Tale of Two Novels: On belonging and being a White Friend Who Gets It

When your clothesline gets stolen, you improvise. 

I did something unusual for my birthday this month.  I ordered myself two novels. I’m normally a non-fiction gal, but I thought I should branch-out.  Besides, my husband had been teasing me about my choices in beach/pool-side books (and, yes, a book on prison ministry or A Year of Biblical Womanhood is light reading compared to The Women’s Bible Commentary, which is my current heavier reading).  I just finished both novels and realized that juxtaposing my reactions to them was quite self-revealing, so here I am blogging about it.

I started with Christopher Moore’s Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff. It came highly recommended by some nerdy clergy colleagues—all of whom (I suspect not coincidentally) fall into the demographic of white liberal American males. I really wanted to love the book too—to join the club of those who discreetly exchanged its inside jokes, but I found all the crass sexual comments/objectification of women off-putting. I simply didn’t share the author’s sense of humor, and the anachronistic story left me feeling like I hadn't learned anything either. I’d put the book in the category of flicks like Talladega Nights except without as much clever theological commentary  (Am I reacting too harshly? Maybe, but I’m feeling emotionally charged having just read some commentaries on the VMA scandal and Blurred Lines)

Sigh. Not enjoying Biff was particularly disappointing because ever since I was old enough to understand the difference between the American definitions of ‘conservative’ and ‘liberal’ (particularly with the word ‘Christian’ tacked onto them) I’ve found myself feeling not invited to the clubhouses. Conservatives believe I’m a closet heretic and the liberal clubs generally don’t like that I don’t wear every cause I support on my sleeve and I critique their paradigms. Then there are the rebels who think I’m too straight laced to party with them and the folks who are leery of church-going-folk altogether. And, of course, I’m too white to gain full entry into any social club that is explicitly for non-whites. Perhaps that’s part of why I reached out early on to social misfits and international students. It's been told to me that despite feeling that I didn't belong anywhere, I have in fact been de facto president of a rather large association over the years.  

This brings me to the second novel: Chimamanda Adichie’s Americanah. A glowing review of it caught my eye in Ethiopian Airline’s in-flight magazine, and I later listened to an NPR interview with the author. It was described as a story about a Nigerian woman who moves to the USA for college and years later decides to return home. It addresses issues of race, class, identity and belonging.  I was intrigued and quickly devoured all 477 pages. Her astute observations resonated with me, and I wondered how closely the author resembled her heroine in personality and worldview. I fantasized about meeting Adichie socially someday—perhaps at a State Department function. Would we hit it off? I'd like to think she'd view me as a kindred spirit, but I fear I'd seem like another Kimberly, a character in her novel—an elite white woman who overtries at being sensitive, describing every black woman she sees as 'beautiful' and misting over with pity whenever she meets someone from Africa. Even "poverty was a gleaming thing; she could not conceive of poor people being vicious or nasty because their poverty had canonized them, and the greatest saints were the foreign poor.” (151)

I’ve seen too much to view the world as Kimberly does, and I’ve been away from America so long that I now look back at it from a distance, frequently shaking my head in bewilderment or facepalming at the demographic of my birth. And yet, I’m self-aware enough to know that there are others who roll their eyes at me—finding my attempts to navigate issues of identity and belonging cringe-worthy, and I thank the few along the way (shout out to Stephanie Matthews) who have called me out bluntly when I needed to be set straight. 

In Americanah, the heroine Ifemulu becomes a professional blogger on issues of race in America and explains unwritten rules about being an American black person to non-American blacks. One such post is about the “White Friend Who Gets It.” 

Sadly, this is not as common as one would wish, but some are lucky to have that white friend who you don’t need to explain s#*% to. By all means, put this friend to work…. They can say stuff that you can’t… Let your white friend say it. If you make the mistake of saying this, you will be accused of a curiosity called “playing the race card.” …Here’s to all the white friends who get it. (361) 

Am I such a white friend (WFWGI)? In the American context, I'm not sure, but I'm trying and still learning. Many Congolese friends have told me that I often play that role for them, though--especially when it comes to speaking up for them among United Methodists in the USA. Over the years I've called out folks for treating African United Methodist friends like they are intellectually or morally inferior or for flat out objectifying or ignoring their struggles. I've even given geography lessons to general agency staff--like why purchasing someone from Kamina a plane ticket 'home' to Kinshasa is akin to buying a person from Florida a ticket 'home' to Alaska. (and, yes, the friend was stranded in Kinshasa, getting desperate and asked me to intervene since she had traveled as one of the invited token Africans at their event)

I've discovered that the other responsibility of a WFWGI is to generally keep quiet on issues that would reinforce negative stereotypes. No matter how good of a friend you think you are, you don't have the right to air other people's dirty laundry to people who won't understand the context.

It took me a bit of time to understand the 'laundry' rules. When I first started spending time in Congo, I hated the 'curtain' tours (as in don't-look-behind-the) the local church would take me and other visitors on. "How gullible do they think I am?!" I wanted to rip open the curtain and see the whole picture. I didn't yet understand the rules of the game or that it is played universally. What company, congregation or do-gooder organization is going to show an outsider (especially a potential investor) anything other than an idealized version of itself?

