BITTERSWEET

I love it, yet I absolutely hate it. I look forward to it, yet I dread it. I enjoy it, yet it brings me great sorrow. What am I talking about? What is so bittersweet?

A new child is a new face, a new face is a new story, a new story is a new hope...

Welcome to Gidan Bege, the house of HOPE...


These last few months I’ve learned a lot of stories. I’ve been doing a lot of work in the area of sponsorship, which, by the way, every child in this post is in need of a sponsor. As I write the stories of each child and how they came to Gidan Bege I find it difficult to even type the words that they say. It’s bittersweet when I interview them because I am excited for the child that he/she has a new hope in the Lord but at the same time I hate it because someone was so cruel to this little innocent child.

Here is a typical interview:

What is your father’s name? “Ishaku” (Isaac)
Where is he now? “He is late” (dead)
I’m sorry, how about your mother, what is her name? “Her name is Alheri” (Grace)
Where is she? “She is late”

No father, no mother equals: O-R-P-H-A-N.

I’ll ask them “How did you find Gidan Bege, did you run to the streets?” yes, I ran to the streets after my community tried to kill me.

Why did they try to kill you? “After my father died they said that I killed my father and so they wanted to kill me”.

Where did you stay when you were on the streets? “I slept in a mango tree”.

Here are some of the replies that I have documented:
-“they tied my hands and feet together and hung me from a tree and they beat me but a pastor came and rescued me and took me to Gidan Bege”
-“they hung me from the ceiling and on the ground they cooked some pepe (small chili peppers) so that the smoke went into my eyes”.
-“they beat me very bad”
-“they said I killed my father and mother”
-“they wanted to kill me”

The list keeps on growing. Every new face is a new story and each new face is a new hope. Gidan Bege means “house of hope” in the Hausa language. It is here at Gidan Bege that the children are getting an opportunity that the never had. They are given hope despite the darkness of the past. They come beat up, battered and bruised but they receive healing, comfort and hope inside the ministry. They are given food and clothing and they are taught the scriptures. They want to become doctors, pastors and evangelists. It is bittersweet when I see a new child come into the ministry. When I learn about their story and the way they came here it breaks my heart but then I’m refreshed by the fact that those things are in the past. One boy, Clement, told me about his childhood growing up in a big city with a father who was in the military and a mother who sold produce in the market. He said “we were always having jin dadi” look familiar? “jin dadi” is enjoyment. Growing up was always joyful for Clement until both parents died and he was taken to Gidan Bege as an orphan. He said he loves Gidan bege and It made me think, which does he prefer, life with his parents or life at Gidan Bege? I asked him, “Clement, where would you rather be, at home with your parents or at Gidan Bege?”

He looked at me and said: “I would rather be with my mother and father”.

I knew his answer even before I asked it but I had to hear it for myself. These children each have a story, each have a hope, each an opportunity to erase the hurts of the past and look to the joys of tomorrow.

Each one on this post is in need of a sponsor. If that is something that you would like to do than please email me at joseph.shriver@sim.org

"To do justice to the fatherless and the oppressed that the man of the earth may oppress no more" Psalm 10:18

My Mary, My Merry

Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob and Rachel…

Joseph and Mary.

In this case, Uncle Joseph and Mary.

The more words I write, the less likely you are to read. Pictures say a thousand words right?

Mary is the daughter of one of the staff in our care centers. She is about 2 yrs. Old and has an adorable voice. She can’t really speak much English and I can’t speak much Hausa but, somehow, we find a way to communicate. She loves when I come to Gyero because it usually entails “sweets” coming her way or maybe a balloon or an orange. Sometimes I make a bowl of rice and red stew and guess who is there to help me eat it. If I am shaving, guess who is there? If I am reading, guess who is always there? If I leave, she will cry. When I come, she is always happy to see me. Other times I just want to trek to the top of a mountain with all of the kids but guess who seems to find her way onto my back. Mary and I are inseparable as she is always at my side.

The feeling of being appreciated (though it may be for sweets) some how makes life in Nigeria a lot easier and interesting. I appreciate lil’ Mary and she appreciates me.

