Darfuri Mercenaries?

as you know if you've read anything on here from last week, i've been coming to terms with a more active (rather than passive/pacifist) idea of justice.

i've been reading authors--trusted men--who wrote of ending violence and oppression with violence.

i've been struggling immensely in the past few years with this and, seeing now that either ideal fails me, i'm falling in line with "christian realism", a concept attributed to a christian ex-pacifist named Reinhold Niebhur.

he reasoned that this is a fallen world, where ideals such as ever-enforced, strict pacifism is no longer a realistic option.

violence should only ever be the last resort, when sanctions and politics and other forms of diplomacy and peaceful campaigns no longer work.

in Darfur, after about 5 YEARS, no such thing as peaceful attempts at change are working anymore.
Blackwater, yes Blackwater, has agreed to step in and train 1000 of the 9000 African Union Peacekeepers already in-country to be a mobile urgent-response force to combat Janjaweed and other factions preying on civilians in the region.

frankly, i never wanted the obstinate President Omar al-Bashir to ever let it get this far, but seeing as how he's not likely to turn himself in to the International Criminal Court and thus stem the onslaught in western Sudan, i am thankful that more immediate action will be taken to protect the civilians of Darfur who've already endured so much loss of life and livelihood.

i know there is much controversy surrounding the exact inner-workings of Blackwater. it's almost intimidating to think of how "organized" they are, according to Marshall Adame's comment.

but to be even more frank, this is likely the lesser of two evils, and i support upgraded protection of civilians whole-heartedly.

a journey renewed... again.

if anyone reading this has known me well for over a year you'll definitely recognize these sentiments, especially if i knew you at the end of my spring semester at Lakeland. and there may be a few of you who recognize these exact thoughts if i spoke with you about this in Africa.

i wrote this a week ago in an attempt to understand myself and get some things out on paper. it was unfinished, but maybe i'll like it better this way.

--

my mind is racing. the Jesus of Peace. the God of Justice--would they think this right?
a monster taking on the bigger monster.
theoretically, in being armed, i can kill.
i can take life. not yet, for i am thus far unarmed,
but in the future. three, four, maybe five years, and i'll have the capacity.
but can i pull the trigger?
what hat will i wear?
will i be undercover?
will i be a badge?
or don a suit?
what about combat boots, camo, and a bandana?
will i go guerilla to "seek justice"?
will i be seen as a terrorist, murderer, snake?

or will i even ever really take a life?
in defending the poor and oppressed, will the Prince of Peace fade to the background?
will his call be lost in gunfire?
will i ignore his will?

if no one is to perish, perhaps i can help, and simply aim low-- just high and hard enough to bring them down so they cannot rise again.

can i shatter your bones in your legs and kick your face into the mud and know that you'll walk away from your crime?

--

tell me what you all think, please. every time i think this way i find something that swings me back to the other extreme end of the pendulum and i loathe any hint of violence.

and then again i see violence succeed in releasing captives of cruelty.
and then i remember there's no such thing as redemptive violence.
and then i think to myself, "is rescuing violence the same as redemptive violence?"

war is not the answer. invasion is wrong. occupation is wrong. but what about insurrection? what about violent uprising within a country in order to gain liberation?

i am stuck. i could go for a coffee date or a phone call with anyone interested in talking about this stuff.

peace.
amani.
veritas.

How to NOT vote pro-life:::

i read this on my friend Kristy's sister-in-law's blog...

http://theheidaway.blogspot.com/2008/05/now-this-just-makes-me-angrydoes-it-not.html

i work at Target, pushing carts. i see a lot of bumper stickers in a given day.

i see this one a lot, surprisingly:

"i vote pro-life". an american flag waves in the background.

this sticker reeks of two things i hate.
1. nationalism (as a Christian recognizing a global family, christian and non-christian, this is elementarily disgusting and elitist as a concept--especially when it provokes war)
2. the term pro-life (which in-and-of-itself should be concerned with ALL HUMAN LIFE. not so, with the republican party, whom i would imagine they are meaning to show support for, by donning this sticker)

"pro-life" should mean what it says, but since there's not one political party (i can find) that dodges nationalism and a pro-death stance... i think it's BS to vote for any single party ALL the TIME!

don't tell me you vote pro-life. we can't vote pro-life. i can't vote pro-life, but i can try to influence senators and representatives and candidates for all positions of power to lean away from killing american babies too, since at least the democrats are less happy about killing Iraqi babies, so far.

i hate double standards.

get angry. tell somebody else. try to change things and REALLY work for a pro-life stance. right now, obviously not enough people are.

and yes, i have every intention of tagging every single person in my friends list. hopefully i'll get a reaction, sisters and brothers.

instead of "voting pro-life", elect to live pro-life!