I had to prove myself as someone safe to tell--someone who could get it--before real candor began--before my Congolese colleagues would start coming to me when they needed somewhere to vent or advice/sympathy on dealing with Americans who didn't understand.

Now I gladly play along with the curtain tours. I occasionally get to help lead the tours myself all while knowing that there are still some curtains that are closed to me and might always be so. And that's ok because, as I learned working at the US embassy, some issues are highly sensitive and I'll only be told if the ones dealing with the issue think I can be trusted and I need to know about it.

That said, I still have mixed emotions as I play the game. I function as the useful white front for Congolese friends' projects, and I usually bite my tongue when Americans (primarily white) boast about their partnerships or rant about lack of accountability/transparency with partner conferences in Africa.  What I want to say to all of these Americans is that you are blind to the game you are playing. That, no, of course you aren't being told the full truth because your 'partners' don't trust that you can handle the truth.

There, I finally said it aloud. Furthermore, the American church needs to remove the plank from its own eye and realize that it is the one that isn't trustworthy. We have consistently behaved as selfish fair-weather friends, only caring when our ego is being stroked, when our 'partners' shower us with compliments and treat us deferentially. We abandon our colleagues when they dare to disclose that their poverty hasn't made them saints or when the next shiny charity catches our mission committee's attention. In their greatest hour of need, we not only weren't there for our Congolese colleagues, we didn't even didn't even notice that their world was engulfed in horror.

American (dominantly white) churches continue to systematically engage in condescending treatment of our African colleagues, and most of our attempts to correct this come across as ignorant as Adichie's Kimberly (which then feeds the problem by reinforcing the pressure to close all the curtains). I'm not saying there hasn't been progress--there has--but it is hard to remedy the problem of our racism when we try to deny its existence.

It is highly unlikely that our Congolese colleagues are going to say any of this to you. Even if you serve on the same committee or work in the same building they will continue to play the game. They dare not disclose what they really think for they do not trust that you would remain 'partners' if they did. But, as the white friend I can say such things to you without fear of grave consequences, and thus the more I think about what Adichie writes, the more I think I have a moral obligation to do so.

It seems the least I can do on this the 50th Anniversary of Rev. Dr. King's "I Have a Dream" speech.

Why I Love Congolese Scouts

Our official escorts in Mulongo

It’s no secret that back in high school I had crushes on boy scouts (particularly Eagles and rugby playing scouts). There was just something about hanging out with guys with survival training and chivalry. I listened to so many of their stories about camping adventures at Philmont it was if I’d been there too. How wild and exciting they made it sound! Of course, Mom teased that when they’d all come over to our house it was like watching Wendy and the Lost Boys interact.

I, myself, hadn’t lasted long in our local girl scout program. A couple years of selling cookies and decorating cakes was enough for me, so when we moved I wasn't interested in finding another troop.

It came therefore, as both a surprise and a laugh to me when I moved to Kamina, DR Congo in 2005 and found out that my neighbors and new best buds were active scouts. Weren’t they a bit old to still be scouting?  What exactly was the point of it when everyone there already knew as a matter of daily survival how to live off the grid and Macgyver random objects?  How do you talk about allegiance to God and Country when your government is so broken?  I had much to learn.

I was shocked when I began traveling with the bishop into even more remote communities—ones that had been directly impacted by the war—that there were always scouts there to meet us upon arrival. They not only would help transport the luggage and equipment, they’d form a human line around the visitors and escort them safely to their lodging. They then took shifts guarding the compound 24/7 and would act as runners for supplies. Scouts, it turned out, are the go-to crew for hospitality, crowd control, security, protocol, and important event set-up (sound system, outdoor electrical, etc)—not to mention their other do-gooder projects like assisting widows and orphans or mobilizing community clean-up efforts. I also noticed that the deeper into the war zone we went, the more disciplined the scout troops seemed to be. This was no coincidence.

At first it disturbed me how much these scouts resembled young soldiers as they marched in their lines. Then it hit me: for these young men who knew the face of war and been recruited (often forcibly) by armies and warlords, the decision to join the scouts—the community’s unarmed peacekeeping force—was a bold act requiring the resolve of a patriotic soldier.

The United Methodist Church’s North Katanga Conference alone has 4,807 (as of August 2013) active scouts. They are planning to hold a jamboree next summer in Tenke, DR Congo and have invited scouts from the USA to join them. Dr. Art Collins, president of the National Association of United Methodist Scouters and pastor of Ellettsville First UMC is heading the recruitment and registration for Americans interested in attending or underwriting this event. I encourage you to contact Art for details.    

  

scouting in Kalemie, DR Congo

Scouts in Tenke, DR Congo welcoming the FPM bike team

Scouts in Kabongo assisted local police with crowd control at annual conference

Scout troop that guarded our guest house 24/7 in Mulongo this summer

View more photos of scouts in North Katanga

The Plan

Having a plan is a good idea (except when it's not)

When I was just 15 years old my father took me on my very first trip to Zaire (now DR Congo). This trip sparked in me an obsession to understand why there was so much poverty in world, why it didn’t feel like go-gooder efforts were getting anywhere, and what the anti-poverty experts knew that I could then take back and share with folks in the church pews.  Thus, over 16 years ago (was it really that long ago?!) I enrolled in American University’s BA/MA program in International Development.

