Well, I had all but abandoned this, but evidently people do still stumble across it, so I guess it doesn't hurt to update it now and then.
It has been a long time since I wrote a personal article, my writings have mostly been increasingly on my political blog. But indeed, much has happened since I last wrote in here. It's been almost exactly a year now, at that time I was in Taiwan, roughly 4 months in, I guess.
The following 8 months were amazing, but that story has been told, in both words and pictures, elsewhere. Suffice to say, it was a life-changing experience, and Taiwan become more like home to me than I could have imagined. My heart is still there, and there are weeks when I miss it every day. My friends, the ministry, English classes, my own Chinese classes, summer camp, (food!), the city, the mountains, the way the sky looked, even just the working out of day to day life there, all of those things resonate so strongly in my mind that occasionally it's as if I expect to open my eyes and see not north Alabama but a Taipei city street.
And yet I am not there, but here. And if I am ever to live there again, it will be through moving forward, not looking back. Seminary lies across my path, as well it should, and I am excited about that prospect. And it will be so much more meaningful learning lessons when I can look ahead and see how they will help me on the field. The thought of taking the Bible directly from Greek and Hebrew to Chinese without having to go through English is an exhilarating one.
I was told by someone on the field, if I'm not careful, travel could become a life-long occupation.
Evidently the fact that I had a money drawer in my Taipei apartment containing small reserves of currency from the surrounding countries was a sign that I was already a hopeless case.
Another sign might be that when I walk into an international airport, I nearly get tingly with the possibilities stretching out before me. Sure, I could continue to my intended destination. But where else could I go? Almost anywhere. Europe beckons tantalizingly, with its staggering cultural diversity, beautiful locales, and the history of western civilization, just for starters. East Asia is a more familiar target, yet still a largely unknown one. The islands of Japan wonder why I have not yet managed to find them, and Korea lies beyond. All of Africa is still for me, as for ancient explorers, the dark continent, and other than a brief foray in Mexico City, Latin America and everything South of the Border waits impatiently.
Steppe, Desert, Rainforest, Tundra... the staggering scope, complexity and beauty still remaining in a long-fallen world indeed leaves man "without excuse". I sometimes think that these Atheists who so boldly, arrogantly and foolishly declare that they have theorized God into nonexistence can never have really stopped and simply watched a sunrise or sunset; I can never witness one without being reminded of the majesty that established a natural world in which this kind of beauty is integral. The delicately balanced function that places our earth among the stars in just such a way to sustain life has also matchless form, form that reflects the Glory of Him who established it.
All this world to see, and yet... if I was presented with a ticket to anywhere, and enough money to stay there a while, I am not sure that I wouldn't go to a place that has stayed with me since the one time I have been there. One day, to celebrate the birthday of a wonderfully interesting lady from South Africa who had a unique ministry in Taipei city, we took a train down the mountainous Taiwanese east coast. There the forested mountains fall away in sea cliffs to the Pacific, leaving in some places only perilous ledges for transportation. The train winds along the coast away from the Taipei metropolis, out through little seaside villages. Finally we arrived at a particularly small one, disembarked into the tiny station, and struck out for the beach.
This is not a Florida beach, by any means. Few beaches in Taiwan, except at the southernmost tip, can boast perfect white sand, or smooth spotless banks. They tend to be brown and cluttered, sometimes polluted.
But this beach is a little different. Some clutter is there until you get closer to the water's edge, including an oddly high number of dead pufferfish laying about, but the sand is soft and black.
The black sand doesn't obscure the water like light sand does, and you can see straight to the bottom. Unlike the sheer mountainsides directly across the traintracks from us, the sand's slope is gradual, and we waded a good ways out. The day had been bright and hot earlier, followed by a rainstorm, but now the sky was overcast, and the tops of the green mountains were shrouded in mist. These days you can usually find at least a few students at any prominent beach, often hundreds of them. Other beaches are more locally known, and have a smaller, more dedicated attendance. Today was no exception, though the cloudy weather had reduced turn-out. There were even a few optimistic college students in wetsuits, trying to ride the small waves on their surf boards. Foreigners seemed to be in low attendance, however. I can recall that there might have been one other foreigner there, otherwise it was just us.
We then floated in the calm sea of that evening, listening to the waves and watching the mist move around the mountain tops that towered above us. If you offered me the chance, I can't promise that's not the first place I'd go.
Later we retired underneath a nearby large concrete military shore emplacement, long since abandoned and covered in Chinese graffiti, and used wooden debris that had collected inside to build a fire. (One guy, who had grown up in a village in Indonesia where his parents were missionaries, used a section of bamboo as a bellows to get the fire going) We boiled some water to make tea, and ate some of the snacks we had brought. A little bread truck playing music pulled up on the small lane behind the bunker, and we bought some sandwiches from it. The evening passed slowly and enjoyably. Finally, as I had to be at church in the morning, I and another guy in a similar situation took our leave, as rain began to pour. We hiked back to the train station, getting soaked in the process, and using our limited Chinese to explain to a couple who had taken refuge from the deluge in a small shrine that we did not, unfortunately, know of any place nearby where umbrellas could be purchased.
Upon reaching the station, we waited for the train a good bit. I was exhausted after a very long day, all that I am telling here was just the latter portion of it. This was the second beach we had been to, the previous one was more well-known, with golden sand. We made a trip up to the 7-11 to buy various things (cold noodles, dried fruit, cookies) which we combined into a decent lunch.
We also explored the nearby town, finding some interesting shops. But perhaps all that can be told another time. Coming back to this portion of the story, eventually the train did arrive, and we boarded. My sandals had caused some serious damage to my feet at this point, but I was too satisfied to care much. We did not, however, go back the entire way by train as we had come.
Instead, we went down the line a couple more stops, getting off at a somewhat more prominent town that had a bus line that ran back to Taipei. Though this was the first time for both of us, we successfully located the bus station, and before long were resting on the bus, on our way back to Taipei.
That was a good day, one that I will remember for a long time.
Will I ever get back there? He knows, and I trust Him.
My plans would never have led me to that place, or the many others I came to know and love.
It is only as a result of His plan for me that I forsook my career and ventured out, and now I cannot conceive of my life without the experiences that followed.
How then can I fail to believe that His ways are superior to mine?
I cannot. And so I press forward.
-Joseph
Friday, February 27, 2009
Friday, February 22, 2008
As it now stands
From time to time, I recall that I have a blog.
At such times I am occasionally compelled to post in it, but normally let the fit pass.
This is not one of those times, as it's too early to sleep but too late to do anything terribly productive. (not really, but I'll get around to that after the blog, hopefully)
For the reader who may stumble upon this (probably in its incarnation on facebook as a note),
I should probably mention what things have been like lately.
