http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990 Family of 5 from Gabon, Hong Kong and the UK Living in Impfondo, Republic of Congo Since April 2012 Blog by Joyce the mum, Homeschooling novice, Eye Charity founding doctor / director. Reluctant domestic goddess Passionate about sashimi, helping people see physically and spiritually, and Jesus Please do give comments and feedbacks so that we can improve the way we communicate with you!P.S. This is the personal blog of the Samoutou family (Views our own) Please contact us to subscribe to New Sight official newsletters. Thank you for your support! Radiant WebTools Welcome to our latest Newsletter! Click here to read on. Welcome to our latest Newsletter! Click here to read on. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=54687 54687 Sat, 14 May 2016 04:20:00 +0000 Thanks to our guest blogger Rowan for all the interesting insights! As you can see from his last blog here, he has returned to uni in the UK. We sure miss him.And now...here is our end of year newsletter with some truly extraordinary news on page 2! To read and or subscribe, please click here. Thanks to our guest blogger Rowan for all the interesting insights! As you can see from his last blog here, he has returned to uni in the UK. We sure miss him.And now...here is our end of year newsletter with some truly extraordinary news on page 2! To read and or subscribe, please click here. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52940 52940 Fri, 11 Dec 2015 06:04:00 +0000 I felt sad to be leaving, as if I had only just begun to settle. The Samoutou family has been amazing to me, as has everyone else I have had the pleasure of meeting here. Luckily, the journey to Brazzaville got me looking forward to civilization and a hot shower. The flight was an hour late for departure but, in the grand scheme of things, this is very efficient; often the plane is delayed until the next day and sometimes it just doesn't fly at all. Just before I boarded, a woman pushed a massive plastic bag full of caterpillars in my face and asked me to bring it on the plane with me. I was reassured that someone would pick it up at the other end so I agreed. Of course, no sooner had I passed through customs than a man checking tickets told me to leave the bag on the airstrip floor. I tried to explain what it was but he just repeated his command, before jokingly pretending to be scared and telling me that the bag was in fact a bomb. I wondered what the UK customs would have to say about all of these preposterous shenanigans. I walked across the baking airstrip and climbed up into the plane where the reclining function of my seat had long broken, leaving the backrest swinging obediently with every move I made. I looked through the slightly cracked window to my right and took my last glimpse of the jungle, its array of greens and browns tangled together in an impenetrable, chaotic web, before pulling down my cap and resting my head back on my wobbly seat. Bon voyage Impfondo. With the African games in progress, Brazzaville is swollen with crowds of people. The population seems to have tripled since I was here last, though perhaps that is because I have come from the comparatively quiet Impfondo. It is the end of the dry season and, though the temperature is pleasantly cool, the streets are covered in a carpet of dust. Honore, an employee of Hotel Bravo, picked me up from the airport along with two Americans who had flown in from Ethiopia. They were here to work at the games, so I got a chance to see the various stadiums when we dropped by to pick up their access cards. From outside I could hear the roars of the crowd, while up on the ramparts I could see people stood precariously close to the edge. People were flooding in, with young girls carrying buckets of cold drinks to sell, and rowdy, half-naked fans annoying the stern looking police. The traffic was textbook developing country stuff across the whole city. A mass of semi-functional taxis, cars, motorbikes and construction trucks, all overcrowded and with people clinging to roof racks, jolted around the streets like a million pin balls. I couldn't wait to go to the games the following day. That night (Monday) I asked Reol to take me somewhere which serves beers and good food. We hopped in a bus-taxi with about 7 other random people and made our way into the buzz of Brazzaville. It was 7 o'clock, but the sun had long disappeared and now the streets were lit only by head-lights and the light from various bars and restaurants dotted along the streets. We arrived at our destination, a large area of outdoor seating playing Congolese music, where a barbecue was in full swing. The place was rammed and the food was incredible. As we sat and ate our B.B.Q chicken, sipping on a cold beer, I looked around, soaking up this intense and unpredictable atmosphere for one of the last times. I congratulated myself on my ability to hold something of an interesting conversation with Reol. Suddenly, I heard the stomp of feet. Turning my head I saw three Sapeurs strutting their stuff, all dressed elegantly in colourful three piece suits, complete with aviator sunglasses and snakeskin shoes. This is no extraordinary occasion, the Sapeurs are everywhere in Brazzaville. Their slick, impeccable dress code stands out against the brown-grey cityscape, like parrots and peacocks posed against a concrete wall. Tuesday was my last full day in Congo and I didn't let it go amiss. I got up early and took a taxi down to see the Cataracts (rapids) of the Congo River. Standing on a sand bank I looked out across the water as it flowed against the backdrop of Kinshasa, the capital of the D.R.C. Never in my life have I seen Mother Nature as full of rage and power as this mass of water from one of the world's largest rivers. It galloped past, crashing into the rocks and roaring so loud you had to raise your voice to hear. A boy was getting his hair cut right next to it, and I tried to capture the event in a picture. I can only wait until my film has been developed to see what it looks like. In the afternoon I went with Reol and Jeannichelle to the African Games. The main stadium, built by the Chinese, is quite a way out of the city centre, and we took what felt like a 30 minute taxi ride through the grid-locked streets to get there. I could not stop grinning and laughing as our driver seemed to beep his horn at everything, shouting light-hearted abuse out of his window at anyone who got in his way. The sound of the city is 70% horn beeps, 20% shouting, 9.9% animal noises, and 0.1% quiet. We arrived at the games, which cost approximately one pound per ticket, were patted down by the police, and then entered. The three stadiums are all coloured a dull gold, the sky was grey and hazy, and the surrounding hills outside of Brazzaville were brown with dried grass and dust. Inside, the arenas themselves were air conditioned and coloured brightly with green, yellow, red and blue. We managed to see some swimming events, which South Africa essentially dominated, and then went to watch the Karate finals, of which the Congolese male competitor was the winner. With all the intensity of the Congolese people, it was no surprise that the crowd went absolutely mad when their own man won. It was quite an experience, and I was happy to pretend I was Congolese as we shouted and cheered as loud as we could. Suffice to say I went home content that day, but not before heading back to the previous night's restaurant for some more spicy chicken wings and a blabber with Reol and Jeannichelle, who really have gone out of their way to help me enjoy Brazzaville to the full. Yesterday, as I sat in the completely deserted airport with a cold Heineken, I felt all sorts of emotion about the trip, mainly an almost euphoric feeling of contentedness and appreciation for the extraordinary nature of humans and the world we live in. If the Congo, with its wildly natural and unpredictable pace of life, is not the real African deal, then I don't know what is. Oh dear, I thought, my house mates are never going to hear the end of it! I felt sad to be leaving, as if I had only just begun to settle. The Samoutou family has been amazing to me, as has everyone else I have had the pleasure of meeting here. Luckily, the journey to Brazzaville got me looking forward to civilization and a hot shower. The flight was an hour late for departure but, in the grand scheme of things, this is very efficient; often the plane is delayed until the next day and sometimes it just doesn't fly at all. Just before I boarded, a woman pushed a massive plastic bag full of caterpillars in my face and asked me to bring it on the plane with me. I was reassured that someone would pick it up at the other end so I agreed. Of course, no sooner had I passed through customs than a man checking tickets told me to leave the bag on the airstrip floor. I tried to explain what it was but he just repeated his command, before jokingly pretending to be scared and telling me that the bag was in fact a bomb. I wondered what the UK customs would have to say about all of these preposterous shenanigans. I walked across the baking airstrip and climbed up into the plane where the reclining function of my seat had long broken, leaving the backrest swinging obediently with every move I made. I looked through the slightly cracked window to my right and took my last glimpse of the jungle, its array of greens and browns tangled together in an impenetrable, chaotic web, before pulling down my cap and resting my head back on my wobbly seat. Bon voyage Impfondo. With the African games in progress, Brazzaville is swollen with crowds of people. The population seems to have tripled since I was here last, though perhaps that is because I have come from the comparatively quiet Impfondo. It is the end of the dry season and, though the temperature is pleasantly cool, the streets are covered in a carpet of dust. Honore, an employee of Hotel Bravo, picked me up from the airport along with two Americans who had flown in from Ethiopia. They were here to work at the games, so I got a chance to see the various stadiums when we dropped by to pick up their access cards. From outside I could hear the roars of the crowd, while up on the ramparts I could see people stood precariously close to the edge. People were flooding in, with young girls carrying buckets of cold drinks to sell, and rowdy, half-naked fans annoying the stern looking police. The traffic was textbook developing country stuff across the whole city. A mass of semi-functional taxis, cars, motorbikes and construction trucks, all overcrowded and with people clinging to roof racks, jolted around the streets like a million pin balls. I couldn't wait to go to the games the following day. That night (Monday) I asked Reol to take me somewhere which serves beers and good food. We hopped in a bus-taxi with about 7 other random people and made our way into the buzz of Brazzaville. It was 7 o'clock, but the sun had long disappeared and now the streets were lit only by head-lights and the light from various bars and restaurants dotted along the streets. We arrived at our destination, a large area of outdoor seating playing Congolese music, where a barbecue was in full swing. The place was rammed and the food was incredible. As we sat and ate our B.B.Q chicken, sipping on a cold beer, I looked around, soaking up this intense and unpredictable atmosphere for one of the last times. I congratulated myself on my ability to hold something of an interesting conversation with Reol. Suddenly, I heard the stomp of feet. Turning my head I saw three Sapeurs strutting their stuff, all dressed elegantly in colourful three piece suits, complete with aviator sunglasses and snakeskin shoes. This is no extraordinary occasion, the Sapeurs are everywhere in Brazzaville. Their slick, impeccable dress code stands out against the brown-grey cityscape, like parrots and peacocks posed against a concrete wall. Tuesday was my last full day in Congo and I didn't let it go amiss. I got up early and took a taxi down to see the Cataracts (rapids) of the Congo River. Standing on a sand bank I looked out across the water as it flowed against the backdrop of Kinshasa, the capital of the D.R.C. Never in my life have I seen Mother Nature as full of rage and power as this mass of water from one of the world's largest rivers. It galloped past, crashing into the rocks and roaring so loud you had to raise your voice to hear. A boy was getting his hair cut right next to it, and I tried to capture the event in a picture. I can only wait until my film has been developed to see what it looks like. In the afternoon I went with Reol and Jeannichelle to the African Games. The main stadium, built by the Chinese, is quite a way out of the city centre, and we took what felt like a 30 minute taxi ride through the grid-locked streets to get there. I could not stop grinning and laughing as our driver seemed to beep his horn at everything, shouting light-hearted abuse out of his window at anyone who got in his way. The sound of the city is 70% horn beeps, 20% shouting, 9.9% animal noises, and 0.1% quiet. We arrived at the games, which cost approximately one pound per ticket, were patted down by the police, and then entered. The three stadiums are all coloured a dull gold, the sky was grey and hazy, and the surrounding hills outside of Brazzaville were brown with dried grass and dust. Inside, the arenas themselves were air conditioned and coloured brightly with green, yellow, red and blue. We managed to see some swimming events, which South Africa essentially dominated, and then went to watch the Karate finals, of which the Congolese male competitor was the winner. With all the intensity of the Congolese people, it was no surprise that the crowd went absolutely mad when their own man won. It was quite an experience, and I was happy to pretend I was Congolese as we shouted and cheered as loud as we could. Suffice to say I went home content that day, but not before heading back to the previous night's restaurant for some more spicy chicken wings and a blabber with Reol and Jeannichelle, who really have gone out of their way to help me enjoy Brazzaville to the full. Yesterday, as I sat in the completely deserted airport with a cold Heineken, I felt all sorts of emotion about the trip, mainly an almost euphoric feeling of contentedness and appreciation for the extraordinary nature of humans and the world we live in. If the Congo, with its wildly natural and unpredictable pace of life, is not the real African deal, then I don't know what is. Oh dear, I thought, my house mates are never going to hear the end of it! http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52303 52303 Thu, 10 Sep 2015 14:11:00 +0000 I went to help build another house on Tuesday. Instead of slapping on the mud, I was taught how to use branches, sticks and vines to bind together an amazingly strong skeletal framework the size of an extra large garden shed. A lot of the houses are made of one hundred percent natural materials. As you travel on the road north and the living becomes even more rural, the villages, with their thatched roofs and cracked mud walls, look like something from the dawn of human society. Papa Serge, a tall, welcoming man with unmistakably Bantu features was helping build. He spoke very good English and as a result I ended up lecturing him on vegetarianism and global warming, two concepts which he had never heard of. As he listened, I compared my life to his, and it became clear why these two worries of mine were not concerns of his; Serge lives a simple, low-carbon life. His meat is hunted in the jungle and the only fuel he uses is for his motorbike around town. By contrast, probably half my diet consists of imported goods, and I had flown half-way across to the world to come here. We are, quite literally, worlds apart, and yet there we both were, tying sticks to branches using vines. I agreed to teach him the guitar while I am still here. After our lesson on Friday, he took me for a bicycle tour of some of the back streets of Impfondo in search of someone selling sugar cane. We stopped off inside a large courtyard, its muddy ground beaten hard and dry by feet, walled with 6 foot high bamboo fencing. A few plastic garden chairs were scattered around the courtyard under banana leaf shelters. Serge went inside a small