The further along we drove the more I knew this wasn't going to be anything like the Western-style churches I've visited in the city so far. We turned off the main road into a section of town where the hills glinted as the sunlight reflected off the corrugated tin shacks. We kept going past homes made of plastic sheets draped over shoddy wooden frames. But despite the appearance of the community, everyone was out walking along the streets in their best dresses and suits on their way to church.
We pulled up to a corrugated tin building about two or three times the size of the surrounding houses. It was one long room with a raised stage and pulpit in the front right corner and the choir seated opposite on the front left side. Even though we were still a few minutes early, the rows of benches were already filled to the back. Paul, our friend who was the guest preacher for the day, led us to a row of plastic chairs near the front which appeared to be reserved for the pastor, elders, and special guests. We were greeted with warm smiles and made to feel right at home, aside from the many stares at the only white faces in the room.
The congregation is primarily Angolan refugees who years ago fled from the civil war, so throughout the service they spoke and sang in Lucazi, Chokwe, or Portugese and then some of the time it was translated into English. We started around 9:30 with a song. We were each given a hymnal to follow along with the words, or even brave the pronunciation if we wanted. Then came the welcome, a reminder for everyone to silence their cell phones, the introduction of visitors and new members, prayer for a couple who were married yesterday, prayer for all the fathers since it was Father's Day, and taking the offering. It was probably 10:30-11 when we started singing worship songs. Without instrumentation the chorus of voices naturally broke into multiple harmonies filling the small room. It was the beauty of simplicity that I think we often lose with our over-produced, Western services.
When the women's choir performed a man pulled out his iPad to record them, reminding me that even in the depths of Katatura it's still 2014. A few men calling themselves the "Fathers Choir" were going to sing but they ended up inviting all the fathers up to the front to join them. I wish I had an iPad to record that! For the sermon Paul preached in English, which was then translated into Lucazi. People were then given the opportunity to respond with a short testimony. After a few prayers, announcements, a secretary's report, and a benediction the service wrapped up at about 12:30. And they told us today was a "short" service because they didn't have the keyboard or else we'd still be inside singing!
We filed out orderly starting with the elders and the front rows. We formed what seemed like a receiving line where we shook everyone's hand then stood at the end of the line to shake everyone else's' hand as they came out. It was a very relational, very African way to conclude, making sure everyone had the chance to greet everyone else. I think that's something else we often miss when we either rush off to our Sunday afternoon activities or cluster with our typical group of friends.
I wish I had some photos to help you share in the experience, but it didn't really seem like an appropriate time. Maybe I could've asked the guy with the iPad to snap a few shots. :) But overall I'm thankful that the Body of Christ is so diverse in its styles and values and cultures. It's a good reminder that Christianity is not just about me, that God's mission is far bigger than I often presume, and that I, in fact, am only a very small part.
Children of Promise
"What was the saddest day of your life?" She looked back at me after posing the question, eager to hear my reply. I wonder if she realized what a depressing conversation starter that was, or if it was just a normal topic in her life. Without much time to think about it nothing really came to my mind, at least nothing that compared to what I knew of her story. She's experienced more sad days in her short 12 or 13 years than anyone should ever have to. And now all she wanted was someone with a listening ear to ask her that question in return.
Children of Promise Ministries is a Christian foster care organization who places orphans and vulnerable children into Christian foster families. Most all of their kids have stories like this girl, including abandonment, abuse, neglect, or absentee parents. The ministry helps provide for their physical needs, education, and perhaps most importantly, a loving family. I've been working with this ministry in Namibia since 2004, so over the last 10 years I've watched many of these kids grow from toddlers to teenagers.
Most of their families live either in Rehoboth (about an hour south of Windhoek) or in the small mining town of Arandis. To get to Arandis from Windhoek, you hop on the main paved highway and drive for about 3 hours as the towns you pass through get smaller and smaller. The vegetation along the road turns from trees to shrubs to grass until finally there's nothing but rocks and sand and desert as far as you can see. And that's where you find Arandis. This was a town originally build for the workers at the nearby uranium mine, but since housing was inexpensive it seemed to be a good location for Children of Promise to set up one of their headquarters. Now they have a few different homes with foster families dotted throughout the community. Realizing the need for quality education for their children, they founded a private school, Talitha Kumi Christian Academy, which is now accredited by the government and runs from preschool through grade 7.