Meet Mary…

Honeymoon's over

The killing, the crisis, the military, the unrest in Jos, the destruction of my church, the 7PM-6AM curfew, the armed robbery, the threat of being killed, the police and military checkpoints, evacuation, sicknesses, the holidays away from home and the daily pressures of trying to minister cross culturally have brought me to a point in which the honeymoon is over.

Nigeria is a wonderful place and full of kind and loving people. It seems like everyone wants to spend time with the white man and talk about the day’s events. The Nigerians are dear to my heart, these children, even more so. This has been my home for the last 7 months and will remain that way until June 2010 if the Lord permits. I’ve come to love this place and appreciate everything about it. Sure, there are things that are difficult; being away from family and familiar things while adjusting to life in Africa has been hard. There is the constant threat of disease, sickness, malaria and motor vehicle accidents. There are demands of the ministry, demands at home for a bachelor to survive and demands in the local church. There is the constant pressure of being equivalent to a celebrity simply because my skin is white and the constant pressure to make everyone happy. There are times when you want to just “go hide thyself” (as God told Elijah--- 1 Kings 17:3) and escape all of the demands and anxiety that comes with being a missionary. There are times when you want to be back home, sitting by a fire with a box of pretzels and a cold crème soda with no one to bother you and nothing to do but meditate upon the Lord. There are those days in which I look up and see an airplane and think “those are my people” and other times when I watch the sun set and think what my mother is doing right now, my professor from Bible college and of course, my siblings. Sometimes I think “right now my dad is brewing a pot of coffee and probably outside loading ladders onto his van”. There are those times and then there are these…

…no matter how difficult things get, the problems are always alleviated when I see our kids in the ministry. There is something about them, something about children that fascinates me. Maybe it is there carefree spirit or there simple faith. Maybe it is there innocence and the thought of how they got here. I’m not sure exactly what it is but, whatever it is, they make my time here worthwhile. I love to spend time with the kids, we trek, we swim, we play and we read together. I always have one of these little ones come to greet me in my room in one of the care centers. They are always at my door, always at my side, always reaching for my hand. The pressures, anxieties and demands all seem to float off into space and I find myself to be perfectly content. Sure, they are not my own, but they may as well be. There is still that longing in my heart to have my own children and to not have to say goodbye to them. There are times when I read through the scriptures and find this character that no one ever mentions and I immediately write his or her name in the back of my Bible. Why? Because I just may name my son or daughter that one day. The kids here are wonderful and I wish you all could meet these precious little children.

The honeymoon is over in one sense but a new and exciting season always seems to replace the previous one. This is Nigeria, a land of adventure and my home for at least two years.

I could use you prayers, I could use them a lot.

My Refuge

My former place of corporate worship...destroyed

After a long two weeks of unexpected events, it's finally time to return to normal. The fighting in Jos has ceased, military presence is strong in the city and I'm going back to the kids I love. This past week I returned to our main care center and spent a few nights with our boys and girls. They were all relieved and happy to see "uncle Joseph" show up. Many weren't sure of my whereabouts because I wasn't allowed to venture outside of my compound until it was "safe". It was quite a relief to know they were all safe and sound as well, still counting down the days for their Christmas celebration and festivities. Spending time with the kids is a lot of fun, especially during the holidays because they are the only family I have here. They keep asking me if I'll spend Christmas in Nigeria, I just say "ofcourse, I came to this country for you, do you think I am going to leave and go back to my people and miss Christmas with you?, no way!"

With 12 days to go until Christmas, the shadows of the atrocities that took place just a few weeks back still linger. People are still on edge, tensions are still high, Jos is at peace but we still need your prayers. I was able to visit the site of my local church this week but kinda wish I didn't. It was a sobering event, seeing the place of our corporate worship flattened to the ground, walls tore down, everything burned and ripped to pieces. It was the first time I really seen what man is capable of doing. You and I are capable of the worst atrocities. I'm reminded of one tyrant who said "I want to raise a generation of young people, devoid of a conscience, relentless, inferious and cruel", his name was Aldolf Hitler and he nearly succeeded. Apart from the grace of God, we too are capable of the same evil acts of cruelty and wickedness, not very exciting to read huh!