My plan seemed so simple:

• Step #1: Learn everything that is known on the causes of and solutions to poverty.
• Step #2: Use this knowledge to critique dominant do-gooder/mission models and offer an alternative path of action.
• Step #3: Introduce new model to the masses.  Do this through writing a book, becoming a traveling keynoter/consultant, be elected/appointed to a leadership position, etc.
• Step #4: Be happy in the knowledge that my work had made a difference in this world.

If only changing the world were as easy as it seemed back then. My plan was based on numerous naïve assumptions. For example, it turned out that anti-poverty experts knew a lot more about projects that have failed than they did about formulas for success (I spent five straight years analyzing countless failed development initiatives---what that did to my mental health is another conversation). It also turned out that when you try to explain to folks--especially church folk--that they are using antiquated mission models, their predictable response is not one of appreciation and requests for your advice on how to change. In fact, this is an easy way to quickly make yourself persona non grata in both ‘conservative’ and ‘progressive’ religious circles. There aren't many returned phone calls or consulting contracts for the nerd who dares to suggest that a congregation/conference/agency overhaul its beloved mission program.  

Needless to say, I’ve been somewhere between steps #2 & #3 for several years now, and I often think of the old plan as a bad joke. At times I suspect that what I thought was my call was simply me listening in on the party line. There are, for example, a handful of recently released bestselling books that say much of what I've been trying to explain (Toxic Charity, for example). Change seems inevitable even without my voice in the mix, although I don't think we've reached a tipping point yet (perhaps in secular society, but the church is more resistant).

I've yet to find a book that covers everything that should be said on the topic, but I'm pretty pumped about the progress my father is making on his book. I've put him on a 1,000/words/day minimum regime and he's been sending me his daily updates for accountability.  At this rate he'll be ready to send the manuscript for professional editing by September. The book's format is heavily influenced by Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, so for those of you who have been hoping for a step-by-step how-to manual on mission work, this won't be it.  It will be, however, a journey into the heart of DR Congo and the ramblings of a mad man on a bicycle. Some of you will find it profound; others will be confused. If you've been following his blogs for awhile, I suspect you will find it enlightening and challenging. It has potential to become a classic, or, at least a cult classic. Of course, Mark Twain defined a classic as "a book which people praise and don't read," so I'm hoping that it gets read before that happens. There is already serious talk of an indie film (not of the book itself, but of one of the stories of heroism told in it); the filmmaker is currently seeking investors for the project.          

The deal Dad and I made was that I'd manage Friendly Planet Missiology this year so that his only professional responsibilities would be to ride his bike (where he does his best thinking) and finish the book.  Who knows--maybe next year will be the year of The Plan.  ;)

Something About Mulongo

Kitchen conversations in Mulongo

Alright, so I promised to tell you about what I was doing in Congo last month (beyond getting ordained), and since the U.S. government in an ‘abundance of caution’ has said I should avoid leaving the house this week, now seems like a good time to write.

To start off, let’s clear up a common cause of confusion about where exactly I went and who is in charge of the programs I’m (via FPM) assisting. Imagine, if you will, going to a big church event and meeting a Rev. Joe Monroe. Rev. Monroe inspires you with stories of the struggles and initiatives in the town (coincidentally named Monroe) and district (also called Monroe) that he oversees. You’d love to visit Monroe someday, but you doubt you ever will since it is in such a remote place. Soon after you get a call from Denver, an acquaintance who met a Dr. Ivan Monroe and was inspired by Dr. Monroe’s sharing of the unmet health needs in the community where he was serving as head medical doctor and of how he had recently started a nursing and midwife training program there. Your acquaintance is seriously considering making a large financial contribution to Dr. Monroe’s ambitious project and wants to know if you could do a site-visit and give him your professional opinion first. Where is this school? Monroe, of course.

Now replace “Monroe” with “Mulongo” and you’ve got the start of the story of how FPM ended up having Mulongo as its DR Congo headquarters with Rev. Joseph Mulongo as its Country Director and a nursing school headed by Dr. Ivan Mulongo as its first major bricks&mortar partnership project. The story has a lot of twists and turns—some of which you can read about in Dad’s old posts --and a lot more will be told in Dad’s book.  

Last month, I traveled to Mulongo not only with my family but with Denver’s wife (Robin) and their pastor Deanne. We wanted Robin to witness how her contribution had been transformed into cement and roofing sheets for a fully accredited nursing school--the only one in the region. The faculty and students—especially those receiving scholarships from her family—wanted to testify to the many lives being saved because of the education received at this school. Robin was overwhelmed by what she saw and has decided to take the lead in the state-side efforts to raise support for scholarships, construction materials, and equipment for the nursing school. (Dr. Ivan, now a congressman, continues to be the main contributor and fundraiser for it in DR Congo.) She’d be happy to speak with your group about the school and ways you can get involved.

