Saturday Post -- 14/02/15

The best image I could find online of the below-mentioned jigsaw.
Deary me. McCartney's left nostril alone must've contained the 'Help' film
poster, the 'Revolver' album cover, and a Gretsch Duo Jet.

There haven't been too many ministry developments to report this week, but to be honest, it's just a relief that I'm even able to upload this week's scribblings. 

With many hundreds, or even thousands, of miles separating the overseas worker and loved ones back home, the importance of communications can be keenly felt. One of the fascinating aspects of the on-off relationship I've had with this unique country over 15 years has been to witness developments in this area.

Of course, back in September 2000, I didn't exactly set off for Bolivia on a cargo ship from Southampton, waving a handkerchief to a family whom I never knew when I'd see again. Things weren't that bad (though it wasn't too long ago, of course, that such a scene was perfectly normal). But the adjustments required for an 18-year-old, well into the internet age, were not insignificant. The postal service was sluggish and unreliable. My Mum sent me a Beatles jigsaw for Christmas that year, opting for land mail given the bulk of the package. It arrived some time in mid-April. My Dad kindly bought me a subscription to a weekly digest of a British newspaper, specially put together for ex-pats. The enjoyment of reading this was largely dictated by how much of the past three weeks' news I was able to forget.

Not that that was too hard, given that the only 'international' TV news source here was CNN, and the internet had only just got off to a sluggish start. A five-minute wait for pages to load was pretty much par for the course. The phrase, 'I'm going to check my email' was never so accurate (one email was about as much as you could cover in a session!).

As for phones, forget about it. Calls cost a small fortune and the line was beset with a five-second delay as standard, which proved particularly problematic one December day. That same Christmas as Jigsawgate, Dad (they really do mean well, my parents!) brought a conference phone home from his office so that the 20 or so family members jammed into my parents' house could take it in turns to wish me a happy Christmas. I got the distinct impression that Dad's good cheer extended only so far when it came to the phone bill, and I'll forever have in my head the imaginary image of him standing there by the phone, in Alex-Ferguson-pointing-at-watch mode, while I asked my Grandma what she reckoned to her new games console, and my aunt Ruth what she reckoned to United's chances of silverware. 

Two years later (the summer of Amandagate), things were picking up a little, with internet cafes more prominent and dial-up speeds picking up. It was therefore something of a surprise, when we returned seven years later in January 2010, to see just how little things had come on. The postal service was worse than ever, and broadband hadn't even taken off yet.

So it was with no small delight that we came back a few weeks ago to something of a communications revolution, with internet speeds now so fast that we could stream Netflix in high definition, and I could even watch Match of the Day on iPlayer (though like the aforementioned newspaper, the thrill in this depends greatly on staying well away from sports websites till Monday night -- ouch).

It was surely too good to be true. Wasn't it? Well, while the internet speeds have shown no sign of a decline, alas the same cannot be said of customer service, which has remained reassuringly average.

I spent half of Monday (our day off) in the offices of our service provider, as our internet had cut off around lunchtime. We assumed this was down to us using up our monthly data quota, which was surprising considering we'd arranged only a week earlier for it to be doubled. In fact, I was informed that we had almost all of our allocation remaining for the month (surprising after a week's heavy use).  The problem, they suggested, was with the modem itself. Feeling like I was trapped in a pinball machine, I then made a tour of the offices, as one person after another suggested it was the-guy-over-at-that-desk's problem.

Eventually, the problem was identified, but with a slight hitch: the repair to the modem could only be authorised by Miguel-Ángel (Fundación Totaí's president) as our modem was bought in the foundation's name, at the same time as the foundation's own unit. With closing time fast approaching, I'd have to wait till the next day to get it sorted.

On Tuesday morning, the repair was authorised, and I got the modem back. So far, so good. Except that around lunchtime of that day, FT's own modem started playing up. The next morning (Wednesday), they sent that in for a repair. Amazingly, it was the same issue!

But on Wednesday afternoon, our modem started playing up again, so I had to go back in, and was told that the line hadn't been re-registered after the repair. They apologised for this, fixed the problem, and we, at least, haven't had a problem since. But FT then came down with the same issue the following day. Having thought they'd got it fixed, their internet went down completely yesterday, and no-one has any clue what's going on any more -- least of all, the service provider, it would seem! What's more, we've been poring over the monthly receipts for the past few months, and it's looking like we were charged twice for the same period. We all now suspect there has been a mix-up in the modem payments somewhere.