I was greatly encouraged by the words of king David this morning, he always says it so well. Here is what he said:

"The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer; the God of my strength, in Whom I will trust; my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold and my refuge; my Savior<>

My refuge, what simple yet wonderful words. Is He your refuge?

Spurgeon

Meet “Spurgeon” whom I named after the “prince of Preachers” Charles Haddon Spurgeon, or CH Spurgeon. I figured I’d make my two years here easier by having a companion. I’m not sure what I’ll do with him when I return stateside, I’ll either bring him to the states or keep him with a friend if I plan on returning to Nigerian soil, which, at this point, what do you think I want to do?

HARMATTAN

Compare these two pictures below. On the right you can see the mountains off in the distance, on the left you can't...Harmattan.

The Harmattan is a dry and dusty West African trade wind. It blows south from Sahara into the Gulf of Guinea between the end of November and the middle of March (winter).[1]
On its passage over the desert it picks up fine dust particles (between 0.5 and 10 micrometres). When the Harmattan blows hard, it can push dust and sand all the way to North America.

In some countries in West Africa, the heavy amount of dust in the air can severely limit visibility and block the sun for several days, comparable to a heavy fog. The effect caused by the dust and sand stirred by these winds is known as the Harmattan haze, and costs airlines millions of dollars in cancelled and diverted flights each year. The interaction of the Harmattan with monsoon winds can cause tornadoes.

In Niger, people say that men and animals become increasingly irritable when this wind has been blowing for a while, giving it a bad reputation. However, the cool wind brings relief from the oppressive heat, which is why the Harmattan has earned the nickname "The Doctor".---Wikipedia.

“A picture says a thousand words”. Have you ever heard that saying before? If you look at these pictures you can see just how bad the dust has gotten. Compare the two pictures that appear to be the same. In the one you can see the mountains off in the distance, in the other all you can see is thick dust. Even my Bible, which I read every day, gathered a significant amount of dust over night.

It’s actually not that bad of a thing, you get used to it from what I hear. I’ve just noticed that my eyes have bothered me a lot lately but not my breathing; Praise the Lord.

That’s all for now, stay tuned next week for my stock market watch.

"TO THIS END I LABOR"

Okay, so maybe I’ve “copped out” of writing a long and exhausting story this past month but I have an excuse, I really do. You see, this last month I’ve finally found some sort of a groove, some sort of a “niche” that has occupied all of my time and most of my energy. Throughout the month of October I’ve become a man of many different hats. Not “Joseph and his coat of many colors” or “Joseph and his hat of many colors” but Uncle Joseph and his many different hats. Let me explain…

As I mentioned in a former post, my father, my dad, papa, baba, daddy, whatever term you use, is a man of many different trades. He can fix anything, well; at least I think he can. Whether it is a car, a toilet, a sink, a hole in the wall, a radio, a game, a toy, or a tool, I assure you, he can fix it. You may as well call him “Mr. fix it” or a “jack of all trades” because he can fix anything.

This past month I’ve worn many different hats but often times I didn’t know I would need to put on a particular hat. Let me tell you about my different hats that have gotten much use recently.

Dr. Joseph Hat
In one of our care centers we have a bunch of little girls. Recently, Comfort, Simei and Patience all came to me with some minor wounds. Comfort’s was the worse, hers was infected but Patience and Simei just wanted a “plaster” (band-aid). I couldn’t say no to Patience and Simei so I babied them and cleaned their “wounds” (or should I say scratches?) and sent them on their way. Comforts’ was actually pretty bad and I cleaned it then dressed it. Dr. Joseph gave her some Neosporin and a few “plaster’s” to last the weekend and then sent her on her way. When I returned on Monday, walla, all better. I was pleased, so was Comfort.

