly income.
Its time like this you just have to sit, not offer advice on what to do, and just let the situation sink in. It’s so far from the reality that we are use to that it makes it hard to even understand.
We pray for her as we leave but, unfortunately in the back of my mind I’m tempted to think, what good it that gonna do.

With that in my mind we go to church. It’s held in a flat in a typical northern Albanian apartment block. I appreciate apartment block makes it sound relatively normal. But you need to see it.

So I’ve realised the routine is gonna be something like this, there’s a meeting at 3. On the way there pastor Faton asks, ‘’does anyone have something to share’’ Steve would you like to share with the people’’.
I kinda anticipated that this may happen so was slightly prepared. We rock up at 3.20pmish and kick off at around 3.40pm.

I had read 1 Thessalonians that morning on my transit teaching list (yeah that means I’m about a month behind) And as I read Pauls advice in the last chapter to a growing community of believers. To my shock the same lady we had visited turns up for the service. How much of a fraud and hypocrite do I feel as I share on how we should live, having just witnessed her front line poverty. I shared on how we should respect those in authority. How we should encourage those on the outside, and look after the week. How we should be patient and in all things be thankful and joyful, in what has been done for us through Jesus. Finally how the very heart of Jesus is that we should love each other. I don’t know how much of this got through, but I have every faith in our multi lingual 16 year old translator Martina.
These kind of situations you can’t prepare for, they arise, you take in then process later. We will visit Baurm curri every Saturday and I’m sure will see this lady again. I can only hope and pray for her, her family and for her in her situation, to somehow, some way know what it is to have Joy and to be continually thankful in all situations? And to love others how she would be loved herself.

Oh yeah, if any ones seen that amazing piece of movie making history Taken with Liam Neason, the kidnapper types that take the girl are from barum Curri. WOT!

Interesting day.

I am going to Bacca Fettas house tonight for dinner, I have a feeling it will be a weird one so, I’ll keep you posted.

Till next time

Open ended question

So far it looks like there no teaching plan. It just seems that, when we get somewhere if someone has something to share they share. If not, I’m not sure.
After our visit today The whole God story thing has been on my mind. I don’t know how much folks know of the bible, and I realise that even a very lightened version of the god story would be relatively heavy but I can’t help but think that a little structure might keep people interested, and build a foundation to be built on. Fatons going into the mountains on Sunday with Yap, probably not back till Friday next. I have some time to consider bringing this up but wondered what you might think.
I realise it will be a lot of work, and I’m conscious of not imposing English ideas on a culture I don’t yet understand. I just think it, might, possibly work.

Hit me up, wot do ya recon.

Plus it would keep me busy for a while.

The helpless helper

Today I went with Kajmelina and Tina to buy some shopping for a lady in town, her husband has gone away and she has two children. I so wanna be useful here but today the maximum responsibility that I seemed to be able to offer was pushing the trolley around the store and paying for a taxi. We took the shopping into town, it was market day, and the streets were alive with people as the market sellers sold all kinds of fruit and veg out of cardboard boxes, milk crates and some just off the floor. Apparently people come from all over, even Albania to buy here as it’s a lot cheaper. We get to this apartment block and I felt, suddenly like I was in the call of duty modern warfare game. You the bit with the snipers, where their in Russia in the height of the conflict and you have to go in and out of abandoned apartment blocks to find this guy. Although the blocks weren’t abandoned the design and the condition was similar. We meet this lady and her lovely two boys, again the extent of my helping was to drink a coffee and ask a few questions.
On the positive side, I can’t help be feel like I’m travelling with Robin Hood and his merry men (women) robbing from the rich, over consumerised and money hungry west and giving to the poor, helping the distribution of finances stretch around the world. It so great to see and so humbling to be a part of.
After we had prayed we went to Tina’s house for drinks, such is the thing to do in Kosova, she lives just around the corner to me. In the house lives Tina and littler David (who’s quite big) a brother, I think and his wife then a sister who was there to visit with her baby too. It was really nice, getting to know people in broken English and Albanian. We had the old classic ‘’ how old are you’’ ‘’na, I thought you were like 15’’. Seems the appearance of youth will hound me around the world. Ah well could be worse. I have also discovered a lot of words in Kosova are different than in Albanian, as if it needed to be any harder! Either way, today made me realise the importance of language so this afternoon I’m gonna hit the books. Well, after I have some lunch, and maybe read a bit of this other book, then maybe pray. I’m sure I’ll have time.

