Two days in Barum curri, not what most would consider an exciting prospect; I too was a little dubious at the thought, considering one major factor being the entire town only gets running water between 3 and 4am. But either way, passports in hand our unlikely band of soldiers cross the border again into Bandit County. I just use the term bandit country loosely however on this trip I find that as recently as 3 or 4 years ago the town was actually controlled by Bandits (real life bandits!)
It’s an interesting city, on the way to the mountains the cities sloped position bears witness, strangely, to a number of smart 1970’s German cars rolling the streets, wild dogs roaming the roads holding up traffic and the odd cow crossing the road amidst the people. This, mixed with harsh faces of the people, struggling to find a true identity in the wake of communistic oppression, war, poverty, freedom, religion and struggle.
Such faces we meet even in the youngest of lives we encounter.
So our Dutch counter parts had the idea to take the church out of the building, we trekked through the partially standing apartment blocks, across a field and clime over the fence into a school play area. An array of footballs, volleyballs, parachutes and such meet eager faces and provide hours (literally) of fun over two days.
However this isn’t the most incredible part of the weekend, after sharing some of Gods story at various times with the children and young people alike, as always in broken English/Albanian we manage conversations with some young guys on the fringe of the activities (just where I love to be). As you can imagine, ‘’..the landscapes may change but the same issues remain...’’ So as guys are guys, the conversations revolve around sex drugs and money. This one fella takes emence pleasure in telling us how he wants to have sex with as many girls as he possible can before getting married. However, the striking thing is that on asking the question, if found his wife not to be a virgin after marrying her, he would have every right to kill her!. Why, well, Coz, ‘’..This is Albania..’’
We reflect on the west and the opportunities of work and better futures. The conversations turns to other ethnic groups which he refers to as n*****s. I tell him, you can’t say that, he says, yeah in England. Maybe, Then raises two hands in the air and states the ever present fact that ‘’...this is Albania...’’. And on reference to gay folks, you don’t even wanna know his ideas but of cause the reasoning behind it is simply ’’..This is Albania..’’
Now I’m not naive enough to take this teenagers words as fact and believe all he says but you can help but sense a sinister undertone, maybe from the way these guys were raised, maybe from effects of past hurts and war stories traded over time, or maybe the odd 2008 range rover that rolls past with blacked out windows hiding the faces of the infamous Albanian Mafia (seriously) that have a big part in the history of this part of the world
However, all is not lost, as the unlikely, the few, the humble pass out simple booklets about a different way, armed not with the tools of conflict this country may be use to, but with sports equipment, gifts for learning bible verses and the knowledge of a truth so powerful it could turn even this, strongest of strongholds upside-down
Have you seen the movie ‘this is England’ When the guy is like ‘’..this is England..’’ pointing to his shaved head, ‘’..This is England..’’ Referring to his doc Martins boots, and ‘’..this is England..’’ pointing to the tattoo of a cross on his forehead.
This time it’s not Doc martin boots skinheads and fighting against the change of culture and colour. It’s not the sex pistols that hold up the flag of punk life style. It’s the black eagle and red backdrop, it’s the two fingers of a changing future of Sali Berisha. It’s a mindset plagued with the old struggle, the fight for freedom and independence and a place in the world.
When looking at the faces of indecent young lives with no crime to their names other than being born into this town. I can’t help myself thinking that this is Jesus. Seeing a young man so proud of his country but having been so warped and in his thinking by the environment he has come from, looking into his eyes and thinking This IS Jesus. And seeing young girls, hassled by all the boys, being viewed as second class citizens, objects of lust and fantasy with no real sense of self worth, self image or purpose and of how the God who sent his son to die for them would see them. And thinking to myself. This is Jesus.
In the shadow of the school sprawled with graffiti, a lot of which bears the names of the American Hip Hop legends and footballs super clubs, almost crying out as a life style that is idolised and seen as a way to look to. The name of Jesus is spoken over lives; prayers are prayed for peace, for revelation, for change.
‘’..It is not the healthy who need a doctor my friends...’’