While in Mulongo, we stayed in Joseph and his wife Mary’s beautiful home. (Have I mentioned that Mary was one of the first graduates of Ivan’s nursing school and that she now teaches there?) As you can imagine, there is a very good story behind how a United Methodist pastor built such a nice house when most of his colleagues’ parsonages threaten to collapse with every rainfall. It starts with a laptop he received when visiting the Indiana UMC’s conference office and a desktop printer he bought with his personal savings. Mulongo used them to open the region’s only printing station. With those profits he made thousands of bricks—half of which he sold, and half were for his house. We figured that a pastor who is entrepreneurial enough to turn a budget laptop into a 4 bedroom house (with indoor plumbing!) all while leading several community development initiatives is exactly the sort of person who should be vetting and coordinating FPM-funded projects. 

Thus far FPM's decision to put Rev. Mulongo in charge of the programatic-side of operations has been successful beyond our wildest dreams. Now he's proposing some ideas of income-generating projects that could fund FPM programs and salaries (If the Catholic Church has its own gas stations and hotels in Congo, why couldn't we start a business?). We believe strongly that FPM should walk its talk by leveraging local assets to fund its work, so we plan to give at least one these ideas a try in 2014. We're not ready to broadcast all our plans just yet, but if you are interested in investing, please let us know! 

     

There are plenty of rooms at Joseph and Mary's house

Joseph and Robin by the Nursing School's sign

Meeting with some of the nursing students

The Nursing School

The school's maternity wing under construction

Nursing students at the celebration for the completion of the first building

Words of appreciation to Robin for financial support

Want to see more photos of Mulongo?  Check out the public album's on Bob's Facebook page.

Missiology 101, Session #1b: Feeding Other People's Children

Don't judge too quickly; Alpha is well-fed.*

So much is swirling in my brain right now (Peter Capaldi as The 12th Doctor, our embassy closed, FPM initiatives, etc.), but I promised I’d get back to you about last week’s mission trip flyer thinking exercise.

Interesting thing about it, my readers generally fell into two distinct categories: those who were instantly horrified by my example, and those who weren’t sure what I was getting at. More interesting, the less exposure the reader had to ‘mission culture,’ the more objectionable s/he found the flyer I described. I lift this up because I’ve found the same phenomenon true about explaining the work of Friendly Planet Missiology (FPM). With rare exceptions, there is an inverse correlation between how much involvement one has had with mission programs and how easy it is for one to intuitively grasp FPM’s approach and see how it is different from the dominant model. I’ve got some fuzzy ideas on why that may be, but I’m sure one could write a dissertation on that question alone. 

So let’s get back to the mission trip flyer that advertised an “opportunity to feed [insert nationality] children.”  What’s wrong with feeding children? Nothing at all. My husband and I feed our toddler multiple times a day, and occasionally we ask someone we trust to do so on our behalf. I would never consider feeding someone else’s child, however, unless the child’s caretaker requested it, and even then I might refrain (but that’s another conversation). What if the child had a dangerous allergy or other medical food-intake issues? How would I feel if a stranger fed my daughter without my explicit permission?  How would I feel if their manner of doing so showed that they thought I was failing at my parental duties or that they didn’t even recognize my parental role?  American parents warn their children about strangers who hand out candy, so why do so many of them then think it’s ok to be the stranger passing out treats in someone else’s neighborhood?

For decades now, countless do-gooder organizations have launched successful fundraising campaigns in the USA that tell middle-class and wealthy Americans that they have a moral obligation to feed hungry children in faraway places. I distinctly remember in the ‘80s and early ‘90s watching the images of unwashed emaciated barefoot children on my television screen as Sally Struthers stood next to them and pleaded that we give up our morning coffee habit and instead purchase sponsor our very own needy child. Some programs even promised that “your” child would send you thank you cards and pictures. For those exposed to such commercials, the guilt trip was put on so thick that it didn’t occur to most of us to question whether such ‘solutions’ to childhood hunger were even appropriate or what the parents of the children in the commercials thought about all of this! I’m not going to go too deep today into why child sponsorship programs are fundamentally unhealthy (the few that are halfway decent aren’t actually child sponsorship programs; they just do bait&switch fundraising), but I encourage you consider that there are healthier and more effective ways to help children. 

The underlying reason why child sponsorship commercials and mission trips to "feed hungry children" are unhealthy is the same. Both ignore the fact that children don’t fall from the sky, and they don’t survive for long outside of their mother’s womb without at least one person who cares feeding them. Any ‘solution’ to childhood hunger that doesn’t play a support role to this person is offensive and unsustainable. “What about orphans?” you ask. Even most orphans have relatives or community members looking out for them the best they can. Yes, there are situations where children are torn out of a nurturing social fabric and are trapped in abuse, de facto slavery or crime networks, but even then for an outside group to create a ‘solution’ that ignores that the hearts of adults from the child’s home community are also breaking is dehumanizing on one of the deepest levels.

