the vision

Photography by Michaela Potterbaum
Music by Brock Human

bolivia trip

We went back to the University Thursday and met with 4 different classes to help them with English. Many speak it incredibly well. We giggled when a girl asked us if the word "friends" is pronounced "friends" or "fraaaands", as we must have said it with our Southern accents. It was interesting to learn about their culture and their generation. Most all students live at home until they are married, unlike our 18 year olds who move away to college and after graduation are out on their own. And of course they are shocked to meet two girls in their 30's unmarried with no children. Food is a huge part of their culture and they all asked us what we liked to eat and what local foods we had tasted. They are incredibly polite and respectful and listen to anything you have to say with attentiveness and interest. And they all have Facebook!
That evening we stopped at the Hipermaxi and bought cookies and went to the home of a woman in Missael's church. It was just a small gathering of professional women of all ages. Jana shared her testimony and we all gained a new "fraaaand". It was really beautiful to sit and share with women of a different culture and find we are not very different at all.
Yesterday we went to the Elderly Center and they organized a game of soccer! We played in a tiny field in front of the center and all the elderly pulled up chairs and watched as we poorly kicked the ball around and sweated. Even the old men served as goalies! That was fun. We then went to the Salon since Jana and I had heard the nicest salon in town offers $12 hair cuts. I washed that grey right out of my hair for half of what it would have been at home. Today we are going on our first real shopping excursion downtown. Then we are going to Rolando's parents to spend the day and celebrate Rolando's July birthday with him and his family before he leaves tomorrow. Photos are slow to post, but I got some really good ones yesterday. More to come.

Yesterday we went to the local university and got to help teach English. Dad taught them to say y'all. They took notes. We also got to go to downtown Santa Cruz to the opening of an art show. Today we are going back to the elderly center to take donations. This morning I am going to the dentist, yes, the dentist. I am becoming a big fan of Bolivian health care. Then tonight, my friend Jana and I are going to get $12 hair cuts at the best salon in town. More soon.

Bolivia 2011

On Saturday we went to an elderly center. It is this beautiful facility in El Torno, outside of Santa Cruz. The elderly can come here and gather and have a free meal and medical care.They gather to sing and worship and be together.  They want to build dormitory style facilities for them to come and live. Most are indigenous Quechua. They are such a beautiful people. They have recently applied for a grant from the Japanese government for funds to build the dorms. While we were there a businesswoman from the city came and donated medicine. All the women, even the really old ones, have long thick black hair that they wear in braids. They dress in colorful clothing and average about four feet tall.


That same day we drove up the hill from the center and went to a very modern restaurant, a resort and had dessert. It was such a stark contrast from this modest facility among the Quechua to high end resort among the elite of Bolivia.


On Sunday we went to church and then to lunch at buffet style restaurant where Rolando says only the elite come to dine. I think we paid about $10USD per person. The tables were filled with rice and plantains, beans, corn, tomatoes, fresh chili sauces and salsas, and lots of chicken and beef prepared in a variety of ways. There was also a dessert table. It was full of bright colored custards, but nothing to write home about. The restaurant had hammocks hanging underneath. The Bolivians are serious about their Siesta's and I have embraced the custom.We then went to a small house church and just spent time practicing my Spanish/Portuguese mix and meeting new friends.

Downtown Santa Cruz is fairly modern and reminds me of a small European town, with small bistros and Western style shops. We Americans still have it all at amazing prices and nothing will ever beat our Outlet Malls, TJ Maxx and Target. I love going to the market wherever I go. We went yesterday and I bought coffee and quinoa!

Today we went to a Catholic orphanage. I was prepared for the worst and although they were special needs kids with severe disabilities, they are incredibly well cared for and loved. There were other young teenage girls there helping the nuns to play with and entertain the children. The grounds were beautiful and the entire place was stunning. We simply smiled at them and hugged and kissed them and held them and prayed. I never know quite what to do with all that, in my mind and in my heart. What do you do with that?

We are now back at the casa embracing the Siesta.

"stop and go traffic"

Tourism in Mozambique!

Mozambique President joins leaders of global tourism effort

Jul 08, 2011 MADRID, Spain & LONDON, UK - “We support tourism as an area of major importance in our agenda to fight poverty,” said Mozambique’s President, Armando Guebuza. The President was speaking after joining the UNWTO/WTTC Global Leaders for Tourism Campaign (Maputo, Mozambique, June 28, 2011).
“Given its impact in terms of jobs and income and considering its multiplier effects in other areas of the economy, tourism has proven to be a sector of high relevance in the socio-economic development of our country,” said President Guebuza.
President Guebuza received an Open Letter from UNWTO Secretary General Taleb Rifai and World Travel & Tourism Council (WTTC) President & CEO David Scowsill highlighting travel and tourism as one of the most effective solutions to today’s global challenges.
During his official visit to Mozambique, Mr. Rifai also met Prime Minister Aires Ali, who reiterated the government’s commitment to tourism. "We are fully committed to the development of tourism in Mozambique, as the government has recognized the sector as strategic for the overall development of the country," he said.
“Mozambique has unique resources to advance tourism and make of it a real driver to improve the lives of its people. Moreover, it has the political will to do so. This is confirmed by President Guebuza joining our campaign, but also by the fact that tourism is extensively featured in the government plan for the coming years,” said Mr. Rifai. “The plan identifies tourism as a strategic sector in the socio-economic development of the country, contributing to job creation, income generation, and the strengthening of national unity.”
David Scowsill, President & CEO, WTTC, said: “The tourism potential of Mozambique speaks for itself, with 2700 km of tropical coastline, a variety of ecological systems that are rich in species and a rich historic cultural heritage, but most significantly, the Mozambican government has recognized the opportunities for economic growth and job creation through tourism.”
“The total contribution of travel and tourism to Mozambique’s GDP, including its wider economic impacts, is forecast to rise by 6.4% each year over the next 10 years. By 2021, travel and tourism will support over 700,000 jobs in Mozambique,” David continued.
With over 2 million international tourist arrivals in 2010, Mozambique is becoming one of the most important destinations in Sub-Saharan Africa. International tourism revenues of US$1 billion represent 9% of Mozambique’s total exports.