PAX.

oh the places i'll go!

there's a forlorn city on the Horn of Africa that's been bombed to hell a thousand times over and the people are aching...

i want to go there.

there's an old prison-turned-museum where the photographs of history's victims are fading with age, in Cambodia...

i want to go there.

there's a 5,000-year-old city on the Syrian coastline that's full of old books with words that read from right to left...

i want to go there.

there's a country of real people outside the green-zone, where guns trounce dogs as man's best friend, and war rages...

i want to go there.

there's a world outside my world, beyond my New York Life, that bustles with real human heartbreak and laughter...

i want to BE there.

Adonai, my dad in Heaven, help me be as you.

Mogadishu

"hello, my name is ________________, and i'm a US citizen living in ______________. i'm calling on behalf of a man named ________________ living in Mogadishu, in Somalia, seeking asylum here..."

i called the UNHCR DC Office.

this is how my voicemail started. obviously, for protection all around, things had to be changed here, in this publishing.

the man i mentioned above, a Somali journalist, has been threatened by both sides, for his work with foreign journalists.

one of the journalists he's worked with in the past several months works for a big newspaper based not far from my house. i'm working with both of them, as well as a woman in the 11th District Office in Ohio, working for Representative Stephanie Tubbs-Jones.

hopefully this action will all count for something.

Human Rights in Somalia

i've got a lead. a Somali journalist living in Mogadishu. could be the key i need to unlock a lot of the shrouded stories of Mogadishu's past, present, and future.

pray for me, my sisters and brothers, and pray for my contact. they face danger on a daily basis. several journalists have been killed (often targetted) in the past year, in Mogadishu. just pray.

and act.

politics aside

Post Author: Archer

i read this AP article last night thru Yahoo News:
http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/world/20080130-1256-kenya-ethniccleansing.html

-'12:56 p.m. January 30, 2008
KISUMU, Kenya – The young man hefting a machete at the burning roadblock was frustrated. He'd been looking for five days, but could not find a member of the Kikuyu tribe to kill.
Members of Kenya's biggest tribe have disappeared in their thousands from Kisumu, making it the first – but perhaps not the last – city to be ethnically cleansed.'-

as i said in my last entry, i am no fan of Kibaki, and right now the thought of facing a Kikuyu in the streets terrifies me (and i fear for my dear friend Furaha, a non-Kikuyu Kenyan surviving in Nairobi right now and attempting to find a safe way back to her home in Kakamega, northwest of Kisumu, in western Kenya, not far from Lake Victoria.

i am no fan, indeed, but this is just digusting.

-'“If we find any Kikuyus, we're going to slaughter them or burn them alive,” 19-year-old Daniel Odongo said Wednesday, who wielded the machete...'-

KENYA!!!! shut up and listen! It seems your leaders don't care about you anymore at all, or else the over 800 dead would be enough to get them to sit down and talk. Face to Face.

KENYA!!!! ignore your leaders! let them deal with the politics themselves, but grow up and face your countrymen with love! put down your machetes and torches! let the civilians be civil and the government govern! Damnit, we don't want another Rwanda, or another Darfur, or another Somalia!

KENYA!!!! you used to be the beacon of light in East Africa! what happened?! were these ethnic hatreds too unbearable that suddenly you can't sit down to share the same bowl just because you disagree about who's won the election?!

KENYA!!!! believe me, brothers and sisters--we ALL have our opinions of who really won, and who should be in power and who should not! one of my friends, Doreen, has absolutely no intention of killing our friends Furaha and Patrick just because they voted for Odinga! i just spent five months surrounded by about 15 Kenyans who were divided politically, and there was absolutely no bloodshed!

KENYA!!!! you say you are Christians.... your nation is supposed to be EIGHTY PERCENT CHRISTIAN!!! where is your love, o brothers?!

KENYA!!!! show courage when you're not holding a machete! show courage and strength when called on to remove a roadblock, rather than light a huge tire on fire! show humility and be content with disagreement!


...if you cannot coexist in love and humility, may God have his way with you all, my beloved brothers and sisters.

stop staining your land, o beautiful Kenyans... stop killing your families...

God bring them peace before you bring them judgment. Yet not my will, but yours be done.