Tonight we will meet up with Paul and Angela from the smile centre, it will be wonderful to speak to some people in complete English. Unless of course they have learned the language properly then I’ll feel a bit silly.

Good day.

What am I’m missing?

Not what I’m missing from my empty life, but what i miss from home. Two things so far. Peanut butter. Can you believe they don’t sell it here? And you know when you do something stupid buts its quite funny and you say to someone, ‘’guess wot I did’’ and then you explain and they laugh and call you stupid. I miss those times. I did something stupid today (don’t worry mum not in a, I nearly cut of a leg way) just a silly thing, I laughed a bit then relied I couldn’t share it with anyone coz they probably wouldn’t get it.
It’s not a problem, I just miss it. Luckily spoonface called so I shared it with her and she laughed a bit but, on reflection, I think maybe it was one of those; you had to be there things. Ah well, such is the harsh realities of life on the edge for the lord.

Sunday is funday

Well, not so much fun as just Sunday really. Went to church, gave a little explanation of why I was there. Pastor Faton left with Yap to travel to Albania into the mountains for the next 4 or 5 days, it’s probably gonna be a bit of a weird week as Kjamalina, although she is wonderful, can’t speak the same level of English as The Pastor. So I think it will be a quiet week. That being said there is still things to do and be involved in so I’ll probably just be kinda watching from the sidelines. But that’s kool After church there was a little meeting about what would happen this week (of course in Albanian) I tried to look intent on helping out and doing my bit for the weeks arrangements but as the conversation passed back and forth, I’ll be honest, I still don’t really know what happened.
Went for a drink after church (this seems to be what happens after any type of activity, and, if there’s time before any type of activity) spoke to this girl from church through the translation of kjamalina, it’s so weird having a two way conversation 3 ways. I think it will take some getting use to. Or I’ll have to learn Albanian. Oh yeah spoke to Eddy this morning, that was nice, oi oi big man. Popped to Baca Fetas house for a lovely Turkish coffee made by his lovely wife, he told me a bit more about himself and showed me his English class diplomas (very good and excellent don’t you know) very impressive. He’s such a lovely fella and both he and his wife said any time I want kafe I can go round. Kool
This afternoon I read a bit of a book (red moon rising) with the influences of God, the holy spirit, Pete Greg, Shawn Claybourn, Ian Nickolson, Tina Aruand and Chloe lee. I wrote a kick ass poem (well, it’s alright) then I put up a prayer wall in my bedroom that Lisa Anderson and sally Harman would be proud of. I’ll put up some pics if you like.

Oh yeah and in the excitement I forgot to make diner. Now it’s 11 and I’m a bit hungry. What to do what to do. Oh yeah I also squeezed in an episode of ER the one where Dr Pratt dies, yeah I did cry, but it was very sad (sorry if you didn’t know and I spoilt the final season for you)

Should have internet by Tuesday – so I can actually post these posts, rather than just writing them for fun

C ya

The strangest night

So, we went to Baca Fetas house for dinner tonight, I wasn’t sure why, just for hospitalities sake so I thought. But once I got there crazy Yap, with the, mainly unwilling help of Baca Feta, tried to convince me that I was going to be circumcised. Odd, granted, once Pastor Faton and kymalina arrived, they too joined in with the hilarity. There was one point that I did start to get a little worried when they started to get out different sized knives to see which one would suit the task. Of course it was all in the spirit of fun, and it was really good to have a laugh with these guys (even if it was at my expense)
So anyone one seen the play blood brothers? Me neither, but from the title I have an idea what it may consist of. Tonight I found out this process actually happens, Baca feta and crazy Dutch Yap became blood brothers. Pastor Faton prayed and they committed themselves to each other, in the sight of God, to care for, look after and support in all things, even after death, whoever was still alive would make sure correct provisions for the family were made. Apparently this happens across the Balkans. Good times. I must say it was a good evening, good food, we drank really good red wine, then beer (oh dear), luckily the rakie never got opened so we were saved, for now.
It was a bit odd, but was pleased to have been invited to serve as a witness to the process.
I think
Guzur – we had a lot of toasts.