Source: wttc.org & unwto.org

online giving

all donations are now tax-deductible! you can give online via the links on the right. the "subscribe" button allows you to give automatically each month. just let me know if there is a specific increment you would like to donate. the "donate" button allows you to make a one time donation. you will receive an end-of-year statement from Abundant Life Fellowship, my sweet friends who are letting me use their non-profit to help raise support. all proceeds go to the administrative costs of running the vocational school and my living expenses. thank you for your help. 

jgracedavis@gmail.com 

404.312.0479

a fundraising party

I had my first ever fundraising party. Ramona Kucera went above and beyond. It was a small gathering and it felt good to be amongst people I love. I am constantly reminded that summers, dinners, desserts, hugs, sunsets, with my family are never frequent enough and any time I have with family and friends just feels good. So if you find me starring at you, I am just soaking you in and making a memory. If our country didn't copyright and block certain material I would post a youtube video of Hayley Mills smelling her grandfather's jacket that smelled of "tobacco and peppermint".

I was blessed to grow up in a small town where "everybody knows your name" and all your secrets. I hated that as a teenager, but look back now at this little "village" that played a part in raising me and am forever grateful. So Miss Brenda and The Hullet's and The Williams', Kucera's, Fallin's and  Davis' (both sets), gathered on the lake and had the best veggie lasagna I have ever put in my mouth. I am sitting here now wishing I had a slice. I got to hold baby Axel, eavesdrop on my Dad's stories, watch Natty jump in the lake with his clothes on and just sit back and soak it in. I have a very blessed life. I have people in my life who would take me in in a heartbeat, who love me, who give big hugs that mean something and who have my Southern accent. There were people on that back porch who changed my diapers. And if the Williams' girls had been there I could have said the same to them. There is a peace in community that brings hope, life, encouragement, strength, and courage. I can do anything with a little cheering.

So thanks for coming and cheering me on. I am honored to know you.

Iris Ministries Newsletter

an update from Iris Ministries

Graham Cooke must read my blog

A Renewed Mind is One That Will Not Contemplate a Single Day Without Favor

excerpt from "Radical Perceptions" by Graham Cooke

When the Father puts us into Christ, He envisages the same relationship with us that He enjoys with Jesus. We are in Christ so that all the favor He enjoys now comes to us also.

We are not given favor because of who we are, but because of who Jesus is. His favor is ours because we too are heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ (Romans 8:17). We are not given favor because of our performance as believers but because of our placement in the Lord Jesus.

Favor is a special preference of one to another. It is an advantage given from the greater to the lesser. Favor is an intentional bias. It means to consider someone as your favorite. Favor allows us to be esteemed, approved and highly loved by the Father. Everything that the Father has given to Jesus now automatically becomes part of our relationship also. Favor is a relationship. It is the currency that provides all we need in our fellowship with God. It is a lifestyle of walking with God in Christ.

As disciples we understand that favor is our highest position in Christ. It is favor that empowers us to step out of need into provision with absolute confidence that God will provide. Favor is assurance of God’s heart towards us. Favor is the strongest part of our fellowship. It is the evidence in Christ that we are powerful in how we face life and circumstances. Favor makes us alive to God and active in faith. It makes us defiant against the enemy and assertive in our circumstances. Favor makes us receptive to change and available for any upgrades and increases. In favor we become energetic about who we are in Christ. Favor empowers us to be joyfully confident and expectant on life’s journey.

We are never without favor; it is the means by which we cultivate intimacy and become bold in prayer. Every day carries a fresh experience of favor. A true disciple is never without it.
 

enlarging my tent while packing up boxes

This time last week I was in Austin, Texas. I went to visit new friends, people I barely knew. Funny how you can know so much about someone whilst knowing so very little. I met this couple, only for a moment, last year at a conference with Iris. They were easily highlighted to me. They just stood out. Granted we were both perched on the front row and were there for a couple of days, still they practically had neon signs above their heads. Apparent. Of a crowd of hundreds, theirs were the faces that stood out to me most. I introduced myself on the last day, we exchanged information and we kept in touch. Every time we spoke it was if I was talking to my closest friend. It may sound cliche' to say perhaps it is because we have the same Dad, but that is really what is is all about. It is the only way two complete strangers, who barely remember what each other looks like or their last names, can delve deep. We are related. We are family. We hear the same voice. I think it has to be one of the most powerful things on earth. The Body. These two dear people swept me in to their home, their life, pulled me a seat up the table, gave me a listening ear, refused to be anything but themselves around me. Transparent. They cried with me, high-fived me, gave me advice, called me out, read my mail, fed me, clothed me. I have never been the recipient of anything like this in my whole life.
What kind of love is this?
Back in February in snowy Ohio I sat around the table with Maggie and Jeff and all hopelessness flew right out the kitchen window when Jeff put his big strong elbows on the table and said, "we have your back". It is impossible to be hopeless in community where friends care for you, advise you, pray for you, laugh with you, hold your hand. And then the tables turn, and they need me. I get to receive it and I get to give.
So I am absolutely undone by these great gifts I have been given. I am so stinkin' rich.

I signed a two year lease on my house yesterday. Welcome, Denese. I am undone. Right here at this little blog I prayed and asked for a renter, one to love my home and care for it. I got it! And she is letting me store my things in the attic so I don't have to hand off boxes to each one of you to keep for me for an undetermined about of time. It is all almost too good to be true. I simply cast the vision of what I wanted and just, very timidly, asked for a nice renter, a two year lease, a place to put my things. And I got it. How does this happen? Could it be that she is a sister too? Part of this family and has the same Dad? I am certain.

This week has left me speechless. I am here, struggling for words. Just a few months ago I didn't have the faith for much of anything. My moment of crisis became my launching pad. I had no choice but to start casting my vision. Rent my house. Sell my car. Raise support. Move to Africa. Start a school. Educate the poor.

All this coming together in just a surreal way forces me to take a look at it all. Am I even dreaming big enough? Do I need to enlarge my tent even more? Do I need to dream even bigger? Will this school be more empowering than I ever dreamed? Can I always have all the finances that I need? Can I have more than enough? Can I make a difference in a nation? A whole big ole country? Do I get to do this for a lifetime?