Speaking of dehumanizing thinking, the very semantics of getting to feed local children conjures up memories of going to the petting zoo and, for a few coins, getting to feed the cute baby animals. Despite what generations of traveling sideshows and television commercials have programmed deep into our subconscious, children living in far away places are not objects that God placed on Earth to entertain us nor are they there for us to hand-feed or adopt like an exotic pet. If you don’t feel the least bit uncomfortable when a choir of young orphans performs for you on their USA tour, I suggest taking some time to think about those children not as adorable entertainment but as impressionable kids whose visas will soon expire and will soon be thrust back into their barely functioning orphanage. What kind of psychological damage do you think that will do to them, and what kinds of cruel jealousy backlash from other children and adults will they face when they return home? (but I digress)

Now that I’ve scratched the surface on common blindspots relating to hungry children, I'll try to offer some practical advice.

If you are currently in charge of leading/advertising a mission trip that will include interacting with malnourished children, consider the power that semantics and mindsets can have both before and during your trip. For example, instead of advertising a chance to feed children, talk about an opportunity to meet with [insert nationality] community leaders and spend a day at the neighborhood nutrition and tutoring center they created to assist street kids and latchkey families. Be sure that your team members don’t forget that the social taboos concerning stranger-child interaction at home most likely will apply on your trip too. Make sure they also understand that children aren’t puppy dogs in the pet store. Lavishing a struggling child with attention for a few days and then disappearing often does more long-term psychological damage to the child (warped understanding of love and reinforced abandonment issues) then it helps. Don’t tell a child how much you love her/him if you aren’t going to back it up with actions and a lifetime commitment! (and never tell a child that you want to take them home with you---they could hear it as a promise, and you may find it an impossible one to keep even if you were serious about your intensions to adopt her/him)

Now please don’t interpret this blog as a blanket condemnation of child-focused nutrition centers (or food banks or soup kitchens for that matter). They have their place as a stopgap measure until a sustainable solution (living wages for all) is reached. For example, my mother, a public school teacher, is active in a program in her town that provides sack lunches, books and positive social interactions for at-risk children during the summer holidays. Through this program, she interacts with many of her past and future students, encourages them in their reading habits, and fills the nutrition gap normally covered by the free/reduced school lunch program. This program is led by folks who have a holistic view of the problems faced by the children and parents living in the low-income housing sections of their town, and thus it is proactively done in a way that does not dishonor the families that allow their children to participate in it. Do you see the difference between this program and the mission trip as it was advertised?  If not, please don't give up on me yet.  These are hard conversations, and we'll keep on exploring. 

The daily ritual at the Methodist Children's Home in Kamina, DR Congo.

 *Alpha has been living at the Methodist Children's Home in Kamina for several years now.  His caretakers give him plenty of nutritious food, but his body doesn't absorb it. Local hospitals lack the diagnostic equipment to determine the cause and possible solutions.  

Author's addition:  I realized after posting this that I didn't offer any practical advice for folks who are already involved in a child sponsorship program. Since such programs vary greatly in their implementation model, I suggest by looking into your organization's approach.  Read their website and see if they talk about working alongside grassroots leadership structures. Is there any mention of the children's families? Are they working on projects that address the underlying causes of poverty? Do an internet search on criticisms of your organization and see what pops up. Prayerfully decide your next steps from there.  You might decide to stick with the organization, but if you do, please do so because you respect their methodology--not because you've been guilt tripped into thinking a specific child will go hungry without your intervention.    

Conscience Laundering and the Mission-Trip-Industrial Complex

How unclassy of me to forget to remove Evelyn's diapers before folks arrived.

Yesterday I gave my readers a thinking exercise; some of you have already submitted your responses, but I’m going to give others another day or so to chime in before I share my thoughts.

Today, I want to talk about the buzz that was all over my newsfeed this morning: Peter Buffett’s New York Time’s Op-Ed “The Charitable-Industrial Complex” (along with response pieces like this one by Diane Ravitch) If you haven’t at least read the Buffett piece, please pause for a moment and do so.

Back from reading?  Ok, so what Buffett is arguing is nothing that hasn’t been said before; it’s getting media attention because he is saying it. At the heart of his piece is the issue of ‘conscience laundering.”

As more lives and communities are destroyed by the system that creates vast amounts of wealth for the few, the more heroic it sounds to “give back.” It’s what I would call “conscience laundering” — feeling better about accumulating more than any one person could possibly need to live on by sprinkling a little around as an act of charity.

But this just keeps the existing structure of inequality in place. The rich sleep better at night, while others get just enough to keep the pot from boiling over. Nearly every time someone feels better by doing good, on the other side of the world (or street), someone else is further locked into a system that will not allow the true flourishing of his or her nature or the opportunity to live a joyful and fulfilled life.

This phenomenon of conscience laundering is just one of my frustrations with the Mission-Trip-Industrial Complex. Mission trips create the illusion of extreme do-gooding (despite often being harmful) while allowing team members to return home to their old routines washed of their guilty consciences for at least another year.  Think I’m just some lone voice in the wilderness saying there's a problem with how we do mission trips?  Think again. 

Please hear me out, though.  I don’t think there is anything inherently wrong with taking trips to see how others in this world live.  I don’t even think there is anything wrong with taking such a trip with folks from your church. Such trips can be exciting and eye-opening. I do object, however, when trips are lifted-up as being more than they really are (educational adventures) and when they damage the mental health and economy of those on the receiving end. Every time I hear someone say, “I feel like I received more than I gave on my trip!” I have to bite my tongue to keep from responding, “Yes, you did. Now what are you going to do about it?” 