In general, things have been going well. My Chinese continues to advance slowly but surely, though I am not taking classes next month due to time and money constraints. I will undoubtedly have some mornings free during which I could continue to take them, but I've already taken a month or two more than originally planned, and the issue is more that as I become increasingly involved in ministry here, I never know when I will need to have the time free for other purposes.
(I will miss my teachers, but I'm also certainly not ruling out resuming classes later if I determine that I will have enough time.)
The work here goes slowly. Frustratingly slowly, at times. In a prosperous and technologically advanced nation, its easy to forget that despite a long missions presence here, Taiwan is in some way still pretty much the front lines. There's a long history of evangelical work here, but little penetration.
Opportunities for direct evangelism are there, but are harder because of the language barrier, a pretty consistent post-modernism (Oh, you came all the way here for your faith? That's great, it's good to see that kind of dedication in a young person... etc), and the fact that most people here just don't see a need for it.
Either they're not religiously inclined (mostly younger people), or they are already following Daoism or Buddhism or the sort of amalgamated version you often get here. Taiwanese are polytheistic pragmatists; if there is a god out there that they know about, they'll add them in for luck. I've seen icons of Jesus in a temple here, and I'm told there is a shrine to the Unknown God in another city not too far from here.
So everywhere you see things like mirrors over doorways, family idol shelves, food set out with incense in front of businesses on auspicious lunar days, etc.
Compared to that sort of vague, all-inclusive mysticism, the gospel stands out in stark contrast.
Many people here are potentially willing to add Jesus to their personal pantheon, but forsaking all other gods, and to a large extent the culture that goes with them, in addition to insulting your ancestors (and by extension, your living ones too), is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?
(ref. John 6)
The answer, it seems, is that few in Taiwan can right now. Part of the problem is that the Christian community as such is still developing. In some places, churches are relatively isolated, a small band of believers meeting on Sundays. The impact on the community is not always noticeable, and outreach can be difficult for various reasons. Door to door evangelism, for example, is not suited to the culture, where a personal relationship context is generally necessary before someone will consider really letting what you say sink in (they will usually listen to be polite, or even agree with you, but 'yes' is often considered a polite and non-offensive way of saying 'no' here), but would be difficult anyway because people do not live in convenient rows of houses with accessible front doors here, but in (usually gated) apartments. There has never been a church culture here, so there is no sense that going to church on Sunday is a moral activity. "Getting my religion in" here takes the form of going down to the local temple and lighting some joss (incense) sticks, or burning fake paper money in a little pot in front of your business.
To sum it up, except in rare circumstances, no normal activity would lead to someone going to church here, if there is even a church near them.
And people don't always exactly rush to decisions. I have heard that the average Taiwanese Christian heard the gospel 11 times before they accepted it. I also know at least two Christians here who, once they started going to church, did so for 8 years before they accepted Christ.
I could go on, but I think you get the idea. In this prosperous, modernized, and traditionally polytheistic culture, the gospel has made slow progress. Please pray that God will awaken the spirit of the Taiwanese people and cause them to feel a need for Him in their lives.
There are great opportunities here, especially among students, but not enough people who can and are willing to pursue them. The number of missionaries here is also decreasing due to attrition (retirement, transfers, etc) Please pray that God will raise up people with a strong desire to make His name more greatly glorified in this place.
-Joseph
At such times I am occasionally compelled to post in it, but normally let the fit pass.
This is not one of those times, as it's too early to sleep but too late to do anything terribly productive. (not really, but I'll get around to that after the blog, hopefully)
For the reader who may stumble upon this (probably in its incarnation on facebook as a note),
I should probably mention what things have been like lately.
In general, things have been going well. My Chinese continues to advance slowly but surely, though I am not taking classes next month due to time and money constraints. I will undoubtedly have some mornings free during which I could continue to take them, but I've already taken a month or two more than originally planned, and the issue is more that as I become increasingly involved in ministry here, I never know when I will need to have the time free for other purposes.
(I will miss my teachers, but I'm also certainly not ruling out resuming classes later if I determine that I will have enough time.)
The work here goes slowly. Frustratingly slowly, at times. In a prosperous and technologically advanced nation, its easy to forget that despite a long missions presence here, Taiwan is in some way still pretty much the front lines. There's a long history of evangelical work here, but little penetration.
Opportunities for direct evangelism are there, but are harder because of the language barrier, a pretty consistent post-modernism (Oh, you came all the way here for your faith? That's great, it's good to see that kind of dedication in a young person... etc), and the fact that most people here just don't see a need for it.
Either they're not religiously inclined (mostly younger people), or they are already following Daoism or Buddhism or the sort of amalgamated version you often get here. Taiwanese are polytheistic pragmatists; if there is a god out there that they know about, they'll add them in for luck. I've seen icons of Jesus in a temple here, and I'm told there is a shrine to the Unknown God in another city not too far from here.
So everywhere you see things like mirrors over doorways, family idol shelves, food set out with incense in front of businesses on auspicious lunar days, etc.
Compared to that sort of vague, all-inclusive mysticism, the gospel stands out in stark contrast.
Many people here are potentially willing to add Jesus to their personal pantheon, but forsaking all other gods, and to a large extent the culture that goes with them, in addition to insulting your ancestors (and by extension, your living ones too), is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?
(ref. John 6)
The answer, it seems, is that few in Taiwan can right now. Part of the problem is that the Christian community as such is still developing. In some places, churches are relatively isolated, a small band of believers meeting on Sundays. The impact on the community is not always noticeable, and outreach can be difficult for various reasons. Door to door evangelism, for example, is not suited to the culture, where a personal relationship context is generally necessary before someone will consider really letting what you say sink in (they will usually listen to be polite, or even agree with you, but 'yes' is often considered a polite and non-offensive way of saying 'no' here), but would be difficult anyway because people do not live in convenient rows of houses with accessible front doors here, but in (usually gated) apartments. There has never been a church culture here, so there is no sense that going to church on Sunday is a moral activity. "Getting my religion in" here takes the form of going down to the local temple and lighting some joss (incense) sticks, or burning fake paper money in a little pot in front of your business.
To sum it up, except in rare circumstances, no normal activity would lead to someone going to church here, if there is even a church near them.
And people don't always exactly rush to decisions. I have heard that the average Taiwanese Christian heard the gospel 11 times before they accepted it. I also know at least two Christians here who, once they started going to church, did so for 8 years before they accepted Christ.
I could go on, but I think you get the idea. In this prosperous, modernized, and traditionally polytheistic culture, the gospel has made slow progress. Please pray that God will awaken the spirit of the Taiwanese people and cause them to feel a need for Him in their lives.
There are great opportunities here, especially among students, but not enough people who can and are willing to pursue them. The number of missionaries here is also decreasing due to attrition (retirement, transfers, etc) Please pray that God will raise up people with a strong desire to make His name more greatly glorified in this place.
