Home James

It's 11:30pm as I start this post.

At this time tomorrow, I expect that the wheels of my plane will have just touched down in Sacramento California.

My four-and-a-half month long excursion to Jamaica will be officially over.

Wow.

It's been...amazing.

I'm guessing that by the time anyone reads this, I'll already be back in the States. So I'm not going to post any field service experiences or stories, I'm just going to give you a picture glimpse into my life the last four-and-a-half months.

https://plus.google.com/photos/117089062727226832599/albums/5781951224405560177?authkey=CMK3uPqChaLAIA

https://plus.google.com/photos/117089062727226832599/albums/5781953740420085105

https://plus.google.com/photos/117089062727226832599/albums/5781955772554169073

See you/talk with you soon.

It's A Funny World I Live In Pt 3

A Bug Story 2 (AKA How I found Out I'm Not Allergic to Bee-stings)
I took some artistic license with the dialogue in the story for comedic effect. But the story is true.

The Falls

I was at the famous Dunns River Falls a couple of weeks ago climbing the falls. We had a good time and afterwards we went to the beach and into the ocean. I am not a huge ocean guy (poor swimmer, don't like the taste of saltwater, or feeling like a prune after being in too long) but I went in anyway because...well...I didn't want to lay on the beach by myself like a pathetic loser.

So I go in and we're having fun and then suddenly I feel a very sharp pricking sensation on my right arm.  It was more irritating than painful, but I was trying to have a conversation in the water, while standing on my toes to keep the water from going into my mouth (in addition to being a poor swimmer, I also don't tread water very well. Or for very long.) I try to brush it aside, thinking it's a piece of seaweed or something. Finally I look at my arm and its like a shard of glass is wedged in it.

What the...? 

I pull the glass-like thing out of my arm, wondering why everyone brags about how great the ocean water is in this country. (Half-afraid of someones old rum bottle getting lodged in my larynx.)  And then I see a bee floating across the water, one wing still buzzing a bit.

It was laughing at me.

The thing was literally on its dying breath, and it spent its dying breath laughing its stinger off at me trying to pick a shard of glass out of my skin, not realizing it's a bee stinger. And to think, the first time I've been stung by a bee in my whole life of course would happen in the water. How random is that?

Close friends from the States were with us, Hilary and her mom Phyllis Savage. Those two are like family to me.  If I was going to be stung by a bee without a member of my family around, I'm glad they were there. (Although I would have been more glad just not being stung.) They of course insisted that I was going to be in a great deal of pain, and horrific swelling would set in.

To combat this, Hilary kept trying to give me drugs. I was perfectly fine by the time we got back to the house, and felt hardly any soreness. But no protests from me is going to stop my big sister Hilary.

She walks up to me, grabs my arm.

'Look how much its swollen!' She hands me a glass of water and two brown pills. She then uses here fingers trying to find the bump where the sting was.

'Where's the sting? Does it hurt a lot?'

'Only when you're digging your fingernail into it, like you're doing right now.'

'Oh yeah, the sting is right here. Aw, poor Phillip. It's swelling up a lot.'

'That's actually my arm muscle.  I know, sounds absurd coming from a scrawny guy like me. Look, the other arm is the same size.'

('OhmyGod did you get stung on your other arm too?') 'Poor Phillip. You're going to be sore tomorrow. Take your pills.'

Somewhere, the ghost of the bee was laughing at me still from beyond the grave. (As was Cathy Chai in the background.)

Hilary, in all seriousness, if you are reading this blog, I'm glad you were there looking after me.  I hope that if I ever get stung by a hornet or yellow-jacket, you'll be there to force drugs on me.

Actually I hope never to be stung by anything ever again for as long as I live. But in the event that I am...well, you get my drift.

It's a Funny World I Live In Pt 2

A Bug Story 1 (AKA Why I filled the Cracks in My Doorway with Steel Wool)

As with just about any hot, humid climate, bugs are a fact of life in this country. A sister told me that I should not get to upset about seeing them; after all, they were here first. (Insert me shrugging and rolling my eyes here).