So here’s my advice for those considering signing up for a mission trip:

Stop and really reflect on your motivations.  If you want to go because you’ve got an itch to learn firsthand about the world and meet people with very different life experiences, then by all means go, buy lots of souvenirs, spend loads of money at locally owned small businesses, and send me photos of your fantastic adventures. If, however, your agenda is to rescue/teach/evangelize/serve others, please stay home. Consider, instead, becoming a long-term volunteer at a do-gooding organization that works in your own town. If you find this advice baffling, keep following my blog and I'll try to unpack it one step at a time.

My very first short-term mission trip: Zaire 1995.  

Missiology 101, Session #1: Feeding the Children

Yesterday I wrote about why I've been silent on issues that really matter to me and gave you a glimpse of some of what I’ve been doing lately. So many of you shared the post with your friends that my readership numbers skyrocketed overnight. So, I’ve decided to take a deep breath and take a stab at offering some coaching on mission programs via this blog. Let’s start with some low hanging fruit, shall we?

Actually, hold that thought for a moment. When I visit my parents, at some point during the visit my mother will inevitably point out ways in which I’ve let my appearance slide and then drag me into the bathroom with tweezers, scissors and cosmetic chemicals in hand. She knows that with a few easy adjustments I can go from homely to chic, so she feels it’s her duty as a mother to intervene. She’s made me promise that when her eyesight starts to fail that I’ll do the same for her. I share this because when I start talking about mission programs, I don’t want to critique strawmen. I want to use real examples, which means that some of you might think you know where I got my example and then word spreads that Taylor’s been badmouthing “X” project or congregation and people get mad and it all spirals down from there. 

So here’s my request if we move forward with this conversation and you suspect I’m talking about you or your congregation. Please think of me as that daughter/mother/sister who just really wants to give you a makeover. I don’t hate you or think you’re ugly. I wouldn’t bother pointing out the issues if I didn’t care and didn’t think improvement was possible. And, I wouldn't use your project as an example if others didn't have the same blindspot. So please don't pull your funding from an FPM-greenlighted project in Congo just because you think I'm writing about you. Pretty please? 

With all that said, let’s begin with our first example. This year I attended a worship service at a healthy mid-to-large sized Methodist congregation in the USA. They are involved in some terrific ministries in both their town and around the world. Good people; fantastic leadership team. I couldn’t help but notice, though, the flyers on their doors about an upcoming mission trip. They were going to a country that receives many honeymooners, eco-tourists, and mission teams. The advertisement promised that team members would have an opportunity to feed local children.

Your assignment: Critique this mission trip (or, at least, the way in which it was publicized)

Yes, I could tell you what ran through my mind when I read the flyer and why my knee jerk reaction was to face-palm, but you are a smart person; I want you to figure this out. If your mind doesn’t immediately start whirling, then give it time. When you have some ideas, share them with me.  You can put them in the blog’s comments section, write them on my Facebook link or send me a private message.We can even start a missiology discussion group if you'd like.

If you have no idea what was unhealthy about the flyer, then begin with some thought exercises. Imagine if a group of foreigners came to your town on a similar mission trip. Try to put yourself in the shoes of a parent or caretaker. Any emotions bubbling up? Have you ever fed a child that was not your own? What was your relationship with the child and/or the child's guardian? What kind of relationship exists between the mission team members and the primary caretakers of the children they are going to feed?

Bonus question: Any thoughts on ways in which a church group going to this country could be helpful? (Let's leave the discussion on the problems of offering help that’s not requested for later)    

I look forward to reading your submissions.  

Feeding my little Ood

What I Haven't Told You and Why

Some of you may be surprised to read that most of the people with whom I regularly interact here in Djibouti know almost nothing (if anything at all) about what I do professionally. For that matter, unless you’ve had extensive conversations with me in the past year, you probably don’t know all that much about what I’m doing either. Even though it's not hard to get me talking about Congo, I rarely write about it—especially not about the issues that are most on my mind. There’s so much to say, and it’s hard to know where to begin.  Even more than that, there is the problem of finding words that convey the message.

Have you ever had the experience of opening up to someone and sharing something important you’ve realized/grappled with only to have the manner of their response tell you that they clearly didn’t get what you were trying to communicate? Has the frustration ever been made worse when they are convinced they already know what you’re saying and proceed to offer an example that does not match at all? If so, you've felt some of what I go through.

My experiences and work in Congo don’t fit neatly into dominant mental models, but that hasn’t stopped folks from trying to shoehorn them into one. Partly this is human nature; it is easier to file things into categories we already know. Partly, though, is that if a bunch of folks really heard what I had to say about mainstream Western mission models (secular and religious), a lot of changes would happen. Uninvited change, of course, is threatening and scary. No one enjoys having the effectiveness of one’s paradigm challenged. By just beginning to publicly point out problems in the way United Methodists in the USA relate to their colleagues in Africa, my father has made himself persona non grata in certain denominational circles and a legend in others. This is one of the reasons why he’s been writing a book and why the book writing process has taken so long. He can’t simply come straight out and write what he wants to say; that would offend too many people, and thus not lead to the desired results. He’s got to tell interesting stories that gently lead the reader into connecting the dots on their own. Self-initiated change is exciting.