mud hut and asked for 'deux Primus', two of the Congo's national beers. We sat down in the shade of one of the leafy canopies, said cheers, and proceeded to talk in a surprisingly coherent but eclectic mix of French, Lingala and English. Saturday brought with it a bicycle trip to Dongue, the next biggest town, about 50 kilometres North of Impfondo. The road is so straight it could have been built by Romans; it seems to stretch out endlessly in front of you, its edges being slowly eaten up by the savage rainforest undergrowth. After a few miles the pot holes disappear and the tarmac becomes flat. I forgot to put sun cream on my legs and by midday could already feel the burn on my calves. A few pit stops on the way at various villages allowed us to check on previous patients of the clinic. We stopped in Dongue for lunch, where we ate sardines with a few slightly sweet bread dumplings. I felt stuffed, but Henri got up and walked over to the 'fast food' café nearby. It was a tiny wooden building with a couple of benches and a kitchen in the corner. The man working there ended up gifting to us a portion of goat ribs, which tasted absolutely phenomenal. We washed it all down with a big bottle of cold, fizzy apple drink. That evening 10 of us went for a meal at Tropicana, one of the nicer and more expensive restaurants in Impfondo. Still, the first twenty five minutes were spent in darkness because of a problem with the generator! Once the lights came on, they were mobbed by a cloud of mosquitoes coming from the Ubangui River, just 20 metres away from where we were sat. We dined on chicken, fish and goat, with sides of rice, plantain and omelette. The chef clearly knew how to cook. There was another power cut halfway through the meal, and the kitchen had already run out of food when we wanted to order more. Such is the African way, and it made the meal that extra bit more memorable. I had wanted to go on the Ubangui River ever since my arrival in Impfondo. The largest right-bank tributary of the Congo River, it is a couple of kilometers wide at the point where it passes the town centre. Yesterday I jumped in the Toyota jeep along with Aukolz, the hospital's newest doctor, and met Serge at the river. Our vessel was a dug-out canoe, or Pirogue, made of a single piece of wood, carved from a large tree. As serge scooped some of this morning's storm water out, I clambered in to its narrow hull. It felt hazardously unstable, jerking from side to side and almost toppling over with the smallest of movements. The next thing we heard was a huge splash; Aukolz had fallen in! He decided to stay on the bank. We paddled downstream for what must have been an hour before getting out some fishing rods and trying our luck with the catfish. Nothing happened, but I learnt that the more you try to resist the toppling motion of the canoe, the more likely you are to fall in. You just let your body relax and slump and soon feel stable Today I leave for Brazzaville, where the African games are now in full swing. With a bit of luck, I will be able to grab myself a ticket for Tuesday's basketball game. If not, there are always the Congo River rapids on which to feast my eyes. Guest Blog ByRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern I went to help build another house on Tuesday. Instead of slapping on the mud, I was taught how to use branches, sticks and vines to bind together an amazingly strong skeletal framework the size of an extra large garden shed. A lot of the houses are made of one hundred percent natural materials. As you travel on the road north and the living becomes even more rural, the villages, with their thatched roofs and cracked mud walls, look like something from the dawn of human society. Papa Serge, a tall, welcoming man with unmistakably Bantu features was helping build. He spoke very good English and as a result I ended up lecturing him on vegetarianism and global warming, two concepts which he had never heard of. As he listened, I compared my life to his, and it became clear why these two worries of mine were not concerns of his; Serge lives a simple, low-carbon life. His meat is hunted in the jungle and the only fuel he uses is for his motorbike around town. By contrast, probably half my diet consists of imported goods, and I had flown half-way across to the world to come here. We are, quite literally, worlds apart, and yet there we both were, tying sticks to branches using vines. I agreed to teach him the guitar while I am still here. After our lesson on Friday, he took me for a bicycle tour of some of the back streets of Impfondo in search of someone selling sugar cane. We stopped off inside a large courtyard, its muddy ground beaten hard and dry by feet, walled with 6 foot high bamboo fencing. A few plastic garden chairs were scattered around the courtyard under banana leaf shelters. Serge went inside a small mud hut and asked for 'deux Primus', two of the Congo's national beers. We sat down in the shade of one of the leafy canopies, said cheers, and proceeded to talk in a surprisingly coherent but eclectic mix of French, Lingala and English. Saturday brought with it a bicycle trip to Dongue, the next biggest town, about 50 kilometres North of Impfondo. The road is so straight it could have been built by Romans; it seems to stretch out endlessly in front of you, its edges being slowly eaten up by the savage rainforest undergrowth. After a few miles the pot holes disappear and the tarmac becomes flat. I forgot to put sun cream on my legs and by midday could already feel the burn on my calves. A few pit stops on the way at various villages allowed us to check on previous patients of the clinic. We stopped in Dongue for lunch, where we ate sardines with a few slightly sweet bread dumplings. I felt stuffed, but Henri got up and walked over to the 'fast food' café nearby. It was a tiny wooden building with a couple of benches and a kitchen in the corner. The man working there ended up gifting to us a portion of goat ribs, which tasted absolutely phenomenal. We washed it all down with a big bottle of cold, fizzy apple drink. That evening 10 of us went for a meal at Tropicana, one of the nicer and more expensive restaurants in Impfondo. Still, the first twenty five minutes were spent in darkness because of a problem with the generator! Once the lights came on, they were mobbed by a cloud of mosquitoes coming from the Ubangui River, just 20 metres away from where we were sat. We dined on chicken, fish and goat, with sides of rice, plantain and omelette. The chef clearly knew how to cook. There was another power cut halfway through the meal, and the kitchen had already run out of food when we wanted to order more. Such is the African way, and it made the meal that extra bit more memorable. I had wanted to go on the Ubangui River ever since my arrival in Impfondo. The largest right-bank tributary of the Congo River, it is a couple of kilometers wide at the point where it passes the town centre. Yesterday I jumped in the Toyota jeep along with Aukolz, the hospital's newest doctor, and met Serge at the river. Our vessel was a dug-out canoe, or Pirogue, made of a single piece of wood, carved from a large tree. As serge scooped some of this morning's storm water out, I clambered in to its narrow hull. It felt hazardously unstable, jerking from side to side and almost toppling over with the smallest of movements. The next thing we heard was a huge splash; Aukolz had fallen in! He decided to stay on the bank. We paddled downstream for what must have been an hour before getting out some fishing rods and trying our luck with the catfish. Nothing happened, but I learnt that the more you try to resist the toppling motion of the canoe, the more likely you are to fall in. You just let your body relax and slump and soon feel stable Today I leave for Brazzaville, where the African games are now in full swing. With a bit of luck, I will be able to grab myself a ticket for Tuesday's basketball game. If not, there are always the Congo River rapids on which to feast my eyes. Guest Blog ByRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52269 52269 Mon, 7 Sep 2015 03:04:00 +0000 About 15 thumb-sized caterpillars lie there in front of me, clustered in a bowl-shaped leaf. Picking one up, I observe its Riga Mortis body, coloured black but tipped with an amber head and tail. It is long dead, but in my mind's eye its worm-like body is still writhing a little, trying to escape its inevitable fate. A few photos, and into my mouth it goes. Hard, dry and chewy, its flesh has been smoked to deter the millions of rainforest insects hoping to get a piece of the pie. It does not taste remarkably exotic, but the sensation of its little legs sweeping over the roof of my mouth is enough to remind me this isn't your average chicken goujon. I have made little effort to describe the food I have eaten here so far, so will dedicate this post to that. The diet shares few similarities with the regular Western diet; imports are too expensive for the average Impfondo citizen, so people still stick to a diet of bush meats, Cassava, and the various extraordinary fruit and vegetables hanging from the jungle canopy. The first thing I tried here was the incredible tasting homemade peanut butter. It is rich and organic, beaten smooth with a pestle and mortar. The texture is slightly stickier and more awkward than Western stuff, but you know you are getting the real deal. The peanuts here are a little different, so the butter they make tends to take on a slightly darker brown than what you can buy from supermarkets back home. In the market it is sold not in jars, but is scooped from huge mounds sitting on metal trays. A whole cocktail of fruit and vegetables are available. Papaya, Plantain and Guava have been a few of my favourites. The Sweet Potato is more white than orange and is closer to the taste and texture of regular potatoes, but has an indescribable uniqueness to it. I have developed a small obsession with fresh Sugar Cane, and have learnt from Henri how to cut it up properly. It is immensely sweet, crunchy and juicy, and the fibres of its flesh actually clean your teeth rather than rot them. I tried a miscellaneous forest fruit a few days ago. It tasted fantastic; a little like rhubarb, but its flesh was more like that of a very ripe strawberry. I get the feeling that wheat is a relatively new thing to Congolese society, especially in Impfondo, but I might be wrong. The more traditional alternative is the Cassava root, ground up into flour. Its main uses are for making Fufu and Kwonga(?), two types of culinary vessels used for mopping up sauce. They have a gooey and jelly-like texture and I do not particularly like them, but they are clearly popular among the locals. I try to eat as little meat as possible in England for environmental reasons, but I think vegetarianism is a non-existent concept in Africa. Anyway, the meat in Congo is not plucked from a mass farm; it is hunted in the forest. For that reason people have to be careful, because it is in this same rainforest where Ebola can be contracted. Bats are illegal to sell, since they pose a particularly high risk. Also illegal is the trading of chimpanzees and Gorillas, I assume for conservational reasons, but I am told that chimp meat is exceptional. Crocodile has a taste I found to be most similar to beef and is usually eaten as pieces within a stew-type dish. The catfish can grow to the size of a child and beyond, is meaty in texture, and is delicious fried. We are having it for lunch today. I am hungry.Guest BLog ByRowan Cassels-BrownNew SIght SUmmer Intern About 15 thumb-sized caterpillars lie there in front of me, clustered in a bowl-shaped leaf. Picking one up, I observe its Riga Mortis body, coloured black but tipped with an amber head and tail. It is long dead, but in my mind's eye its worm-like body is still writhing a little, trying to escape its inevitable fate. A few photos, and into my mouth it goes. Hard, dry and chewy, its flesh has been smoked to deter the millions of rainforest insects hoping to get a piece of the pie. It does not taste remarkably exotic, but the sensation of its little legs sweeping over the roof of my mouth is enough to remind me this isn't your average chicken goujon. I have made little effort to describe the food I have eaten here so far, so will dedicate this post to that. The diet shares few similarities with the regular Western diet; imports are too expensive for the average Impfondo citizen, so people still stick to a diet of bush meats, Cassava, and the various extraordinary fruit and vegetables hanging from the jungle canopy. The first thing I tried here was the incredible tasting homemade peanut butter. It is rich and organic, beaten smooth with a pestle and mortar. The texture is slightly stickier and more awkward than Western stuff, but you know you are getting the real deal. The peanuts here are a little different, so the butter they make tends to take on a slightly darker brown than what you can buy from supermarkets back home. In the market it is sold not in jars, but is scooped from huge mounds sitting on metal trays. A whole cocktail of fruit and vegetables are available. Papaya, Plantain and Guava have been a few of my favourites. The Sweet Potato is more white than orange and is closer to the taste and texture of regular potatoes, but has an indescribable uniqueness to it. I have developed a small obsession with fresh Sugar Cane, and have learnt from Henri how to cut it up properly. It is immensely sweet, crunchy and juicy, and the fibres of its flesh actually clean your teeth rather than rot them. I tried a miscellaneous forest fruit a few days ago. It tasted fantastic; a little like rhubarb, but its flesh was more like that of a very ripe strawberry. I get the feeling that wheat is a relatively new thing to Congolese society, especially in Impfondo, but I might be wrong. The more traditional alternative is the Cassava root, ground up into flour. Its main uses are for making Fufu and Kwonga(?), two types of culinary vessels used for mopping up sauce. They have a gooey and jelly-like texture and I do not particularly like them, but they are clearly popular among the locals. I try to eat as little meat as possible in England for environmental reasons, but I think vegetarianism is a non-existent concept in Africa. Anyway, the meat in Congo is not plucked from a mass farm; it is hunted in the forest. For that reason people have to be careful, because it is in this same rainforest where Ebola can be contracted. Bats are illegal to sell, since they pose a particularly high risk. Also illegal is the trading of chimpanzees and Gorillas, I assume for conservational reasons, but I am told that chimp meat is exceptional. Crocodile has a taste I found to be most similar to beef and is usually eaten as pieces within a stew-type dish. The catfish can grow to the size of a child and beyond, is meaty in texture, and is delicious fried. We are having it for lunch today. I am hungry.Guest BLog ByRowan Cassels-BrownNew SIght SUmmer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52260 52260 Fri, 4 Sep 2015 07:34:00 +0000 On Sunday I went with Guillaume and Sarah to an Aka Pygmy church, made of fire-hardened bricks from the local soil, located further North of Impfondo. The Aka live in a Matriarchal society, with women holding the power and authority. It was amazing to watch and listen to how they pray and worship as they sang traditional African songs. Spending so much time with people of the Christian faith has been a real experience for me. Certainly, Christianity has played, and will continue to play, a significant role in the social and spiritual processes of African society. I have myself come to a much clearer understanding of one of the most influential spiritual movements in the history of human kind, whilst also challenging my own beliefs along the way. If anything, it has strengthened my desire to travel and experience more of the world's religions, cultures and ways of life. After the church we went on what is probably the only tourist attraction in the Likouala region, a jungle walk with people from a local village. We trooped through the forest and were given some brief presentations of how people live in one of the most hostile environments on Earth. I learnt which tree barks can be used to cure gastric problems and headaches, and