So the issue needs dealt with quickly in order for FT to get its communications back up and running. The only problem is: a) everything has to be done in tow with Miguel-Ángel who, as well as being the FT president, is also the dentist -- he's busy enough as it is; and b) this weekend is Carnaval, meaning no businesses are open again till Wednesday. 

I think all concern for the quality of my writing went out of the window about three paragraphs ago. Ultimately, I think the purpose of the blog this week has been to get these frustrations off my chest, in any way possible. I guess we can only hope that, like a Christmas present from Mum, fully-functioning internet will surface some day in the future. Only please let it be more straightforward than that Beatles jigsaw. It was a photo mosaic. Those things are murder.

Prayer

• Carnaval, for the uninitiated, is the pre-Lent long weekend celebrated throughout Latin America, though it makes no attempt at all to hide its distinctly non-religious activities; the very name alludes to a celebration of all things fleshly. And all things fleshly will most certainly be indulged to the max this weekend in Trinidad. Prayer appreciated.
• As ever, the youth group will be staging their special Carnaval event this Monday, a 12-hour marathon of messy games and solid Bible teaching, with a special guest speaker coming to talk about the attributes of God, and what they mean for us. Simply for getting them out of Carnaval, the event is important, but pray for encouragement in all that the young people hear.

Praise

• We're now both into our one-on-one discipleship routine, with Amanda meeting with Adriana during the week. Give thanks for the progress already being made there.
• Craig spoke to two groups of pastors and church leaders during the week about the Langham Preaching course, and there seems to be a lot of interest in the course, which we're hoping will take place later this year.

¡Que Dios les bendiga!

Craig & Amanda

Saturday Post -- 24/01/15

“Ye’ll no miss this weather, will ye.”

The above point was put to us time and again by well-meaning friends over the past few months, with increasing frequency as our departure loomed larger and the west of Scotland skies turned ever more grey. I (Craig) don’t think it was meant as a question, but I tended to take it that way, responding in kind in order to strangle any assumptions about the climate here being particularly pleasant. Given this is rainy season, the last week has in fact been really rather dry, with a half-hour burst of heavy rain most days, but nothing more offensive. Yet at no point during those dry spells have I gazed upon those mid-30s-plus-humidity conditions from the sanctuary of our ventilated four walls and thought, “Cor, I do rather fancy a gentle stroll right now!”

That said, however, it is nice to be back in Trinidad again; nicer, indeed, than we’d expected. We had been bracing ourselves for a tough re-entry, based on our only comparable experience back in October 2011. I wrote back then about a potent and unexpected encounter with culture shock – after a mere two-month absence. How would we cope after thirteen months in a western context?

One week on, and we’re surviving, with two factors no doubt playing their part. Firstly, the memory of 2011’s experience no doubt prompted us to be better prepared emotionally and spiritually. And secondly, if you’ll excuse a touch of materialism, unlike 2011 we have our own house to come back to; in other words, Trinidad, unexpectedly, feels like home again.

The majority of this week has been taken up with unpacking, organising and dumping, and restoring la casa to a state with which we’re more familiar. Providentially, our home assignment year coincided with our friend Rachel Peebles’ return to Trinidad for a twelve-month spell, meaning the house was at least being used; that’s particularly important in climates like this where, if not left unchecked, moth and rust so rapidly destroy. Still, everyone has their preferred settings, and getting it back to a recognisable state was the main task of this week.

Vastly improved internet speeds have also gone some way to soften the
re-adjustment blow!

One task in particular this week was a reminder of how high up the priority-list Taking Pride in One’s Work tends to feature for manual labourers around here (i.e., not very high at all!).

At the end of October, we received a Facebook message from Rachel telling us that one of our balcony windows had been smashed. This turned out to be nothing too sinister in the end; just local kids playing with their slingshots, seeing a particularly glassy house, and putting 2 and 2 together. However, an urgent repair was clearly in order. Naturally, we arranged for the necessary funds to be transferred and, within a week or two, the job had been done.