He has simply proven Himself way too faithful for me to doubt. And if I can't doubt, I can only dream bigger. There is no lack in the Kingdom. He is who He says He is.

tax deductible giving!

All your donations are now tax deductible. You may make checks payable to:
Abundant Life Fellowship or ALF and mail them to me @ 


c/o Jene Davis
7406 Reed Creek Highway 
Hartwell, Georgia 30643


You will receive an annual statement from them at the end of the year. If you are interested in automatic monthly deductions, electronic payments or have any questions, just ask: jgracedavis@gmail.com.


Love, Me

an update

I think I have a renter for my house! A nice, sweet one who is delighted to live here.
 I am taking private Portuguese Lessons, four hours a week. (Thank you Mama's Bible Study)
I am visiting friends in Texas for the weekend. 
 (Burglar's don't read this.)

Mama's Bible Study

I went "on tour" last week. That line makes me laugh. I spoke to three Bible Studies. These women are the most powerful group of people in all of Northeast Georgia. If you have need, let them know and they will pray it down for you. I was a little nervous. Just who am I anyway? What do I know? I hate being in the limelight. I really have very little to offer these wise God fearing women. But after dinner and a pep talk with Lynne Kolo the other night, she quickly reminded me that I actually do have a story to share. We all do. It is Revelation 19:10. The testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy. I get to share my story so He can do it again. She asked me how I would feel if someone came up to me and shared their heart and their dreams. I knew right away that I would cheer them on, encourage them and hang on to every word. She then asked why would my own story be any different. So I took the podium with a little less fear and just shared just a sliver of my story. Their prayers over me were worth every moment of stage fright, they were powerful. I am certain, that I now have a place where I can share my needs, my fears, my concerns and I will have a tribe, lifting me up to the Father.

I asked them to pray specifically for my house, for renters, good ones. As of this moment, I have TWO people who are interested and are coming to see it on Friday! But get this:  I left for Virginia on Wednesday. I came to meet up with fellow missionary friends and start to plan curriculum for the vocational school. At 2:00am on Thursday morning, I get a phone call. Someone had broken into my house. My first thought at this news was actually just extreme annoyance. I thought of all the glass that would have to be cleaned up, having the window repaired, the insurance claim filed, and the fact that I was wide awake at 2:30am and I simply became annoyed that this thief had robbed me of a good night's sleep. I really could not have cared less about the silly things he could have taken. What would he even get? A television? Would he really take Aunt Grace's silverware? A dress from J. Crew? Please don't take my Thai fisherman pants. Or my library book because it is due back next week. Don't wipe your muddy thief shoes on my rug because it is a hand-tied Persian tabriz. I went through the house, in my mind and wondered just what a thief would want from my little world. What would be worth invading my home to take into yours to make your life better, to sell, to make a dime, to fund your bad habits? So I sat there in the dark and wondered what his house looked like. I wondered if it was full of flat panel HDTV's and if the gigantic TV in my living room would even fit out the window. I think if it were to land on him, it would certainly knock him out. Then I kinda wanted him to take it. Where am I going to put it anyway? I am going to have to store most of my things and a 50lb television takes up lots of space. It is huge. Then I started to think of things that I would gladly let him take off my hands. Please take that old coffee maker, it doesn't make the coffee hot enough and I prefer my French press. Please take the wicker chairs off the front porch, they are falling apart and I would not be able to give those away. Then I realized that those sweet Bible Study women had given me some money. I saw that little stack of $1's and $5's and $20's on my dresser. Then I got a little mad. So I prayed. I prayed for all four corners of that house to be surrounded. That while my house sat gaping open, broken window, completely exposed, that not one single solitary item be taken from my house. I prayed that two story tall angels would guard the place and that no thief lay a finger on my offering. Because of that tiny offering, I got defensive. My things didn't really matter much, but their offering matters a whole lot. I prayed a blessing over the poor guy who leads this life of such depravity that he has to break in to people's houses and take things from them. I felt pity for him.

I drifted off to sleep. The next morning, sun up, coffee in hand, I await the phone call. My neighbor calls as he walks to my home to access the damage. He sees the broken window and crawls inside. Not one item taken. My offering still in the rubber banded roll on my dresser. All out of date electronics and even the new state of the art ones, all still there. The rug full of dust as always, mud free. Apparently the Brink's alarm that I almost had cut off last week frightened him off. I could almost see the angels standing back with their arms crossed, pleased with their night's work.

And now I just wish I were there to high five all you ladies, thanks for sending my name up to the Throne Room. It worked.

the news

I am moving to Mozambique. I plan to leave September 25th-ish. I will be the director of a vocational school with an NGO (non-governmental organization), teaching job skills. The vision grows larger every day, but for now we want to teach: 

English 

mechanics

brick making

carpentry

plumbing

wound care

medical diagnostics (lab technicians)

hospitality and tourism

finance 101

We want to serve as a liaison between our students and local businesses and train them in areas that are needed in the community. These students have grown up in our children's center and will have to leave when they turn 18. They need skills to help them survive when living in the village. We want to raise up leaders to help those around them. Job creation is a huge key in eradicating extreme poverty. 

I looked into every development organization that exists, almost. I applied for dozens of jobs with federal and private organizations that work with the extremely poor. None of them felt quite right. I have relationship with my friends at Iris and the children there. I love their heart. They are like family and ran solely by volunteers. They have become my heroes, all there just doing what they feel called to do to help the one in front of them. I need my family and friends to help send me to do the work.  I won’t need much. Just food, transportation and health insurance. I hate asking for money. I know there has to be a better way. But for now, this is my option, having you help send me. If you want to join in and help me in this venture, I would love your help. If you want to come teach your skill or trade or English or just come and visit, let me know. I would love to show you around and put you to work.

I have been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. I cannot believe it is finally here. It’s going to be wild.

house for rent

Atlanta Craftsman Style Bungalow
Close to downtown.
In need of a Renter.
A good one.
Who will mow the lawn.
Treat it with Love.
Fall in love with it.
And buy it.
For what I paid for it.