The Strangest night

So, we went to Baca Fetas house for dinner tonight, I wasn’t sure why, just for hospitalities sake so I thought. But once I got there crazy Yap, with the, mainly unwilling help of Baca Feta, tried to convince me that I was going to be circumcised. Odd, granted, once Pastor Faton and kymalina arrived, they too joined in with the hilarity. There was one point that I did start to get a little worried when they started to get out different sized knives to see which one would suit the task. Of course it was all in the spirit of fun, and it was really good to have a laugh with these guys (even if it was at my expense)
So anyone one seen the play blood brothers? Me neither, but from the title I have an idea what it may consist of. Tonight I found out this process actually happens, Baca feta and crazy Dutch Yap became blood brothers. Pastor Faton prayed and they committed themselves to each other, in the sight of God, to care for, look after and support in all things, even after death, whoever was still alive would make sure correct provisions for the family were made. Apparently this happens across the Balkans. Good times. I must say it was a good evening, good food, we drank really good red wine, then beer (oh dear), luckily the rakie never got opened so we were saved, for now.
It was a bit odd, but was pleased to have been invited to serve as a witness to the process.
I think
Guzur – we had a lot of toasts.

Jap and mother Teresa

Another good day, so far so good, finished painting the swimming pool, good times then i spent the afternoon considering what to say to the youth. I went with a full testimony, including all the messy bits (I figure lay yourself right out in the open and see how God uses that) then talked a bit about what happens when you throw you life on God and put yourself completely in his hands. Coz it’s quite good. Then finished with a challenge to ‘come follow me’’ off of the bible.

There was a guy there from dutchland called yap, he is a friend of Fatons and has been coming to kosova and Albania for some 15 years and now, at 71 its starting to tell. He’s an old guy but young in sprit, he shared some of his story with me over cji, it’s like tea kind of but not as good. He has been the leader of two different churches and has work with mother Teresa in Calcutter but sees himself very much as a pioneer, having been up into the mountains of Albania reaching out to people in villages there. He is an eccentric guy who like the odd drink and cigar (but I made a pack not to smoke any for a while, so don’t worry) he told me people find him hard to work out, but as we shared stories and ideas of open churches and taking church out to the people I felt we connected a little.

We then, ironically, proceeded to the theatre to watch a play about the life of mother Teresa. An interesting prospect i realise. Apparently it was very good and lots of people cried, I wasn’t one of them for a change. But as it was all in Albanian, I had no ideas what was happening. But you know, the post communistic surroundings were interesting, the costumes were good and the lady who played old mother T did had the kinda hunched over old lady thing down to a T. Good times.

I read some more red moon rising before knocking off and again I’m inspired to pass on some of this vision to the guys here, when i gave my testimony I found myself talking a lot about prayer the prayer house and how in prayer God had been inspiring us to move out into the community. I’m excited but not convinced of how to approach the subject. There were a lot of sudden intakes of breath when I said that sometimes we prayed for a full 24 hours (i didn’t even get on to doing a full week) But as the say ne kosov, pak per pak, (little by little or bit at a time or slowly slowly, or something like that)

Barum Suri Albania tomorrow then diner and brother Fettas.

Shabbat and out.

Some questions to ponder

In a hot place, when you know it’s only gonna get hotter, when do you start to wear shorts? No one here seems too bothered about the heat yet, I recon they are saving themselves for when it really gets hot. Do you bust ‘em out now, or, relies it is gonna get hotter so stick it out so when the hotness comes you can get kooler. Otherwise if you get use to in now in shorts then it gets hot, what can you do?
Also, when is it right to unpack properly? I don’t feel like this is home yet but relies this is where I’m at and its gonna be for a while. I’m not comfortable enough yet but don’t know when that happens. If it’s like a week before I go, I could be living out of a suitcase for a while.
Wot do ya recon?