-Joseph
Monday, December 17, 2007
It's about time....
So, I am in Taiwan.
I have updated this so infrequently that I suspect no one will read it in anything like a timely fashion, so instead of giving an update I will simply ramble.
Being a missionary here is different than one might expect. The language barrier is something, certainly, and there are times when I eat strange food that I'm not crazy about, but for the most part the hardships are familiar, trivial ones, magnified by the lack of familiar, trivial comforts.
I love Chinese food, I am picking up a little Chinese (a very little, but any is more than I knew before!), my apartment is quite comfortable, and I am very much enjoying being overseas. So much for the conventional hardships of foreign missions...
No, the difficulties are things like missing my church on Sunday and feeling as if my spiritual life is suffering for the lack of it (so much for missions being a permanent spiritual high, eh?); being in a culture where hugs are definitely not given at farewells (it sounds silly but you really do start to miss it); wondering if the work that I'm doing will have any eternal significance because much of it does not seem particularly evangelical (I'm aware that this is an easy fallacy to fall into, but knowing that does not always stop me), etc.
I have delved deep into my relationship with God and found that there is not nearly so much there as there should be at this point in my life. I find myself assailed with doubts when I should be faithful, hesitant when I should be bold, incompetent when I should be capable. I am not sufficient for this task, and this humbles and shames me. I pray to God for strength, and instead receive hard-won lessons.
In short, missions is not something you bring to other people. It's something God does to you.
He is certainly changing me. But the more I change, the farther I see I must change. In the curve which must approach sanctification, I feel I am asymptotically veering farther away.
Eventually, it will come around. It must, because He has said it will be so. But in the mean time I feel very far from where I should be.
I ask myself, how can I share God with others when I have pursued Him so little myself?
How will He overflow from my life to that of others when I feel like a virtual black hole of His forgiveness and mercy, constantly needing greater quantities of it?
I believe He will, and maybe is even now.
One thing I may be sure of, all glory is His.
In my endless quest to justify everything about myself, I find that I utterly cannot.
I cannot justify myself, my actions, my thoughts, my relations with others, nothing.
I can only fall on His grace and pray that it will be sufficient for even one such as me.
-Joseph
I have updated this so infrequently that I suspect no one will read it in anything like a timely fashion, so instead of giving an update I will simply ramble.
Being a missionary here is different than one might expect. The language barrier is something, certainly, and there are times when I eat strange food that I'm not crazy about, but for the most part the hardships are familiar, trivial ones, magnified by the lack of familiar, trivial comforts.
I love Chinese food, I am picking up a little Chinese (a very little, but any is more than I knew before!), my apartment is quite comfortable, and I am very much enjoying being overseas. So much for the conventional hardships of foreign missions...
No, the difficulties are things like missing my church on Sunday and feeling as if my spiritual life is suffering for the lack of it (so much for missions being a permanent spiritual high, eh?); being in a culture where hugs are definitely not given at farewells (it sounds silly but you really do start to miss it); wondering if the work that I'm doing will have any eternal significance because much of it does not seem particularly evangelical (I'm aware that this is an easy fallacy to fall into, but knowing that does not always stop me), etc.
I have delved deep into my relationship with God and found that there is not nearly so much there as there should be at this point in my life. I find myself assailed with doubts when I should be faithful, hesitant when I should be bold, incompetent when I should be capable. I am not sufficient for this task, and this humbles and shames me. I pray to God for strength, and instead receive hard-won lessons.
In short, missions is not something you bring to other people. It's something God does to you.
He is certainly changing me. But the more I change, the farther I see I must change. In the curve which must approach sanctification, I feel I am asymptotically veering farther away.
Eventually, it will come around. It must, because He has said it will be so. But in the mean time I feel very far from where I should be.
I ask myself, how can I share God with others when I have pursued Him so little myself?
How will He overflow from my life to that of others when I feel like a virtual black hole of His forgiveness and mercy, constantly needing greater quantities of it?
I believe He will, and maybe is even now.
One thing I may be sure of, all glory is His.
In my endless quest to justify everything about myself, I find that I utterly cannot.
I cannot justify myself, my actions, my thoughts, my relations with others, nothing.
I can only fall on His grace and pray that it will be sufficient for even one such as me.
-Joseph
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Boethius and the Beach
So I have spent the last week, and will be spending the next week, with my family at the beach.
It's been fun, stress-free for the most part, and a good chance to catch up with my numerous siblings, who have done a little growing up since I moved out. Talking to my oldest sister about relationship issues, for example, is a new experience, but not an unpleasant one. It's interesting to see what kind of personalities they are developing as they mature. (if you can call moving into the teenage years maturing; for many people it seems to be the opposite!)
One thing I have always liked to do at the beach, which I do not see many other people doing, is going out and fighting with the surf. By this I mean getting out into the water where the waves are breaking the roughest, and struggling to hold my ground against every one.
It's endlessly fun (for me, at least), and a good allegory of life, I suppose. You discover different kinds of waves: tall, perfect crests which can be dived through; low, foamy waves which tickle as they pass; deceptive surging waves which look like mere swells, but then suck the sand out from under your feet and push you over. With this knowlege comes the strategies for dealing with them: Some waves you can let crash against you without being driven back, some you can dive through, some you had best swim underneath to avoid being swept off your feet and deposited nearer the shore. The allegory occured to me this time, but really I just enjoy it. It's probably not difficult to analyze this and make judgements on my personality, but I'll leave that to the interested reader...
Apart from fighting waves, getting a tan via repeated minor sunburns, burning my eyes out due to the glare and wave-stolen sunglasses (only cheap plastic ones, not to worry), and enjoying fresh seafood on a daily basis, I have been doing a bit of thinking, and reading.
The other day, I had a chance to sit out on the deck overlooking the ocean, and read a large chunk of one of my favorite books, the Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius. I won't go into the details of either the book or the philosopher here, (you can probably wikipedia that if you're interested) but it was definitely an enjoyable experience. My mind gets cluttered with all the excessive stimuli our hyperactive media culture subjects it to on a second-by-second basis, if I let it get to me, and occasionally it needs a bit of clearing and straightening out, to remind me of why perspective is so important.
The time away from my (former, as I prepare to depart for Taiwan in less than a month) job and routine has caused a shift in my perspective. I had expected it, but was nevertheless surprised when it came. It's so easy to get stuck in the routine of our lives that we forget the real world is all around us every day. Having broken out of this routine, I find myself noticing that reality is, well, real.
