Steps on a Ladder

Community Development

“I remember when you came to help out at summer camp,” Dana said. “We played that game… baseball.”

“You do?” I was a little surprised. Not only had that been over two years ago, before I moved here, but many people had come in different years to assist with the summer camp programmes – why would she remember me?

But as we continued our conversation over chai, it turned out I wasn’t the only one she remembered. She and all the other young people remember at least the faces and some of the names of those who helped out with the programmes over the years.

I work with an Orphanage Project in an industrial city in Central Asia. I first visited this Project back in the summer of 2008 (as Dana remembered) to check it out, to find out whether I wanted to join in the work that was being done among the children from two local orphanages. I was so impressed by the way the Project majored on relationships – how these attention- and love-starved kids were being treated like real people – that I moved here in April 2009.

The founder of the Orphanage Project, Keri, has been here about ten years. As I understand it, she had been invited to visit a children’s home where she was struck by the poor condition of the children: they were small, underfed, inadequately dressed and timid. Soon after, she was joined by Mary, who is still on staff, and together they initiated programmes to fill some of the severe gaps in the orphans’ developmental, academic and life-skills education.

Being raised in an orphanage leaves most of the children apathetic and highly dependent, with no idea how to function outside its walls. Most of the children are diagnosed with a disability of one form or another, ranging from the relatively minor – such as behavioural problems and developmental delays – through to mentally disabled. For some of the children the main issues are institutionalisation and the barriers they will encounter as they enter life with a ‘mental disability’ label. This not only affects their chances of further education but narrows their options for good employment.

The programmes, including reading, maths, life skills, summer camps, city excursions, Saturday visits, can be loosely described as steps on a ladder reaching towards the ultimate goal of seeing the orphanage ‘graduates’ well adapted to life outside their institutions. We also help the children build a support network by recruiting and training local volunteers to work with us.

The graduate programme After I had been here 18 months, we were approached by someone from the Department of Education who wanted to know what we planned to do for children once they left the orphanage. At the age of eighteen, having completed their mandatory attendance at a technical college, the teenaged orphans step into the big, wide world, usually with no support network, no job and no place to live. So, with the backing of the government, we began our graduate programme, in which we help the graduates through the challenges of moving from institutional care to real life, and provide training and encouragement as they seek jobs, housing and a place in society.

And that is how ‘my place’ became ‘our place’: two graduates, Dana and Indira, moved in with me as part of our formal graduate programme, and that baseball conversation over chai (tea) was one we shared in the months we lived together.

Dana and Indira The girls moved in with me on a holiday weekend, and before it was over, they had written their resumes and, though terrified, were ready to start door-knocking for work. Only an hour and a half into the job search, Dana bounced in the door. “I’ve got a job!”

The next day, Indira was really hoping to come home with the same news. I accompanied her as she went from door to door. She came out of the tenth café with a sigh. “This is just not my lucky day!” she said as she came towards me.

We headed to the next one. With a deep breath she disappeared once more and I resumed my wait on the street. She was gone a while this time. Eventually she came out beaming from ear to ear and jabbering away, not making much sense. Attempt number eleven made that day her lucky day.

This was just over eight months ago. The conversation over dinner that night was all excitement; it was as if they each had the world in their hands. They had been in the city for less than a week, both had jobs, which they had found themselves, and this was just the beginning of much more.

Our life settled into a routine as the girls learned the responsibilities of daily living, how to cook and clean, and how to respect those they lived with. Even more challenging was discovering the difference between needs and wants as they learned to stretch their salary across the whole month. But the hardest part was working out what to do with the weekend, how to behave appropriately in the new world around them, and how to act in social situations.

It’s been about four months since they both moved out into flats and became fully independent. They know, however, that my door will always be open to them if they ever want to swing by.

Dana stopped in the other day. We hadn’t seen each other for three weeks so she wanted to catch up. I had another friend visiting so the three of us had chai together. When Dana was living with me, she tended to demand full attention at all times. Her mouth rarely stopped moving and the topic was usually whatever was on her mind. This time, however, I noticed an impressive change: Dana participated in the conversation without taking it over, offering her thoughts and questions and waiting and listening for responses. It was as if, all of a sudden, she had become an adult.