--Archer

Kenya: Kikuyu: Kibaki

i'm only a several hours' drive from Nairobi, here, possibly the closest i'll ever be to Kenya's capital in the next several years, sadly.

and everything in Kenya has been pretty much shot to hell.

i've become so absorbed with all the news from Kenya since things started getting fishy only several days after Christmas, with the Election Commission delaying in publishing the winner of the race.

and a couple nights ago i had coffee with John, the base leader here, his wife Jesinta, K-K, Jeff, and Megan. John and his wife are Kenyans, living here in Arusha, running the base. the other four of us are all from the west.

Jesinta left us as the conversation shifted toward politics and the night wore on, for she had children to tend to for bedtime.

a couple other guests had already left, and gone to bed. thus it was only the five of us, with John and i in the thick of it, since i'm the only westerner who's really been following the whole thing.

i found out that Kibaki, the "president" of Kenya (who nearly undoubtedly won by mass rigging of the votes), who has already run the country for 5 years, has nearly backed himself into a corner. i pointed out that i'm surprised no one's assassinated him yet.

John told me that if things keep going the way they are for maybe only another two months, it's not too far-fetched of an idea.

either way, among his options are:
resigning.
going to court.
calling for a re-election which will bring about the first two options, probably, since he'll lose.
or being killed.

brother Kibaki, what have you done?
i do not pity you. i do not sympathize with you at all. if you even still cared about your own people, the Kikuyus, then maybe i'd feel bad for you. but you don't. their deaths and displacement mean nothing to you.

you are my brother, only as long as you remain human. you're nearing that boundary, and i fear you'll cross it, brother.

i cannot wait for justice to be dealt to you and yours.

step down and allow Odinga to save your countrymen.

not good enough. period.

i looked at Amnesty International's page today, and i'm presently sitting in front of a computer screen in Ngaramtoni, about 10 or 15 minutes west of Arusha, Tanzania.

i am reading a report on Mogadishu, Somalia. (which means if i'd hop two borders i'd be there!) it's dated July 22, 2007.

it's the latest report i can find from Amnesty.

i love Amnesty, i'm a member, and have been for almost a year or so. i've worked with them on Darfur, and i hope to continue my work again as soon as i get stateside in ten days.

i love them, but something's wrong if i can't get public access to a report on Somalia's situation that isn't nearly six months old. especially on Somalia, probably the country that would need a "status update" every three or four months. or weeks.

in the "What You Can Do" menu at the top of the page, i am instructed that i have these options:
"Act Locally"
"Take Action Online"
"Activist Toolkit"
"Member Center"
"Join US"
"Donate"
"Shop Amnesty"

that's not good enough. not for me. shouldn't be enough for anyone.
period.

in four years i should be there. i still don't know exactly what group will carry me into the Mogadishu airport, but i'm almost dead certain i'm going.

with all this fire burnin in me, all i can say is:

Lock. And. Load.

Somalia, Kenya, and other death wishes...

apparently the US government has just told all US citizens not to travel to Kenya because of the disorder.

Somolia's out of the question for most normal westerners (especially americans) anyway.

and i was going to try to travel to Kenya after my DTS, with my friend Joy, who lives in Kisumu. she and i have been tracking all of the stories on my radio here at the base, that thankfully i was wise enough to bring on outreach in Mwanza. it became our staple. especially in the bush-bush of Nassa.

but i felt God telling me to go home. i don't have the money to get there, to postpone my flight, or to survive for two weeks as i'd hoped. i wanted to go and take pictures, to march, to go to rallies, to comfort the victims, and to try to reach out to the leaders. but God is apparently not sending me there.

but i still feel him sending me to Somalia. there's a huge peace about it, and at the same time a crazy excitement that tickles the edges of my senses, like flames licking at the edge of paper before it goes up in smoke. it's an all-consuming fire right on the edge of my being, and here i am, waiting and praying for the doorway into that hellish place--the Horn of Africa.

since 1991 when a coup d'etat toppled the government, there have been about 15 attempts at a new, stable government. for just over a year now, Ethiopia has been running the show, since taking Mogadishu on December 28, 2006. they might be the longest running controller in recent years. i don't really know too much about it.

but for some reason, i'm pretty sure it's where i've got to go. i don't know exactly when or how (hopefully with Amnesty International, trying to stabalize everything from a human rights vantage point), but only God knows now.

i need to brush up on my Arabic before i get the green-light.
and get a better camera.
and a couple important licenses to aid me in various sectors of life there.
and i need to finish reading the Qu'ran.
and the Bible.

hehe... :) like i said, there's that heated excitement!

pray for me, dear brothers and sisters, as i pray for you.
PAX.

i should tell you...

...that i'm back now. to some that might be exciting, interesting, and jolly news. to others, however, it may be a drawback because Krissi's writings have been so interesting! they'll no doubt continue, but every now and then i'll be chiming in too!