As Christians, we believe in some things that we can't see, and as people living in these times, we see many things that we must not believe. For me, this does not result in so much of a blurring of the line of what is real and what is not, as a lapse of perspective with regard to the relevancy of that question. Because I know that what I see around me is no more real than some things I cannot see, and because I believe that many things I cannot see are vastly more important than what I can see, I do not always attach enough relevancy to those things I can see. I forget that God has placed me in these very real surroundings, surroundings that existed in one form or another since He created them through Christ, for a reason. What surrounds me is not all of reality, but it is nevertheless real, and should not be ignored or pushed aside. Perhaps I am a bit too platonic about these things, attaching more significance to the unseen archetypes than their real counterparts that I interact with on a daily basis, sometimes without noticing them much.
-One exception to this, by the way, is nature. I have always been acutely aware of the beauty of the natural world, and am thankful that God has revealed Himself to me in this way. I cannot see a sunset, or a mountain range, the blue morning sky, or the waves breaking on the shore, without sending up a silent thanks to God for placing us amid such beauty. He pronounced His creation good, and though it is now fallen and corrupted, it yet retains the shadows of its former perfection.
But now it is late, and I think I will go and play Final Fantasy with my brother. It has occurred to me that perhaps a large majority of our entertainment (games, movies, television, etc) consists of constructing a hypothetical scenario with a system of relationships and rules, and dealing with the consequences of these. I wonder what that says about us as a culture? Does it make the Enemy's job that much easier when we are constantly immersing ourselves in alternate scenarios instead of focusing on reality? Is it so hard to deal with this life that we must create fictional realities to escape from it? Or are we just too lazy or fearful to fix the problems in our own lives, so we escape to other places to evade them?
Something to think about, anyway... time to end this.
-Joseph
It's been fun, stress-free for the most part, and a good chance to catch up with my numerous siblings, who have done a little growing up since I moved out. Talking to my oldest sister about relationship issues, for example, is a new experience, but not an unpleasant one. It's interesting to see what kind of personalities they are developing as they mature. (if you can call moving into the teenage years maturing; for many people it seems to be the opposite!)
One thing I have always liked to do at the beach, which I do not see many other people doing, is going out and fighting with the surf. By this I mean getting out into the water where the waves are breaking the roughest, and struggling to hold my ground against every one.
It's endlessly fun (for me, at least), and a good allegory of life, I suppose. You discover different kinds of waves: tall, perfect crests which can be dived through; low, foamy waves which tickle as they pass; deceptive surging waves which look like mere swells, but then suck the sand out from under your feet and push you over. With this knowlege comes the strategies for dealing with them: Some waves you can let crash against you without being driven back, some you can dive through, some you had best swim underneath to avoid being swept off your feet and deposited nearer the shore. The allegory occured to me this time, but really I just enjoy it. It's probably not difficult to analyze this and make judgements on my personality, but I'll leave that to the interested reader...
Apart from fighting waves, getting a tan via repeated minor sunburns, burning my eyes out due to the glare and wave-stolen sunglasses (only cheap plastic ones, not to worry), and enjoying fresh seafood on a daily basis, I have been doing a bit of thinking, and reading.
The other day, I had a chance to sit out on the deck overlooking the ocean, and read a large chunk of one of my favorite books, the Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius. I won't go into the details of either the book or the philosopher here, (you can probably wikipedia that if you're interested) but it was definitely an enjoyable experience. My mind gets cluttered with all the excessive stimuli our hyperactive media culture subjects it to on a second-by-second basis, if I let it get to me, and occasionally it needs a bit of clearing and straightening out, to remind me of why perspective is so important.
The time away from my (former, as I prepare to depart for Taiwan in less than a month) job and routine has caused a shift in my perspective. I had expected it, but was nevertheless surprised when it came. It's so easy to get stuck in the routine of our lives that we forget the real world is all around us every day. Having broken out of this routine, I find myself noticing that reality is, well, real.
As Christians, we believe in some things that we can't see, and as people living in these times, we see many things that we must not believe. For me, this does not result in so much of a blurring of the line of what is real and what is not, as a lapse of perspective with regard to the relevancy of that question. Because I know that what I see around me is no more real than some things I cannot see, and because I believe that many things I cannot see are vastly more important than what I can see, I do not always attach enough relevancy to those things I can see. I forget that God has placed me in these very real surroundings, surroundings that existed in one form or another since He created them through Christ, for a reason. What surrounds me is not all of reality, but it is nevertheless real, and should not be ignored or pushed aside. Perhaps I am a bit too platonic about these things, attaching more significance to the unseen archetypes than their real counterparts that I interact with on a daily basis, sometimes without noticing them much.
-One exception to this, by the way, is nature. I have always been acutely aware of the beauty of the natural world, and am thankful that God has revealed Himself to me in this way. I cannot see a sunset, or a mountain range, the blue morning sky, or the waves breaking on the shore, without sending up a silent thanks to God for placing us amid such beauty. He pronounced His creation good, and though it is now fallen and corrupted, it yet retains the shadows of its former perfection.
But now it is late, and I think I will go and play Final Fantasy with my brother. It has occurred to me that perhaps a large majority of our entertainment (games, movies, television, etc) consists of constructing a hypothetical scenario with a system of relationships and rules, and dealing with the consequences of these. I wonder what that says about us as a culture? Does it make the Enemy's job that much easier when we are constantly immersing ourselves in alternate scenarios instead of focusing on reality? Is it so hard to deal with this life that we must create fictional realities to escape from it? Or are we just too lazy or fearful to fix the problems in our own lives, so we escape to other places to evade them?
Something to think about, anyway... time to end this.
-Joseph
Friday, August 31, 2007
The phantom piper
So this morning, as I was about to leave for work, I heard a rather unexpected sound of bagpipes outside my window. Looking out, I saw that a man was standing in a grassy spot across the street, and had begun to play the 'pipes. This, of course, required that I stay and listen. He played several different songs, one of which I recognized (though sadly, Amazing Grace was not forthcoming), before finally vanishing as suddenly as he had appeared.
Let us all hope the phantom piper returns someday... to finish what he started with a little "Scotland the Brave"...
On the other hand, he is more or less solely responsible for me not getting into work nearly as early as I had planned.
Curse you, phantom piper!!! *shakes fist*
Let us all hope the phantom piper returns someday... to finish what he started with a little "Scotland the Brave"...
On the other hand, he is more or less solely responsible for me not getting into work nearly as early as I had planned.
Curse you, phantom piper!!! *shakes fist*
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Camp: Day 2
The next three days of camp started in roughly the same fashion; waking up and meandering into the dining room to help set out breakfast. This involved everything from helping the ladies in the kitchen (who spoke only Taiwanese. We managed to work with them fairly well, however) carry vast pots of rice, to setting out little bowls of condiments for the mountains of toast we helped prepare from numerous loaves of bread. Feeding 153 plus staff meant putting out vast quantities of food, and even then a few mornings we and the Chinese staff had to snatch what little was left after the kids had gotten theirs.