It has been an amazing, exciting and stressful experience for me, watching over Dana and Indira and growing and learning with them. Those few months gave support at a crucial time as the girls transitioned into life in the big, wide world. We are confident that Indira and Dana will go on to establish themselves as independent, valuable members of society, and we are looking forward to our next group of graduates.

Hope has been working with children and youth in Central Asia for over eight years.

/작성자:

Tough Love

Community Development, Arab World

In many of the poorer houses here the walls don’t always reach up to the roof which is shared by several houses. There is often a gap through which sound travels from next door. Or through which, if you stood on something tall – say, a table – you could look.

I was visiting Wendy when I met Amanda in this way. She squeezed up against the top of the wall to peer over at me. I could only see a slice of her face: an eye, part of a smile, a flash of the orange scarf tied around her hair. She greeted me and chatted for a few minutes before disappearing again behind the wall.

In a scandalised whisper, Wendy told me Amanda’s story. Unmarried, she had had a relationship with a local man and become pregnant. Her parents kept her hidden at home ever since. When the baby was born Amanda’s mother strangled him because he was illegitimate and a shame to their family. Amanda is still imprisoned in the house; she has never been out since.

“Do you visit her, Wendy?” I asked. “No, my husband won’t allow it.” “Does anybody visit her? Does she have any friends?” “No, nobody visits her because of what she did.”

We sat in silence for a bit as I chewed over the information. I was horrified that Amanda’s mother – a woman who had once held her own babies in her arms and loved and nurtured them – could have killed her own grandson. I wanted to cry for that little boy that never got to live. And I thought about Amanda, lonely and isolated, forever living out the consequences of her sin. And then I thought about the community. Steering clear. Staying away. Lest they be contaminated by her sin, or incriminated by association; tainted. Neither her family nor her neighbours will forgive Amanda for what she has done. And while her family will deny what has happened, others like Wendy will continue to repeat it in hushed tones. It will be revisited often, as a warning to the young women of the neighbourhood, against the follies of romantic involvement or of doing anything else which might bring shame on their families.

Yet I know that there is forgiveness available for Amanda. There is One who has already redeemed her and who is waiting to take possession of His prize. One who sees that she is precious, though at fault; beautiful though broken.

So this morning, as I write this, I am asking myself again “what would Jesus do?”. And the problem is that I know the answer. I’m just not sure I’m ready to act on it. In a culture where reputation is everything, am I willing to throw mine down, to bring Jesus to this woman? And while the questions crowd in, “what would the neighbours think?” and “would they still want to know me?” or perhaps seemingly more important, “what will it do to my witness?”, I know that these thoughts are foolishness. The truth is that this is incarnational living. The demonstration of God’s forgiveness. The extension of His grace to all. And if it ruffles a few feathers in the neighbourhood, so be it. As John said, “He must become greater; I must become less.”(Jn.3:30) After all, His reputation is my concern; my own is not.

/작성자:

Tough Love

Community Development, Arab World

In many of the poorer houses here the walls don’t always reach up to the roof which is shared by several houses. There is often a gap through which sound travels from next door. Or through which, if you stood on something tall – say, a table – you could look.

I was visiting Wendy when I met Amanda in this way. She squeezed up against the top of the wall to peer over at me. I could only see a slice of her face: an eye, part of a smile, a flash of the orange scarf tied around her hair. She greeted me and chatted for a few minutes before disappearing again behind the wall.

In a scandalised whisper, Wendy told me Amanda’s story. Unmarried, she had had a relationship with a local man and become pregnant. Her parents kept her hidden at home ever since. When the baby was born Amanda’s mother strangled him because he was illegitimate and a shame to their family. Amanda is still imprisoned in the house; she has never been out since.

“Do you visit her, Wendy?” I asked. “No, my husband won’t allow it.” “Does anybody visit her? Does she have any friends?” “No, nobody visits her because of what she did.”