was even shown a type of tree sap which apparently makes you run faster when you play football! We then ate from an a la carte menu of forest food, including a sweet and citrus-like flesh which surrounds cocoa beans before they have been dried out for export. It was delicious. One of the women in the village was suffering from gastric problems and hadn't eaten for a couple of days. Inside her small, dark mud hut she crouched, stick thin and with protruding ribs, clearly suffering a great deal. Sarah had no medicine to give to here, so we cycled for about an hour to Impfondo and back to get her the meds. Though she was suffering, her husband pulled a Ukulele out of nowhere and began to play 'In The Jungle', and everybody had a sing-along. The way people cope with hard times never ceases to amaze me. That day I also saw a man with what looked like bad burns covering half of his face. From a distance it looked black and scar-like, and later on I learnt that he had shingles. It upset me a lot to see a young man, probably my age, embarrassed and at risk of damage to his sight. Good health is something a lot of people, including myself, take too much for granted.Guest Blog ByRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern On Sunday I went with Guillaume and Sarah to an Aka Pygmy church, made of fire-hardened bricks from the local soil, located further North of Impfondo. The Aka live in a Matriarchal society, with women holding the power and authority. It was amazing to watch and listen to how they pray and worship as they sang traditional African songs. Spending so much time with people of the Christian faith has been a real experience for me. Certainly, Christianity has played, and will continue to play, a significant role in the social and spiritual processes of African society. I have myself come to a much clearer understanding of one of the most influential spiritual movements in the history of human kind, whilst also challenging my own beliefs along the way. If anything, it has strengthened my desire to travel and experience more of the world's religions, cultures and ways of life. After the church we went on what is probably the only tourist attraction in the Likouala region, a jungle walk with people from a local village. We trooped through the forest and were given some brief presentations of how people live in one of the most hostile environments on Earth. I learnt which tree barks can be used to cure gastric problems and headaches, and was even shown a type of tree sap which apparently makes you run faster when you play football! We then ate from an a la carte menu of forest food, including a sweet and citrus-like flesh which surrounds cocoa beans before they have been dried out for export. It was delicious. One of the women in the village was suffering from gastric problems and hadn't eaten for a couple of days. Inside her small, dark mud hut she crouched, stick thin and with protruding ribs, clearly suffering a great deal. Sarah had no medicine to give to here, so we cycled for about an hour to Impfondo and back to get her the meds. Though she was suffering, her husband pulled a Ukulele out of nowhere and began to play 'In The Jungle', and everybody had a sing-along. The way people cope with hard times never ceases to amaze me. That day I also saw a man with what looked like bad burns covering half of his face. From a distance it looked black and scar-like, and later on I learnt that he had shingles. It upset me a lot to see a young man, probably my age, embarrassed and at risk of damage to his sight. Good health is something a lot of people, including myself, take too much for granted.Guest Blog ByRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52232 52232 Tue, 1 Sep 2015 12:44:00 +0000 The August Newsletter is out and, in-keeping with some of the stuff I have written as Guest Blogger, its all about the Congo! Check out the link for some top tips and information from the Samoutou kids on life in the jungle...Guest Blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern The August Newsletter is out and, in-keeping with some of the stuff I have written as Guest Blogger, its all about the Congo! Check out the link for some top tips and information from the Samoutou kids on life in the jungle...Guest Blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52213 52213 Mon, 31 Aug 2015 09:54:00 +0000 I had a good weekend of it getting out and about, exploring Impfondo and its surroundings. On Saturday I was taken for a tour of the town by Sarah, a missionary who has been living and working here for 20 years. It shows, because pretty much everyone in the large town knows her name, shouting it affectionately as we trundled past on our bicycles. We headed to the house of a man named Papa Simone to offer our help in building, but he had finished for the day by the time we got there. From there Sarah took me to the port on the Ubangui River where a boat had just pulled in. The boat was made up of two large, pontoon-like barges, maybe 80 foot long. On them, underneath ripped tarpaulins, a small village of passengers and traders had established itself. It was a real-life version of what you might expect to see on a Michael Palin documentary, complete with a bunch of kids swimming in the river, the equatorial sun glinting gold on its mud-coloured ripples. The barges were attached side by side, with a smaller ship or 'pusher' at the back, used as the engine boat. Sarah bumped into a man who she met when she first came out here. He was waiting to see if it was possible to take the boat down to Brazzaville, a three week journey down the Congo River, equipped with literally a spare vest and a toothbrush. That night I was desperate to get to a big, African party. We headed out in search of a death celebration, where a ton of people party all night over the loss of somebody's life. People here are very outwardly expressive of their emotions, and when someone dies, the whole town knows about it. You can be woken up in the middle of the night by blood-curdling howls of women who have lost loved ones. The death party had already come to a crescendo and had been broken up by the police who were patrolling around, again with lots of AK47s, so we continued on through the town on the trail of more booming music. Soon we arrived at a huge gathering in the street where a thick circle of people surrounded a live band. People were stood on top of static motorbikes and cars peering into the circle. On top of a dusty truck perched two huge speakers blasting out Franco-African music, making the ground shake with the beat of the drums. People were sporadically jumping into the middle of the circle and moving their bodies in absolute harmony with the music, pulling moves I could only wish to be able to do myself. I don't quite know how to describe the sheer energy and ambience which filled the air, but I loved it in all its intensity. It was the best experience I have had out here.Guest Blog ByRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern I had a good weekend of it getting out and about, exploring Impfondo and its surroundings. On Saturday I was taken for a tour of the town by Sarah, a missionary who has been living and working here for 20 years. It shows, because pretty much everyone in the large town knows her name, shouting it affectionately as we trundled past on our bicycles. We headed to the house of a man named Papa Simone to offer our help in building, but he had finished for the day by the time we got there. From there Sarah took me to the port on the Ubangui River where a boat had just pulled in. The boat was made up of two large, pontoon-like barges, maybe 80 foot long. On them, underneath ripped tarpaulins, a small village of passengers and traders had established itself. It was a real-life version of what you might expect to see on a Michael Palin documentary, complete with a bunch of kids swimming in the river, the equatorial sun glinting gold on its mud-coloured ripples. The barges were attached side by side, with a smaller ship or 'pusher' at the back, used as the engine boat. Sarah bumped into a man who she met when she first came out here. He was waiting to see if it was possible to take the boat down to Brazzaville, a three week journey down the Congo River, equipped with literally a spare vest and a toothbrush. That night I was desperate to get to a big, African party. We headed out in search of a death celebration, where a ton of people party all night over the loss of somebody's life. People here are very outwardly expressive of their emotions, and when someone dies, the whole town knows about it. You can be woken up in the middle of the night by blood-curdling howls of women who have lost loved ones. The death party had already come to a crescendo and had been broken up by the police who were patrolling around, again with lots of AK47s, so we continued on through the town on the trail of more booming music. Soon we arrived at a huge gathering in the street where a thick circle of people surrounded a live band. People were stood on top of static motorbikes and cars peering into the circle. On top of a dusty truck perched two huge speakers blasting out Franco-African music, making the ground shake with the beat of the drums. People were sporadically jumping into the middle of the circle and moving their bodies in absolute harmony with the music, pulling moves I could only wish to be able to do myself. I don't quite know how to describe the sheer energy and ambience which filled the air, but I loved it in all its intensity. It was the best experience I have had out here.Guest Blog ByRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52211 52211 Mon, 31 Aug 2015 05:28:00 +0000 The equatorial storm is like none other. When it rains in the Congo jungle, it absolutely chucks it down. The thunder doesn't clap here, it bellows with a rage only Mother Nature could muster. Lightning splits the thick cloud in two with an electric purple. Once the rain stops and the skies begin to clear, you get this picturesque jungle landscape where dense clouds of steam cling onto the thick canopy overhead. Different shades of green emanate from the interlocking leaves and branches, still shiny and wet from the downpour. The wet season is now beginning in the North and this morning it rained for hours. It changed the climate completely, cooling the air right down to the point where I was almost chilly for the first time in three weeks. Finally, a long-awaited delivery of medical gear arrived for the eye clinic after spending two weeks clearing the chaos of Congolese customs and being held in Brazzaville. I drove with Henri to the airport to pick up the boxes, which were passed through a hole in the wall onto a derelict old conveyor belt which, I am told, sometimes works. The small airport was alive with the comings and goings of those wealthy enough to afford to fly to the capital; mainly governors and their families, and the odd business man. As we waited to see if our boxes were there, I stood around and watched the colorfully clothed people greeting each other with African finesse. Elaborate handshakes, lout shouts and the odd gentle, endearing head butt. England needs more of this. 'Customs' is a thin, scratch-covered, plastic screen with a small door manned by two police men picking people at random to search. The military and the police are everywhere here, swaggering around with an air of authoritative bravado, their guns and berets fashionably donned. They are not to be messed with, as it is well known they can make your life a whole lot more difficult. We have received news that the YAG laser, used for laser eye surgery, is due to arrive on 6th September in Brazzaville. This is another step forward for the clinic, and it will hopefully open a new door for the patients in need of eye treatment.Guest Blog ByRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern The equatorial storm is like none other. When it rains in the Congo jungle, it absolutely chucks it down. The thunder doesn't clap here, it bellows with a rage only Mother Nature could muster. Lightning splits the thick cloud in two with an electric purple. Once the rain stops and the skies begin to clear, you get this picturesque jungle landscape where dense clouds of steam cling onto the thick canopy overhead. Different shades of green emanate from the interlocking leaves and branches, still shiny and wet from the downpour. The wet season is now beginning in the North and this morning it rained for hours. It changed the climate completely, cooling the air right down to the point where I was almost chilly for the first time in three weeks. Finally, a long-awaited delivery of medical gear arrived for the eye clinic after spending two weeks clearing the chaos of Congolese customs and being held in Brazzaville. I drove with Henri to the airport to pick up the boxes, which were passed through a hole in the wall onto a derelict old conveyor belt which, I am told, sometimes works. The small airport was alive with the comings and goings of those wealthy enough to afford to fly to the capital; mainly governors and their families, and the odd business man. As we waited to see if our boxes were there, I stood around and watched the colorfully clothed people greeting each other with African finesse. Elaborate handshakes, lout shouts and the odd gentle, endearing head butt. England needs more of this. 'Customs' is a thin, scratch-covered, plastic screen with a small door manned by two police men picking people at random to search. The military and the police are everywhere here, swaggering around with an air of authoritative bravado, their guns and berets fashionably donned. They are not to be messed with, as it is well known they can make your life a whole lot more difficult. We have received news that the YAG laser, used for laser eye surgery, is due to arrive on 6th September in Brazzaville. This is another step forward for the clinic, and it will hopefully open a new door for the patients in need of eye treatment.Guest Blog ByRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52193 52193 Fri, 28 Aug 2015 12:27:00 +0000 I have spent the last couple of weeks working with Joyce on the new website content and on various administration and organization aspects of New Sight. My regular blogging has been doing a seemingly good job on boosting the hits the current New Sight website receives. We have just got the new charity YouTube channel up and running and, with the impending arrival of a Chinese media company seeking to get some film for their documentary on New Sight, there is a lot to get in order. Yesterday I went with Henri to various locations in the Hospital compound for stock checking which sounds boring but was actually quite a laugh. It has been a good learning experience to see the kinds of difficulties that small charities face when they are still in their relative infancy, and to try and contribute where I can. Congolese customs, for example, seem to go out of their way to slow down the arrival of much needed medicine to Impfondo from the capital. As Joyce tells me, even when the money is there to buy the vital supplies, the logistics of actually getting them to a hospital in the jungle is the real difficulty. I am sure that this is a problem experienced across Africa and the rest of the world. Last weekend, on Saturday, I had a break from working for New Sight and went to help a local repair his house using mud. We tore down an old wall, which was solidified by mud bricks as hard as cement, before placing all the broken pieces back into a new wall frame made of palm branches and bound together by vines from the jungle. We then had to dig up enough clay-like soil to fill the new wall, mix it with water until it got to a desirable consistency, and then fill the new wall with this mixture. It was one of the most physically demanding days of work I have ever done. The sun was blazing down on my skin all day, causing me to sweat faster than I could drink to replace my fluids. The next day my muscles were aching and my hands were dotted with blisters and cuts. Needless to say, a lot of gratification came from the job. Not only did I feel I had given as much help as I could to rebuild someone's house, I also had a lot of fun doing it. There was something so beautifully simple and therapeutic about building a house. It was as if, for a