Breakfast consisted of toast some mornings, with available toppings including peanut butter, jelly, scrambled eggs, cucumbers, and a shredded pork substance rather like what's left over in a pencil sharpener. Other mornings it was a bowl of watered-down rice, with available condiments including the eggs, cucumbers and pork stuff, and also some spicy pickled flour dumplings, and a few other odd dishes. We either had soy milk or passion fruit juice to drink, both of which were excellent. I don't know the secret to their soy milk, but whatever the serve at camp is much better than the stuff you get there.
After breakfast there was a brief clean up time, which gave us a chance to finish eating and quickly discuss our plans for the next chapel period, which began directly afterward.
This morning, we led the kids in a song, Father Abraham (the girl's suggestion, since it involved simple words and "fun" motions), which went pretty well. The Chinese staff had them sing a song or two and then performed the next installment of the drama. After this, Erica gave her testimony, and a female pastor (male pastors are often in short supply in Taiwan, for both cultural and practical reasons) named Lydia spoke to the kids for a while. The kids then left for their cabin times, and we started preparing for the classes we would teach that day. Due to the extreme number of kids, Ron asked us to split up and teach two classes, even though there were only five of us. Caleb and Jacob taught Aussie rules football, continuing from the last camp, and Erica, Rebecca and I taught the English class. Caleb and Jacob apparently had a decent time of it, except when it rained briefly and the staff ordered everyone inside until it stopped. (because everyone knows that a little bit of rain makes kids sick. Or at least that seemed to be their reasoning.) For our part, we had mostly girls, which was expected, and for the most part they were very well-behaved, albeit very quiet. (Except for one girl, who was apparently spoiled cock-eyed.) We played welcome games to get everyone to speak up, and Erica drew pictures on the board and had everyone say the English name. Some girls knew more english than others, and so we tried not to let them answer all the questions unless no one else could.
I then played hangman with them, which they had fun with but were hesitant in guessing.
We also had them help us make lemonade. Several of the girls liked it so much that they asked us if they could fill their water bottles with it, while others made hilarious faces and pronounced it very sour. After their snack break, we played Go Fish, teaching them the english phrases that go along with it. "Do you have any ___ ?" "No, Go Fish!" etc
We also had to use class time to prepare a presentation that they would perform at the end of the camp. This was difficult for us, because while the kids like to perform up front, they liked to do this in Chinese. English was another matter entirely, and they were shy about using it.
Nevertheless, we planned out a short skit where the kids would be going to church, and then would sing a song at the end. One class would have a few lines of dialogue, and the other class would have responses. We later found out that this would be more difficult than we thought to organize, because due to scheduling conflicts the two classes never had a chance to practice together! After we had practiced with them for a while, we played Duck Duck Goose, which they enjoyed except when one girl slipped and fell. The floors are mostly all concrete there, but fortunately she only bruised and scared herself. After class was over, there was a short break, and then it was time for lunch. This worked similarly to breakfast, we stood behind the tables and handed out food until the kids were all through the line, then got our own. This year, due to the sheer number of kids, we sat at our own table instead of interspersing among them. It was good in one sense, as we had a little bit of space this way, but I also felt a little segregated, sitting at "the foreigner's table" as it were.
After lunch, the kids assembled in the chapel, and then broke up into groups and went to different station games. We each worked a station the first and second periods. The first period for me was floor hockey, in the top floor of the dormitories. It was the fourth story, a totally open room with windows all down two sides, with a spectacular view of the surrounding area and mountains beyond. I had felt sick and somewhat depressed earlier, but now my spirits began to rise. I was coming to this beautiful country to spend a year. I opened all the windows, and the room cooled down to a reasonable level. Mark Heinsman had been sent out after drinks for all of us, and I drank mine (a peach green tea) as I waited there for the kids to start arriving. This took longer than I expected, so I had some welcome solitude for a few moments. These were spent somewhat in just getting a breather and cooling down, and also in talking to God for a while. Eventually the kids started to arrive. They didn't speak much english that would be helpful in floor hockey, but little was necessary. I divided the kids up onto even teams when they didn't do it by themselves, and managed the flow of kids coming in and out. Some epic battles raged, and I could mostly watch and restart the matches after each goal. Since I was little, I have always appreciated situations where the adults or people in charge let us have fun with minimal interference, and thus try to take this approach when the situation calls for it.
In this case, the kids were having fun, and so a furious floor hockey war raged largely unabated for the whole first period. Any number from 4 to at least 14 kids were involved at various points, and my job was largely to referee if necessary, and as previously stated, restart the match after the goal. (this was done with enough anticipation as possible. I would set the ball down, carefully center it, act as if I were going to back up, then as the kids started to jump forward, reach back down and adjust the ball. Then, turning to each side and asking "ready?" I would jump out of the way and shout "go!" at which point both sides converged upon the ball and chaos ensued) The points quickly became irrelevant as kids were continually coming and going, what mattered was the scrimmage. After spending the first period this way, the time for swapping out came, and a huge influx of kids who spoke nearly no english arrived, indicating that they expected to practice archery there. I had no idea which of the Chinese staff was teaching archery, so I headed back downstairs, followed by a large crowd of children. Eventually they saw the archery guy carrying the bows upstairs, and ran to follow him.
After the activities wrapped up, there was a "world wide buffet" which also spanned dinner time. A variety of dishes, mostly altered from their original context, were set up on trays and tables outside, and the kids filed through and picked what they wanted. I was starting to feel overheated and sick, and so I ate little. This did not improve matters, and by the time showtime in the chapel rolled around, I was in a cold sweat. Our presentation about America and Alabama that Caleb had put together was first, and I advanced the slides while he narrated and Erica and Rebecca acted out each slide. (football and baseball, for example) Once that was over, Starcey and Janet came out and explained the next event, which was the kids' cabin group presentations. For this, they introduced a panel of three "judges" (complete with upbeat techno intro music) who would award prizes to the best presentations. The group presentations are usually the most opaque part of the camp to we Americans, and this time was no exception.
Not only are the presentations completely in Chinese, but they reference popular Taiwanese TV shows, or other things which the costumes and actions do not clearly convey to us without an understanding of the language. They are usually entertaining, though, and some of the groups did a very good job. When this was over, the kids went to their cabin time, and I went to bed shortly afterwards. I felt better in the morning, there is always one night during the first camp when the heat and exhaustion take a toll on my body, but having recovered I'm usually ok.
I also had heat rash this year, though less severely than in previous years, but decided afterwards that it was actually due totally or primarily to the new, unwashed camp shirts. (either from the dye, or from the fact that the shirts did not breath at all until washed. Judging from the placement of the rash on my arms, it was from the dye.)
This was a happy revelation for me, since it means that I don't just automatically get heat rash from being over there during the summer. Some powder I borrowed from the Heinsmans helped dry the rash up, and so the story has a happy ending. Which is just as well, as you doubtless are not interested in hearing any more about it.