We sat in silence for a bit as I chewed over the information. I was horrified that Amanda’s mother – a woman who had once held her own babies in her arms and loved and nurtured them – could have killed her own grandson. I wanted to cry for that little boy that never got to live. And I thought about Amanda, lonely and isolated, forever living out the consequences of her sin. And then I thought about the community. Steering clear. Staying away. Lest they be contaminated by her sin, or incriminated by association; tainted. Neither her family nor her neighbours will forgive Amanda for what she has done. And while her family will deny what has happened, others like Wendy will continue to repeat it in hushed tones. It will be revisited often, as a warning to the young women of the neighbourhood, against the follies of romantic involvement or of doing anything else which might bring shame on their families.

Yet I know that there is forgiveness available for Amanda. There is One who has already redeemed her and who is waiting to take possession of His prize. One who sees that she is precious, though at fault; beautiful though broken.

So this morning, as I write this, I am asking myself again “what would Jesus do?”. And the problem is that I know the answer. I’m just not sure I’m ready to act on it. In a culture where reputation is everything, am I willing to throw mine down, to bring Jesus to this woman? And while the questions crowd in, “what would the neighbours think?” and “would they still want to know me?” or perhaps seemingly more important, “what will it do to my witness?”, I know that these thoughts are foolishness. The truth is that this is incarnational living. The demonstration of God’s forgiveness. The extension of His grace to all. And if it ruffles a few feathers in the neighbourhood, so be it. As John said, “He must become greater; I must become less.”(Jn.3:30) After all, His reputation is my concern; my own is not.

/작성자:

A Time to Die

Community Development

It took six days travelling by bus, train and boat for nine nationals from this Central Asian country to make the journey to Sweden in 1998 to attend a missions conference. By the time they got there they were exhausted, dirty and starving. During the conference they were challenged to begin by doing missionary work in their own community. They prayed, made a list of places they could try to serve and made the journey back home. This type of trip was and still is illegal but triggered a work that has produced countless changed lives.

On the list they wrote the name of a retirement home located about 20 kilometres from where they lived. Nearly 60 people at a time live inside the walls of this old Soviet building that hasn’t received much more than a coat of paint since it was built 40 years ago. The reason this place was put on their hearts is because this is where someone is placed when there is no one to hold their hand as they die or they’ve been rejected from their family and have nowhere else to go. Cement floors and walls, old wooden windows and a small bed with rusted springs is what the residents call home for their last days. They are given an old stained mattress and one blanket. There is no running water inside and they use outside pit latrines all year round. The poorly paid staff barely pay attention to the residents’ needs and even keep food and blankets for themselves. When someone ends up here their head hangs low because for most rejection is worse than death in a culture that values family above all else.

Two out of the group decided to make the journey to the retirement home on their own, beginning what will became the first of many visits. We began by just sitting, listening, and singing going from room to room. We took opportunities to share the gospel and pray for everyone. When we returned to our house church our stories inspired others who began to give us clothes and blankets to take and some even joined in the visits. Soon the residents began eagerly to await their guests.

While visiting, many shared their stories anxious to talk with someone. Rasul shared how he left his home when he was twenty years old and never went back. For forty years he lived without contacting his family. He was very ashamed because as the only son he is required to take care of his parents who eventually died without knowing what happened to him. He lived with many women and spent most of his life living carelessly. As they began to talk with him they encouraged him to try to reconnect with his sisters. His shame was so strong he said he could not but eventually gave them permission to write to his family. His sister travelled from another city and cried as she told them how they had already had a funeral for him several years ago thinking he had died. Rasul received the Lord and several more visits from his sisters till he died a few years later.

Another man always liked to sit close and hold hands while talking because he had become blind. He finally shared how he had used to drink till he would pass out. One day he drank so much that when he came home he couldn’t even unlock his door and passed out in the stairwell. When he woke up he couldn’t see. While we were sitting with him he heard the gospel and said “God has opened my eyes. I was blind but now I can see.” Within a week he passed away.

Sharing the gospel in a Muslim culture always requires wisdom. Most in the retirement home would initially reject what was told to them but eventually after coming again and again they would tell us that not even their family visits them. We were told that the visits gave them enough energy and hope for another week when otherwise it seemed like all hope was lost. The staff began to tell us to come more often because the residents were calmer and friendlier after our visits. Eventually we knew each other by name.