Mwanza was great, but way hotter than Arusha. glad to be back to the city where i can actually sleep with a shirt and pants on inside my sleeping bag!

while there, i fell in love with Somalia.
...i forded a river south of Lake Victoria--barefoot.
...i have washed my hands in Lake Victoria, the day after Christmas.
...i have walked several kilometers barefoot through the fields between Magu and the Lake, with three Maasai warrior friends of mine (who have all killed lions)!
...i have gotten a worm and recovered miraculously in a day (as opposed to the standard week or so it should have taken. (and got to ride on the back of the pastor's motorcycle to and from the hospital! awesomeness!)
...i preached the truth of the grace of Jesus being enough in a society where good works is all that matters.
...i preached the truth that we are still sinners and no better than the non-Christians around us, in a society where distinction between "saved" and "unsaved", and titles like Uingelisti (Evangelist) are status symbols.
...i also started my own "bar ministry" with my friend Jeff across from our open-air meetings, and simply by playing pool with a bunch of the guys every night, i think they saw Jesus' real love for them.
...i was also yelled at by other members of the Church for spending time with the guys at the bar when we did, which makes me wonder if maybe we were really doing something right there!
...and (possibly the best story of all) i have been stung by a scorpion, and lived to tell the tale (even though for the first twenty seconds i thought i was a dead man, and even forgot to pray, as i was so consumed by panic!) thanks to the simple remedy of rubbing graphite into incisions cut around the sting point!

God has been good.

oh yeah, one more thing...
...i've also decided to try to make it two years single, just devoting my attention to God. so, come Christmas eve, 2009, i'll hopefully have grown so close to God that no girl can distract me. and i've also decided the only girl i want is one who brings me closer to God when we talk. i might already know who that is. i'm not sure. i'm praying. maybe she is, too. yeah, she probably is.

God has been good.
and more importantly,
God has been.

and i've come to learn that that's often more than enough!
i've gotta go write a really important letter to that girl i hinted at, above, so i'm gonna leave you with the peace of Christ. and with the grace to know that you're all he wants. not your works, your religion, or your service. no, just simply you.

PAX.
-archer

into able hands, and a very able heart

as early as Friday, December 14, 2007 i and my partner, Punjabican, will both be unable to contribute here until next year.

it is hard to have to shelve this for now, but when i return from outreach (in Mwanza, TZ) on January 10, 2008, i should have some great stories and observations and other thoughts to post on here. she will be going on winter break from school, as of this friday, and i don't remember exactly when she'll be able to start writing again.

we apologize for the boredom that may ensue whenever you check into this site. God knows i will be bored without this so familiar arm of expression.

but we also trust that we will by no means suffer any loss of creativity and imagination and material to put up on here!



in other news, though slightly related, we're capping off our first calendar year with this blog, with our first anniversary actually coming next month, on January 12. when we began we had four writers. three are still on board, but only two of us remain active. on our first day both Punjabican and i posted about the beginnings of everything we were striving four.

i said, on January 28, "i am going to experience the hardest months of my life to date, this year." the entry was entitled "i never knew i could be so tired"

that holds perfectly true, even though i had yet no real idea of what it was really going to look like.

it's interesting to look back and see that despite our early idealism, we've all stuck to our guns. even the two writers who don't write anymore have remained true to their hearts, and to mine, as my friends, and i know all four of us did something right by starting this journal.

it will be sad to go for so long, writing nothing. if i get a chance to, i have one other friend, deeply involved with all that Punjabican and i are striving toward, and also a great writer--i would like to invite her to join us as well! and perhaps, Punjabican and i will leave this journal in her able hands and very able heart.

thanks to everyone on the team who has made this such a great year! my love and prayers are with you all!

Merry Christmas!
Happy New Year!

May God's constant presence be a blessing and a joy to you as seasons shift.
PAX.
Namaste.
Salaams.
Peace.
-Archer & Punjabican

heat

the heat is on.
i feel idle once again.
i feel a waste of energy and knowledge.
i need to be out there.
gotta go fight.

the heat is on.

i picked up 'Not On Our Watch' again, after over a month. just in the mood for something political and activism-related. and now i feel more lost than ever.

missions is important, and not more or less important than justice, i believe. frankly, i think Jesus seemed to emphasize how we are to live more than what we are living for in the end. i could be wrong. but that's just the impression i get.

i feel idle once again.

i'm in Africa, but there's so little i can do. i can't give money since i'm so low on it myself. i can't write letters since letters across Africa rarely seem to make it where they're going (sent one to Dodoma, TZ, from here, and one to Capetown--two months ago. no reply.)