I've adjusted to them for the most part, and haven't seen anything to horrific lately, but that wasn't the case 3 months ago when I came home late one night from hanging out with some friends.
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The ants here are a source of never-ending frustration for me. No matter how clean the place is, there is constantly a few ants crawling in and around the bathroom and table where I keep some of my food. Leave anything out for more than say 20 minutes--a crumb from a cookie, splatter from cooking oil, a drop of fruit juice--and you will have an invasion that seems to appear out of nowhere. And don't even think about leaving the house with dishes left in the sink, those guys will be everywhere.
As I was coming home this particular night, I was fearful of what I might find, seeing as I had left a bowl of cream-of-wheat in the sink, the type of thing that can be an ant-magnet. As soon as I got home I ran to the sink with a can of insect spray expecting to have to fight off the invaders from my castle. Shockingly, I went to the sink and there were no ants. None. I smiled at my good fortune and walked happily to my dresser to get my PJs and go to bed.
I grabbed my shorts and am thinking about what chapter I'm in for my Bible reading...wait. What is that movement I see out of the corner of my left eye? I pull out the little stool that goes under my dresser and something large and black scurries out.

Hmm.

Put your index, middle, and ring finger together. The bug I saw was about that long and wide. It had little wings that allowed it to jump, and the little sucker was fast.

It was well after midnight, and I had to be up early the next day. The way that thing was scurrying suggested that it was more afraid of me than I was of it. (Probably). I could have went to sleep assuming it would stay away from me and just hope that during the night, it would just go back out the same way it came in.

No way. Not. In. This. House.

Imagine me carrying a broom like I'm going to break in to somebody's house with it.  I have a half-hunted, half-crazed look on my face as I slowly try to get this disgusting crawling creature out into the open and strike it dead. I miss multiple times trying to get it behind my dresser. The beast flees from me and attempts to hide itself behind my TV stand. That was its fatal mistake.  I strike again. It dodges right. Its in the open now. I strike again, nearly splintering the broom. I narrowly miss killing it, but got its wings so it can't jump. It still moves fast, but it's only a matter of time. I attack again, direct hit! I stomp on it with my shoe for good measure, it's not coming back now. I consider hanging the corpse outside my door with dental floss as a warning to the insect kingdom. (In the end, I decide to simply throw it in the garbage.) I went to bed pleased that I successfully defended my turf, but still feeling crawly.

The next day when I saw Carole and Jaime I asked them if they'd heard any banging coming from my apartment.

"Yes, what were you doing?"

"Nothing much."

Working At the Missionary Home

Painting in the rain

I got the privilege of helping renovate one of the apartments at the missionary home! The major work started at about the same time as I got here, and it was quite a lot to do. Their apartment is one of four apartments at the house. Two of the apartments are for one of the other missionary couple in my congregation, and for the two special pioneer sisters in the Chinese group. (The last apartment belongs to the landlord, who is not in the truth.) The apartment that I got to help renovate had not been lived in for quite some time, and had fallen into general disrepair because the landlord didn't take care of it.

Repairing a security grille

The apartment was completely repainted, a new bathroom and kitchen were installed, some of the plumbing was redone, all the window shutters and window grilles were taken out to be painted/repaired because of rust, and air-conditioning units were installed. Basically, in about 3 months time, the apartment was rebuilt from the inside.  If only you could see how bad the place looked the first time I came in to help, and been able to compare what it looks like now. Night and day.

Working on the circuit breaker

I of course have no skills, just a willing spirit. Much of the technical work was done by some of the local brothers who have trade skills. In fact, early on in the project, a Spanish Brother and Sister from Texas flew out here for about a week and helped build and install most of the kitchen cabinets in the apartment.   Other local friends helped with the electrical wiring and installation, because much of it was out of order and new electrical connections were needed.