In such rough conditions it becomes obvious when someone is about to die. They receive very little medical care so are quickly taken by sicknesses and also have to survive very cold winters with minimal heat. Even when someone received the Lord we would know inside that they wouldn’t be there when we came the next time. We lost count of how many passed away after we had the chance to pray with them. With each who passed away a new resident came in their place.

After more than ten years trips are still made to the retirement home. We’ve seen many residents come and go. Now each visit begins in a large room where those who can walk gather in a circle along the walls and listen as we sing and tell them stories about those who lived the faith before us. After that rounds are made to those who are confined to their beds. We’ve had days where we had to quickly and quietly leave because of religious opposition. We don’t always know how much impact a few cookies and a brief conversation has but we learned not to underestimate how meaningful a short interaction can be with someone who thinks the world has forgotten them.

/작성자:

A Time to Die

Community Development

It took six days travelling by bus, train and boat for nine nationals from this Central Asian country to make the journey to Sweden in 1998 to attend a missions conference. By the time they got there they were exhausted, dirty and starving. During the conference they were challenged to begin by doing missionary work in their own community. They prayed, made a list of places they could try to serve and made the journey back home. This type of trip was and still is illegal but triggered a work that has produced countless changed lives.

On the list they wrote the name of a retirement home located about 20 kilometres from where they lived. Nearly 60 people at a time live inside the walls of this old Soviet building that hasn’t received much more than a coat of paint since it was built 40 years ago. The reason this place was put on their hearts is because this is where someone is placed when there is no one to hold their hand as they die or they’ve been rejected from their family and have nowhere else to go. Cement floors and walls, old wooden windows and a small bed with rusted springs is what the residents call home for their last days. They are given an old stained mattress and one blanket. There is no running water inside and they use outside pit latrines all year round. The poorly paid staff barely pay attention to the residents’ needs and even keep food and blankets for themselves. When someone ends up here their head hangs low because for most rejection is worse than death in a culture that values family above all else.

Two out of the group decided to make the journey to the retirement home on their own, beginning what will became the first of many visits. We began by just sitting, listening, and singing going from room to room. We took opportunities to share the gospel and pray for everyone. When we returned to our house church our stories inspired others who began to give us clothes and blankets to take and some even joined in the visits. Soon the residents began eagerly to await their guests.

While visiting, many shared their stories anxious to talk with someone. Rasul shared how he left his home when he was twenty years old and never went back. For forty years he lived without contacting his family. He was very ashamed because as the only son he is required to take care of his parents who eventually died without knowing what happened to him. He lived with many women and spent most of his life living carelessly. As they began to talk with him they encouraged him to try to reconnect with his sisters. His shame was so strong he said he could not but eventually gave them permission to write to his family. His sister travelled from another city and cried as she told them how they had already had a funeral for him several years ago thinking he had died. Rasul received the Lord and several more visits from his sisters till he died a few years later.

Another man always liked to sit close and hold hands while talking because he had become blind. He finally shared how he had used to drink till he would pass out. One day he drank so much that when he came home he couldn’t even unlock his door and passed out in the stairwell. When he woke up he couldn’t see. While we were sitting with him he heard the gospel and said “God has opened my eyes. I was blind but now I can see.” Within a week he passed away.

Sharing the gospel in a Muslim culture always requires wisdom. Most in the retirement home would initially reject what was told to them but eventually after coming again and again they would tell us that not even their family visits them. We were told that the visits gave them enough energy and hope for another week when otherwise it seemed like all hope was lost. The staff began to tell us to come more often because the residents were calmer and friendlier after our visits. Eventually we knew each other by name.

In such rough conditions it becomes obvious when someone is about to die. They receive very little medical care so are quickly taken by sicknesses and also have to survive very cold winters with minimal heat. Even when someone received the Lord we would know inside that they wouldn’t be there when we came the next time. We lost count of how many passed away after we had the chance to pray with them. With each who passed away a new resident came in their place.