Serious Inquiries Only :)
 404.312.0479

Home

There is a book out there called Re-Entry: Making the Transition from Missions to Life at Home. I honestly used to think it was silliness and one could never loose a sense of being so profoundly. But Thomas Wolfe had it right. I know that the sense of "home" varies. Coming "home" to this house took years. I always felt like I was coming home to someone else's house. Then I went away for a week long vacation a few years ago and entered the door feeling welcomed and at ease. Then now, once I start to feel that I have a place, it all shatters. 


I go to Mozambique for 3 little weeks and I feel "home". I feel a sense of peace and belonging and contentment. Even in the luxury of Cape Town, I wondered about Moz. Then I had days in Johannesburg where I literally sat for long hours and made lists in my head of good things I was coming home to, to motivate me. It went like this.
1. Carla & My Family & Friends who are like family
2. Toenail Clippers (I will not forget to pack those next time)
3. Coffee
4. A Hairdryer
5. Dairy Products
6. Huge Fresh Salads


End of list. And maybe Target. I will always miss Target. 


In line at the airport in Johannesburg an elderly couple asked me where I had been. I told them. They asked if I was in the north or south, and I answered them. They seemed to know the country well. They spoke fondly of its beauty and kind people. They asked if I would go back again and I told them that I was moving there in September. They looked at each other a little startled. The man said instantly, "Oh, then it must be for a man". His wife agreed and said, "No one would ever go live in northern Mozambique if it weren't for a man". I laughed. I said, "No. Not really a man. More like a boy. A bunch of them". I don't know if they got what I said. They seemed to just show pity on me and I just blushed a little embarrassed that I had no lover in the picture. 


All this is just to say, I am back. I am back in my country of origin. I am a days journey from people who share my DNA. I just blow-dried my hair. I made a whole pot of strong French Roast. But for some reason I feel very far from home.

sittin' waitin' plannin' dreamin'

My last day in Cape Town was perfect. I got to have a warm breakfast of strong coffee, spinach and feta croissant, side of eggs soft scrambled with my new friend, Caroline at The Olympia Cafe and Deli in Kalk Bay.  The bay, the ships, the shore, the conversation, the coffee,.all so perfect. I even got to go back to Groot Constantia and taste the wine Napoleon drank. I didn't even ask. They lady just gave it to me. She reminded me of Aunt Pittypat. She said I was not supposed to have it and it was not on the tasting list, but I think she liked me and she pulled it from the shelf. Or maybe she just wanted a taste herself, either way, I loved it. She says that they still find bottles from time to time along shores in various places. The bottles are marked with a seal within the glass reading Groot Constantia. She said they have found them as far away as Maryland and shipwrecks have revealed whole bottles, empty. Maybe she had been hitting the sauce all morning or maybe it is true, either way, the entire experience was incredible fun. I am now at the end of my journey and unwinding in Johannesburg. I have another day here before attempting to board as a standby passenger Delta's direct flight home.

kindess of strangers

today is my last day in cape town.  i am packing up my things now, meeting my new friend for breakfast and will be on an afternoon flight to johannesburg.  during this trip, i saw penguins, went to a prison and tutored kids. i have been overwhelmed by the powerful work of The Warehouse and their gracious hospitality. i have made wonderful new friends and hope to come back here again one day...

Cape Town

I got to go around site seeing some yesterday! We saw Penguins at Boulder Beach, drove through Chapman's Peak, went to Hout Bay, through Simon's Town and to Groot Constantia for lunch. The drive was breathtaking and just incredibly stunning. I think Groot Constantia was my favorite. We had lunch there and I had Vegetable Curry in traditional Malay style. Groot Constantia is the oldest wine estate in South Africa. I read somewhere that they supplied wine to Napoleon. Their wine is out of this world. Lovely views, Georgian and Cape Dutch architecture. The day so different from the day before. Lush vineyards, rich Europeans and South Africans. Such a contrast from my day of fried bread sandwiches in a hot little shack in the township. I highly recommend them both.

Sweet Home Farm

for mama's bible study

so just so you ladies know, it is 11:15pm. i am dog tired. in hartwell talk, that means exhausted, worn slap out. not sure why slap makes it more worn out than just worn out, but i am worn slap out. i have not stopped since i left atlanta. i have not really sat down, literally. they don't have sofas in pemba, days are full of walking and activity and hustle and jobs to be done. and now i am here in cape town and so anxious to see it all that i don't want to sit still. the time in mozambique flew by so fast and now i find myself here in cape town, a place i never believed i would get to see. it is lovely here. i think my biggest takeaway today is just how small the kingdom of God is and how precious (and i choose that word carefully) it is to be in it and to know Him. through Iris connections and through friends, i have been welcomed into this Christian community and am staying with a vicar of an Anglican church here in Cape Town. there is something profound and comforting to worship with others half way across the world and just talk about Jesus and His goodness with people of different nationalities. it expands my faith. it makes the world seem quite tiny. this town is very diverse, so many nationalities gather and worship yet it feels like family.
so i HAVE to go to bed and crawl under covers and sleep deep. i am meeting a fellow mission school alum tomorrow for breakfast. i do not know her at all but she did the same mission school as i did and therefore we all become family in one way or another and she is entertaining me and showing me cape town tomorrow.
i will post more photos and share much more soon.
thank you for your prayers.

Sweet Home Farm

yesterday i went to Sweet Home Farm. quite nothing like what it sounds. it's name makes it sound like an organic bakery or a new plot at Serenbe. but it is an incredibly poor settlement where The Warehouse has become involved. they helped a woman named Christina open a restaurant. simple, basic, tiny little place, with the best fried bread sandwiches i have ever eaten. they are called amagwinyas. actually i think they are the only fried bread sandwiches i have ever eaten. either way, i want another one. they use the tiny space for meetings and Bible studies and prayer groups when needed. she will even cook for you if you come here. you have to call 24 hours in advance to let her know you are coming, but i hear her mealie pap is out of this world. she works alongside a Warehouse worker and former restaurant owner in establishing her small business. i seriously recommend this place if you are coming to Cape Town. i love total dives and this is the epitome, a real gem, a blessed treat. the Warehouse also offers HIV/AIDS support groups within the settlement  and i am going to that today. 