Reverend, Preacher, Pastor Hat
This past week I was asked to preach. I was given plenty of notice to prepare (6 days) and was asked to speak on true love. Turns out the service was supposed to be a special message geared to the young ladies and guess who they wanted as a guest speaker? Answer: Rev. Joseph M. Shriver II. So, I prayed and studied all throughout the week and finally came up with just the right words that I wanted to say but guess what happened next? I got sick, very sick, with some sort of viral infection. Vomiting, pain throughout my body and joints, sick stomach and fever, all of these were my symptoms. Sunday I could not go and preach, I couldn’t do anything except try to sleep. I was upset that I couldn’t deliver the message that I prepared all week to deliver but I’m thankful. I learned a few things during the sickness. I’ll share one with you. When you are sick, the thing that you want most is not medicine, a doctor or any particular food, but the thing you want most is your mother. That’s all I wanted, my mommy. It’s embarrassing, 25 yrs Old and you want your mother to comfort you when you are sick. I don’t care if it is embarrassing or not, it’s true and YOU KNOW IT!!!

Chef Hat
This one is tough to wear and I don’t prefer to wear it. I’d much rather have my mother’s cooking any day, who wouldn’t? However, I’ve had to experiment with a few different foods recently and truthfully; they actually came out pretty well. It’s difficult here because the ingredients are hard to find, things need cleaned with bleached water and sometimes the electricity goes off and the food you worked hard to make, SPOILS!!! I made a delicious pot of spaghetti recently. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was doing but I remember enough of my mothers to do a decent job. A fried some onions, minced meat and then added some tomatoes and some paste. I added a little water and some spices (parsley, oregano, pepper, onion salt, basil, salt and sugar) and 45 minutes later I couldn’t believe it, I actually made spaghetti! I took off my chef’s hat and ate some food because the next day I need the strength to wear my next hat.

Daddy Hat
You fathers know this hat better than I do so I’m not going to pretend as if I’ve figured it out. I will raise an important question though, how many children do you have? 1, 2,3 5,10, 50, 100? These may seem like crazy numbers but let’s think about this. In the ministry that I’m currently involved in, there are many little children and they don’t have their mommy’s and daddy’s to care for them, to teach them and provide for them. When they get a “boo-boo” guess who they come running to? When they want someone to teach them how to read, guess who they run to? When they want to show their parents the grades they received in school and the sticker that the teacher gave them, guess who they run to? When they need help telling time guess who they run to? Normally they would run to their parents but since they don’t have parents, guess who they run to? Me “Uncle Joseph, see my sticker, teach me how to read, teach me how to see time, teach me how to add”. The term “Uncle Joseph” doesn’t seem like a fitting title, “daddy” seems more fitting if you ask me. Now that they’ve become like children, when I go and see the kids I walk into their rooms and their courtyards and say “how are my boys? How are my girls?” When you see them as your own children it makes you want to see them safe, secure and protected even more. I love these kids, they’re wonderful.

Teacher Hat
In school teachers were Mr. and Mrs. “So and So” (no, they weren’t Chinese). Their job was to teach me how to read, write, add and subtract. Recently I was given a new hat as a teacher. My class has 12 little boys and girls who cannot even identify each letter of the alphabet. I enjoy teaching but I wish their parents would step up to the plate and do it themselves, but wait, they don’t have parents. Since they don’t have parents to teach them, I get the privilege of teaching these children how to add and subtract, and how to eventually read. Just think, one day they will be able to read and study the scriptures. It will be amazing to see young men studying the Bible and teaching their families. What a day it will be to see them grow up into adulthood and to think that I was able to teach them the elementary things of arithmetic and writing.

I’ve only mentioned a few of the hats that I’ve put on recently. There are others, like the hat’s of a professor, evangelist, missionary, public relationist, photographer, journalist, artist, potter, electrician, carpenter and mechanic. I love it. It’s exciting and sometimes very tiring but well worth it. There is a major motivation for me that I’d like to share with you, one thing that I continually think about and press towards that compels me to pour my life into these children and here it is:

“Him we preach, warning every man and teaching every man in all wisdom, that we may present every man perfect in Christ Jesus, to this end I also labor, striving according to His working which works in me mightily” Colossians 1:28-29

To see these young boys and girls grow up to be Godly young men and women, faithful men and virtuous young ladies is something that I think about every day. You can pray accordingly, pray for me as I wear these different hats. Pray for these kids as they grow into young men and women. Its fun, it truly is, but it’s tiring and I need the strength to operate. Thank you for your continual prayers and support. If you are interested in sponsoring a child, let me know.