i miss lobbying with my colleague Bethany P. she and i were a good team. we hit two congresspersons from Ohio in one week, while thousands of other Amnesty activists were doing the same nation-wide. and that was back in March. i can't do anything like that here. in Darfur, people are still targets.

i feel a waste of energy and knowledge.

i learned a lot about Darfur and other issues like it, while working with Bethany in the spring. i've learned a lot while reading this book. i've learned a lot from peers and fellow passionate people.

i'm nearly consumed by the energy for this task. i'm at the point where i'm willing to pull out anything i can from companies my Roth IRA is invested in, if they're in any way connected to Sudan. i'll march straight up Capital Hill chanting if you give me a chance.

i need to be out there.

sitting here, with all this energy cooped up inside me, feeling so useless and yet so potent, i can think of only two solutions: either go to Khartoum personally, or likewise to D.C.

i need to be among the ranks of the marchers, the lobbyists, the mega-phone shouters and screamers, the political writers and journalists, the eager students and sacrificial soldiers. but i'm here, with an ever watchful eye for just such an opportunity.

gotta go fight.

standing at the edge of the cliff, what else is there to do. i've been backed into the corner by the indifference and ignorance around me. the people with the blank faces don't realize where i am, how close i am to the edge.

but now i've gotta take a stand, raise the banner, draw attention, raise awareness. shake things up. fight. things get dirty when people raise havoc. quiet is more destructive than loud protest. i gotta go join the fight.

Get into gear and make some noise.
-Archer

Rose with Dirty Feet

i scrambled frantically around while the rest of my class was still singing worship songs in the classroom, across the courtyard. i collected a large plastic basin from the showers in the guy's restroom, my own bath towel, and an 8-inch ceramic bowl from the kitchen, filling it carefully with the cleanest water i could, since the base has been running on muddy water for the past 48 hours.

the words of John's gospel (chapter 13:1-17) pulsing through my heart as i try to make sense of what just entered my mind while looking across the classroom, singing Swahili spirituals, my eyes locked on a woman named Rose. she'll be leaving our DTS early because she's pregnant and probably about to pop. she won't be doing the outreach, but she'll be able to re-attend just that phase of any of the upcoming DTSes next year.

our leader explained Rose's farewell story to us after we finished eating, and our speaker for the week prayed over her, preparing her for the journey ahead, along the road home, across the breadth of Tanzania.

as the singing began, Jesus' action and words in John's gospel stabbed into me from no place i can imagine. origin-less, these thoughts led me to take another drag on my coke bottle, setting it down on the table in front of me again, and then exitting the chorus.

coming back across the courtyard now, mission accomplished, i was steadily carrying a basin, cradling a bowl and my big brown towel, praying in the dark of night that i wasn't spilling anything. i didn't understand where this had come from.

Jesus, i haven't done this in years. is this really your idea? am i gonna look really vain? i feel like an attention grabber.

10 minutes later, i was on my knees in a room only occupied by myself and three others, dipping my clumsy, lanky white hands into the bowl, and carrying water carefully over to Rose's feet waiting in the basin.

"Maji baridi?"
"Ndiyo."
She hisses. i've just told her that yes, the water will be cold.
"Pole." (Sorry.)

at first the water invokes a recoil on her part, but soon, as Paul reads the story in John 13, from his Swahili Bible, seated next to her, i am lost in the one i am imitating.

first the right foot, then she withdraws it, dried to the touch, and offers her left foot, just as thickened, toughened, and scarred as the first. her brown skin is difficult to gauge concerning it's cleanliness, but i'm thorough anyway. and then finishing up, i wipe it dry with my towel, draped in a bundle over my right shoulder.

she blesses me quietly ("Mungu aku bariki.") as i look up at her when i finish, pulling away the basin and bowl, drying up the floor where Jesus had humbled me. Paul finishes reading, closing the bible, unable to meet my eyes, because his are watering up. not because of what i've done, i'm sure, but because Rose is one of his best friends here, and she's leaving too soon. i hug them both, resting my head on both shoulders in turn, and then just as quietly as i'd begun, i'm done, and take my leave.

suddenly all i want is to be alone with Jesus.
suddenly all i can think about is Jesus, the Son of Man whom i've just imitated and obeyed.
and suddenly i get why i did it.
it had nothing to do with Rose, really. she may or may not remember the mzungu who washed her feet, several months from now, while caring for her sixth child in its infant stages. but i'll remember how captive i suddenly was to Jesus.
and he'll remember what it was like to have, on this rare occassion, my full attention.