After more than ten years trips are still made to the retirement home. We’ve seen many residents come and go. Now each visit begins in a large room where those who can walk gather in a circle along the walls and listen as we sing and tell them stories about those who lived the faith before us. After that rounds are made to those who are confined to their beds. We’ve had days where we had to quickly and quietly leave because of religious opposition. We don’t always know how much impact a few cookies and a brief conversation has but we learned not to underestimate how meaningful a short interaction can be with someone who thinks the world has forgotten them.

/작성자:

Jesus and the Refugees

Community Development

We first met K, an Afghan man in his early thirties with a gentle smile and a tired look, about three years ago. We lost track of him until a few weeks ago when he suddenly turned up at church. He told us his story: both he and his friend A had become frustrated at the lack of progress in their asylum applications and had fled to Austria. Here they were befriended by evangelists and led to Jesus. Instead of finding asylum they were under even more restrictions in Austria, and ignoring their pastor’s advice they returned back to England.

Determined to come clean and tell the truth, they explained to the authorities they had lied previously and, telling the truth, awaited whatever judgement the Home Office would give. Indeed, they were immediately put in a detention centre and told they would most likely be sent back to Afghanistan. There they read scripture, worshipped in the chapel and witnessed to their Muslim inmates – which prompted a hostile response. Other Afghans said “If we are sent back to Afghanistan on the same, flight, we will kill you before we land at the airport.” This was no idle threat: during a riot in their wing, thirty angry Afghans tried to break into his room and kill him. Even efforts by their solicitors to get them bail before they were attacked again failed until one evening K was told ‘Here are your papers, you are free to go.’ K didn’t want to leave without his friend A, but found himself out on the street with his clothes and a bus ticket! As K talked to us, it was clear his heart was still with his friend A and he asked us to get involved. The next miracle was a crucial moment in the story. A was told one morning to gather his belongings as he was to be deported immediately to Afghanistan. As he boarded the bus, he realised he was going with all the other Afghans who had promised to kill him: he spent the short journey in urgent prayer for his life. As they stopped outside the airplane on the tarmac, each detainee filed past with their prison guards: A was the last to get off. A hand touched his shoulder, it was the last prison guard. “Your prayers have been answered, A. We haven’t got enough staff to go with you so you have to come back with us.” A was the only person in the whole busload to return that day. A few days later, A was released in the same inexplicable way as his friend K. When they were reunited they immediately came to church and now we have Bible studies each week. As we read, the Bible together they are clearly hungry for God and digest the Word of God with an enthusiasm that shows they know what grace is and how close they came to losing their lives for Christ.

/작성자:

Jesus and the Refugees

Community Development

We first met K, an Afghan man in his early thirties with a gentle smile and a tired look, about three years ago. We lost track of him until a few weeks ago when he suddenly turned up at church. He told us his story: both he and his friend A had become frustrated at the lack of progress in their asylum applications and had fled to Austria. Here they were befriended by evangelists and led to Jesus. Instead of finding asylum they were under even more restrictions in Austria, and ignoring their pastor’s advice they returned back to England.

Determined to come clean and tell the truth, they explained to the authorities they had lied previously and, telling the truth, awaited whatever judgement the Home Office would give. Indeed, they were immediately put in a detention centre and told they would most likely be sent back to Afghanistan. There they read scripture, worshipped in the chapel and witnessed to their Muslim inmates – which prompted a hostile response. Other Afghans said “If we are sent back to Afghanistan on the same, flight, we will kill you before we land at the airport.” This was no idle threat: during a riot in their wing, thirty angry Afghans tried to break into his room and kill him. Even efforts by their solicitors to get them bail before they were attacked again failed until one evening K was told ‘Here are your papers, you are free to go.’ K didn’t want to leave without his friend A, but found himself out on the street with his clothes and a bus ticket! As K talked to us, it was clear his heart was still with his friend A and he asked us to get involved. The next miracle was a crucial moment in the story. A was told one morning to gather his belongings as he was to be deported immediately to Afghanistan. As he boarded the bus, he realised he was going with all the other Afghans who had promised to kill him: he spent the short journey in urgent prayer for his life. As they stopped outside the airplane on the tarmac, each detainee filed past with their prison guards: A was the last to get off. A hand touched his shoulder, it was the last prison guard. “Your prayers have been answered, A. We haven’t got enough staff to go with you so you have to come back with us.” A was the only person in the whole busload to return that day. A few days later, A was released in the same inexplicable way as his friend K. When they were reunited they immediately came to church and now we have Bible studies each week. As we read, the Bible together they are clearly hungry for God and digest the Word of God with an enthusiasm that shows they know what grace is and how close they came to losing their lives for Christ.