The long-standing family joke is that I’ll write my book on missiology just as soon as Dad completes his. Well, it’s looking like that day is coming, so I’ve begun exploratory conservations with the faculty of the missiology department down at the University of South Africa about me entering their doctorate program. If I’m really going to write an academic book, might as well get a doctorate out of it. This way I’d have a dream team supporting my research and writing process. Of course, I’m guessing I’d curse my decision many times while in process (performance anxiety stress-outs), but I suspect that if I never do find the courage to say all the things I’ve been bottling up, I’ll be forever haunted by ‘what-if.’ What if I put my yearning for a world with healthy missiologies above my ego—my anxieties over what people would think, my reluctance to be a lightning rod (I’ve been one before, and it’s not fun), and my fear of my words being twisted and misunderstood?       

While most of you haven’t been obsessing over the root problems with Western mission models since you were a teenager, I suspect there is some issue of which you have an above-average knowledge. For some of you, it's the public school system; for others it is the prison system or gender discrimination or fair labor or city planning or arts appreciation or food supply chains or management styles or health care or even product design. No matter what your soapbox issue is, you can probably relate to your words falling onto deaf ears and even receiving hostile reactions when you point out what seem to you to be common-sense solutions. So can you get now why I’ve gone a bit underground in recent years in my efforts to encourage individuals and groups to re-examine the way they approach their mission initiatives and trips? 

So all of this was one big preface to say that I’m involved in some incredibly fruitful initiatives in Congo in my role as president of Friendly Planet Missiology (FPM). Some of our upcoming projects we’re keeping quiet for strategic reasons. Mostly I haven’t talked about what I do because, well, I’ve found it’s easier (both emotionally and functionally) to get things done when I fly below the radar. The downside of such an approach is that it doesn’t inspire many folks to make financial contributions to our programs, and it doesn’t help FPM’s secondary mission of being an educational resource to folks state-side. Pray for me as this introvert (yes, really I am) seeks balance in my online sharing.     

 Did you know that....  ?

FPM partnered with local doctors and officials to build the Mulongo region's only accredited nursing school. These students staff the local hospital and numerous village health clinics

FPM provides scholarships to female nursing students and is raising funds for the construction of a midwife training center, a medical reference library, and a dormitory for women nursing students whose homes are far away

Among next year's nursing scholarship recipients is the vice-commander (although widely considered to be the brains of the militia) of Lord Vende's Mai Mai army. One of these days I'll need to tell you the story of how FPM's Country Director Rev. Mulongo became her pastor. When Bishop Ntambo heard that "The Shooter" had applied to the nursing school, his eyes grew wide with shock and he said he would relay the good news to President Kabila as soon as possible.     

FPM operates a boat that is used for supply transport (Doctors Without Borders has borrowed it for immunization campaigns), evacuations (used to help leaders trapped during Mai Mai invasions), and more

FPM gave a matching business loan to a co-op of district pastors who had pooled half their salaries for one year to purchase a corn/cassava mill

The UMC's North Central Jurisdiction Volunteers in Mission program is in talks with FPM for a young adult road/boat adventure to Mulongo and beyond. American team members would be expected to provide financing for the cement and roofing sheets for the women's foyer (vocational training center) in Mulongo.  The women of Mulongo have already molded and baked thousands of bricks for the foyer's construction.  

There are well-organized and active troops of scouts deep in Congo. They serve as an unarmed peace-seeking militia for youth in the community.  When FPM teams or church dignitaries come to town, the scouts take the lead in crowd-control, hospitality logistics, and technical support (like setting up the electrical lines and speaker system in the temporary conference tent).  FPM has matched Indiana's scouting leaders with scout leaders in North Katanga to hold a special Jamboree in Tenke, DR Congo next summer.  

While FPM was initially launched by me and my father, FPM's Country Director Rev. Mulongo (left) and the team of volunteers he has assembled are the real brains and brawn behind the organization's work in DRC.

Third Culture Kid and Doctor Who (or How Chez Denyer stays sane)

This is the DW Experience

I know many of you are waiting for me to write about my recent site visit to Mulongo, DR Congo, but those stories are still decompressing in my mind. So, in the meantime, I want to talk about something near and dear to me that has baffled many of my readers. “What’s up with Taylor’s (and her parents’) passion for Doctor Who?”

While sure I had a childhood crush on Wesley Crusher and love Joss Whedon’s work --Buffy and I grew up together--, I am far from having the credits to call myself a true sci-fi nerd. Doctor Who, however, resonates with me on a profound level, and it resonates in a way that I suspect only a global nomad could fully understand. This is why I find it interesting that I haven’t found many Whovians in the Foreign Service (and, yes, I have spent hours contemplating why this would be).