Well, on Tuesday morning, I was traipsing around the garden trying to deal with a few things, when all of a sudden, I felt a surprisingly crunchy sensation under my shoes. I looked down, and saw about four glistening square yards of thousands upon thousands safety glass particles. Looks like the tidying-up job that November morning had consisted of, er, sweeping the particles off the balcony and hoping nobody would notice!

And so, two days of planned house work went down the black hole of smashed glass recovery. There I was, sat like Oor Wullie on a bucket (in temperatures our mutual dungareed friend could barely conceive of), carefully picking up each individual piece, being careful to avoid injury to hands, and not to place said container on spots where I was liable to bury the glass yet further. A truly shattering experience, I’m sure you’ll concur.

Quite.

The result of these exertions has been that we’ve not had too much time yet with friends and colleagues, save a couple of fleeing visits to the Foundation during work hours, and an evening in the company of our friends Maicol and KC, their now two-year-old Caleb, and KC’s mother, visiting from the States.

Still, it’s been great to renew these acquaintances, and we look forward to their re-deepening in the months ahead. Santa Cruz last weekend also gave us an opportunity to touch base with old friends. Remember my keyboard-playing protégé, Diego? He’s just moved through to Santa Cruz to begin a degree in music, and on Sunday morning we attended a church service with him, before heading out for lunch and finding out how he’s been doing. Now and again out here, if I’m honest, I have my little Elijah moments, when I look around, see so little visible fruit for my efforts, become wracked with self-doubt, and question the worth of my ministry. The progress of a young man like Diego is someone I need to cling to in those times, his presence in Santa Cruz instead of Trinidad not an insult but an inevitability, given the lack of opportunities here.

Livin' for the Citah: With young Diego Asín
in Santa Cruz.

The house pretty much done and dusted -- quite literally, indeed -- today is the day when we will gradually start easing back into things at work. If Friday night is music night on Radio 2, then Saturday night is most definitely youth night in Bolivia. We shall pop along there, and to the main church service tomorrow morning. The challenge right now, as we’ve stated previously, is to maintain the self-discipline to prayerfully seek God’s will for these next few years; I’ve already had to turn down one or two well-intentioned proposals on this basis. But we strongly feel that it is better to sacrifice a couple of weeks in doing this than to spend a couple of years embroiled in things that, while good, are not the better ‘yes’. And so, despite missing the sensation of jeans on our legs, we’re increasingly excited to find out what the Lord has in store.

Prayer

• For continued self-discipline and discernment when it comes to new ministry opportunities, as requested last week and alluded to above.
• Despite what I wrote earlier, we do have the occasional re-adjustment bumps. Pray that we don’t allow these to become a discouragement.

 Praise

• For safety in our final flight to Trinidad, on Monday past.
• For the opportunity to catch up with old Trinidad friends Diego and Claudia in Santa Cruz, and see the mighty work of the Lord in their lives.

Home Comforts -- Number 8: Functional Internet

Dolph Lundgren's Rocky IV 'do: about as relevant as
computer keyboards, and, er, the Soviet Union.

NEEEEEEEE-nooooo-nee-nooooo-NEEEEEEE.

That, as I’m sure you worked out right away, is not a malfunctioning police siren, but the unmistakable soundtrack to dialup internet, an invention synonymous with other antiquated inventions such as keyboards, ‘email’ and flat-top haircuts.

High-speed internet is now such an integral part of ‘Global North’ citizens’ lives that the days of dialup are an increasingly fading memory. Yet Amanda and I had to very quickly reacquaint ourselves with the old way of doing things back in January 2010, when dialup was still the only form of internet available. In some respects, this was a good thing, not least in saving us from the pitfalls of procrastination while going about the Lord’s work.

Still, when the opportunity surfaced to switch to a faster connection (and broadband this was not) some months later, we jumped at the chance. And it certainly made the adjustment to life here significantly easier. Skype (for my money, in a photo-finish with e-readers for ‘Greatest ever invention for missionaries’) was now operational, bringing updates on my parents’ gardening progress at the press of a button. It was once again possible to download podcasts, so that Mark Kermode could tell me what films to go and see at my local multiplex (in Santa Cruz, 300 miles south of Trinidad). Not to mention those YouTube videos showing people performing slam-dunks with their hands tied behind their backs whilst trying to escape a car embedded in shark-infested waters (blindfolded)…all of a sudden, we were once again plugged in to real life!