moment, I had traded the rush of a modern society obsessed with future plans for an experience of subsistence living completely in the present. That is what life is like for most people living in the Likouala region who simply don't have the time or money to afford to think about the future. Guest Blog By Rowan Cassels-Brown New Sight Summer Intern I have spent the last couple of weeks working with Joyce on the new website content and on various administration and organization aspects of New Sight. My regular blogging has been doing a seemingly good job on boosting the hits the current New Sight website receives. We have just got the new charity YouTube channel up and running and, with the impending arrival of a Chinese media company seeking to get some film for their documentary on New Sight, there is a lot to get in order. Yesterday I went with Henri to various locations in the Hospital compound for stock checking which sounds boring but was actually quite a laugh. It has been a good learning experience to see the kinds of difficulties that small charities face when they are still in their relative infancy, and to try and contribute where I can. Congolese customs, for example, seem to go out of their way to slow down the arrival of much needed medicine to Impfondo from the capital. As Joyce tells me, even when the money is there to buy the vital supplies, the logistics of actually getting them to a hospital in the jungle is the real difficulty. I am sure that this is a problem experienced across Africa and the rest of the world. Last weekend, on Saturday, I had a break from working for New Sight and went to help a local repair his house using mud. We tore down an old wall, which was solidified by mud bricks as hard as cement, before placing all the broken pieces back into a new wall frame made of palm branches and bound together by vines from the jungle. We then had to dig up enough clay-like soil to fill the new wall, mix it with water until it got to a desirable consistency, and then fill the new wall with this mixture. It was one of the most physically demanding days of work I have ever done. The sun was blazing down on my skin all day, causing me to sweat faster than I could drink to replace my fluids. The next day my muscles were aching and my hands were dotted with blisters and cuts. Needless to say, a lot of gratification came from the job. Not only did I feel I had given as much help as I could to rebuild someone's house, I also had a lot of fun doing it. There was something so beautifully simple and therapeutic about building a house. It was as if, for a moment, I had traded the rush of a modern society obsessed with future plans for an experience of subsistence living completely in the present. That is what life is like for most people living in the Likouala region who simply don't have the time or money to afford to think about the future. Guest Blog By Rowan Cassels-Brown New Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52179 52179 Thu, 27 Aug 2015 04:11:00 +0000 Whenever I visit an exciting new place, I am always keen to spend some time at the local market. For me, the energy and etiquette of the market is always a colorful representation of the country's wider culture, with a melting pot of merchants trying to flog their goods to probing onlookers. Now, I have been lucky enough to travel to see a fair few markets but, truly, none have come close to the chaos of Impfondo so far. Looking down one of the busy corridors before you enter, you feel like you are about to dive into a death trap. Heads and shoulders appear to be literally rubbing together in their efforts to squeeze through the chaos. Long canes of sugar and huge bowls full of fruit and cooked fish swing around in the air, balanced precariously on people's heads. Motorcyclists come revving through at alarming speeds, piled high with produce, almost whacking into small children. The whole thing feels tremendously fun, and with the usual deafening African music blasting out of the speakers from various stalls, it's a bit of a party. Joyce and the kids brought me to what they call 'Aladdin's Cave', a section of the market walled, slightly claustrophobically, with an eclectic collection of outrageous African fabrics. Smaller shops sit in between the better established ones, selling a plethora of trinkets and any second hand bric-a-brac that the owners were able to get their hands on. A lot of the stuff on sale looked like it was taken straight out of those Christmas shoe boxes you make when you are at school. I found out later that it probably was. The meat section is by far the funkiest. Its corridors are, in places, less than a meter wide. The floor is a bumpy dirt track, its pot holes filled with stagnant pools of blood-coloured water. On the wonky wooden tables lies an assortment of jungle meats from crocodile to catfish to gazelle. I even saw two large live iguanas, their head and limbs tied so they can't escape, looking at me with a gaze full of fear and confusion. There are virtually no fridges in Impfondo, so half the meat is still alive to keep it fresh. As soon as something is killed and chopped in two with the cleaver, it is blanketed by a swarm of flies. Impfondo's market is so rich and challenging because it has not been tainted, in any way, by a tourist culture. There are no standardized stalls selling wood carvings or 'I HEART IMPFONDO' t-shirts, just a community of people trading to make ends meet. Merchants are genuinely surprised when you want to take a photo of a butchered-up crocodile; to them it is just food. The town, so far, seems to have avoided the homogenizing processes of globalization, and I am glad to have experienced it before it is inevitably lost. I feel like a proper traveler at last.Guest Blog ByRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern Whenever I visit an exciting new place, I am always keen to spend some time at the local market. For me, the energy and etiquette of the market is always a colorful representation of the country's wider culture, with a melting pot of merchants trying to flog their goods to probing onlookers. Now, I have been lucky enough to travel to see a fair few markets but, truly, none have come close to the chaos of Impfondo so far. Looking down one of the busy corridors before you enter, you feel like you are about to dive into a death trap. Heads and shoulders appear to be literally rubbing together in their efforts to squeeze through the chaos. Long canes of sugar and huge bowls full of fruit and cooked fish swing around in the air, balanced precariously on people's heads. Motorcyclists come revving through at alarming speeds, piled high with produce, almost whacking into small children. The whole thing feels tremendously fun, and with the usual deafening African music blasting out of the speakers from various stalls, it's a bit of a party. Joyce and the kids brought me to what they call 'Aladdin's Cave', a section of the market walled, slightly claustrophobically, with an eclectic collection of outrageous African fabrics. Smaller shops sit in between the better established ones, selling a plethora of trinkets and any second hand bric-a-brac that the owners were able to get their hands on. A lot of the stuff on sale looked like it was taken straight out of those Christmas shoe boxes you make when you are at school. I found out later that it probably was. The meat section is by far the funkiest. Its corridors are, in places, less than a meter wide. The floor is a bumpy dirt track, its pot holes filled with stagnant pools of blood-coloured water. On the wonky wooden tables lies an assortment of jungle meats from crocodile to catfish to gazelle. I even saw two large live iguanas, their head and limbs tied so they can't escape, looking at me with a gaze full of fear and confusion. There are virtually no fridges in Impfondo, so half the meat is still alive to keep it fresh. As soon as something is killed and chopped in two with the cleaver, it is blanketed by a swarm of flies. Impfondo's market is so rich and challenging because it has not been tainted, in any way, by a tourist culture. There are no standardized stalls selling wood carvings or 'I HEART IMPFONDO' t-shirts, just a community of people trading to make ends meet. Merchants are genuinely surprised when you want to take a photo of a butchered-up crocodile; to them it is just food. The town, so far, seems to have avoided the homogenizing processes of globalization, and I am glad to have experienced it before it is inevitably lost. I feel like a proper traveler at last.Guest Blog ByRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52150 52150 Tue, 25 Aug 2015 07:21:00 +0000 Thursday's community health screening trip to Nkoko was one of the best bits so far. We set off due-North from Impfondo on the same road which runs straight through town. It was tarmac-ed but within a couple of minutes driving its flat surface began to give way to Africa. The 4 wheel drive bounced its way over car size pot-holes while swerving around bits of thick jungle undergrowth that was slowly covering the road from the edges. Both sides of the track were dotted with men, women and children carrying loads often larger than themselves, sometimes with a dog in tow which looked more like a hyena-fox hybrid than your average poodle. Nkoko was much the same as any other cluster of houses in Likouala. Mud huts topped with leaves made up 99% of the buildings, with scrawny chickens running around on the flat earth beaten hard by feet. A gaggle of children quickly emerged from nowhere, shyly hiding behind a bush and laughing, probably, at my weird white skin. One of the first things I noticed was the chief's ingenious way to listen the local Likouala radio station. His radio's antenna had long been forgotten and in its place there was a long wire stretching from his wooden table to a small tree. From there the wire navigated its way through and around the branches, crossed overhead to the roof of the nearest mud hut, spiraled up a tall wooden pole and finally connected to a hand-size piece of corrugated metal, where it received a crackly but audible stream of Congolese music. The next thing I noticed reminded me of something I read in Tim Butcher's Blood River the day before. He writes that during his time in the DRC, he saw a number of people wearing clothes which would have been received from charities; hand-me-downs no longer wanted by the West. In Nkoko I saw a man in a black tee which read 'World of Warcraft Qualifier'. I wondered whether the previous owner was playing right at that moment, somewhere far off in his Western paradise. The chief's wife offered me a plate of bananas as I took a seat in the shade near the chief. I said no thank you, feeling guilty as she made a fuss over me, but Henri was quick to let me know that it is culturally polite to take everything that gets offered to you. I'm glad he did, because the bananas she then brought out were the best I have ever eaten. Sweet, perfectly ripe, and slightly warm from the midday heat, I realized that these were probably the only bananas I have ever eaten which haven't been transported in a motor vehicle. They were so good I ate three. I am no medical professional so I took some photos for the website, chatted to the villagers, and learnt about the various components required to perform healthcare provision trips into the jungle like this one. It was certainly a learning experience. There must have been over 40 people experiencing problems with their eyes, and none of them had ever been treated. In a region like Likouala, the amount of money, manpower and logistical capability is stretched thin to even try and provide the care that is required. Even so, Henri and his team seemed to handle the screening very efficiently and we were on our way home by half past 12 midday. Guest blog by Rowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern Thursday's community health screening trip to Nkoko was one of the best bits so far. We set off due-North from Impfondo on the same road which runs straight through town. It was tarmac-ed but within a couple of minutes driving its flat surface began to give way to Africa. The 4 wheel drive bounced its way over car size pot-holes while swerving around bits of thick jungle undergrowth that was slowly covering the road from the edges. Both sides of the track were dotted with men, women and children carrying loads often larger than themselves, sometimes with a dog in tow which looked more like a hyena-fox hybrid than your average poodle. Nkoko was much the same as any other cluster of houses in Likouala. Mud huts topped with leaves made up 99% of the buildings, with scrawny chickens running around on the flat earth beaten hard by feet. A gaggle of children quickly emerged from nowhere, shyly hiding behind a bush and laughing, probably, at my weird white skin. One of the first things I noticed was the chief's ingenious way to listen the local Likouala radio station. His radio's antenna had long been forgotten and in its place there was a long wire stretching from his wooden table to a small tree. From there the wire navigated its way through and around the branches, crossed overhead to the roof of the nearest mud hut, spiraled up a tall wooden pole and finally connected to a hand-size piece of corrugated metal, where it received a crackly but audible stream of Congolese music. The next thing I noticed reminded me of something I read in Tim Butcher's Blood River the day before. He writes that during his time in the DRC, he saw a number of people wearing clothes which would have been received from charities; hand-me-downs no longer wanted by the West. In Nkoko I saw a man in a black tee which read 'World of Warcraft Qualifier'. I wondered whether the previous owner was playing right at that moment, somewhere far off in his Western paradise. The chief's wife offered me a plate of bananas as I took a seat in the shade near the chief. I said no thank you, feeling guilty as she made a fuss over me, but Henri was quick to let me know that it is culturally polite to take everything that gets offered to you. I'm glad he did, because the bananas she then brought out were the best I have ever eaten. Sweet, perfectly ripe, and slightly warm from the midday heat, I realized that these were probably the only bananas I have ever eaten which haven't been transported in a motor vehicle. They were so good I ate three. I am no medical professional so I took some photos for the website, chatted to the villagers, and learnt about the various components required to perform healthcare provision trips into the jungle like this one. It was certainly a learning experience. There must have been over 40 people experiencing problems with their eyes, and none of them had ever been treated. In a region like Likouala, the amount of money, manpower and logistical capability is stretched thin to even try and provide the care that is required. Even so, Henri and his team seemed to handle the screening very efficiently and we were on our way home by half past 12 midday. Guest blog by Rowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52130 52130 Sat, 22 Aug 2015 14:25:00 +0000 On Monday night I finally hauled myself out to go to a bar. As I pedaled my bike through the slowly fading heat of the evening I caught in my eye a square, door-deprived frame radiating a yellow light. There were a couple of people sat out front in the dark so I decided to turn around and check it out. Through the luminous yellow portal stood a small wooden bar, the walls behind decorated with a couple of lopsided shelves mounted on a flaking, cream coloured wall. Scattered around the shelves were various bottles of beer, African and imported. I asked if they had all of the beers advertised on the shelves, to which the mama replied with a grumbling response, clearly not excited about serving me. Initially I went for an Amstel, taking refuge in my European habits, but quickly realized that and 'Ngok' would probably be more fitting for my first African beer. Of course, it just tasted of beer, but the crocodile on the label gave the impression of adventure and exotic produce. The bar was nothing funky or special, but it was a gem in its own right. Some upbeat Congolese music was playing from the speaker. I took my beer outside and relaxed into a garden chair shrouded in darkness. The air was full