/작성자:

Singing a New Song

Community Development

Ethnomusicology within the context of missions-How does this help bring God’s love to people? What is this work about anyway? Do ethnomusicologists write songs for people? Do they contextualize their own songs into local forms? Do they translate hymns?

I have been working for six years doing ethnomusicology work in South Asia and at times I still find it difficult to explain what I do. People still ask me the questions above. Perhaps I can help you step back a bit so that you may gain a fresh picture of some of the main things involved in this work.

1. Ethnomusicology, in the context of missions, is first about the worship of God. We want people of any language and culture to be free to worship God deeply and meaningfully. I often work in places where there are few believers and few Christian songs and worship materials available. Sometimes the foreigners who were working with these people thought that local songs lacked variety. Sometimes they assumed that all people should love the Western hymns and choruses they love. As a result of this, they often proceeded to translate their own choruses or favorite hymns into the language of the local people. Sometimes they bring their guitars and keyboards as well. This, of course, often leads to a shallow and superficial worship of God. It also can communicate that Christianity is something foreign, or that local music is not good enough for the worship of God.

I work with believers, often through workshops, to help them explore what is already theirs – a rich heritage of songs and cultural expressions, to help them build a biblical foundation for new Christian songs, and then help spark creativity so that they may make new songs, dramas, dances, poems, or stories that are relevant to church and community needs.

Several months ago I led a workshop in India with four language groups. A young man from one of the language groups said their group had always used songs from a related language group but had no Christian songs in their own language and in their own song styles. He said that unbelievers derided the believers for singing the songs of “outsiders” or of the related language group. During the workshop a few of the believers from this group made about 8 to 10 new songs. They were very encouraged at these first new Christian songs. A few months later I received an e-mail saying that people in this group had now written around 100 new Christian songs and were ready for their own first Christian song book.

2. Ethnomusicology is also about valuing people at a deeper level. It is about building relationships. Learning a local language is the best ways to communicate value to the local people, but learning their songs, their instruments, and helping them record or develop these, can communicate love and concern for them at an even deeper level. Doing this also brings openness in the community to the gospel. As you probably know, many people may be unwilling to listen to the gospel if it is spoken to them, but they may be willing to listen to the same message if it is sung in a local song style.

3. Ethnomusicology is about meeting community needs through local artistic expressions. I lead workshops in different communities for the creation of songs and dramas which deal with physical and spiritual concerns in the community. In one workshop, people from Muslim, Christian, and Hindu villages came together to discuss significant problems or issues they faced in their communities. They then began to work on songs or dramas that would help deal with these needs.

4. Ethnomusicology is about communicating God’s word in relevant local forms. There are still many in my area who cannot read or cannot read very well. Believers need more than written forms to learn scripture truth, and unbelievers need these forms in order to hear the truth. Though nowadays many are involved in getting the scripture into stories in local languages, ethnomusicology enables an outsider to research local song or story forms at a deeper, more rigorous level. This can help an outsider give better insight and thoughtful encouragement to local people as they create songs, stories, or dramas which are in relevant local forms.

Some of you may still ask me if I write songs for people. Let me stress that I do not write these songs myself. Good poets and song writers, people who have a deep grasp of the nuances of their own language, poetic forms, and melodies are hard to come by. It would be much harder still for an outsider to attempt to do such a thing.

In the end it’s not so much about music but about cultural artistic expression. It’s not about contextualizing foreign forms, but helping people explore and use the forms which are already theirs. Its not about focusing on music or the art, but encouraging believers to focus on God and the knowledge of Christ so that, as it says in Colossians 3:16, their songs and local expressions would flow out of this.