Sweet Home Farm is an informal settlement that was originally a rubble dump in the Philippi farm area and is now home to approximately 12 000 people, with around ten people per home. In 1995 it was a small group of 15 shacks, but has grown each year as people have settled there for lack of better options. It is still largely undeveloped in terms of access to water and electricity. "One of the problems is that half of the land is council land and the other half is privately owned, so the council cannot put in amenities like electricity and water," explains Goodman James, who works with Joy in the community, employed by The Warehouse, as well as a resident of Sweet Home Farm. Half of the community have no proper toilets and the other half share six families per toilet unit.
Community leaders estimate that the unemployment rate is a shocking 70% and malnutrition and other social ills that go with poverty, pervade. "One of the most worrying things is the lack of access to education in the community," says Ntlalo Mgadela, a member of the community and youth worker, "And the children have to walk or go by buses to schools in other areas." He goes on to explain how the lack of ability to provide for one's family has resulted in many fathers losing hope completely as they watch their children struggle and not get the opportunity for a better life. "This leads to breakdown of the family unit," he said, "And it's soul destroying for the men in the community." The HIV/Aids rate is very high and the only clinic in the area services children and TB patients, but nobody else.
Sweet Home Farm is a community facing many social evils and although only a few kilometres from the wealth of the suburbs and city centre, is excluded from the benefits. Most of the people who live there will never see the 'other side' of Cape Town. It is more susceptible to disasters such as flooding and fires, due to the lay of the land and the closeness of the homes, largely made up of wood and tin.

today

i get to go to Sweet Home Farm today! really excited about seeing this. i arrived late last night and have been graciously accepted by The Warehouse and am being served Rooibos tea even now. even after three short weeks in Pemba, i instantly settled in to the life of children, noise, Portuguese, Makua, heat. i miss it already. overwhelmed by the hospitality here, of complete strangers taking me in, feeding me, giving me a warm place to sleep. i have a feeling i will deeply miss this place too when i leave.

agenda

today is my last night in mozambique. time flew by. so fast. i leave tomorrow afternoon and fly to johannesburg and then to cape town. i will be in cape town until april 13th, visiting The Warehouse www.warehouse.org.za
i am looking forward to hot water, fast internet and a diverse menu.

Pinch me

Yesterday we went into the village. If you were to go, it would change you. It is incredibly eye-opening to see how most of this country lives, and actually these villages near town are "nicer" than most typical African villages. Mud houses, some with metal roofs, so many children, narrow passageways built with bamboo for fencing and privacy, but maze-like in their design. We walk through the rocky maze and find the tidy little home of a family of 5; a mother, grandmother, and three children. I am not sure where the men are in this culture. They come and go. Right now, they are alone. The mother works as a cleaning lady for Iris missionaries. She is animated, funny, loves to laugh and is full of life. Her husband was killed in a car accident. the youngest child doesn't go to school because she cannot afford a uniform and the house leaks during rainy season, the floor completely eroded. Money was raised to help her, and we were there to do the labor. Well, arrange for the labor. So men did show up after all and laid concrete incredibly fast. We all sat around on the rope bed outside and drank Cokes and they belched really loud and I giggled like a child. I love this culture. You can get away with most anything. But I sit on the rope bed and wonder just what is poverty? When I worked in Zimbabwe that summer with Rachel, I thought that was poverty. But looking back, at the time, they were well cared for. Villages had clean water, schools, a clinic, all nearby or within the village. The European farmers went above and beyond for their workers, build huge playgrounds for the children and made sure needs were met. So what is fair here? What is not fair? What needs changing? What is justice? What part is my responsibility? What can I do to help? Do they need my help? What does God want? What stirs His heart? He tells us, "the poor will always be among you". But what kind of poor? And just what is poor? Poorer than me? Too poor to stay dry when it rains? Too poor to eat a meal once a day? That is too poor. That is not right. 


All day long I walk around this city shaking my head at things I see, things that just aren't right. By being born in the United States, I was birthed into a land of opportunity. I bought a nice pretty house on nothing more than good credit, however that is defined. I went to college for free because I lived in a state that offers free tuition to B-average students. I will always have a roof over my head no matter what because I live in a land where there is an economy (though in much distress) that thrives off working and jobs and salaries and my family has those things and houses and they will take me in. I will always have resources, an education that offers me choices and comfort in the cycle of working, making money and obtaining basic needs and some not so basic. That doesn't exist here. There are no McDonald's, free Mavis Beacon teaches typing courses at the local library, no Department of Labor, no Cherokee Town Club in need of an inexperienced server with a winning personality and connections with the club president. I could go on and on, there are no dad's here to teach their sons how to respect their mother's and women. There are many motherless children who are growing up on their own, with no one to show them how to love. They are all here just struggling to survive. It is all just not fair. I don't know what else to call it. Just how poor will the "poor among us" be? This poverty that I see is a robbery and an injustice. Everyone should be fed, have an education, a roof over their heads, access to healthcare and to know love. 


I can't even have a puppy, so I haven't a clue what do with all these Mozambican faces looking back at me. Overwhelming need. I think I was born with this resiliency and adventuresome spirit and am single and jobless for a reason. I think God is amazing at orchestrating all our days. It is all just preparation for our future. When we say, "I am fully thine and Thou art mine", He takes it seriously. He knows well in advance that we are one day going to utter those words as He has, after all, completely set us up. He's good at that. Time and time again, He takes my little selfish escapades, such as a college graduation trip to go on Safari, and reveals something more amazing that we could ever fathom or imagine for ourselves. 