At this point, the camp was half over. We were still tired, but getting into the swing of things.
The next day would be similar to this one until lunch, but we would have the water war after that, and then the campfire and gospel presentation, the most important night of the camp...
would the clear weather hold? Find out in the next installment....
Next Time: Water war and CampFire II
-Joseph
Breakfast consisted of toast some mornings, with available toppings including peanut butter, jelly, scrambled eggs, cucumbers, and a shredded pork substance rather like what's left over in a pencil sharpener. Other mornings it was a bowl of watered-down rice, with available condiments including the eggs, cucumbers and pork stuff, and also some spicy pickled flour dumplings, and a few other odd dishes. We either had soy milk or passion fruit juice to drink, both of which were excellent. I don't know the secret to their soy milk, but whatever the serve at camp is much better than the stuff you get there.
After breakfast there was a brief clean up time, which gave us a chance to finish eating and quickly discuss our plans for the next chapel period, which began directly afterward.
This morning, we led the kids in a song, Father Abraham (the girl's suggestion, since it involved simple words and "fun" motions), which went pretty well. The Chinese staff had them sing a song or two and then performed the next installment of the drama. After this, Erica gave her testimony, and a female pastor (male pastors are often in short supply in Taiwan, for both cultural and practical reasons) named Lydia spoke to the kids for a while. The kids then left for their cabin times, and we started preparing for the classes we would teach that day. Due to the extreme number of kids, Ron asked us to split up and teach two classes, even though there were only five of us. Caleb and Jacob taught Aussie rules football, continuing from the last camp, and Erica, Rebecca and I taught the English class. Caleb and Jacob apparently had a decent time of it, except when it rained briefly and the staff ordered everyone inside until it stopped. (because everyone knows that a little bit of rain makes kids sick. Or at least that seemed to be their reasoning.) For our part, we had mostly girls, which was expected, and for the most part they were very well-behaved, albeit very quiet. (Except for one girl, who was apparently spoiled cock-eyed.) We played welcome games to get everyone to speak up, and Erica drew pictures on the board and had everyone say the English name. Some girls knew more english than others, and so we tried not to let them answer all the questions unless no one else could.
I then played hangman with them, which they had fun with but were hesitant in guessing.
We also had them help us make lemonade. Several of the girls liked it so much that they asked us if they could fill their water bottles with it, while others made hilarious faces and pronounced it very sour. After their snack break, we played Go Fish, teaching them the english phrases that go along with it. "Do you have any ___ ?" "No, Go Fish!" etc
We also had to use class time to prepare a presentation that they would perform at the end of the camp. This was difficult for us, because while the kids like to perform up front, they liked to do this in Chinese. English was another matter entirely, and they were shy about using it.
Nevertheless, we planned out a short skit where the kids would be going to church, and then would sing a song at the end. One class would have a few lines of dialogue, and the other class would have responses. We later found out that this would be more difficult than we thought to organize, because due to scheduling conflicts the two classes never had a chance to practice together! After we had practiced with them for a while, we played Duck Duck Goose, which they enjoyed except when one girl slipped and fell. The floors are mostly all concrete there, but fortunately she only bruised and scared herself. After class was over, there was a short break, and then it was time for lunch. This worked similarly to breakfast, we stood behind the tables and handed out food until the kids were all through the line, then got our own. This year, due to the sheer number of kids, we sat at our own table instead of interspersing among them. It was good in one sense, as we had a little bit of space this way, but I also felt a little segregated, sitting at "the foreigner's table" as it were.
After lunch, the kids assembled in the chapel, and then broke up into groups and went to different station games. We each worked a station the first and second periods. The first period for me was floor hockey, in the top floor of the dormitories. It was the fourth story, a totally open room with windows all down two sides, with a spectacular view of the surrounding area and mountains beyond. I had felt sick and somewhat depressed earlier, but now my spirits began to rise. I was coming to this beautiful country to spend a year. I opened all the windows, and the room cooled down to a reasonable level. Mark Heinsman had been sent out after drinks for all of us, and I drank mine (a peach green tea) as I waited there for the kids to start arriving. This took longer than I expected, so I had some welcome solitude for a few moments. These were spent somewhat in just getting a breather and cooling down, and also in talking to God for a while. Eventually the kids started to arrive. They didn't speak much english that would be helpful in floor hockey, but little was necessary. I divided the kids up onto even teams when they didn't do it by themselves, and managed the flow of kids coming in and out. Some epic battles raged, and I could mostly watch and restart the matches after each goal. Since I was little, I have always appreciated situations where the adults or people in charge let us have fun with minimal interference, and thus try to take this approach when the situation calls for it.
In this case, the kids were having fun, and so a furious floor hockey war raged largely unabated for the whole first period. Any number from 4 to at least 14 kids were involved at various points, and my job was largely to referee if necessary, and as previously stated, restart the match after the goal. (this was done with enough anticipation as possible. I would set the ball down, carefully center it, act as if I were going to back up, then as the kids started to jump forward, reach back down and adjust the ball. Then, turning to each side and asking "ready?" I would jump out of the way and shout "go!" at which point both sides converged upon the ball and chaos ensued) The points quickly became irrelevant as kids were continually coming and going, what mattered was the scrimmage. After spending the first period this way, the time for swapping out came, and a huge influx of kids who spoke nearly no english arrived, indicating that they expected to practice archery there. I had no idea which of the Chinese staff was teaching archery, so I headed back downstairs, followed by a large crowd of children. Eventually they saw the archery guy carrying the bows upstairs, and ran to follow him.
After the activities wrapped up, there was a "world wide buffet" which also spanned dinner time. A variety of dishes, mostly altered from their original context, were set up on trays and tables outside, and the kids filed through and picked what they wanted. I was starting to feel overheated and sick, and so I ate little. This did not improve matters, and by the time showtime in the chapel rolled around, I was in a cold sweat. Our presentation about America and Alabama that Caleb had put together was first, and I advanced the slides while he narrated and Erica and Rebecca acted out each slide. (football and baseball, for example) Once that was over, Starcey and Janet came out and explained the next event, which was the kids' cabin group presentations. For this, they introduced a panel of three "judges" (complete with upbeat techno intro music) who would award prizes to the best presentations. The group presentations are usually the most opaque part of the camp to we Americans, and this time was no exception.
Not only are the presentations completely in Chinese, but they reference popular Taiwanese TV shows, or other things which the costumes and actions do not clearly convey to us without an understanding of the language. They are usually entertaining, though, and some of the groups did a very good job. When this was over, the kids went to their cabin time, and I went to bed shortly afterwards. I felt better in the morning, there is always one night during the first camp when the heat and exhaustion take a toll on my body, but having recovered I'm usually ok.