/작성자:

Singing a New Song

Community Development

Ethnomusicology within the context of missions-How does this help bring God’s love to people? What is this work about anyway? Do ethnomusicologists write songs for people? Do they contextualize their own songs into local forms? Do they translate hymns?

I have been working for six years doing ethnomusicology work in South Asia and at times I still find it difficult to explain what I do. People still ask me the questions above. Perhaps I can help you step back a bit so that you may gain a fresh picture of some of the main things involved in this work.

1. Ethnomusicology, in the context of missions, is first about the worship of God. We want people of any language and culture to be free to worship God deeply and meaningfully. I often work in places where there are few believers and few Christian songs and worship materials available. Sometimes the foreigners who were working with these people thought that local songs lacked variety. Sometimes they assumed that all people should love the Western hymns and choruses they love. As a result of this, they often proceeded to translate their own choruses or favorite hymns into the language of the local people. Sometimes they bring their guitars and keyboards as well. This, of course, often leads to a shallow and superficial worship of God. It also can communicate that Christianity is something foreign, or that local music is not good enough for the worship of God.

I work with believers, often through workshops, to help them explore what is already theirs – a rich heritage of songs and cultural expressions, to help them build a biblical foundation for new Christian songs, and then help spark creativity so that they may make new songs, dramas, dances, poems, or stories that are relevant to church and community needs.

Several months ago I led a workshop in India with four language groups. A young man from one of the language groups said their group had always used songs from a related language group but had no Christian songs in their own language and in their own song styles. He said that unbelievers derided the believers for singing the songs of “outsiders” or of the related language group. During the workshop a few of the believers from this group made about 8 to 10 new songs. They were very encouraged at these first new Christian songs. A few months later I received an e-mail saying that people in this group had now written around 100 new Christian songs and were ready for their own first Christian song book.

2. Ethnomusicology is also about valuing people at a deeper level. It is about building relationships. Learning a local language is the best ways to communicate value to the local people, but learning their songs, their instruments, and helping them record or develop these, can communicate love and concern for them at an even deeper level. Doing this also brings openness in the community to the gospel. As you probably know, many people may be unwilling to listen to the gospel if it is spoken to them, but they may be willing to listen to the same message if it is sung in a local song style.

3. Ethnomusicology is about meeting community needs through local artistic expressions. I lead workshops in different communities for the creation of songs and dramas which deal with physical and spiritual concerns in the community. In one workshop, people from Muslim, Christian, and Hindu villages came together to discuss significant problems or issues they faced in their communities. They then began to work on songs or dramas that would help deal with these needs.

4. Ethnomusicology is about communicating God’s word in relevant local forms. There are still many in my area who cannot read or cannot read very well. Believers need more than written forms to learn scripture truth, and unbelievers need these forms in order to hear the truth. Though nowadays many are involved in getting the scripture into stories in local languages, ethnomusicology enables an outsider to research local song or story forms at a deeper, more rigorous level. This can help an outsider give better insight and thoughtful encouragement to local people as they create songs, stories, or dramas which are in relevant local forms.

Some of you may still ask me if I write songs for people. Let me stress that I do not write these songs myself. Good poets and song writers, people who have a deep grasp of the nuances of their own language, poetic forms, and melodies are hard to come by. It would be much harder still for an outsider to attempt to do such a thing.

In the end it’s not so much about music but about cultural artistic expression. It’s not about contextualizing foreign forms, but helping people explore and use the forms which are already theirs. Its not about focusing on music or the art, but encouraging believers to focus on God and the knowledge of Christ so that, as it says in Colossians 3:16, their songs and local expressions would flow out of this.

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The Unwilling Diaspora

Community Development, Arab World

Refugee. The word itself conjures up a variety of impressions and interpretations. The legal definition used by countries for over 50 years comes from the 1951 Geneva Convention on Refugees which states, “A refugee is a person who owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality, and is unable to or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country…”. 1 However, there are many unprotected people in our world today who do not exactly fit this legal definition yet have had to move from their homes in fear. To that end, related terms such as asylum-seekers, forced migrants, internally displaced and stateless people have arisen.