So today I am imagining a life here. I stood in line yesterday at the Bank to get a check cashed for 3 hours. Three. Praise the Lord it was air-conditioned. No matter how I try to fit in, I am the whitest, squeakiest cleanest (despite my real lack of daily showers and frequent swims in the ocean), most blue-eyed person in this city. I stick out. Even most of the other white people I have seen are incredibly brown and they blend. I try to at least dress in the required army green, but cannot do so without hues of pinks and pastels and jewelry.  I am me. This culture could not be more different from mine. We are opposites in funny ways. They wait in line for 3 hours because there is one teller at the Standard Bank. I cannot recall the last time I waited in most any line at all. Self-Service at Kroger, Express Lane at Target…oh wait, the Post Office. But we all stand there and grumble and complain the whole time and blast federal government and get to know each other and it makes the time pass. And it has never been three hours. That would make Channel 2 Action News. "Three Hour Line at United States Postal Service- East Point Branch creates riots, food and water being distributed". When I finally exit the bank that at some point closed while I was still in line, it was raining. People were lined under the overhangs of the smattering of buildings, chattering in Portuguese and Makua, unfazed, waiting on it to pass. I couldn't understand what they were saying but I don't think anyone said, "they didn't say it was going to rain" or "I wonder how long this is going to last, I have a meeting and big plans and I hate getting wet and I cannot stand under this overhang all day". They just stood there with their plastic bags of vegetables and goods and waited as if they were waiting for the 2 o'clock train. The rain woke up all the bits of green grass and the leaves on trees. The dark sky such a huge contrast against the bright blue one hanging over the Indian Ocean. The thought, "How can I ever leave this place?" enters my mind. How can any other life bring me any satisfaction? 


As I trudge up the hill to my house, I meet Manuel. His smile is so big it seems fake, but it is real. He wears earbuds from an MP3 player in one ear, but I don't see the MP3 player or hear music. His English is lovely. He asks me how long I have been here and how long I am staying. He tells me he lives here on base. I look hard at his face. I am forced to see the reality of his situation. He lives here on base. That means he has no parents. That means he has grown up here. He has spent his life, living in a room, with other boys, going to school, playing soccer. It means he has been well fed and cared for and missionaries have come along to love on him, he has a group of young boys just like him and they teach in Bible School and translate and he knows God. He has been blessed to grow up in an environment where he knows Christ, he has been taught the truth. He has been given a great gift. He exudes happiness. He asks me when I am coming back to his country. I hear myself say, "September". He squeals with delight. Guys here do that. Their laughs are so funny. Then he says, "I am so glad I heard God, to tell me to come here so I could see you and I could meet you. I want you to come back and to teach me what you know". The only thing I know is that these children will teach me far more than I could ever teach them. However, I CAN help. I have a few resources and ideas and two degrees and smart friends who would come and help. Where is Manuel going to go in the next year or so? He is at least 16. What skills does he have? Where will he get a job here? I know the Standard Bank needs tellers, so maybe I can find an accountant that would come here and teach a course in accounting. What if we can get certified as an instructional school? What other jobs and needs are out there? I took at taxi home. What if I could get him a loan to buy a pedicab or a motorbike with one of those rear facing passenger things attached? Could he make enough to pay me back in a year?  Then could he make enough to live? But what if he wants to be an electrician? I saw men in bright yellow suits working on poles the other day. Would Mozambique Power come and teach a course to electrical power technicians? The scenarios are endless. Not to mention all the jobs that are out there to help others. We are short-handed in the area of medical outreach. We need nurses to go out into more rural areas and give medicine, weigh babies in trees, dress wounds, give immunizations,  and injections. Why bring them from the West when Manuel is standing right here, big smile, funny laugh, eager. He is not a stranger. He's my brother. 


My sister always pays careful attention to give me what I need. The day before I left, she cooked a delicious vegetarian meal, just for me. In that moment, it was precisely what I wanted and needed, a warm, delicious, made-with-love, American meal. I want to give Manuel what he needs. Why NOT? What do I have to loose? Everything. I am well aware of the adversity and mind-sets and struggles that lay before me. What do I have to gain? Everything. But to lose everything, that's not so bad either. "If you abide in Me and My words abide in you, you will ask what you desire and it shall be done for you". Jesus said that. It's in red in my Bible. To die is to gain, to live is to gain. We gain! We win. No matter what. Risk it. So this is what I am thinking about today. I really don't even see this as a risk. It is a choice. He is so endless patient and totally kind. The choice is mine. And it is the former life that propels me. I simply don't want my next 10 years to be like my past 10, all really running together and only highlighted by my vacations I took that year. And I am not choosing Africa. She chose me. Pinch me. I can't believe I get to live this life.