PAX.

think for myself

there are two different trains of thought that i find myself bouncing back and forth between here: the willingness to accept everything. and the need to contest everything.

this DTS is teaching me about these two major viewpoints of the world. and everyone fits into one or the other. for the most part.

on the one hand, most of my African brothers and sisters can be taught anything by our speakers at this school, and it becomes their belief, in a heartbeat. that's not always bad, but it's dangerous when several times teachers and speakers here have slipped up and delivered us false information.

which brings me to the next group. all of us westerners here (by far the out-numbered ones, running close to 7:1 on the base) often jump at every chance to complain about anything. it comes from being raised and schooled into thinking that as westerners we're always right. this is also dangerous (though contesting things is not always bad).

it becomes difficult for me, as one westerner (the one who'd at first been so open to complete assimilation with African culture, and is now seemingly the one most anxious to return to the familiar things in life), as i wade between two sharply different outlooks.

i have definitely grown to question a lot of things about human relations, theological truths, applied biblical truths, and crazy jazz like that.

the most interesting thing is learning to think for myself. as a dear friend of mine puts it, i am "the representation of the bandwagon fallacy." (thank you Emily!)

it's what you've got to do, think for yourself, remembering that no other human has any right to direct you, rather you must belong wholly in your own realm with the God you are in love with. God meets everyone on a different level. ergo at the same time as thinking for myself, i've also gotta be looking first at Jesus, and letting him tear into my soul, carving out the junk i don't need and establishing the throne i pledged to him there, at age three.

Jesus: "well, asher, it's about time!"
asher: "yeah, well, ya see... um... i never really realized what i meant! i mean, come on, i was young... yeah, i know that's cliche, but it works, right?"
Jesus: "how old are you now, asher?"
asher: (ashamed, awkward silence)
Jesus: "do you really not trust me with your heart and soul? do you really think you're the better driver? or am i just your 'co-pilot'?"
asher: "uh... Jesus?"
Jesus: "yeah?"
asher: "i haven't taken really good care of myself, already. you sure you wanna drive a junker? i mean, i'm no lamborghini."
Jesus: "have you seen any other lamborghinis on the road?"
asher: "not exactly. only in magazines and billboards and TV and what-not."
Jesus: "yeah. thought so. they're just fakin' it."
asher: "figures."
Jesus: "yeah, they don't let me drive either. they just make it out of their own kit. spit-shine and whatever else makes em look good. but they don't last. if you let me drive, asher, we'll last. you and me. that's all there is too it. no girlfriends. no porn. no beer. no joints. no pride. no gossip. no quarrelling. no disobeying your parents--*"
asher: "wait! what? hey now--"
Jesus: "...just you and me. do you trust me? really? good. open up."

so i guess this makes me wonder if i'm really thinking for myself, as the term would imply, simplistically. but, ah, what the heck... probably better this way, eh?

PAX.
-archer



*(though this is pretty much irrelevant to the blog, Romans 1.18-32 clearly outlines tons of other sins on par with homosexuality. yes, i have an agenda. i don't deny it. but this is simply the truth i wanna show here. but i'll write more about that later...)

oh, what's the word...?

there's a word i can't really remember all that well. my first girlfriend, freshman year of high school, used to always call herself this. and it fits me now more than ever before in my life. it means you do something a lot, way more than everyone else, and it's not healthy, and now, as i attempt to find the word on dictionary.com, you shall see (hopefully) how miserable i have become due to this condition.

it seems to happen every monday.

i'm a valetudinarian.

yep, i'm an invalid. chronically sick. frickin sucks.

this is the fourth time since i arrived in Arusha 3 months ago that i've been nauseous. the last three times i was fine after ...um... clearing my system.

sadly this time around that hasn't happened yet. and i've missed the first class session of the week. and i'm going to miss work duty too. for the third time since last monday--i had a fever that day.

between 4 nauseated mornings, a fever or two, chronic weakness that clung for a month as fatigue, and random headaches that cripple most of my human functions, i'm pretty much an invalid. no point in trying to dodge that description, i don't figure. but yeah. can't wait till this passes.

Patrick prayed with me a bit this morning, and i honestly believe i'll be well by the time i wake up tomorrow, if not before. but still.... hanging in limbo like this gets on my nerves.

obviously, i'm not nearly as articulate as i can be in my writings, and that coupled with a general sense of impending doom (and a runny nose left over from last week's fever), i'm pretty much having a crummy day.

it'll get better no doubt, i just wish i could function better. and i wish dinner wasn't going to be ugali and sukuma. but, c'est la vie.

to be quite honest, just writing this with a vaguely comical flare and imagining the reactions to some of my terminology, by a handful of my audience, a new smile rests upon my face.

so, i guess, i almost get to laugh at your misfortune as you read this. (as we say here in East Africa, pronounced "Po-lay", as a sign of feeling bad for someone:) "Pole!"

hey, look at it this way, at least your discomfort only lasts as long as it takes you to read half a page! this is the part wherein i become jealous.