The first day of firsts,

The first day of firsts,

Today I woke up in Kosova for the first time, this is now really happening. Aahhhh. But don’t panic, before they left my wonderful friends hear said ‘’we will come round for you at about 11 tomorrow; We’re not really morning people. I think I might like it here after all.
I painted a swimming pool for the first time, wore some clean trousers and got paint on them for the first time (good times) does paint come off in the wash? Swimming pool paint? (I’m not feeling to confident on that one).

We had our first drink together (i had a coke, not quite ready to dive in to the coffee) I for the first time I realised, speaking a different language is gonna be a flippin big challenge. I thought I’d been learning Albanian but I don’t know what they speak hear, I’m lost, Jokes Eddie, it’s just a lot more difficult in conversation than in a class room with a book in front of you.

We went shopping for the first time hear and were able to get most of the stuff you would expect. I must admit I haven’t been shopping for a while so have basically forgot what goes with wot so may have a lot of stuff but not quite that goes together, never mind. Now I know where the shop is.
Made diner for myself. Oh Yeah, the girls would be proud, it was simple yet satisfying.

All in all not a bad way to start. Still a lot of questions and a lot of fears but what is it they say’’....if someone is for you, now who is not against....? I can’t remember, maybe Ill go look it up.
I think we are going to see the nikobibis in a bit so catch up later.

Thanks for checking in.

Late night note, just got in from the nikobibis, no one told me they were making diner! Oh well,
could be worse, I had a lovely evening regardless of the fact I didn’t really know what was
being said for 90% of the time. Somehow I still felt part of it all. It’s like having dinner with the
Walton’s off of TV or like the Jonas brothers (if they had sisters too((and if there were more sisters
than brothers)) so not like that at all really other than they like to sing together (but not this time)
bad example I realise now. Watched my first kosovan wedding on VHS (there aint no skool like the
old skool) and bruv, these folks love to dance, at one point I asked where the bride was, to be told as
this was her family the husband had taken her away and they had another party somewhere else,
wot a wedding party with no bride or groom? Fair play

Oh yeah, had my first kosovan/Turkish coffee, mmmmmmm gritty.

Oh so I just made the biggest mistake, I asked Faton who was doing what at the youth meeting
Tomorrow night. He said, oh if you want to share that would be great, we normally only do
20minuets but if you want to go on longer, that’s fine. Tomorrow’s gonna be good.

Nate e mire

24hr rollercoaster.

I’ve heard it said that ‘’parting is such sweet sorrow’’ well if you ask me there’s nothing sweet about it it’s just sorrow.
I’ve never really been too bothered about goodbyes, I’m not sure why. I guess I’ve never really been away anywhere for a long period of time. I’ve never really had any hard goodbyes to say, (well except one which was hard but in a very different sort of way). But anyway, this time was flipping rough.
I’ve been aware of this trip for nearly a year now, I v been thinking about it praying, attempting to learn the language. Even right up to the week before fund raising, It hadn’t really sunk in. That this was the end of one season and the beginning of the next.
As I had to say goodbye to people, that a year or so ago I didn’t even really know, with the sound of nostalgia getting deafening in my ears, I was finding it flipping hard to let go. I had all kinds of thoughts, like I didn’t wanna go or that it wasn’t right or wasn’t the right time, but theses didn’t last too long. As people prayed and God spoke I knew this was the right track and it was for this very reason I started down this path in the first place so, you know, what can I say.
Saying that, it doesn’t make it any easier.

The last 24 hours in England become some of the highest and hardest ever, receiving some encouragements words and letters was amazing but the final goodbyes, although I do my best not to show it, just tore me up. I just feel blown away by how God has cultivated relationships that I find so hard to leave behind, and for this I am so thankful.

As I left my family in the airport it was monumental. We had all been talking random chit chat in a vain attempt to avoid the inevitable, but the time came all too soon. I can’t tell you how much my family have done for me and how they have supported me over the past 27 years. And to say good bye to little spoonface was like literally pulling off a leg(in the nicest sense of the term).