good night, sleep tight

don't let the bed bugs bite. they did. they devoured my right arm. so my mattress is out in the sun on the steps and i doused it with an aerosol bug spray. the past few days have been hot and eventful. we were going to interview a few of the girls here at the base to get their stories and ask them questions about their future to get an idea and a profile of what these kids interest are and how we could create a curriculum or lending program or vocational school around them and to give the school a voice for those of you back home. real kids. with real needs. but simple solutions. but one problem. they didn't show up. so we will reschedule and perhaps schedule again after that. this is Africa. so we went into town. i was shocked at how the prices had gone up even more since my previous visit. only a few formal "markets" and you can get more in the grocery aisle at Walgreens than you can in these supermercados. all the sites and sounds and colors of shopping and markets in Africa and abroad fascinate me. this excursion was hot and exhausting. the markets have not changed otherwise. same smell in the Supermercado of bathroom cleaner, the lights are out, dusty shelves, plastic overpriced dishes from Hong Kong. canned goods from South Africa. Osman's stunk to high heaven but i think part of the stench was me. you know it is bad when you think, "ugh. yuck. what IS that smell…oh. wait. i think it is me". i had hugged and danced and sat in the floor at church and wore the dress again the next day. now i am fully entrenched. i still look so incredibly American from head to toe, but at least i smell like Africa now. a little like dirt and something burning and sweat. yesterday i had the honor of interviewing one of the Iris nurses about the new hospital the intend to build. it was so beautiful to hear her heart. she becomes all consumed when you ask her and her eyes dance as she talks about her dream coming to life. essentially, at the moment, it appears it will be an advanced clinic. currently, the care for minor wounds and cough and cold and fever, malaria. but they have no diagnostic tools. they can't really test you for malaria, they don't have AIDS medicine, they cannot do X-rays. they want to take some of the burden off the hospital where people often walk for many miles and wait in long lines. she shared with me her heart in all of it and deepest desires and how she came to Iris and when i asked who she needed to staff the hospital, wanting specifics of types of specialities, she just said, "those who are willing and want to come and serve". she then shared with me that if your identity and calling is in your position, you will be disappointed. you simply have to come yielding and willing and God does all the rest. that is a huge leap. she took me to the hospital and we waiting in the long lines. waiting on paperwork for a patient. after two hours, we just took our paperwork back and decided to come again another day. this is Africa. we stopped in town for Refreshcas. i always get Coke. sometimes Fanta Ananas, but usually Coke. it's the Atlanta girl in me. i sipped on that and drank it fast because it gets hot in a hurry. holding the sweaty bottle as we ramble down rough roads in a Land Rover reminds me for a moment of the Gods Must Be Crazy and i can't help but laugh. that is one of my father's favorites and i confess, mine too. we come back to the clinic and i am served rice and beans by a sweet lady in a crisp uniform. i still for the life of me cannot figure out how they stay so tidy. i sweat. i wrinkle. i try. i put make up on in front of the fan, the only time my face is not covered in perspiration. but her pretty face glows and she smiles big. we then all go out to the beach at Maranganha. every month they celebrate the children's birthdays with cake and presents. i spent the night out at Maranganha once in a tent in 2007. it is a lovely piece of land, surrounded my ocean, waves, shells, a constant breeze. this time the waves took my sandals and i had to go home barefooted. i will now spend the rest of the trip in a hideous pair of Birkenstocks. oh well. really hard to complain about much of anything in a place like this. this morning we went to interview the director of education for this Cabo Delgado region. i wore my only skirt that didn't stink and my ugly sandals. but when we arrived we were told she had to attend a "ceremony" and so the meeting never happened. this is Africa. so we stopped for a cold drink, as is evidently custom or maybe just survival. i am leaving in a few minutes to go out to a village where two boys have started their own business. they are having someone make bricks and they sell them and are making a profit. we want to use them as an example as well as see if there are ways we can help the boys market their goods. the opportunities here are endless and it honestly doesn't take much. one next step and obvious thing we have seen is a need for education and training in the area of finances. if we want to raise up a generation to be entrepreneurs and create an economy here, we need to give them training in how to spend and save. so we are looking into that. so many things that need to be done. i was able to meet with leadership and have been extended a very gracious invitation to come. it is enticing. i am open and yielded. but for now, enjoying the moment. we have no idea what the future looks like. but i am looking "right now" in the face and am enjoying it immensely. i feel like i am home and i am with family. it is a far cry from Atlanta and there is no Capital Grille. but we have lobster dinners for 180METS so i hear. determined to find that. so i am just sitting here. barefoot and yielded in front of an oscillating fan that is still. open to most anything because i know God can do it. not really thinking too much about the future because it would take my focus off this very beautiful moment. 

domingo (sunday)

as i sit upright and Indian-style, taking my malaria pill with warm bottled water and a had full of almonds, sweat beaded on my upper lip, under my mosquito net, stained with tiny remnants of the vile creatures, i don't quite know where to start. in writing, you are supposed to know your audience. i am supposed to see who i am writing to and tell them them story. so here i see, Graham & Teena, my sister, Terra, Christine, Betty and my handful of loyal readers. so if you were here sharing this bottle of Agua de nascente with me, i guess this is what i would tell you: 

the flight here was an incredible blessing. i packed in a daze, methodically packing, as i have done all of this before. not much is required to come to Mozambique, flip flops, a dress that covers the knees, malaria pills, and peanut butter. you can even get that here, but Jif is way better than Black Cat. in the International Terminal at Hartsfield-Jackson i start to dream. about my future you would ask. no, i would say. i dream about the possibility of first class to jo'burg. sleep. lying all the way down. the little silver tray with ice-cream and your choice of toppings. i have been told i am 3rd on the stand-by list. i position myself close to the gate agents but far enough away so i remain unrecognized as the over-eager, annoying, obnoxious standby passenger that i am truly becoming. i want to know! this woman holds my fate in her hands, will i be escorted to a night of deep sleep, full-size pillow bliss or will i be stuck in the back in an upright position, strangers on either side, in misery? she calls my name. seat 11B. first class, baby! 

so i am going to Mozambique to stay on the base at Iris Ministries and help out. one of their founding directors is an African by the name of Supressa Sithole. he is on my flight. i just found it completely ironic, that one of the leaders of the ministry i am going to serve, is on my flight. upon arrival to jo'burg i had two tiny dilemmas: 1. i needed to call cathi who was picking me up. i would be staying with her during my two day layover. 2. i needed to get to the shuttle and fast because our flight was delayed in the ATL and i was running late. at baggage claim Supressa dialed Cathi for me, and even had her number in his phone and then quickly escorted me to the shuttle because he was taking the same one. even though i could have done all of that on my own, it would have been difficult, but i would have found a way, it was so incredibly nice to have an escort. it was also so evident of God and how on He could orchestrate such a random connection.

nelspruit was beautiful and way too quick of a visit. cathi is a missionary at African School of Missions and teaches mission students. it is in the African countryside outside of Nelsprit. i stayed there two nights, and attempted to recover from jetlag. i got to sit in on one of cathi's classes and watch this beautiful woman pour out her life into eager young students and that was an honor.

travel to Pemba took an entire, very exhausting, day. the only excitement was, that upon arrival to Jo'burg i checked my email. i had one telling me i needed $84 cash for my Visa. i didn't have $84 cash and there were no ATM's. i had $65, not $84. i only needed $20 and it would cost more than that in fees to get money out at the airport and i was short on time. i decided to just have peace as God is faithful and good and plus i was too tired to muster up too much stress and anxiety. i boarded. i arrived in Maputo and stood in line to get my Visa, just assured that it would all work out. it is my turn at the counter and i find out i owe $66, not $84, i hand over all my cash, $65. she presses me for the remaining dollar. i turn my wallet upside down. the cute German guy in white capri pants in front of me, who is sorting his Visa back into his bag, realizes my dilemma and pays the extra dollar for me. i grab my Visa, thank him, and board my flight to Pemba.