PAX everybody!
(oh, and um... pray that i can ... expunge last night's dinner.)
-archer

what i am coming to learn, and coming to love.

please read this article.

i am relatively unacquainted with the truth of suffering, of hopelessness.

i am a poor missionary student.
no stable bank account state-side.
the poorest of the westerners in this YWAM DTS in Arusha, Tanzania.
the one who's broken two hearts in one fell swoop--mine among the two.
the one who's defied everything about my old culture.
the one who can barely afford to be using this computer.
the one who can barely afford to call home.
the brother and son missing his family.
the brother missing his brother.
the brother missing his sister.
the brother missing his dog.
the one who cries the most.
the one who has mood swings.
the one who hurts most among the team of students.
the one who has just recently encountered personal hopelessness, and barely survived it.
the one aching for ancient voices, both human and otherwise.
the one who is at peace.
the one who writes too much, reads too much, thinks too much.
...but is still held and loved by God.

just read this article.

if you think you know suffering, this'll step on your toes, laugh at your ideas, and then lovingly give you a better idea of how to live, and how to look at life.

Amen.
Peace.
Love.
Joy.
Suffering.
to You.
Amen.

like father, like son, eh?

I just found this fun little quiz on my dad's blog(nowandnotyet.net), and not surprisingly, i'm quite similar to his. i am, however, quite surprised to find that i even have "fundamentalism" anywhere but the very basement... bummer.
even so, from what i understand of the rest of it, it all kinda makes sense!
try it out on your own, and if you feel like it, compare mine with my dad's!

What's your theological worldview?
You scored as a Emergent/Postmodern
You are Emergent/Postmodern in your theology. You feel alienated from older forms of church, you don't think they connect to modern culture very well. No one knows the whole truth about God, and we have much to learn from each other, and so learning takes place in dialogue. Evangelism should take place in relationships rather than through crusades and altar-calls. People are interested in spirituality and want to ask questions, so the church should help them to do this.

Emergent/Postmodern 86%
Neo orthodox 75%
Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan 57%
Classical Liberal 54%
Roman Catholic 36%
Charismatic/Pentecostal 36%
Modern Liberal 36%
Fundamentalist 21%
Reformed Evangelical 18%


PAX.
-archer

p.s. my folks want a picture of me here in Arusha, so here's one i've just gotten up on my facebook as well. so far it's the most recent one i've got on any computer. sorry it's from so far away! my friend Jordan took it with a sweet digital camera he's got (so you can probably zoom if you save it) as we began our first week of outreach.

good to go home. (remix: dated Nov. 18)

it's probably not too healthy to be thinking about it so early, but i'm going to be really glad to go back to Indiana, and to visit Cleveland and Kentucky again.

to some degree, there's the hazard of this causing me to be so lax and irresponsible here, thinking so far ahead--2 and a half months. but on the other hand, isn't it also incredibly responsible to be planning ahead for the coming journey upon my arrival.

no sojourn under God's eyes ever reaches the finish line until the sojourner is looking into the eyes of God.

i can't ignore that my work was never finished when i left. and i can't ignore the fact that i will be picking up where i left off with a lot of my political and social activism.

as far as i can tell, Lafayette isn't exactly Chicago or Seattle or New York, or even Cleveland. but that certainly doesn't draw it up short of people who care about justice--at home, and globally.

there are great men and women i am looking forward to working with, in various ministries. i also have hopes to travel back to my roots in Europe and spend six months there. i may have to spend up to a year working at Barnes & Noble in Lafayette before i get such a chance. but i feel that that is where God is leading me. i don't know really any of the details, or exactly where i'll go. but i genuinely feel that it must be God calling me into it. it seems so illogical otherwise. it doesn't fit with any of my previous plans and thoughts concerning Africa. always wanted to go back and visit Amsterdam for a bit, but nothing quite like this.

frankly, as much as i've try to "know God (and make God known"- as is YWAM's motto) here in Arusha, it's been really difficult, since i've had to deal with so much legalism and religiosity, inside and outside of my DTS. thus it's been too hard for me to really meet God and get to know him as my Father as he's been able to barely reveal to me, amidst all the stifling structure.