So I gets on the plan a bag of floating emotion, tears on hold all the while but trying not to look like a girl to the fella sittin next to me. Then as we lift in to the air I felt a slight sense of peace. As my natural thought rushed to ‘now you’re on your own’ a little someone pulled back words of encouragement to me that stated clearer than ever. You’re not on your own at all, this is right where I want you to be. Recently a kind and wise person wrote down for me, that everything was preparing me ‘ for such a time as this’Not that I was completely calm by then but faith had risen along with the plain and normality for a little while at least had been restored. Then I went to sleep

I met the legendary character Faton with his lovely wife at the airport and travelled past some familiar scenes, he relayed stories of expansion of the church, the emergence of an off shoot house church and various other projects and its captivating, to see God moving here as well as back home. I guess you sometimes get caught up in your own environment. But forget that actually, God is quite big. Good work God.

Accommodation nice, welcome nice, quick trip to the corner shop to get some supplies, super, all set. Pretty tired bye now so gonna kip out, thought I’d read the little book that I received before going with words and messages from the lovely people back home, boom, right back to that place again, not in complete sadness as I still realise I’m where I need to be but at the same time, flip. I’m just so fillipin emotional, I’m like a little girl, sorry folks, I just can’t help it. Then I read the greatest poem ever written (probably), also probably the sweetest yet strongest thing I’ve ever read, something handed to be just before I left and something that I’m sure, not just on this occasion, but for a long time to come will give me a massive amount of strength. And although its tears that fill my eyes, its hope, strength, truth, passion and expectance that fill my soul.
So thank you people of Thurrock, and further afield, in the immortal words of celebrated sports personality and actor Vinnie Jones ‘’It’s been emotional’’

Sorry it’s long; it’s just the best way to air out stuff you know. Thanks for reading if you got this far.

Love you

The sound of nostalgia keeps getting louder

Just what i was feeling at the time, hope you enjoy.

.............I can smell it the air
It seems like it’s just around me, everywhere
In the people I see, the streets that we share
Even when I do the stupid flick of my hair
The sound of nostalgia keeps getting louder,
I’m in a contemplative mood
So many emotional responses I feel to the space and time
I find myself in and the words I need to just elude
I’m just left confused
So I just walked a little walk in my tiny shoes
And all around me its calling
I can see it in the streets that I’m walking
And all the people I have the privilege of talking
The sound of nostalgias getting louder
It’s not a bad thing
In fact I’m feeling honoured
And with a hit of sadness and a bag full of excitement
I’m realising its not that long
Were getting to the end of the soundtrack and its playing my song
I hope I can savour every note and word
Coz each sound is a memory, wrapped in turns
Hear I stand at the cross roads, a man made junction
Wondering about my life in all its functions
It won’t be long before the ripple of repercussions
Of decisions is felt, tucked under my belt
The sound of nostalgias getting louder and louder
Banging in chest like gun powder
Proud to of been a part of it
Leaving it behind with, just, a touch of regret
Some jobs left undone
Some songs left unsung
Some things didn’t quite get said and done
And some did
But they didn’t sound quite as good as they did in my head
But the sounds not fading
The backgrounds fading
And encores started playing
Not much time now
Just a sec for people to find out
How much I appreciated every second
And how the spoken word has become my guilty obsession
How I’m can see the hand of the man
And how it gently guided me into the plan
How it lifted me
How it comforted
Through the community that makes me feel so immensely blessed
And guided me in and out of the test
Maybe I didn’t pass with flying colours
But certainly tried really hard
And I did my best
And that’s all I can do
So raise my glass and make a toast to you
For everything
From the biggest gift
To the smallest conversation
The encores for you
The applause is to
And now it’s my time to stay true
And sound of nostalgia reaches its peak
And I’m finding hard ta speak
So, I turn, on to the sun
With the road at my feet
Till the next time we meet
To the next time ya hear that beat
Keep it real stay true and keep warming my seat
Coz it aint the end
This is just the preview
Coz this one’s for all of you
To many names I could mention
But you know what to do
So with a final line I tip my hat to you
And just say keep on,
doing what you do
so many more people can fill these shoes
But now the sounds fading,
The curtains closing on this act and the bands stopped playing
That’s all I’m saying.

Peace and love