For those who don’t know, Doctor Who is a BBC program that celebrates its 50th anniversary this year. It features an alien called “The Doctor” who travels through time and space in a ship disguised as an old British police phone box called the TARDIS. The Doctor has a soft spot for Earth and takes earthling companions on adventures. Each adventure, of course, involves encountering an unexpected danger and saving the day through quick thinking. The show is loved for its great writing (humor, wit, heart), and it doesn’t chase ratings with gratuitous gore or sexualized images. Part of the secret to its longevity is that not only can each episode take place anytime and anywhere, the cast and writers are constantly changing. Companions come and go, and The Doctor, when facing a potentially deadly injury, can simply regenerate (i.e. swap out leading actors). DW’s fan base is so large and dedicated that a good argument can be made that it is a religion. I’ve even been tossing around the idea for awhile with clergy pals that we should collaborate and write a Gospel According to DW. 

There are endless things to love about the show, but for me the most important thing is that it is a stabilizing force in my surreal life. It helps me put problems into perspective and lets me re-frame that unsettling feeling that I'm falling down a never-ending rabbit hole into telling myself that I'm simply taking another adventure through the time vortex.

The Doctor’s companions jump from one reality to the next in the TARDIS. One day they are home just chilling in their flat in London; the next they are on another planet in the middle of a war zone or rewriting history. They sometimes struggle to wrap their heads around the fact that their lives don’t make sense, that they are living in multiple realities, and that each time they return ‘home’ they are no longer the person who left. There are the endless goodbyes, the strain of always being ‘the other,’ and the questioning of meaning, importance, ethics and identity. And this is just talking about those who started traveling as youth/adults.

But what about a person (and I’ll try not to give spoilers) conceived in the time vortex? Such a person can’t truly call any time or place home. Could such a person ever belong anywhere, or would the spaces between places always feel more comfortable? My daughter Evelyn will be able to relate to such a person. She was conceived in Zambia, born in the USA, baptized in Congo and learned to walk in Djibouti. She’s not even two yet, and she has more stamps in her passports than most folks get in a lifetime. For her, concepts such as ‘re-entry shock’ will be meaningless. Re-entry to where? The USA will probably just be another place she occasionally visits but not sure she could adapt to American mental paradigms enough to be happy living there long-term (and frankly, I'm not sure I could either). There are lots of books, studies and articles about people like Evelyn. The fashionable label is “Third Culture Kid” (TCK), although I won't bother rehashing that literature here.

For this post, I just wanted to explain that DW provides me with useful Freirean codes  with which to process my experiences. It keeps me sane by making my life seem normal. And, it's lots of fun to watch.

My husband isn't a full Whovian (yet), but he has started watching the seasons that my in-laws recorded and mailed to us.

Trying to drive the TARDIS

Tell me, Face of Boe, Am I alone in my craziness?

Evelyn meets a Dalek

 

Bid List and Spousal Support

My Foreign Service Officer husband, Stuart Denyer

On August 1^st the U.S. Foreign Service’s summer 2014 bid list is scheduled to be released. We are halfway through our second assignment.  If you know how the Foreign Service works, then I’ve just told you everything you need to know about my husband’s current state of mind. If you don’t, well, let me try to explain a few things.

The U.S. Foreign Service is like a giant game of musical chairs.  Every few years every officer has to vacate her/his job and find another one. It doesn’t matter if you loved the job and were fantastic at it, once the music starts it is time to move. The first two rounds the powers-that-be cut you some slack and help you find your next post. After that, the game gets a lot tougher.

On a pre-announced date you are able to download a long list of upcoming job vacancies. It is up to you to figure which of those jobs are realistic options (do you have the required skills and experience or time to get trained?), research which jobs you’d actually want to have (it helps to have googling skills and contacts with the inside scoop on office dynamics), and apply to your favorites (yes, this means resume overhauls, cover letters, wooing e-mails, interviews, etc).  You’ve got to act fast because your peers are doing the same thing, and woe to the slowpoke.

That brings up another oddity of the Foreign Service.  While in most professions one’s peers are also in some sense one’s competition, the FS takes this to another level.  Networking is everything. You need a positive corridor reputation and friends advocating for you in order to get selected for your preferred posts. But, this is an up-or-out institution, and sometimes you and your friends will be competing for the same job. Did I mention that in the Foreign Service the bulk of your social life activities tend to include colleagues (and their spouses and kids)?  There can be pressure-cooker moments—some of which are the stuff of Foreign Service legend.

So, since I have your attention, may I take this moment to tell all of my readers who are in the Foreign Service that my husband, Stuart Denyer, is incredibly awesome? 

Stuart Denyer is a romanticized version of an old-school diplomat. He’s dapper and chivalrous, never snaps out in anger, knows his stuff, always has your back, earns the love and respect of local staff, learns quickly, never lets others take the fall for his mistakes (and will discreetly help you with your problems), plays the piano at parties and even stays late to help clean-up. Don’t interpret his mild manner and humility as a sign of weakness. His impressive collection of State Department awards does his bragging for him.

Stuart is smart, hardworking and loyal. The only thing wicked about him is his sense of humor. As one who has been his wife for 6 years and his ballroom dancing partner since 1997, I can assure you he’s in a class of his own.      

So I guess what I’m really trying to say can be summed up in song by Fred Rogers:

Did I mention he's also a professional organist?

and a doting father