Back in 2008, I lived in Arandis for almost 4 months teaching Bible classes at Talitha Kumi, helping lead Bible studies at the public high school, getting involved with worship and youth ministry at a local church, and trying to provide a good male role model for these kids. Then I would see them about once a year when I would help lead teams over there. But last weekend I made my first debut in Arandis as a resident of Namibia and it was exciting to tell them I was now living in Windhoek. We took plenty of walks around town, made photos of the sunset and the stars, and played lots of Skip-Bo! It was great to be back with them again. And now that I'm only 3 hours away I hope to go much more often.
Photo of the Day
While out for a walk I came across these kids coasting their
toddler bikes down this small hill. They were more than thrilled
to show off for the camera and even to let me have a go at it.
NETS
Now that I've been here for two and a half weeks I'm feeling a bit more settled and have started getting more involved in the life and ministry of Namibia Evangelical Theological Seminary (NETS), the school I came to work with. They set me up with my own desk in an office space which I share with Christo, the admin guy for the Distance Department. Most of the office staff is Namibian, but many of the lecturers are from other countries including Zambia, Zimbabwe, Australia, the UK, Germany, and the Netherlands. There's one other guy from the States named Dr. Jones, which always makes me think of Indiana Jones whenever someone says his name in their African accent, but he's leaving after this semester so he said I'd have to hold down the fort as the lone American at NETS.
First thing on Monday mornings is staff devotions. The first one I went to they threw me right in the deep end of the pool having me share the devo for the morning! I read from 1 Samuel 1 about Hannah's response when things weren't going her way, and shared some of the things I'd learned from the 7 weeks I was waiting for my visa about trusting God when things aren't going your way.
Then later in the morning and on Thursday mornings, all the residential students, lecturers and staff are split up into Growth Groups. They help us focus not just on the educational aspects, but also the personal aspects of training students. They offer a place for intentional community and pastoral care. I've only met with my Growth Group once, but I'm looking forward to getting to know them through the rest of this year.
On Tuesday mornings is chapel. The Growth Groups take turns leading each week. We'll sing a few songs, share announcements, pray together, then one of the lecturers will preach a sermon. In that way we're not just teaching them how to exegete and preach a text, but we're also demonstrating it for them. This semester they've been going through the Gospel of Mark.
Classes run every weekday from 8am-1pm. But each morning at 10:45, everyone takes a break for tea or coffee. That's been a good social time to meet students and hear a bit more about their stories. There are only about 25 full-time residential students in undergraduate programs, so that means small class sizes and plenty of opportunities to know and build into students' lives. There are also many part-time students as well as a program in the prison with around 90 inmates enrolled. Yet it's the growing Distance Education department that accounts for the bulk of our students, but I'll save that topic for a future post.
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| The residential students decided to dress up today just for fun. |
Then later in the morning and on Thursday mornings, all the residential students, lecturers and staff are split up into Growth Groups. They help us focus not just on the educational aspects, but also the personal aspects of training students. They offer a place for intentional community and pastoral care. I've only met with my Growth Group once, but I'm looking forward to getting to know them through the rest of this year.
Classes run every weekday from 8am-1pm. But each morning at 10:45, everyone takes a break for tea or coffee. That's been a good social time to meet students and hear a bit more about their stories. There are only about 25 full-time residential students in undergraduate programs, so that means small class sizes and plenty of opportunities to know and build into students' lives. There are also many part-time students as well as a program in the prison with around 90 inmates enrolled. Yet it's the growing Distance Education department that accounts for the bulk of our students, but I'll save that topic for a future post.
If at first you don't succeed...
I had already been to the Road Authority office twice to get my traffic ID number, then spent a whole afternoon at the police station so they could confirm that my car wasn't stolen, but with the roadworthy inspection (the last piece of paperwork I would need to register my car), I had no idea what I was getting into. For my first attempt, I arrived at 7:45am and there were already about 8 or 9 cars waiting. Before they would test the first-timers, they had to retest everybody who had failed the day before. So about 3 hours later they finished the retests and opened the gate to let us in. They gave us some paperwork to fill out and then we paid our fees. By that time all the workers had gone on lunch break, so it was another hour and a half of waiting. Around 1:15pm I finally pulled up to get tested. I popped open my hood and the officer said, "This car can't be tested. The engine is too dirty. Come back on Monday."