I also had heat rash this year, though less severely than in previous years, but decided afterwards that it was actually due totally or primarily to the new, unwashed camp shirts. (either from the dye, or from the fact that the shirts did not breath at all until washed. Judging from the placement of the rash on my arms, it was from the dye.)
This was a happy revelation for me, since it means that I don't just automatically get heat rash from being over there during the summer. Some powder I borrowed from the Heinsmans helped dry the rash up, and so the story has a happy ending. Which is just as well, as you doubtless are not interested in hearing any more about it.
At this point, the camp was half over. We were still tired, but getting into the swing of things.
The next day would be similar to this one until lunch, but we would have the water war after that, and then the campfire and gospel presentation, the most important night of the camp...
would the clear weather hold? Find out in the next installment....
Next Time: Water war and CampFire II
-Joseph
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Taijung
Or Taichung, or Taichoung, or however you care to romanize it.
(this is where my friend Charles would say pinyin takes care of all that, heh)
After the camp had wrapped up, we said our goodbyes to the kids, and had our post-camp staff meeting. The Chinese staff were given an opportunity to speak to the Aussies, and vice versa, and there were compliments and testimonies given all around. It was emotional at times, and also occasionally hilarious, as the inevitable errors in translation that arise when two languages meet were prevalent. Once, Ron had been translating the Chinese into English for everyone, and then one of the Chinese staff spoke in english. once they had finished, Ron began (in English) to paraphrase what had just been said, before realizing that it was in English. Everyone died laughing, and the undercurrent of joy that fellow servants of the gospel had was evident. Once the meeting was over, we had a while before the Aussies left, in which we were able to talk a bit more, and then it was time for them to go. We packed our own backpacks in preparation for a night's stay in Taijung at the Heinsman's, then piled into the Delica and drove down to Taijung. It is a decent drive from Dajia to Taijung, and so by the time we got there it was supper time. On the way, we got a call to ask for our drink requests. There is a little drink stand at a produce/meat market near the Heinsman's house, called Crazy Sue's. If you are in Taijung, it is -the- place to get cold or icy fruit drinks. Period. By the time we arrived, Teri Heinsman had run down and brought us back drinks from there, and an excellent meal was spread out for us. Chinese-style, there were several dishes from which we all loaded our plates. The mangoes were as good as I had remembered.
I had been totally exhausted when we arrived, but felt sufficiently rejuvenated after supper to go with the others to check out the Taijung nightmarket. This time, sadly, there was not much worth looking at. While you never know what you'll find there, that night we found mostly clothing, which was mainly either very cheap (in both price and design) or overpriced and inappropriate. This was not much to my liking, but the girls found a couple more interesting clothing shops, and somewhat ironically, Jacob and Mark Heinsman perused any place that sold earrings. (there were many)
We made our way back by bus, and in a humorous incident, Teri had the air conditioning unit leak on her.
Once back, we went to the rooms where we were sleeping. Due to space constraints, the Heinsman's apartment where we were spending the night has a small footprint, but spans several stories. The stairs become significant. The girls came in and we talked for a while, then crashed.
The next morning, we woke and went to visit the Heinsman's church. It was an interesting experience, singing worship songs (some familiar and some not) and listening to a sermon, all in English, after hearing so much Chinese. We ate pizza afterwards, but were forced to leave quickly because the camp staff needed the van. We changed clothes quickly at the Heinsmans, and headed back to the camp again. Just as we did, the typhoon-induced rain began to fall. It was forecasted to do this all week, but I prayed that God would help the weather to be clear. Constant rain would make things at our camp very difficult.
We arrived, and had the precamp meeting. The campers would be arriving later that afternoon, and so there was much to be done. We also talked about where we would be sleeping. The guys got to keep their current room, and the girls were moved due to the massive numbers of kids that were coming. In just a short while, they began to arrive in vans and buses. 153 in all. We had planned out a dramatic entrance with Ron to introduce ourselves to the kids, involving a human pyramid which Ron knocked over. We then jumped up and chased him around. Now that all the kids had arrived, they assembled in the Chapel, nearly filling it just by sitting in their rows. The camp started, as various staff introductions (including our pyramid skit, which went well) and camp rules were given, followed by some singing, led by Starcey and the activity team.
The kids went out to their rooms, and later we all assembled to eat. We were scheduled to be in the dining hall before every meal to help, and this sometimes became an adventure in and of itself, as I will explain later! We also found out that day that we had somewhat more responsibility in this camp than I had previously known. Apparently the Aussie's agenda had carried over and we were expected to do roughly the same things they had done in addition to what we already knew about. This was unexpected, and a little stressful, not least because we were still jetlagged and sleep-deprived. We had two more games to lead that night, and a song.
These went mostly well, Simon Says was a hit, and especially good because it only involved moving in place for the kids, since there was not enough room to do much more than that!
The other game, a variant of rock-paper-scissors that Rebecca had suggested, also went well, except at the end. Unlike previous camps, the Chinese staff had decided to introduce a point system to the games this year. Once the game was finished, they attempted to tally the scores of the 40-odd kids who had completed the game succesfully, and the scene approached chaos.
The song we had picked to teach the kids was "Praise ye the Lord", and this turned out to be a very good choice. The lyrics were simple, and we had a girls side and a boys side, who took turns singing "Hallelu" and "Praise ye the Lord", each standing for their part. We turned it into a competition for loudness, and the kids definitely got into it. Afterwards, Harry, a perennial at the camp, led the kids through some dancing. Harry is a very interesting fellow. I have only to explain that his job was as an aerobics instructor, and that probably conveys most of what is necessary. He is certainly talented, and apparently lacks joints. We joined in the dancing this year, for the most part. I felt rather foolish, but it was probably very good for me.
After the dancing, and a song or two led by the activity team, the drama team (consisting largely of the activity team, plus a few extra people) performed the first part of the Prodigal Son story that they had used last camp. A young woman whose english name was Sally, also the camp photographer, played the part of the Prodigal Son this time around. After everything in the Chapel was over, the kids went to their cabin times, and we had a meeting. I was rather stressed, both from trying to avoid problems from previous years, and from our additional expected participation in the camps, which I had not expected. It was a fairly simple matter of planning the extra activities, but everyone's exhausted state complicated things. After a sometimes tense and very long evening, we got the majority of our plans squared away, and Caleb put together the presentation that we were expected to do the following night. This took him some time, and he kept working after the rest of us had gone to bed.
This was probably the hardest night of the camps, when the heat, jetlag, exhaustion, stress, sheer number of kids, and difficulty of adapting to a constantly changing situation, all came down at once. But after much prayer, conversation, and planning, it was also the night that we got one step ahead. Everything was now mostly mapped out, except for the night of the Campfire. There was an extra bit of complication there, as the difficulty of planning a game with so many kids and so little room kept arising, along with the fact that we had to figure out something for both outside and inside, in case of rain. But this would be settled later...
