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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