of the noise of crickets and birds, with the occasional motorbike trundling by on the road out front. Impfondo receives only a few hours of electricity a week, so there is no light pollution at all. Above me, in the jet black sky, stars flickered like the light inside the bar. I counted three shooting stars while I sat and drank, and considered myself lucky to be here in the middle of the bush. I went to work with Guillaume, an occupational therapist, on Tuesday morning. Up til then most of the Africa I had seen was funky and fun and definitely did not need 'saving'. Going with Guillaume was the first proper taste I got of the extent to which people can suffer here. I helped a man regain movement in his leg after he had broken his tibia. He was 30 years old with 6 children, all of whom were hanging around the hospital because they had nowhere else to go and relied on him for pretty much everything. We later went out of the hospital to visis a man in a wheelchair who was virtually immobile. His house was a windowless cube of cement measuring about 12 x 12 x 12 feet, which is decent considering that a lot of Impfondo's people live in mud huts constantly threatened by equatorial storms. There was a bed and some cooking utensils hanging around the outskirts of the floor. Flies were buzzing around his old mosquito net and we had to carry a table from the hospital to play a game of Jenga because he didn't have one himself. The house felt quite homely despite my description and it was clear that John enjoyed spending some time with us. There was no NHS nurse or economic safety net to help him out, just a few volunteers with limited resources, time and money. Guest blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern On Monday night I finally hauled myself out to go to a bar. As I pedaled my bike through the slowly fading heat of the evening I caught in my eye a square, door-deprived frame radiating a yellow light. There were a couple of people sat out front in the dark so I decided to turn around and check it out. Through the luminous yellow portal stood a small wooden bar, the walls behind decorated with a couple of lopsided shelves mounted on a flaking, cream coloured wall. Scattered around the shelves were various bottles of beer, African and imported. I asked if they had all of the beers advertised on the shelves, to which the mama replied with a grumbling response, clearly not excited about serving me. Initially I went for an Amstel, taking refuge in my European habits, but quickly realized that and 'Ngok' would probably be more fitting for my first African beer. Of course, it just tasted of beer, but the crocodile on the label gave the impression of adventure and exotic produce. The bar was nothing funky or special, but it was a gem in its own right. Some upbeat Congolese music was playing from the speaker. I took my beer outside and relaxed into a garden chair shrouded in darkness. The air was full of the noise of crickets and birds, with the occasional motorbike trundling by on the road out front. Impfondo receives only a few hours of electricity a week, so there is no light pollution at all. Above me, in the jet black sky, stars flickered like the light inside the bar. I counted three shooting stars while I sat and drank, and considered myself lucky to be here in the middle of the bush. I went to work with Guillaume, an occupational therapist, on Tuesday morning. Up til then most of the Africa I had seen was funky and fun and definitely did not need 'saving'. Going with Guillaume was the first proper taste I got of the extent to which people can suffer here. I helped a man regain movement in his leg after he had broken his tibia. He was 30 years old with 6 children, all of whom were hanging around the hospital because they had nowhere else to go and relied on him for pretty much everything. We later went out of the hospital to visis a man in a wheelchair who was virtually immobile. His house was a windowless cube of cement measuring about 12 x 12 x 12 feet, which is decent considering that a lot of Impfondo's people live in mud huts constantly threatened by equatorial storms. There was a bed and some cooking utensils hanging around the outskirts of the floor. Flies were buzzing around his old mosquito net and we had to carry a table from the hospital to play a game of Jenga because he didn't have one himself. The house felt quite homely despite my description and it was clear that John enjoyed spending some time with us. There was no NHS nurse or economic safety net to help him out, just a few volunteers with limited resources, time and money. Guest blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52119 52119 Thu, 20 Aug 2015 10:47:00 +0000 On Sunday I went to the Chapel and joined in with the Samoutou family band. I am not a particularly religious man per se, but it was good fun to get back on the guitar and perform in a band for the first time since my rock 'n' roll, long haired days when I was 11. It is crystal clear to me that Christianity plays a hugely important role in the functioning of New Sight, and in keeping the Samoutou family, my welcoming hosts, close to each other as they work through the difficulties of living here. Religion in Africa is an incredibly interesting thing for the budding sociologist. I am told that a lot of the people who join the Christian faith here will continue to practice other rituals and routines belonging to non-Christian, African beliefs. I suppose this fits with the culture in general because In Africa most things are neither here nor there just a colourful, eclectic mix of all things funky and otherwise. Even more interesting sociologically is race. Until yesterday I had always blamed the white European for all the troubles Africans have experienced regarding ethnicity. At Manchester University I met Benson Wereje, a native Congolese man who had lost his village during the war in DRC, become a child soldier, and now worked to help refugees in Uganda. He was a knowledgeable source and a very inspiring man, and he told me that tribal ethnic hostility was virtually non-existent when he was a child. According to Benson, it began as a result of manipulation from Western powers. From a book I was reading yesterday, however, I learnt that racial subjugation here in Congo spans back to the arrival of the Bantu tribes 1,000 years ago. The Bantu have since persecuted and shunned the Pygmies, the oldest indigenous people of central Africa. I am not about to excuse the brutality of the Colonialists, but I thought it was an interesting point. After the Chapel I went to play football in the sun with some locals about my age. For anyone who knows my thoughts on football, they will know that this is the most adventurous thing I have done on the trip so far. I felt a bit out of place as I clumsily swung my legs at the ball, my bare skin stinging as the sweat soaked into cuts made by the sharp, dry grass. I drank a litre and a half of water in about 40 minutes, while everyone else had half a cup at the end. Nonetheless it felt good to get some exercise and the LADS were encouraging even though they all knew I was an awful player. This week I am hoping to get a good start on rewriting content for the launch of the brand new, New Sight website. I will also go screening with Henri at a small village North of Impfondo, once the chief gives us the go ahead.Guest blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern On Sunday I went to the Chapel and joined in with the Samoutou family band. I am not a particularly religious man per se, but it was good fun to get back on the guitar and perform in a band for the first time since my rock 'n' roll, long haired days when I was 11. It is crystal clear to me that Christianity plays a hugely important role in the functioning of New Sight, and in keeping the Samoutou family, my welcoming hosts, close to each other as they work through the difficulties of living here. Religion in Africa is an incredibly interesting thing for the budding sociologist. I am told that a lot of the people who join the Christian faith here will continue to practice other rituals and routines belonging to non-Christian, African beliefs. I suppose this fits with the culture in general because In Africa most things are neither here nor there just a colourful, eclectic mix of all things funky and otherwise. Even more interesting sociologically is race. Until yesterday I had always blamed the white European for all the troubles Africans have experienced regarding ethnicity. At Manchester University I met Benson Wereje, a native Congolese man who had lost his village during the war in DRC, become a child soldier, and now worked to help refugees in Uganda. He was a knowledgeable source and a very inspiring man, and he told me that tribal ethnic hostility was virtually non-existent when he was a child. According to Benson, it began as a result of manipulation from Western powers. From a book I was reading yesterday, however, I learnt that racial subjugation here in Congo spans back to the arrival of the Bantu tribes 1,000 years ago. The Bantu have since persecuted and shunned the Pygmies, the oldest indigenous people of central Africa. I am not about to excuse the brutality of the Colonialists, but I thought it was an interesting point. After the Chapel I went to play football in the sun with some locals about my age. For anyone who knows my thoughts on football, they will know that this is the most adventurous thing I have done on the trip so far. I felt a bit out of place as I clumsily swung my legs at the ball, my bare skin stinging as the sweat soaked into cuts made by the sharp, dry grass. I drank a litre and a half of water in about 40 minutes, while everyone else had half a cup at the end. Nonetheless it felt good to get some exercise and the LADS were encouraging even though they all knew I was an awful player. This week I am hoping to get a good start on rewriting content for the launch of the brand new, New Sight website. I will also go screening with Henri at a small village North of Impfondo, once the chief gives us the go ahead.Guest blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52101 52101 Tue, 18 Aug 2015 13:14:00 +0000 It's my fourth night in Impfondo, and I am starting to feel settled. On Tuesday morning I went to the clinic with Henri. The waiting room was full of patients. The clinic had a very positive, relaxed atmosphere and it was interesting to see Henri at work, but what caught my attention was the number of people suffering from preventable or treatable blindness. One man had reached stage three of Glaucoma, a condition which causes pressure to build up inside the eye and consequently kills the nerve. He was blind in both eyes, but had he gone for a test earlier in his life the Glaucoma would likely have been treated before it took his sight. Another man walked in later on with puss streaming from two inflamed eyes. Henri tells me this man had been treated last week and was fine, but had decided not to take the full course of his medicine after he saw some improvement. There was a recurring theme in which a patient had waited until their eyesight was unbearably bad to go to the clinic. I was able to take away from this that the problem with treating their blindness was not necessarily in the treatment itself, but in getting patients to understand and cooperate with the way the treatment works. Clearly, teaching the community not to ignore their eyesight problems is just as important as sticking knives into eyeballs. Last night, the sunset sky coloured a rich purple, I took my newly acquired bike for a spin out of the hospital compound and into Impfondo. I rode past the UNHCR building, which deals with refugees from the DRC (the British Foreign Office estimates 100,000 refugees in the Likouala region), and continued along toward the main hub. When I write 'hub', what I mean is a dusty, two lane road lined with a clutter of small shops and one or two bars. The buildings are almost all small, one room bungalows and can be made of anything from breezeblocks and corrugated iron to wood and mud. But don't be fooled into thinking the town is uneventful and quiet, it is quite the opposite. Loud African music can be heard at night from the compound a kilometer off, and the closer you get, the more the town comes alive with motorbikes and people lurching out in the road in front of you. It gets dark quickly here, and by the time I had turned back it was almost pitch black. I began to lull into a lethargic state as I pedalled, but was quickly reminded that I was in Africa when a police pick-up truck crowded with armed police, sirens blaring, screeched past me towards town. Guillaume is my French housemate and every night we've been alternating between French and English for good practice. He's talking about taking a boat to the Ubangui River one morning and going over to the DRC side with one of the local nurses he works with. I think I will have to join him. I am also yet to go check out the loud music I mentioned earlier, but I have plenty of time for that. Guest blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern It's my fourth night in Impfondo, and I am starting to feel settled. On Tuesday morning I went to the clinic with Henri. The waiting room was full of patients. The clinic had a very positive, relaxed atmosphere and it was interesting to see Henri at work, but what caught my attention was the number of people suffering from preventable or treatable blindness. One man had reached stage three of Glaucoma, a condition which causes pressure to build up inside the eye and consequently kills the nerve. He was blind in both eyes, but had he gone for a test earlier in his life the Glaucoma would likely have been treated before it took his sight. Another man walked in later on with puss streaming from two inflamed eyes. Henri tells me this man had been treated last week and was fine, but had decided not to take the full course of his medicine after he saw some improvement. There was a recurring theme in which a patient had waited until their eyesight was unbearably bad to go to the clinic. I was able to take away from this that the problem with treating their blindness was not necessarily in the treatment itself, but in getting patients to understand and cooperate with the way the treatment works. Clearly, teaching the community not to ignore their eyesight problems is just as important as sticking knives into eyeballs. Last night, the sunset sky coloured a rich purple, I took my newly acquired bike for a spin out of the hospital compound and into Impfondo. I rode past the UNHCR building, which deals with refugees from the DRC (the British Foreign Office estimates 100,000 refugees in the Likouala region), and continued along toward the main hub. When I write 'hub', what I mean is a dusty, two lane road lined with a clutter of small shops and one or two bars. The buildings are almost all small, one room bungalows and can be made of anything from breezeblocks and corrugated iron to wood and mud. But don't be fooled into thinking the town is uneventful and quiet, it is quite the opposite. Loud African music can be heard at night from the compound a kilometer off, and the closer you get, the more the town comes alive with motorbikes and people lurching out in the road in front of you. It gets dark quickly here, and by the time I had turned back it was almost pitch black. I began to lull into a lethargic state as I pedalled, but was quickly reminded that I was in Africa when a police pick-up truck crowded with armed police, sirens blaring, screeched past me towards town. Guillaume is my French housemate and every night we've been alternating between French and English for good practice. He's talking about taking a boat to the Ubangui River one morning and going over to the DRC side with one of the local nurses he works with. I think I will have to join him. I am also yet to go check out the loud music I mentioned earlier, but I have plenty of time for that. Guest blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52068 52068 Thu, 13 Aug 2015 12:20:00 +0000 Having left Brazzaville with Joyce and the kids, I got a proper look at the Congo jungle through the scratched plastic window of our rickety old flight to Impfondo. Joyce tells me that the pilots fly and land the plane using only their eye sight and no location equipment. We