I collapsed on my bed, which as I have said was surprisingly comfortable, especially given how tired I was. I set my alarm, all too early, as breakfast was at 7:20 and we needed to start helping out in the dining room by 7 at the latest. Soon I was out, dreaming of Taiwanese people as I usually did after being in Taiwan for a few days.
Next time: First full day of camp!
-Joseph
(this is where my friend Charles would say pinyin takes care of all that, heh)
After the camp had wrapped up, we said our goodbyes to the kids, and had our post-camp staff meeting. The Chinese staff were given an opportunity to speak to the Aussies, and vice versa, and there were compliments and testimonies given all around. It was emotional at times, and also occasionally hilarious, as the inevitable errors in translation that arise when two languages meet were prevalent. Once, Ron had been translating the Chinese into English for everyone, and then one of the Chinese staff spoke in english. once they had finished, Ron began (in English) to paraphrase what had just been said, before realizing that it was in English. Everyone died laughing, and the undercurrent of joy that fellow servants of the gospel had was evident. Once the meeting was over, we had a while before the Aussies left, in which we were able to talk a bit more, and then it was time for them to go. We packed our own backpacks in preparation for a night's stay in Taijung at the Heinsman's, then piled into the Delica and drove down to Taijung. It is a decent drive from Dajia to Taijung, and so by the time we got there it was supper time. On the way, we got a call to ask for our drink requests. There is a little drink stand at a produce/meat market near the Heinsman's house, called Crazy Sue's. If you are in Taijung, it is -the- place to get cold or icy fruit drinks. Period. By the time we arrived, Teri Heinsman had run down and brought us back drinks from there, and an excellent meal was spread out for us. Chinese-style, there were several dishes from which we all loaded our plates. The mangoes were as good as I had remembered.
I had been totally exhausted when we arrived, but felt sufficiently rejuvenated after supper to go with the others to check out the Taijung nightmarket. This time, sadly, there was not much worth looking at. While you never know what you'll find there, that night we found mostly clothing, which was mainly either very cheap (in both price and design) or overpriced and inappropriate. This was not much to my liking, but the girls found a couple more interesting clothing shops, and somewhat ironically, Jacob and Mark Heinsman perused any place that sold earrings. (there were many)
We made our way back by bus, and in a humorous incident, Teri had the air conditioning unit leak on her.
Once back, we went to the rooms where we were sleeping. Due to space constraints, the Heinsman's apartment where we were spending the night has a small footprint, but spans several stories. The stairs become significant. The girls came in and we talked for a while, then crashed.
The next morning, we woke and went to visit the Heinsman's church. It was an interesting experience, singing worship songs (some familiar and some not) and listening to a sermon, all in English, after hearing so much Chinese. We ate pizza afterwards, but were forced to leave quickly because the camp staff needed the van. We changed clothes quickly at the Heinsmans, and headed back to the camp again. Just as we did, the typhoon-induced rain began to fall. It was forecasted to do this all week, but I prayed that God would help the weather to be clear. Constant rain would make things at our camp very difficult.
We arrived, and had the precamp meeting. The campers would be arriving later that afternoon, and so there was much to be done. We also talked about where we would be sleeping. The guys got to keep their current room, and the girls were moved due to the massive numbers of kids that were coming. In just a short while, they began to arrive in vans and buses. 153 in all. We had planned out a dramatic entrance with Ron to introduce ourselves to the kids, involving a human pyramid which Ron knocked over. We then jumped up and chased him around. Now that all the kids had arrived, they assembled in the Chapel, nearly filling it just by sitting in their rows. The camp started, as various staff introductions (including our pyramid skit, which went well) and camp rules were given, followed by some singing, led by Starcey and the activity team.
The kids went out to their rooms, and later we all assembled to eat. We were scheduled to be in the dining hall before every meal to help, and this sometimes became an adventure in and of itself, as I will explain later! We also found out that day that we had somewhat more responsibility in this camp than I had previously known. Apparently the Aussie's agenda had carried over and we were expected to do roughly the same things they had done in addition to what we already knew about. This was unexpected, and a little stressful, not least because we were still jetlagged and sleep-deprived. We had two more games to lead that night, and a song.
These went mostly well, Simon Says was a hit, and especially good because it only involved moving in place for the kids, since there was not enough room to do much more than that!
The other game, a variant of rock-paper-scissors that Rebecca had suggested, also went well, except at the end. Unlike previous camps, the Chinese staff had decided to introduce a point system to the games this year. Once the game was finished, they attempted to tally the scores of the 40-odd kids who had completed the game succesfully, and the scene approached chaos.
The song we had picked to teach the kids was "Praise ye the Lord", and this turned out to be a very good choice. The lyrics were simple, and we had a girls side and a boys side, who took turns singing "Hallelu" and "Praise ye the Lord", each standing for their part. We turned it into a competition for loudness, and the kids definitely got into it. Afterwards, Harry, a perennial at the camp, led the kids through some dancing. Harry is a very interesting fellow. I have only to explain that his job was as an aerobics instructor, and that probably conveys most of what is necessary. He is certainly talented, and apparently lacks joints. We joined in the dancing this year, for the most part. I felt rather foolish, but it was probably very good for me.
After the dancing, and a song or two led by the activity team, the drama team (consisting largely of the activity team, plus a few extra people) performed the first part of the Prodigal Son story that they had used last camp. A young woman whose english name was Sally, also the camp photographer, played the part of the Prodigal Son this time around. After everything in the Chapel was over, the kids went to their cabin times, and we had a meeting. I was rather stressed, both from trying to avoid problems from previous years, and from our additional expected participation in the camps, which I had not expected. It was a fairly simple matter of planning the extra activities, but everyone's exhausted state complicated things. After a sometimes tense and very long evening, we got the majority of our plans squared away, and Caleb put together the presentation that we were expected to do the following night. This took him some time, and he kept working after the rest of us had gone to bed.
This was probably the hardest night of the camps, when the heat, jetlag, exhaustion, stress, sheer number of kids, and difficulty of adapting to a constantly changing situation, all came down at once. But after much prayer, conversation, and planning, it was also the night that we got one step ahead. Everything was now mostly mapped out, except for the night of the Campfire. There was an extra bit of complication there, as the difficulty of planning a game with so many kids and so little room kept arising, along with the fact that we had to figure out something for both outside and inside, in case of rain. But this would be settled later...
I collapsed on my bed, which as I have said was surprisingly comfortable, especially given how tired I was. I set my alarm, all too early, as breakfast was at 7:20 and we needed to start helping out in the dining room by 7 at the latest. Soon I was out, dreaming of Taiwanese people as I usually did after being in Taiwan for a few days.
Next time: First full day of camp!
-Joseph
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