The work was finished this past weekend and we helped the Marshalls move into their (finally) completed apartment. It's such an awesome privilege to say I got to help with this, even though it was only a little bit.  The only thing I regret is not taking more pictures.  In fact, wish I had a picture of poor Bro Marshall jackhammering away in the bathroom to start the process of replacing the tile in there. He slaved away at it for hours with a bad drill and was melting in the heat. Least. Fun. Job. Ever. At least now whenever he has to go to the bathroom, he can look around and enjoy the fruitage of his hard work.

It's a Funny World I Live in Pt 1

I've decided to mix in little stories about some of the things I've seen since getting here.  They are funny anecdotes about my experiences. (At least, I think they're funny.  You might think it's pointless drivel. But if so, the joke is still on you for continuing to read.) I'll try to mix in some pictures to, but I won't always have anything.  In some of the situations, it was not smart to bring out a camera, in other situations the events were just not something I could have taken pictures of. Anyway, hope you enjoy it.
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Typical transport bus

On The MiniBus

On Mondays and Saturdays I take a bus like this one to get to our territory, which are an 1 1/2 to 2 hours away.

In the States, this would be 12-seater mini-bus.

But we're not in Kansas anymore Toto.

In actually practice, usually about 20 people come on this bus, and I've counted as many as 25 (TWENTY-FIVE!) people including small children.

So here's the story.  It was maybe my 2nd time ever taking the bus, and myself and Sis Vina were the last 2 people to get on this particular morning.  All the buses have 2 or 3 guys standing around yelling the final destination of the bus they work with at the top of their lungs (Example: "OCHI, OCHI, OCHI, OCHI" for the town of Ocho Rios). These guys also try to herd us into the bus like cattle attract passengers to fill the bus up as much as possible. Since the bus was full (and I mean full, like if we got into an accident, I would have someone's hat lodged into my eye) I figured we'd have to just wait for the next bus.

Wrong again.

The 3 guys trying to get passengers swooped in.  They squeezed Sis Vina as the 5th person on a row that had seats for 3 people.  The guys now studied the inside of the van for a couple seconds.

"Small person can fit." "Room for small person." "Small mon (me) sit here."

The passenger row next to the door is not as wide as the other rows, to allow room for people to climb out the door.  This row was where my "seat" would be. And I use the term "seat" very loosely, because in reality it was a fraction of the seat big enough to fit part of my right buttcheek on.  My leg is still partially sticking out the door when one of the guys goes to close it so we can move ("small mon, mo' ya' foot") and when he does my shoulder is smushed against the door and the whole left side of my face is pressed up on the window. Sis Vina, who is sitting behind me, leans forward and whispers "आप ठीक हैं बेटा?" (Are you okay my child?) I could really only talk out of the right side of my mouth.

"Never been better."

I've discovered that the idea of personal space is a laughable concept here. At times the taxis, and always the buses, will squeeze in as many as possible to maximize profits.  It didn't take me long to get used to this.  As long as I have a space big enough to fit both buttcheeks, I'm a happy camper.

Convention!

(Sorry for the weird highlighting, there was a formatting problem that made the words invisible. This was the best I could do)


Final Preparations and Translating 

 In the few weeks leading up to the convention, I was completely consumed by translation work and work at the convention site.  On the two weekends prior to the convention when I wasn't working on talks for translation, I was at the site either helping with the setup of the stadium or helping clean and set up the room reserved for our group to hear the convention in Hindi.  Basically, the only time I came up for air during the last 3 weeks was to eat, clean, and sleep. 

The Monday before the convention, our group overseer organized a rehearsal of the translated portions of the talks we had done.  We were looking to be as comfortable with them as possible because the talks would be translated simultaneously with the English (instead of the speaker-tranlator-speaker-translator structure I'm more used to).  It was a long day, at one point about 20 of us were at the house busy with the work, everyone translating outlines they'd been given or trying to help someone else.  We had 5 more from the States come to help, 2 sisters from New York Hindi Congregation and a married couple and another sister from Atlanta Hindi Congregation.  Even though it was mentally taxing, I have to say I enjoyed working with everyone, bouncing ideas for phraseology off them, learning new words, talking about mutual friends, and in some ways getting a glimpse of how much the Indian territory and work has grown in the last decade (and how much more is still ahead of us).