Since then, we have switched to yet another plan and our internet has gone up a further notch, i.e., my email inbox will take a mere ten seconds to load rather than 20. Other improvements have hardly brought us up to speed, if you’ll excuse the pun, with the developed world. Indeed, said velocity itself varies drastically, usually being pretty rapid in the mornings and slowing down to a couple of kilobytes a second by bedtime. Rare is the Skype conversation that does not require us to hang up, disconnect from/reconnect to the internet, and then call again about half a dozen times. Have you ever seen the ‘Your message failed to send’ message in Facebook? Well, put it this way: we have!

Yep, the divide that exists between the developed and developing worlds is frequently couched in economic terms, but it certainly extends to communications. So it’s no understatement to say that during furlough, I’m rather looking forward to plonking myself in front of a computer screen, googling ‘masonic giraffe skateboards in space’ and enjoying the instantaneous, and no doubt hilarious, results. 

Saturday Post -- 19/05/12

I woke up this morning (cue harmonica!) to that strangest of sensations in our marriage: an empty bed. Fear not, readers, I'm not in trouble, it's just that Amanda has had to make a speedy (and hopefully brief) return to Santa Cruz today, and we are spending a rare day apart. She was promised pain in the weeks following her surgery, however, she called the clinic yesterday to give them the current lie of the land, and it was suggested she see the doctor as soon as she could. It's in situations like these that our distance from a major city is keenly felt. We're really hoping they will have sympathy for our geographical restrictions, address whatever issues have arisen today, and allow Amanda to get on the bus tonight and get home again. 

Amanda has more-or-less stuck to her bed-rest regime, though on Monday, she was summoned to 'action' by a director with a deadline -- that would be me. Strathaven Evangelical Church -- where I grew up and where my parents are still based -- are hosting a fundraising lunch in the coming weeks for FT's Education ministry and they asked us if we would mind making a short video for them. So, having spent some time prepping a shooting script, we set out on Monday afternoon, taking advantage of our day off to film ourselves talking to a camera and, much more interestingly, one of our Education staff at work in the classroom. 

That was the easy part. Editing took a couple of long evening sessions (quicker than I'd anticipated) and then came the moment upon which we had suspected the whole project would stand or fall: uploading it to the internet. You may be aware that net speeds here are not exactly Senna-like, and so we prepared ourselves for long, tortuous hours of trying, trying and trying again -- not helped by the network's propensity to shut itself down every so often.

Anyway, after two whole nights (no kidding!) of uploading, we got there in the end, and hopefully when the congregation at SEC have to endure our Cinemascope mugs (speak for yourself, Craig), they'll at least appreciate the effort that went in.

Despite heavy downpours all week (rain in Bolivia, like snow in the UK, has a tendency to shut everything down) it's been a productive week, with some really enjoyable teaching sessions. In the English class, Tuesday's lesson on 'Comparisons' generated a good few laughs at my expense, much to the delight of the students, with whom we've developed a tremendous working relationship this year, a real bunch of hard workers. And this week's R.E. classes touched on John 3 and 4, in which Jesus meets Nicodemus (a 'good man') and the Samarian (a 'bad woman'); the pupils took on board well the key lesson from both examples: we all need a Saviour.

News is positive, too, on the land front. After weeks of paper-chasing, we are now in the final stages of registering the land as our property, with our architect now submitting his own plans to the authorities. The way things are going, we could be looking at finally breaking ground on the house within a month. Add to the mix our continued family-planning deliberations, and 2012 is looking like a pivotal year for us.

Prayer

• For Amanda in Santa Cruz, that she would be given quick, but sensible, answers to her problems, and that she would return home soon in one piece.
• For Craig as he preaches on Psalm 3 tomorrow morning.

Praise

• For our video negotiating the choppy waters of the Bolivian internet and making it to the relevant parties in the UK.
• For a positive week in the classroom, and in our land registry.

¡Que Dios les bendiga!

Craig & Amanda