so now i am here. and everything is more than fine. i have my OWN ROOM right across from my friend Tanya! i thought she would be living on the other base and i would never see her, but she is my neighbor! i went swimming with the dolphins yesterday morning and that was a day i will never forget. we all piled in to a wooden boat with a motor on the back, drove till we saw dolphins and then all plopped over the side and chased them. you could see under water with your mask and see them gracefully turning and circling underneath the water. you could hear their conversations under water. it was incredible. the only thing that would have been more amazing would have been if they stopped and let me grab a fin. i want to go back and do this again. we then went to a little island and snorkeled along the reef. so many fish. in so many colors and patterns and shapes. coral. so many eyes under there, inches away. we drank Coke in a bottle. the panoramic views were breathtaking. it is rainy season so everything is lush and green. words cannot describe. i fear that attempt to upload pictures will only be in vain. but i will try. 

for now, i think i will get dressed and find my french press and make a cup of coffee. it is hot. so coffee honestly doesn't sound so good right now. but instant oatmeal does, so i will make that too.  big plans this week to interview the director of education for this region. excited about that. little girls are clapping and singing outside my window to the left. a hear a giggle. visitors are playing a guitar outside my window to the right. my mosquito net stinks and i reckon i kinda do too. my legs need shaving badly. my face is sunburned. i'm so happy that this is my life. so undone that the State of Georgia released me to go and do, painful but full of peace. great things are coming. more soon.

White River

I am in a little area outside of Nelspruit called White River. It is incredibly beautiful and reminds me of Zim. I am not far from Kruger and would love to come back to go to the park. I leave in the morning for Jo'burg on the 3.5 hour shuttle and then have a late afternoon flight to Pemba that arrives after midnight. This place is just stunning. My flight was sheer bliss and all is well. I could not really see much of the landscape as it was late last night when I arrived. So I actually am looking forward to the 3.5 hour ride in daylight. Hope to snap some photos in the morning and blog from the coffee shop at the airport as I wait for my flight. Pray my bags and contents follow me. XO

grace for the moment

so in that moment, when my boss is telling me that i am being released from my job of ten years, all i could honestly think of  was that i was free. i was instantly free to go and dream and do. in that moment, there was very little sadness or anxiety because i was simply elated that i could join this team in going to africa and helping to start this vocational school. and now, a month later, the time has come. i admit that for a moment recently, i thought perhaps i should not go. perhaps i should stay home and look for jobs and send out resumes and i felt all this pressure to go back to the confines of a 9-5 and be responsible. i still feel that pressure in a way. i feel that our society functions around jobs and careers and being in a season of not having one is harder to adopt that i ever imagined. but i am free. totally free. it is hard to get my head around this little respite of freedom. yes, i have bills to pay and a mortgage and this freedom won't last long. i just got back from a trip, again, feeling guilty for traveling whilst i should be looking for a job. but. i don't even quite know what i want to do or where i want to live, so how can i even begin to seek out a job right now? the question is rhetorical, please don't answer. and the last think i want to do is step into ten more years of obligation and duty and become a slave to a career that is not even what i want do to. so i got away. i went to DC, thanks to airtran and dear friends and a free place to stay and a ministry called prayDC. i spent 5 days in our nations capitol, simply looking, seeking, dreaming and praying. even the prayers seemed tiny and more like, "Lord, help", than much of anything else. i walked Capitol Hill, watched the House debate, skipped up and down Embassy Row, simply observing. i took a good hard look at it all. would i want to move to DC? would i want to work for a Senator? Lobby? i don't think so. i loved Embassy Row. i love anything dealing with international policy. that fascinates me way more than any debate on a national farming bill or constituent services or tax reform. so i walked up and down and watched people and prayed, "Lord, help". i thought about what it would be like to be an ambassador, dreamed about USAID and what foreign service would look like and wondered if it was really as full of bureaucracy and a bunch of do-nothing desk jobs as i have been told. i wondered if i could ever have influence, among leaders, could i really play a role in shaping policy? can i help the poor, be a voice for the voiceless, help eliminate corruption, create good policy, allocate funds, feed the hungry, bring justice, healthcare, education, hope. 

(photo courtesy of michaela potterbaum)

meanwhile, my friends are booking their flights to Africa and are asking when i plan to arrive. i don't have a job. i am walking up and down the streets of DC starring at people and wondering if i can leave next week for a month long trip in Africa. twice a month for ten years, money got dropped into my bank account. not anymore. what do i even know about vocational school administration? or forming a nonprofit? or feeding the hungry? or educating the poor? not much. but i have a tiny loaf and i am willing to sacrifice it. i leave monday. i "bought" a buddy pass for my birthday in August and will be using it to fly to Johannesburg. today i bought a friday flight out to pemba, mozambique. pray for favor and that i get on Mondays flight. i will return April 14th. i wish you could see the massive grin on my face right now. elated. happy. excited. embarrassed at myself for even doubting for a minute that i should not go. i have to go. why NOT go?

if you would like to help in donating toward my trip,you may. Beulah Church has agreed to take in donations for me, so you can donate through a 501c3. make checks payable to Beulah PHC, and mail them to my kind mother:

Jene Davis

7406 Reed Creek Highway 

Hartwell, GA 30643

and know that i covet your prayers. pray that we are able to come up with a curriculum and a plan and strategy for creating a vocational school to educate these young people.  a plan that coincides with their culture and ways of learning, a plan that will equip them, will create jobs, will change the economy in this poor little town and revolutionize it. and pray that i get on the flight and i don't die of cholera (see previous entry). 

so the little blog could get interesting. i will for sure come here and post updates. sadly, mozambique dial-up internet doesn't really allow for uploading pictures, but i will update as frequently as possible and i plan to take my laptop this time. i will fill you in on it all and will also take my lovely Canon t1i and capture sweet faces to upload when i get back. i will be back before you know it, perfecting a resume and applying for jobs. for now, i have to do this. my suitcase is open on the floor as i unpack from DC and repack for Africa. i cannot believe i get to live this life. thank you for reading, your words of encouragement and cheering me on. much love, grace