A couple of days before the convention, our elders received some direction from the Branch which limited the amount of translation that we would be doing for the convention. Much of the work we'd done in the previous days would not be delivered.  I have to admit, this announcement at first took the wind out of my sails. So much work, seemingly for nothing! Quickly though, I was helped to get the right attitude. I could think of the work not as pointless, but as an intense study period to hopefully spring me into improving in my ability with the language.  Of even more importance, the direction we received was clear evidence of Jehovah directing things, especially since all in the group had been praying so hard about this translating work.  It appeared that what some in the group had playfully referred to as 'Pentecost 2012' was not to be.

At the Convention

Part of our Hindi Group

For those of you who haven't been to your convention yet, you are going to absolutely love it, the program is fabulous.  Peak attendance on Sunday afternoon was over 10,000 people, most of whom I'm sure came for the drama.  Each day, we mingled with the Spanish and Chinese groups who were doing their own translation work for the convention and had rooms next to ours. (Sign Language was also at this convention, but had their own section with the main English audience.) We had a lot of cloud cover and breezes for most of all 3 days, so thankfully it wasn't the blisteringly hot experience I had mentally prepared for.

On Saturday afternoon, an Indian brother named Ravi flew in from Toronto Hindi and did much of the translating work for us at the convention.  I found out later that the airline couldn't find his luggage, so he had to come straight from the airport with only the clothes on his back after being in the air for hours and start translating.  He was absolutely tremendous, and obviously his self-sacrificing spirit had Jehovah's blessing.

Carey, Camille, & Janet; from Atlanta and NY Hindi

I had been thinking that there was not going to be any translation done by learners in our group. Because of the direction from the Branch, I believed that any translation that would be done would be by Sister Vina who is our only native speaker and the only person who is fluent. (I didn't know brother Ravi was flying in until moments before he arrived at the stadium on Saturday) Imagine my shock when our group overseer tells me minutes before the Saturday afternoon session was to start that I would be expected to translate the first talk of the afternoon! It was not a talk I had seen the outline for, so I was totally unfamiliar with it and unprepared.  The feelings I had when I first learned I would be doing translating work flooded back to my mind. 'I can't do it! I've never seen this outline! I don't have the Hindi knowledge to do this for a Convention!' You'll notice something about those 3 sentences.  There is a lot of "I" in them.  What a few experienced translators from the Chinese group, my elders, and my parents had been telling me for weeks prior to this moment was the same thing Sister Vina told me then.

'Don't think about yourself so much. You have Jehovah's holy spirit, which is the only reason any of this is possible, even for people who are fluent. Think about the Indians who may have their hearts reached in a way that could never happen had they just heard it in English.  This is your assignment from Jehovah, and a great privilege at that.'

I thanked Sister Vina for her advice, said a prayer to Jehovah, and translated that talk as best I could.

With Doreen, & Bharat, a progressive study

Besides that talk, I also was able to interpret the opening prayer on Sunday morning, and did two more talks that day.  It wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination.  Complex ideas and illustrations are still well beyond my ability to translate.  Even still, I remember thinking how calm I was, and how I was able to somehow keep up with the brothers giving the talks.  That of course, is evidence of holy spirit at work. It had been some time since the last time I recognized His hand in things as plainly as I did at the convention. It was awesome.

The experience showed me how much more work I need to put in to continue to grow in learning both Hindi and Punjabi. Even more importantly, I marvel at the faith and trust in Jehovah of the translators here, and I am working to imitate them in this respect. With it still so fresh in my mind, its hard now to think of anything but how crazy everything was.  Even still, I hope sometime in the future I'll be able to reflect fondly on what a great privilege I received one time at a convention in the middle of July.