My heart about sank. After waiting around for five and a half hours, I didn't get failed, I didn't even get tested! So over the weekend I spent hours scrubbing the desert sand out of my engine only to find out later that the car wash around the corner would power wash it for me. I couldn't go Monday, but went back on Tuesday with my exterior, interior, undercarriage, and engine compartment all sparkling. I got in the retest line glad that I'd be one of the first cars through, only to find out that my test receipt was only valid for 2 days, that first day and the next. Since I didn't come back on Monday I would have to start the process all over: new paperwork, repay the fees, and go back to the longer waiting line.
So this time I made it up to be tested in only about three and a half hours. I failed because my headlights were too fogged up, but everything else was fine. At least this time I knew what I had to do to pass. So knowing that I had to get retested the next day, I spent the rest of the afternoon calling and driving around to find the cheapest headlights I could find and a place that had an open appointment to install them (I don't have any of my own tools yet!).
Wednesday morning I went back a third time with my receipt from the day before, a clean engine, and brand new headlights. This time the test was a breeze. They just checked out the headlights and let me pass. Then I spent the next 3 hours in a waiting room with everyone else who had passed while we waited for them to input all our info in the computers and print out a certificate. I took that along with the rest of my paperwork to the next office over and walked out with a registration in hand before lunch time.
Sometimes things don't go quite like you'd imagined. Sometimes you have to walk through the frustrating experience to learn how to do better the next time. Sometimes there really isn't anything you can do but wait and learn how to enjoy life in the meantime. And sometimes even just getting your car registered is a reason to celebrate!
My heart about sank. After waiting around for five and a half hours, I didn't get failed, I didn't even get tested! So over the weekend I spent hours scrubbing the desert sand out of my engine only to find out later that the car wash around the corner would power wash it for me. I couldn't go Monday, but went back on Tuesday with my exterior, interior, undercarriage, and engine compartment all sparkling. I got in the retest line glad that I'd be one of the first cars through, only to find out that my test receipt was only valid for 2 days, that first day and the next. Since I didn't come back on Monday I would have to start the process all over: new paperwork, repay the fees, and go back to the longer waiting line.
So this time I made it up to be tested in only about three and a half hours. I failed because my headlights were too fogged up, but everything else was fine. At least this time I knew what I had to do to pass. So knowing that I had to get retested the next day, I spent the rest of the afternoon calling and driving around to find the cheapest headlights I could find and a place that had an open appointment to install them (I don't have any of my own tools yet!).
Wednesday morning I went back a third time with my receipt from the day before, a clean engine, and brand new headlights. This time the test was a breeze. They just checked out the headlights and let me pass. Then I spent the next 3 hours in a waiting room with everyone else who had passed while we waited for them to input all our info in the computers and print out a certificate. I took that along with the rest of my paperwork to the next office over and walked out with a registration in hand before lunch time.
Sometimes things don't go quite like you'd imagined. Sometimes you have to walk through the frustrating experience to learn how to do better the next time. Sometimes there really isn't anything you can do but wait and learn how to enjoy life in the meantime. And sometimes even just getting your car registered is a reason to celebrate!
Week One
My first week in country has been a lot of introductions: introductions to new people, new places, new responsibilities. I made my first visits to NETS (Namibia Evangelical Theological Seminary) for an orientation, weekly chapel, and to sit in on a lecture about Contextual Theology. I've been able to meet many of my fellow lecturers and some of the students. During the morning breaks I've had a number of students come up to me and say, "So you're the new youth guy. I work with the youth at my church. I'd love to make an appointment to chat with you." Others on staff have reinforced how glad they are that I'm here because training for youth workers is so lacking. It's making me more excited to finish all my transition/settling kind of stuff so I can dive right in to the real reason I'm here!
As for transitioning and settling, much of my time this week has been spent waiting in lines. Having purchased a vehicle before I arrived, now I must go through the process of getting it inspected, registered, and insured, which involves quite a bit of paperwork and visits to many different offices. But by this point, waiting has become something very familiar to me.
NETS is currently nearing the end of their first semester. Then they'll have a few weeks off before starting back up again. I'm scheduled to teach the "Youth and Children's Ministry" course during the second semester which begins in mid-July. Hopefully by that time I'll be mostly settled and acclimated and ready to jump in.
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