The largest city in North Africa with a population of roughly 20 million people is home to one of the world’s largest populations of urban ‘refugees’ in the world today. This area has a long history of hosting refugees. Two thousand years ago Joseph, Mary and the Christ child fled to escape persecution in Israel. In the last century, 1 The 1951 Geneva Convention relating to the Status of Refugees. thousands of Armenians and Palestinians sought refuge when war broke out in their homelands. Since the early 1980s, African refugees, the majority from the Horn of Africa and Sudan, and most recently Iraqis, are refugees in this region. According to United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), the international body for determining refugee status and protecting refugees, at the end of 2007 there were over 100,000 individuals considered refugees here. However there may be hundreds of thousands more here who do not fit the official definition.

While working with refugees, I see and hear how they are suffering. For some, what they left behind is traumatic and has caused great pain, and yet it is with sadness they leave what they know as familiar and ‘home’. The past is often bittersweet. The present situation for them in this city can also be a source of daily pain and suffering. Camps are not allowed so these urban refugees try to find their way along with millions of locals who are also just getting by. Refugees however are on the fringe, limited by language and cultural differences, unequal access to social and health services, education and few job opportunities. They often find the new environment unwelcoming and complex, causing frustration and distress.

According to a UNHCR report from 2002, “eking out a livelihood in a teeming city is vastly different from the life in a refugee camp, where services are freely provided by relief agencies. In this city, families are evicted from their homes because they cannot afford rent, children are denied an education because they cannot afford school fees, and the general health situation of refugees is deteriorating due to their often poor nutrition and lack of adequate living conditions.”

The refugee diaspora is extensive; families are often spread out over different countries, some have stayed behind in the home country and others have made it to North America, Europe or Australia. One of my colleagues lives with his uncle here while his mother is in Kenya, his father in Sudan and a brother now in Israel. Some of the refugees are eager to go back and help to rebuild their country. They embrace the perspective of having a goal for their lives, something to live for. But the situation for example in South Sudan has not improved much since the first step towards independence, neither in opportunities for work nor in safety. Many places are still ruled by bands of thugs who fight each other and rob travellers. Others here dream of going to a Western country although many hardly know what to expect besides what they see on TV or hear from friends or relatives. Often the stories of refugees who travelled are like fairy tales. They are too ashamed to admit that life on the other side of the ocean is not all they expected and even more strange than being here.

Refugees are also anxious about their future. Joseph was told in a dream that it was safe to return with Mary and Jesus to his homeland. Most refugees do not have such clarity or guidance about their futures. For example, before the long awaited peace agreement between north and south, Sudanese refugees could apply to the UNHCR here for refugee status with the prospect of being resettled to a Western country but since the agreement this is now almost impossible. Repatriation, or returning to one’s home country, is still not a viable option since most of their home countries are still unsettled. Refugees say they feel ‘stuck’ here. One program aims to reach out to refugees, offering opportunity and hope amidst the challenges of life in this city. This refugee ministry opened its doors almost 20 years ago under the Episcopal Church. The program now offers a variety of services to refugees in their first few years in the city, including health care, emergency assistance, self-reliance programs, education opportunities and spiritual encouragement. The majority of the staff are refugees themselves, who work alongside other national staff and a variety of international volunteers.

At present, some 30,000 refugees use the services of this program, a significant number being of the majority faith in this region. On any given day in the main city centre premises, there may be groups of ladies waiting for their antenatal appointment, children playing during their school break, youth waiting for their English class to start and young men and women enrolling in a vocational training course. There are so many refugees that need a safe place to come to; a place that listens to their concerns and tries to help. Of course there are frustrations and challenging situations each day. But as one colleague tells me, after graduating from a Christian counselling course offered by the church, “I learned how to deal with people and understand how I can diffuse anger and tension, when people become highly agitated. We seek to treat refugees in a manner of dignity and respect so they can feel what it means to be valued…”. It is our hope that we can offer a helping hand, to do it in love as Christ would, and share some of the hope we know about our certain, future home with our Lord.

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