Clean-up + Final Impressions

Anton & Mercedes; from Atlanta Hindi

On Sunday afternoon, the convention we'd looked forward to for months and had put so much work into was over. Just like that. I said goodbye to the friends who had come from the States and talked to the couple of Indians who came for the Sunday session. Everyone had enjoyed the program.

After it was over, hundreds of the friends stayed to help clean up and break down all the shade netting we set up before the convention started and to collect all the chairs and other materials that will be needed for the 2 remaining conventions that are to be held in Kingston over the next month. Imagine all the work that we did on the two weekends before the convention, but in reverse, and in about 8 hours instead of 4 days. I would not have believed that all that material could be taken apart and packed away so quickly if I hadn't seen it (and been a part of it) with my own eyes.

I got home at almost midnight, physically and mentally spent not just from that day, but from the previous 3 weeks. And you know what? If I could take back 1 second of that 3 weeks, I wouldn't do it for the world:)

Check out more pictures from before, during, and after the convention here:

https://plus.google.com/photos/117089062727226832599/albums/5764039222657325505

Convention Prep

Our convention is going to be July 6-8 at a national stadium in Trelawney, a town about 25 minutes from where I live.  I’ve never been to an outdoor stadium for a convention, and I was completely in awe of how much work the brothers and sisters have to put in to prepare for it.  The one time I did pre-convention cleanup, it was only for one day, and we got to the Cow Palace just a couple hours after the cleaning started.  The work was already pretty much done.  I remember scrambling around trying to find some gum to scrape off the ground so that I didn’t have to feel like we drove 45 minutes for nothing.  Not the case this time around.

By most accounts, the building this stadium was a complete waste of money because it is so rarely used.  There will be only one convention here this year, so we had to completely clean the place up and take care of the lawn, which is a huge job because the stadium rarely is used so the lawn was a mess. Also, we had to set up shade netting to protect the audience from the sun.  That meant unloading hundreds of 10, 21, and 28 foot long metal pipes and clamps that we attached large, heavy covers to.  Oh, and everybody, young and old works.  You’ll see little kids not older than 9 or 10 helping each other carry pipes.  And you’ll see 60 year sisters with machetes going crazy on some weeds on the lawn.  It’s awesome.

On Saturday and Sunday I was in this trailer helping unload the pipes, which were to be carried to other parts of the stadium for the construction.  That trailer was hot, like probably 110, 120 degrees after sitting in the sun for hours. Imagine me at about 10:30 in the morning just covered in sweat after working for a few hours.  It wasn’t even so much that I was working so hard (I was by the way haha) but the heat and humidity makes you sweat heavily after even the least exertion.  One of the sisters who was monitoring inventory saw me and said that I’d better get some water.  I stepped outside the trailer and though not particularly tired, I still felt like heat was radiating from my body.  They told me that I looked like someone had poured a bucket of water on my head.  Even still, I had an absolute blast working with all the friends, its an experience I’ll always appreciate.

 

Apparently, all this work that gets done is nothing compared to what the brothers used to have to do. During lunch a few of us were talking about how it used to be. The work involved was crazy enough, but made funnier when during the conversation they realized I was American.  Here’s how I remember the conversation:

‘Me remember long time me used to go to da BUSH ta build da building mon. Me get BAMBOO n me chop it up, y'kno.’

‘Ya mon, me remember dat. Me used ta ga wah me Fadar’

‘We did HAAARD WORK,  ya ‘understan?

’

Me: ‘Not really, no. Where I come from, we just show up with a broom and everything’s done in a couple hours.’

‘Whah ya from?’

‘Yah English?”

Me: ‘No, I’m from the States.’

‘No mon, 'im from America.’

‘Ya mon, me kno, me kno. Me ‘ear ‘is accent.’

We ended up working all day Saturday and Sunday, and some work will still need to be done this weekend as well.  I have to say, I’m now going to have way more appreciation for the work that goes into conventions in other countries.

Assuming of course that I don’t fry in the burning heat during the program.