If you get some spare time, please, pray for Barum Curri, for the church and its impact with much limited recourses, for the mentality and mind sets that are apparent. For peace, for change, for......Jesus.
Amen
It’s an interesting city, on the way to the mountains the cities sloped position bears witness, strangely, to a number of smart 1970’s German cars rolling the streets, wild dogs roaming the roads holding up traffic and the odd cow crossing the road amidst the people. This, mixed with harsh faces of the people, struggling to find a true identity in the wake of communistic oppression, war, poverty, freedom, religion and struggle.
Such faces we meet even in the youngest of lives we encounter.
So our Dutch counter parts had the idea to take the church out of the building, we trekked through the partially standing apartment blocks, across a field and clime over the fence into a school play area. An array of footballs, volleyballs, parachutes and such meet eager faces and provide hours (literally) of fun over two days.
However this isn’t the most incredible part of the weekend, after sharing some of Gods story at various times with the children and young people alike, as always in broken English/Albanian we manage conversations with some young guys on the fringe of the activities (just where I love to be). As you can imagine, ‘’..the landscapes may change but the same issues remain...’’ So as guys are guys, the conversations revolve around sex drugs and money. This one fella takes emence pleasure in telling us how he wants to have sex with as many girls as he possible can before getting married. However, the striking thing is that on asking the question, if found his wife not to be a virgin after marrying her, he would have every right to kill her!. Why, well, Coz, ‘’..This is Albania..’’
We reflect on the west and the opportunities of work and better futures. The conversations turns to other ethnic groups which he refers to as n*****s. I tell him, you can’t say that, he says, yeah in England. Maybe, Then raises two hands in the air and states the ever present fact that ‘’...this is Albania...’’. And on reference to gay folks, you don’t even wanna know his ideas but of cause the reasoning behind it is simply ’’..This is Albania..’’
Now I’m not naive enough to take this teenagers words as fact and believe all he says but you can help but sense a sinister undertone, maybe from the way these guys were raised, maybe from effects of past hurts and war stories traded over time, or maybe the odd 2008 range rover that rolls past with blacked out windows hiding the faces of the infamous Albanian Mafia (seriously) that have a big part in the history of this part of the world
However, all is not lost, as the unlikely, the few, the humble pass out simple booklets about a different way, armed not with the tools of conflict this country may be use to, but with sports equipment, gifts for learning bible verses and the knowledge of a truth so powerful it could turn even this, strongest of strongholds upside-down
Have you seen the movie ‘this is England’ When the guy is like ‘’..this is England..’’ pointing to his shaved head, ‘’..This is England..’’ Referring to his doc Martins boots, and ‘’..this is England..’’ pointing to the tattoo of a cross on his forehead.
This time it’s not Doc martin boots skinheads and fighting against the change of culture and colour. It’s not the sex pistols that hold up the flag of punk life style. It’s the black eagle and red backdrop, it’s the two fingers of a changing future of Sali Berisha. It’s a mindset plagued with the old struggle, the fight for freedom and independence and a place in the world.
When looking at the faces of indecent young lives with no crime to their names other than being born into this town. I can’t help myself thinking that this is Jesus. Seeing a young man so proud of his country but having been so warped and in his thinking by the environment he has come from, looking into his eyes and thinking This IS Jesus. And seeing young girls, hassled by all the boys, being viewed as second class citizens, objects of lust and fantasy with no real sense of self worth, self image or purpose and of how the God who sent his son to die for them would see them. And thinking to myself. This is Jesus.
In the shadow of the school sprawled with graffiti, a lot of which bears the names of the American Hip Hop legends and footballs super clubs, almost crying out as a life style that is idolised and seen as a way to look to. The name of Jesus is spoken over lives; prayers are prayed for peace, for revelation, for change.
‘’..It is not the healthy who need a doctor my friends...’’
If you get some spare time, please, pray for Barum Curri, for the church and its impact with much limited recourses, for the mentality and mind sets that are apparent. For peace, for change, for......Jesus.
Amen
No comments:
Post a Comment