in other news, i've been really struggling with the leadership here. not all, but several by name, and sometimes sadly the whole entity of YWAM Arusha seems to be to blame-- for those of you reading this entry after Nov. 18, 2007, you'll have missed a very explosive section containing angry journal entries from last week. due to my father's wisdom and frankly a sense that i needed to remove it (just like Hayley Williams' second thoughts on some of her lyrics in the amazing song, "Misery Business"; just read about that in an old issue of Relevant magazine) my anger was justified as far as i can tell, it's taught me a lot about myself and the way i see things, and for now, i'm getting past the feelings of anger that i can do little or nothing about. i'm definitely learning what it means to stick to what i know, and who i am, as i'm under fire. the entries were removed because they contained names i hadn't bothered changing, and to someone on the outside, it could seem as though i hated them. i definitely do not. my anger has passed, but the lesson remains, and again i'm working at seeking the best out of this DTS. after the following dashes, the remixed version is complete. PAX--

again: your will be done, Father.

-archer

Eliska Dali

i know so little about her. but i had the chance to get to know her better a little over a year ago.

i met her on October 5, 2006, and never got to see her, or anyone else i met that day, ever again.

**that's her in the front early in 2006, protesting Alito, and the woman behind her is her counterpart. she doesn't seem to like being "safely distant" from her challenges.**

my brother, Micah, and i were at Willard Park in downtown Cleveland, with my friend from college, Bri. there were about 400 other people there throughout the morning and afternoon.

i was skipping a math class, Micah was skipping the whole day of high school sophomore classes, and Bri was skipping... God only knows what. that was sorta her thing last year. skipping classes, chilling with me (for the first part of the fall semester, until the lure of the Gamers' Guild dragged her away from me on most days :) ) during her lunch break and when she was supposed to be in class. oh no, wait, that day she didn't need to skip. October 5 was a thursday, and she only had classes on mondays and wednesdays. she'd come up to the school by bus just to join me on another couple of bus rides into the fringes of northern downtown Cleveland.

to march against the Bush Regime.

and that was where we met Eliska Dali. we had no idea she was one of the organizers and leaders of the protest and march, but since Bri and Micah (who'd come up with a friend of his, a kid on the school newspaper staff or something like that, to do a story) and i were clueless of how to get involved, we found Eliska early on. i think she was smoking. almost everyone there was. i probably stuck out like a sore thumb. maybe that's why she and Ray, another leader, came over to talk to us and hand out literature.

i was beginning to be really thankful i'd brought my satchel when i had found the need to put several newspapers from the U.S. Communist party in there to disperse back at school later. after handing us flyers and stuff for ourselves, we were invited to go to the heart of downtown: Public Square. we went there at lunch break on a thursday afternoon, and handed flyers to people in suits and ties, blazers and enough rolex merchandise to feed the city for the day. we also handed them to those who maybe weren't able to have lunch for the day. and of course in Cleveland, due to the oppression of poverty and the inadequte city systems, most of the latter were black. most of the former were, of course, white. and most of the former wouldn't even touch the papers.

and then you had the people who would grunt and walk off when they saw you. to be honest, we were a motly crew. Micah and i had really long hair at the time, we both had fingerless gloves. and not one of the three guys in that spot (Bri was the rebel, as usual, and was the only girl) hadn't shaved in God knows how long.

during the march, Micah was back somewheres in the middle, Bri and i were at the front, helping control the large blue banner amidst the terrifying gusts of autumn Cleveland wind. at one point Ray put the microphone to my lips as i held the banner in one hand, thrusting my other fist into the air with each beat of the chant we were all screaming.

those same men and women with the rolexes and clean-shaven faces watched from windows several stories away as i lost my voice, raising the morale of the 400 or so protestors, disturbing downtown rush-hour traffic.

it was a good day though. a pacifist organization called Food Not Bombs fed us at the end of the march, around 5.30 or 6ish. Bri lit up again. Eliska stood and talked with the three of us, as we finished our soup in styrofoam cups with plastic spoons that three other people had likely already used.

and then we headed out from there, and i parted ways with Eliska Dali and Ray. however, i maintined phone communique with both of them for several weeks afterwards, until the protest mentality in me died off, and my activism was geared once more FOR Africa, and no longer to heavily AGAINST Bush.
***
but recent events here at the base have brought that protest mentality back to mind. and Eliska's name naturally popped back into my head. i haven't learned anything of her fate ever after that day, but googling her name today revealed several interesting stories of her activism in the beginning of 2006.

i wonder where she is now. i wonder who she'll vote for next year. i wonder about too many things...

Love and Peace or Else, brothers and sisters.