descended below the clouds to see an impenetrable thickness of trees, bush and rivers stretching right into the visible distance. I was in the middle of my self-assigned homework; reading Tim Butcher's Blood River: A Journey to Africa's Broken Heart. Coincidentally he had just finished describing the immense size and power of all the contributories of the river Congo. I am beginning to understand why so many people have been caught up in the mystery and magnificence of the river since it was first 'discovered' by the white man. I am now in Impfondo, bang in the middle of what I believe is the second largest rainforest in the world, and its hot. Not the kind of hot you get in Greece or Italy, but a temperamental, clammy heat that wraps around your skin like cling-film. I got a glimpse of the very rural town as we drove through it to get to the hospital compound, but will be able to describe it more once I have spent some time there. The compound itself is a small village of one room bungalows painted white, each one catering to a different medical need. They have a Malaria building, a post-natal ward, and an eye clinic to name a few. I have felt very welcome ever since we left England last Friday, and I was treated to a big lunch at the Samoutou (Joyce and Henri) family home, which houses an impressive collection of Western luxuries given the difficulty of transporting anything here. I have come to learn that Joyce has mastered the art of fitting a whole lot of stuff into a few small bags and then lugging it halfway across the world with three kids in tow! She really goes out of her way to make guests feel at home. I also met a few of the other medical workers, including Henri (finally!), who is the leading practitioner in the eye clinic and husband to Joyce. Tomorrow I will spend some time with him in the clinic. Lying in bed on my first night I am filled with excitement, but also nerves, at the prospect of living here for the next 4 weeks. I am in a region whose language I have never heard spoken, and outside my room is the sweaty Congo rainforest humming with life. My ceiling is covered in fireflies flickering on and off like sparks. This is by far the most adventurous thing I have done in my life.Guest blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern Having left Brazzaville with Joyce and the kids, I got a proper look at the Congo jungle through the scratched plastic window of our rickety old flight to Impfondo. Joyce tells me that the pilots fly and land the plane using only their eye sight and no location equipment. We descended below the clouds to see an impenetrable thickness of trees, bush and rivers stretching right into the visible distance. I was in the middle of my self-assigned homework; reading Tim Butcher's Blood River: A Journey to Africa's Broken Heart. Coincidentally he had just finished describing the immense size and power of all the contributories of the river Congo. I am beginning to understand why so many people have been caught up in the mystery and magnificence of the river since it was first 'discovered' by the white man. I am now in Impfondo, bang in the middle of what I believe is the second largest rainforest in the world, and its hot. Not the kind of hot you get in Greece or Italy, but a temperamental, clammy heat that wraps around your skin like cling-film. I got a glimpse of the very rural town as we drove through it to get to the hospital compound, but will be able to describe it more once I have spent some time there. The compound itself is a small village of one room bungalows painted white, each one catering to a different medical need. They have a Malaria building, a post-natal ward, and an eye clinic to name a few. I have felt very welcome ever since we left England last Friday, and I was treated to a big lunch at the Samoutou (Joyce and Henri) family home, which houses an impressive collection of Western luxuries given the difficulty of transporting anything here. I have come to learn that Joyce has mastered the art of fitting a whole lot of stuff into a few small bags and then lugging it halfway across the world with three kids in tow! She really goes out of her way to make guests feel at home. I also met a few of the other medical workers, including Henri (finally!), who is the leading practitioner in the eye clinic and husband to Joyce. Tomorrow I will spend some time with him in the clinic. Lying in bed on my first night I am filled with excitement, but also nerves, at the prospect of living here for the next 4 weeks. I am in a region whose language I have never heard spoken, and outside my room is the sweaty Congo rainforest humming with life. My ceiling is covered in fireflies flickering on and off like sparks. This is by far the most adventurous thing I have done in my life.Guest blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52058 52058 Wed, 12 Aug 2015 06:51:00 +0000 Though I have been preparing for my visit to Congo for months now, it wasn't until we began to fly down over the river Congo, its vast expanse bordered only by thick rainforest, that I began to realize just what an experience this trip could be. I had finally come to Africa. Disembarking the plane, I held my breath and smiled as we passed through customs, closely followed Joyce and her three Congo-savvy kids through the dense crowd of people, jumped aboard a Land Rover and disappeared into the night. After 17hrs travelling, we pulled up to Hotel Bravo in darkness, had some food, and went to bed. I am glad to have travelled here with someone who knows what they are doing, and the kids' energy is good to have around. Brazzaville is alive with the continuous soundtrack of horns and music, occasionally punctuated by energetic high fives that cannot be found anywhere in Europe. I love it, and have not been able to hide my childish smile at everything I see. As with other areas of Africa, funky outfits paint the town in colour, but in Brazzaville there is a special type of elegance. 'Les Sapeurs' are the flamboyantly dressed men best know from the Guinness advert, with whom I have had a small obsession since the Guardian did a feature on them a few years ago. Honestly, I didn't expect to see a Sapeur while I was here, but I quickly learned that most Brazzaville men love to rock multi-coloured suits accompanied by thick framed glasses or a cane. The air is close and hot and the streets are busy, but there is an atmosphere here which to me feels both welcoming and oddly tranquil. Plus I got a buzzcut before I left to keep me cool. It feels safe here, but the sandbag forts and truckloads full of military personnel are a reminder of a less peaceful past. Kinshasa, capital of the DRC, lurks menacingly in the fog across the river Congo. The two capital cities are closer to each other than any in the world. We have been to eat at two of the top restaurants, though the prices fall well short of anything you would expect in England. We visited the tourist market on Saturday, but it is clear by its miniature size that Brazzaville does not receive many tourists. I think I could count the number of white people I have seen on two hands. Needless to say, the city is incomparable with any other I have visited. Joyce has advised me to be careful who I point my camera at – the authorities in particular don't have any time for blundering tourists waving their gadgets in the air. On Sunday I hopped in one of the Land Rovers belonging to the hotel along with Reol, one of the staff, and a friend of his. We were headed across town to a local English Language club, and apparently I was to be the special guest. This has to have been the most textbook, and by far my favourite, African experience so far. We sat in the shade of a huge tree, the amber sun slowly retreating beyond the horizon, and had a very animated debate about homosexuality, U.S. spies, and Islamic State. I was asked to talk about myself, which of course I took great pleasure in doing, and then I told a joke I heard not long ago about a chicken and a frog. I think they liked it, but they might have just been laughing in courtesy. On now to Impfondo!Guest blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern Though I have been preparing for my visit to Congo for months now, it wasn't until we began to fly down over the river Congo, its vast expanse bordered only by thick rainforest, that I began to realize just what an experience this trip could be. I had finally come to Africa. Disembarking the plane, I held my breath and smiled as we passed through customs, closely followed Joyce and her three Congo-savvy kids through the dense crowd of people, jumped aboard a Land Rover and disappeared into the night. After 17hrs travelling, we pulled up to Hotel Bravo in darkness, had some food, and went to bed. I am glad to have travelled here with someone who knows what they are doing, and the kids' energy is good to have around. Brazzaville is alive with the continuous soundtrack of horns and music, occasionally punctuated by energetic high fives that cannot be found anywhere in Europe. I love it, and have not been able to hide my childish smile at everything I see. As with other areas of Africa, funky outfits paint the town in colour, but in Brazzaville there is a special type of elegance. 'Les Sapeurs' are the flamboyantly dressed men best know from the Guinness advert, with whom I have had a small obsession since the Guardian did a feature on them a few years ago. Honestly, I didn't expect to see a Sapeur while I was here, but I quickly learned that most Brazzaville men love to rock multi-coloured suits accompanied by thick framed glasses or a cane. The air is close and hot and the streets are busy, but there is an atmosphere here which to me feels both welcoming and oddly tranquil. Plus I got a buzzcut before I left to keep me cool. It feels safe here, but the sandbag forts and truckloads full of military personnel are a reminder of a less peaceful past. Kinshasa, capital of the DRC, lurks menacingly in the fog across the river Congo. The two capital cities are closer to each other than any in the world. We have been to eat at two of the top restaurants, though the prices fall well short of anything you would expect in England. We visited the tourist market on Saturday, but it is clear by its miniature size that Brazzaville does not receive many tourists. I think I could count the number of white people I have seen on two hands. Needless to say, the city is incomparable with any other I have visited. Joyce has advised me to be careful who I point my camera at – the authorities in particular don't have any time for blundering tourists waving their gadgets in the air. On Sunday I hopped in one of the Land Rovers belonging to the hotel along with Reol, one of the staff, and a friend of his. We were headed across town to a local English Language club, and apparently I was to be the special guest. This has to have been the most textbook, and by far my favourite, African experience so far. We sat in the shade of a huge tree, the amber sun slowly retreating beyond the horizon, and had a very animated debate about homosexuality, U.S. spies, and Islamic State. I was asked to talk about myself, which of course I took great pleasure in doing, and then I told a joke I heard not long ago about a chicken and a frog. I think they liked it, but they might have just been laughing in courtesy. On now to Impfondo!Guest blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52057 52057 Wed, 12 Aug 2015 06:48:00 +0000 We are really excited to introduce Rowan Cassels-Brown as our Volunteer Intern for Community Outreach and Project Development. He has been working with us from England for the past 7 weeks and has now made it out to Congo! Rowan is a student at the University of Manchester studying History and Sociology. He will be staying with us in Impfondo, for the next 5 weeks. We are happy to announce that he will also act as a guest blogger during that time, writing about his thoughts, feelings and experiences of New Sight and the Congo. Enjoy! I am going to the Republic of the Congo (hereafter referred to as Congo) on Friday. This is not the 'unstable' Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) which has featured heavily in Western News in the past 30 years for war and corruption, but is its neighbor. The Congo sits on the Western banks of the river Congo, nestled between Gabon, Cameroon, the Central African Republic, and the DRC. New Sight Congo is a faith based NGO focusing on the prevention and cure of unnecessary blindness in the Likouala region. Founders Joyce and Henri Samoutou have taken me on as a Volunteer Intern for Project Development and Community Outreach for 5 weeks this summer. A lot of people, myself included, have been asking what exactly I will be doing in a small, malaria hot-spot village, which is 10 days ferry journey into the jungle, and which receives about 2-3 hrs of electricity two or three times a week. The answer to that is I don't really know either. Admittedly, I initially sought out this opportunity with a great desire for adventure and personal experience but, having now been involved in helping with some of the logistics of the operation since I finished university, I have begun to develop a real appreciation for what this foundation is trying to do; help other people. So far, I have helped with securing the donation of useful medical equipment from a major drugs company, seeking help in purchasing and transporting a YAG laser machine (for surgery), and have gained a small understanding of the sheer difficulty of organizing a humanitarian project in the middle of Africa. I have high hopes of experiencing and learning about Congolese culture, lifestyle, food and people, and have no doubt that this trip will offer me new perspectives on my comfortable life as an English student in the urban jungle of Manchester. This blog may well become a constructive way for me to document and interpret my time in Congo. Perhaps it will intrigue and inspire others to seek a better understanding of the wild and vibrant Central Africa, a place steeped in ancient cultural, social, anthropological and, in more recent years, tumultuous political history. Alternatively, the blog could simply turn into a conveyor belt for the self-indulgent pontifications of a naive Westerner. Either way, I have enjoyed blogging about my travel experiences in the past, so I intend to continue with that practice. If you have ever read any of my stuff before you will know that I am hilarious, insightful interesting and, naturally, very modest! If you read this blog, I hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to comment on it or get in touch with me. Of course, the posts will be a little more exciting once I am actually there. Thank you or, as I think they say in Lingala, melesi!Guest blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern We are really excited to introduce Rowan Cassels-Brown as our Volunteer Intern for Community Outreach and Project Development. He has been working with us from England for the past 7 weeks and has now made it out to Congo! Rowan is a student at the University of Manchester studying History and Sociology. He will be staying with us in Impfondo, for the next 5 weeks. We are happy to announce that he will also act as a guest blogger during that time, writing about his thoughts, feelings and experiences of New Sight and the Congo. Enjoy! I am going to the Republic of the Congo (hereafter referred to as Congo) on Friday. This is not the 'unstable' Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) which has featured heavily in Western News in the past 30 years for war and corruption, but is its neighbor. The Congo sits on the Western banks of the river Congo, nestled between Gabon, Cameroon, the Central African Republic, and the DRC. New Sight Congo is a faith based NGO focusing on the prevention and cure of unnecessary blindness in the Likouala region. Founders Joyce and Henri Samoutou have taken me on as a Volunteer Intern for Project Development and Community Outreach for 5 weeks this summer. A lot of people, myself included, have been asking what exactly I will be doing in a small, malaria hot-spot village, which is 10 days ferry journey into the jungle, and which receives about 2-3 hrs of electricity two or three times a week. The answer to that is I don't really know either. Admittedly, I initially sought out this opportunity with a great desire for adventure and personal experience but, having now been involved in helping with some of the logistics of the operation since I finished university, I have begun to develop a real appreciation for what this foundation is trying to do; help other people. So far, I have helped with securing the donation of useful medical equipment from a major drugs company, seeking help in purchasing and transporting a YAG laser machine (for surgery), and have gained a small understanding of the sheer difficulty of organizing a humanitarian project in the middle of Africa. I have high hopes of experiencing and learning about Congolese culture, lifestyle, food and people, and have no doubt that this trip will offer me new perspectives on my comfortable life as an English student in the urban jungle of Manchester. This blog may well become a constructive way for me to document and interpret my time in Congo. Perhaps it will intrigue and inspire others to seek a better understanding of the wild and vibrant Central Africa, a place steeped in ancient cultural, social, anthropological and, in more recent years, tumultuous political history. Alternatively, the blog could simply turn into a conveyor belt for the self-indulgent pontifications of a naive Westerner. Either way, I have enjoyed blogging about my travel experiences in the past, so I intend to continue with that practice. If you have ever read any of my stuff before you will know that I am hilarious, insightful interesting and, naturally, very modest! If you read this blog, I hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to comment on it or get in touch with me. Of course, the posts will be a little more exciting once I am actually there. Thank you or, as I think they say in Lingala, melesi!Guest blog byRowan Cassels-BrownNew Sight Summer Intern http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=52056 52056 Wed, 12 Aug 2015 06:40:00 +0000 Read the latest news from New Sight Congo, as well gain access to past issues and newsletter subscription. Please click here. Thanks. Read the latest news from New Sight Congo, as well gain access to past issues and newsletter subscription. Please click here. Thanks. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=51015 51015 Fri, 1 May 2015 00:10:00 +0000 Our latest news from the Congo jungle! Please click here. Thanks! Our latest news from the Congo jungle! Please click here. Thanks! http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=49830 49830 Thu, 8 Jan 2015 18:00:00 +0000 Greetings from Congo! After a very fruitful marathon business trip for New Sight, the Samoutou family are now back to our home in Congo. Thank God for His protection! We are thrilled to receive support from more and more people from many different countries. Your support and prayers are important to us. We're excited to share with you some latest developments about New Sight in our August Newsletter (English version / Chinese version) Thank you again to all of you! Blessings, The Team at New Sight Congo * If you would like to donate to us, please kindly go to www.newsightcongo.com/donate or email us: info@samoutou.com 從剛果來的祝福！經過一輪馬拉松式公幹後，我們一家已平安回到剛果的家中。感謝神的保守！ 目養計劃收到來自世界各國越來越多人的支持，令我們十分振奮。你們的支持和禱告對我們的團隊是十分重要的。很高興可以透過最新一期的通訊 ( 英文版 / 中文版) 向大家知道我們最新的消息。目養計劃團隊* 如欲捐款支持我們請瀏覽 www.newsightcongo.com/donate 或電郵至info@samoutou.com Greetings from Congo! After a very fruitful marathon business trip for New Sight, the Samoutou family are now back to our home in Congo. Thank God for His protection! We are thrilled to receive support from more and more people from many different countries. Your support and prayers are important to us. We're excited to share with you some latest developments about New Sight in our August Newsletter (English version / Chinese version) Thank you again to all of you! Blessings, The Team at New Sight Congo * If you would like to donate to us, please kindly go to www.newsightcongo.com/donate or email us: info@samoutou.com 從剛果來的祝福！經過一輪馬拉松式公幹後，我們一家已平安回到剛果的家中。感謝神的保守！ 目養計劃收到來自世界各國越來越多人的支持，令我們十分振奮。你們的支持和禱告對我們的團隊是十分重要的。很高興可以透過最新一期的通訊 ( 英文版 / 中文版) 向大家知道我們最新的消息。目養計劃團隊* 如欲捐款支持我們請瀏覽 www.newsightcongo.com/donate 或電郵至info@samoutou.com http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=48241 48241 Fri, 22 Aug 2014 05:52:00 +0000 Thank you for your love, care and prayers. Our family is thrilled to announce that Joyce saw the hospital specialist again this morning and has been given the go-ahead to return to Congo! We will be able to leave the UK on 14 July. If you would like to pray for us, here are some requests: Thank God with us for what we have been able to accomplish during this amazing trip. There is still so much to do. Some definitely have to be done before we leave the UK – please pray that we will be able to do them despite the very short time we have left. Thank God that Joyce has not had any further medical complications. Please continue to pray for Joyce's health, especially that she will be able to cope with the work before us. Please pray for our preparation and journey back to Congo, both the practicalities and the matters of the heart – shopping, packing, and saying goodbyes. We need a miraculous provision of strength, energy, and above all time. Please pray especially for the children as they say goodbye and as they deal with the challenges of re-entering what feels like a very different world – the heat, the mosquitoes, the food, the culture, the standard of living, etc., Please pray for our parents. Both Joyce and Henri are now only children. Please pray for wisdom as we go onto the next level of this big adventure in Congo. Please pray for a school teacher for our children, and for a team to come join us in our work. If you are interested to come, please get in touch! It doesn't hurt to ask for more information! If you are in the UK, chances are we have been thinking of you, and wishing that we had more time to meet and chat on the phone. It had not been easy with Joyce's illness. If we don't get a chance to catch up before we leave, please know that we love and miss you! Thank you again! We appreciate you! Lots of love, Joyce, Henri, with Cherissa, Ezra and Karis Thank you for your love, care and prayers. Our family is thrilled to announce that Joyce saw the hospital specialist again this morning and has been given the go-ahead to return to Congo! We will be able to leave the UK on 14 July. If you would like to pray for us, here are some requests: Thank God with us for what we have been able to accomplish during this amazing trip. There is still so much to do. Some definitely have to be done before we leave the UK – please pray that we will be able to do them despite the very short time we have left. Thank God that Joyce has not had any further medical complications. Please continue to pray for Joyce's health, especially that she will be able to cope with the work before us. Please pray for our preparation and journey back to Congo, both the practicalities and the matters of the heart – shopping, packing, and saying goodbyes. We need a miraculous provision of strength, energy, and above all time. Please pray especially for the children as they say goodbye and as they deal with the challenges of re-entering what feels like a very different world – the heat, the mosquitoes, the food, the culture, the standard of living, etc., Please pray for our parents. Both Joyce and Henri are now only children. Please pray for wisdom as we go onto the next level of this big adventure in Congo. Please pray for a school teacher for our children, and for a team to come join us in our work. If you are interested to come, please get in touch! It doesn't hurt to ask for more information! If you are in the UK, chances are we have been thinking of you, and wishing that we had more time to meet and chat on the phone. It had not been easy with Joyce's illness. If we don't get a chance to catch up before we leave, please know that we love and miss you! Thank you again! We appreciate you! Lots of love, Joyce, Henri, with Cherissa, Ezra and Karis http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=47262 47262 Wed, 2 Jul 2014 07:12:00 +0000 Hi. They do say, 'Better late than never!'. Here is our latest newsletter albeit released in April 14. Please click here for the English version and here for our very first Chinese version!Thank you for your support! Hi. They do say, 'Better late than never!'. Here is our latest newsletter albeit released in April 14. Please click here for the English version and here for our very first Chinese version!Thank you for your support! http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=46787 46787 Tue, 10 Jun 2014 08:29:00 +0000 Up until a week ago, we were all getting sad to leave the UK and excited to fly back to Congo today. However, due to some very unexpected problems with Joyce's health, we had to follow the hospital specialists' advice and remain in the UK for another 6 weeks. We will have another hospital appointment in about a month and if no further complications arise, then we will be released to fly back to Congo on 14 July. If you would like to pray for us, please pray: For healing for Joyce. There is no need for worry. The nature of her illness is not a secret (nor is it embarrassing!), but we just don't want to post such personal details on the web! For Ghislain, the nurse who is holding our eye service on his own in Congo and for our patients For us as we profit from this bonus time to tend to several other important needs of the project For the children and for their educational needs. Ezra started crying when we told him of the delay in return because he 'wants us to go back to Congo to help people.' Just the day be before, he was crying because he didn't want to say goodbye to his grandparents and family For more people to join us in our team in Congo. Our need for help is bigger than ever before. If you are interested, why don't you talk to us? You have nothing to lose just by enquiring! Thank God with us that Joyce's illness happened in civlisation! Thank God that He takes care of us wherever we are and wherever we go. Thank God for His perfect time in everything! Thank God that He works all things together for our good! Thank you for your support and prayers for our family and for New Sight! Up until a week ago, we were all getting sad to leave the UK and excited to fly back to Congo today. However, due to some very unexpected problems with Joyce's health, we had to follow the hospital specialists' advice and remain in the UK for another 6 weeks. We will have another hospital appointment in about a month and if no further complications arise, then we will be released to fly back to Congo on 14 July. If you would like to pray for us, please pray: For healing for Joyce. There is no need for worry. The nature of her illness is not a secret (nor is it embarrassing!), but we just don't want to post such personal details on the web! For Ghislain, the nurse who is holding our eye service on his own in Congo and for our patients For us as we profit from this bonus time to tend to several other important needs of the project For the children and for their educational needs. Ezra started crying when we told him of the delay in return because he 'wants us to go back to Congo to help people.' Just the day be before, he was crying because he didn't want to say goodbye to his grandparents and family For more people to join us in our team in Congo. Our need for help is bigger than ever before. If you are interested, why don't you talk to us? You have nothing to lose just by enquiring! Thank God with us that Joyce's illness happened in civlisation! Thank God that He takes care of us wherever we are and wherever we go. Thank God for His perfect time in everything! Thank God that He works all things together for our good! Thank you for your support and prayers for our family and for New Sight! http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=46756 46756 Sun, 8 Jun 2014 04:16:00 +0000 10 things I am most looking forward to as we re-enter civilisation: Sharing with our supporters about all the exciting things that we are doing together in Congo; Thanking people face to face No ants or bugs crawling on my body, in my food and in my drinks Hot showers Being able to put and flush the toilet paper in the toilet bowl Sashimi and food (any) Not worrying about being out of fuel, water, electricity, phone signals, toiletries and homeschooling supplies; Being able to buy and replace things as needed Not sweating all the time; No heat induced ezcema; No insect bites Internet from the comforts of my home A world that involves less waiting, that is more organised, more efficient, and where things are more likely to go according to plan. Seeing family and friends tops the list! 10 things I am most anxious about in the upcoming trip and would appreciate prayers: Sharing with our supporters about all the exciting things that we are doing together in Congo – the bits that involve speaking in public; meeting new people; too many things to share and not knowing from where to start The children's transition. Reverse culture shock. That they won't want to come back to Congo Putting on weight because of the good food and comforts of the 21st century Travelling on my own with the kids for 4 days before we arrive in Hong Kong Our belongings left behind in our home in Congo can get eaten and destroyed by bugs, mould, rats and lightning Being able to accomplish all that we need within the timeframe of the trip – finding volunteers, funds, materials and resources for construction and clinical work; consolidating the infrastructure of the charity Finding a car to use in the UK Steep learning curve required across a whole range of things – especially nervous about coming to grips with construction, water drilling and filtration, generators and solar powers, packing and shipping a container I know I shouldn't think about it yet but I am already preparing myself and the kids for when we have to come back to Congo and say the painful goodbyes again. Being away from Henri, missing him and needing him – this one definitely tops the list Really looking forward to seeing you if possible! You are cordially invited to our gathering at City University, Hong Kong Sat 18 Jan, 3-5pmIt is going to be super fun and special! For more details, please click here. To RSVP, please click here. 10 things I am most looking forward to as we re-enter civilisation: Sharing with our supporters about all the exciting things that we are doing together in Congo; Thanking people face to face No ants or bugs crawling on my body, in my food and in my drinks Hot showers Being able to put and flush the toilet paper in the toilet bowl Sashimi and food (any) Not worrying about being out of fuel, water, electricity, phone signals, toiletries and homeschooling supplies; Being able to buy and replace things as needed Not sweating all the time; No heat induced ezcema; No insect bites Internet from the comforts of my home A world that involves less waiting, that is more organised, more efficient, and where things are more likely to go according to plan. Seeing family and friends tops the list! 10 things I am most anxious about in the upcoming trip and would appreciate prayers: Sharing with our supporters about all the exciting things that we are doing together in Congo – the bits that involve speaking in public; meeting new people; too many things to share and not knowing from where to start The children's transition. Reverse culture shock. That they won't want to come back to Congo Putting on weight because of the good food and comforts of the 21st century Travelling on my own with the kids for 4 days before we arrive in Hong Kong Our belongings left behind in our home in Congo can get eaten and destroyed by bugs, mould, rats and lightning Being able to accomplish all that we need within the timeframe of the trip – finding volunteers, funds, materials and resources for construction and clinical work; consolidating the infrastructure of the charity Finding a car to use in the UK Steep learning curve required across a whole range of things – especially nervous about coming to grips with construction, water drilling and filtration, generators and solar powers, packing and shipping a container I know I shouldn't think about it yet but I am already preparing myself and the kids for when we have to come back to Congo and say the painful goodbyes again. Being away from Henri, missing him and needing him – this one definitely tops the list Really looking forward to seeing you if possible! You are cordially invited to our gathering at City University, Hong Kong Sat 18 Jan, 3-5pmIt is going to be super fun and special! For more details, please click here. To RSVP, please click here. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=44863 44863 Fri, 3 Jan 2014 05:14:00 +0000 Dear T, How are you? I have been thinking a lot about you and what you wrote in your last email. You wrote: 'I am still seriously considering homeschooling but it's really 'not the done thing' amongst our friends and family. So it's quite hard to make the leap.' I have been praying for you as you make important decisions about your children's education. When we moved to Congo, our decision to homeschool was made entirely by default. Like you, homeschooling was 'not the done thing' amongst our friends and family. In fact, homeschooling is illegal in my home country. Whilst I applauded other homeschoolers, I would never have even considered homeschooling if we had another choice. Our children loved schools and thrived in them. So why would we not leave such an important task to the professionals and let our kids enjoy the company of their peers? Secretly, I couldn't understand why anyone would want to homeschool if they had a choice. The only explanation I could give myself was that homeschooling mums must be of another species. Unlike me, they were angelic selfless mother-earths who devoted their lives and sanity to their children. They were natural homemakers who patiently brought their children up in the most wholesome manner as they baked and sewed. As for me, I was such a task-oriented person that I struggled to be people-oriented even when it came to my own children. I simply do not have that kind of mothering gene, just like I don't have the gene to be slim! I was in awe of, and truth be told, intimidated by these supermoms. Most of our first year of homeschooling was filled with frustration and tears, for both my daughter and I. I was consumed by guilt and fear that our children were robbed of their potential. There were no opportunities for them to learn from extra-curricular classes and museums. But more fundamentally, in a nutshell… as a teacher… I sucked. In August, as we approached the start of the dreaded new school year, I started crying out to God in utter despair. The situation was so disastrous that I thought that the best that I could hope for was for homeschool to turn out ok, and for us to learn to accept it. But God came through in the most magnificent way. Never in my wildest dream could I have imagined that we would actually not just bear it, but love it! Yes, thanks to people praying for us, we actually love homeschooling! I can hardly believe this miraculous change myself! So what changed? The first thing I realised was that I was always hoping and waiting for someone to answer our advertisement for a teacher. I woke up to the reality that until God answers our prayers and brings us a teacher, I was 'it'. So for now, until further notice, the solution is not for a teacher coming to Congo. The solution is for me to become a better teacher. In life, we often put our hope in waiting for circumstances to change, when all along, we ourselves can change. I had to face the reality that the only way I could become a better teacher was to put in more time and effort. But like everybody else, my days are already too full. One dear friend advised me, 'Joyce, something's gotta give!' I reviewed my list of responsibilities and I sighed - they are all important! None of them can go! It was so hard to let go, but I did it, because it had to be done. It came to me that even if everything else goes well, if I do not give my best to the kids, my conscience will never be clear, and I will never be at peace. So I gave up my part-time clinical work at the hospital (even though I felt like I let my overworked colleagues and patients down - I now only admin and logistics work). I now turn my phone off during school hours. Because we live in the hospital, people are always coming by. I put up signs on the doors to ask people not to disturb us during school hours unless blood is involved. If the kids are working on something that doesn't require my help, I prepare for my next lesson rather than start tackling the pile of work from New Sight that is legitimately breathing down my neck. As I gave 100% to the schoolwork, so did my students! Do I like the fact that some other things had slipped as a result? No! But I am far happier now. Sometimes, we have to let some things slip so that the things that really matter can become better. As I took the time to invest in my children's education, I was awakened to all the learning opportunities that had always been there and yet I had never noticed before. Whilst we do not have theatre or galleries to go on field trips to, we went on field trips to see our visitors install generators, weld gates, and perform mass health screening. We went to mud houses, walk in the jungle with the Pygmies and visit the Mexican nun at the refugee camp. Whilst we do not have many resources to do lab experiments, we learnt anatomy when we had to kill and gut chickens. Whilst we do not have outside speakers and performing groups, we have short-term visitors and long term humanitarian aid workers from all over the world. Just this month, we were shown photos and had the most interesting talks on Albania, Senegal, France, Montenegro, the Netherlands, Montana, Connecticut, Minnesota, and New York! There are countless opportunities to learn everywhere – we just have to realise that some of them are not doors, but windows of opportunities! So entering through windows is unconventional, but it sure is fun! Whilst I will always prize the many benefits of traditional schools, I can now appreciate the gems that homeschool offers. Our son just turned 5 and isn't all that interested in any conventional learning / the 3 Rs (Reading, wRiting and aRithmetic). However, he loves countries, maps and flags. So we bought a book of flags online and asked a visitor to bring it. He spends hours each day happily drawing flags (art and pattern recognition), counting the strips and stars (numbers), and copying the names of the countries to label his flags (writing). He draws flags on his pictures of racing cars and rugby matches. Through them, he learns all the things that the textbook that he has no interest in says he should learn. He gets to choose and read all that fascinates him. Homeschool allows us the freedom to tailor-make learning according to the students' interests and learning styles. Being a control freak, I usually thrive on schedules and order. However, I have come to appreciate the flexibility that homeschool offers. For example, if my child becomes frustrated by a new math concept, she can go practise the piano first. Half an hour later, the music has calmed her down and she comes back with a smile, ready to give the math another try. A class would not be able to accommodate that degree of freedom. I used to focus on ticking the boxes of things for my kids to learn as quickly as possible. Now we take our time to soak in and explore anything that fascinates us. I grew up with rigid curriculums and intense exam pressures. I am so thankful that my children get to really love learning. If I have the choice now, I am still not sure that I will choose homeschool. Having said that, I am learning to embrace this season. God has a funny way of bringing some incredible blessings that I would have missed if I had not been 'forced' into homeschooling. Perhaps homeschooling is His way to force task-oriented me to slow down and spend time with my children before it is too late. Perhaps it is His way of allowing us the opportunity to pass onto our children all that is dear to our family - we study, write and memorises scriptures for Language Arts; we learn Chinese, Lingala and French; we study Gabon and Hong Kong - subjects that do not appear in any conventional curriculums. Sometimes, what initially feels like a painful mess brings forth the most unexpected and delightful of fruits. Both homeschool and traditional school have its pros and cons. At the end of the day, it is about what is right for your children for this season. Out of all the people in this world, God chose you and R to be the parents of your children. As you seek God, you will definitely know what you should do. Keep in touch. So proud of you and R. Lots of love,Joyce PS We are still looking for help with child care and teaching though. If you know anyone who may be interested in coming out to help us in Congo e.g. a gap year student or someone wanting a sabbatical, please forward them this and let us know! Thanks! Dear T, How are you? I have been thinking a lot about you and what you wrote in your last email. You wrote: 'I am still seriously considering homeschooling but it's really 'not the done thing' amongst our friends and family. So it's quite hard to make the leap.' I have been praying for you as you make important decisions about your children's education. When we moved to Congo, our decision to homeschool was made entirely by default. Like you, homeschooling was 'not the done thing' amongst our friends and family. In fact, homeschooling is illegal in my home country. Whilst I applauded other homeschoolers, I would never have even considered homeschooling if we had another choice. Our children loved schools and thrived in them. So why would we not leave such an important task to the professionals and let our kids enjoy the company of their peers? Secretly, I couldn't understand why anyone would want to homeschool if they had a choice. The only explanation I could give myself was that homeschooling mums must be of another species. Unlike me, they were angelic selfless mother-earths who devoted their lives and sanity to their children. They were natural homemakers who patiently brought their children up in the most wholesome manner as they baked and sewed. As for me, I was such a task-oriented person that I struggled to be people-oriented even when it came to my own children. I simply do not have that kind of mothering gene, just like I don't have the gene to be slim! I was in awe of, and truth be told, intimidated by these supermoms. Most of our first year of homeschooling was filled with frustration and tears, for both my daughter and I. I was consumed by guilt and fear that our children were robbed of their potential. There were no opportunities for them to learn from extra-curricular classes and museums. But more fundamentally, in a nutshell… as a teacher… I sucked. In August, as we approached the start of the dreaded new school year, I started crying out to God in utter despair. The situation was so disastrous that I thought that the best that I could hope for was for homeschool to turn out ok, and for us to learn to accept it. But God came through in the most magnificent way. Never in my wildest dream could I have imagined that we would actually not just bear it, but love it! Yes, thanks to people praying for us, we actually love homeschooling! I can hardly believe this miraculous change myself! So what changed? The first thing I realised was that I was always hoping and waiting for someone to answer our advertisement for a teacher. I woke up to the reality that until God answers our prayers and brings us a teacher, I was 'it'. So for now, until further notice, the solution is not for a teacher coming to Congo. The solution is for me to become a better teacher. In life, we often put our hope in waiting for circumstances to change, when all along, we ourselves can change. I had to face the reality that the only way I could become a better teacher was to put in more time and effort. But like everybody else, my days are already too full. One dear friend advised me, 'Joyce, something's gotta give!' I reviewed my list of responsibilities and I sighed - they are all important! None of them can go! It was so hard to let go, but I did it, because it had to be done. It came to me that even if everything else goes well, if I do not give my best to the kids, my conscience will never be clear, and I will never be at peace. So I gave up my part-time clinical work at the hospital (even though I felt like I let my overworked colleagues and patients down - I now only admin and logistics work). I now turn my phone off during school hours. Because we live in the hospital, people are always coming by. I put up signs on the doors to ask people not to disturb us during school hours unless blood is involved. If the kids are working on something that doesn't require my help, I prepare for my next lesson rather than start tackling the pile of work from New Sight that is legitimately breathing down my neck. As I gave 100% to the schoolwork, so did my students! Do I like the fact that some other things had slipped as a result? No! But I am far happier now. Sometimes, we have to let some things slip so that the things that really matter can become better. As I took the time to invest in my children's education, I was awakened to all the learning opportunities that had always been there and yet I had never noticed before. Whilst we do not have theatre or galleries to go on field trips to, we went on field trips to see our visitors install generators, weld gates, and perform mass health screening. We went to mud houses, walk in the jungle with the Pygmies and visit the Mexican nun at the refugee camp. Whilst we do not have many resources to do lab experiments, we learnt anatomy when we had to kill and gut chickens. Whilst we do not have outside speakers and performing groups, we have short-term visitors and long term humanitarian aid workers from all over the world. Just this month, we were shown photos and had the most interesting talks on Albania, Senegal, France, Montenegro, the Netherlands, Montana, Connecticut, Minnesota, and New York! There are countless opportunities to learn everywhere – we just have to realise that some of them are not doors, but windows of opportunities! So entering through windows is unconventional, but it sure is fun! Whilst I will always prize the many benefits of traditional schools, I can now appreciate the gems that homeschool offers. Our son just turned 5 and isn't all that interested in any conventional learning / the 3 Rs (Reading, wRiting and aRithmetic). However, he loves countries, maps and flags. So we bought a book of flags online and asked a visitor to bring it. He spends hours each day happily drawing flags (art and pattern recognition), counting the strips and stars (numbers), and copying the names of the countries to label his flags (writing). He draws flags on his pictures of racing cars and rugby matches. Through them, he learns all the things that the textbook that he has no interest in says he should learn. He gets to choose and read all that fascinates him. Homeschool allows us the freedom to tailor-make learning according to the students' interests and learning styles. Being a control freak, I usually thrive on schedules and order. However, I have come to appreciate the flexibility that homeschool offers. For example, if my child becomes frustrated by a new math concept, she can go practise the piano first. Half an hour later, the music has calmed her down and she comes back with a smile, ready to give the math another try. A class would not be able to accommodate that degree of freedom. I used to focus on ticking the boxes of things for my kids to learn as quickly as possible. Now we take our time to soak in and explore anything that fascinates us. I grew up with rigid curriculums and intense exam pressures. I am so thankful that my children get to really love learning. If I have the choice now, I am still not sure that I will choose homeschool. Having said that, I am learning to embrace this season. God has a funny way of bringing some incredible blessings that I would have missed if I had not been 'forced' into homeschooling. Perhaps homeschooling is His way to force task-oriented me to slow down and spend time with my children before it is too late. Perhaps it is His way of allowing us the opportunity to pass onto our children all that is dear to our family - we study, write and memorises scriptures for Language Arts; we learn Chinese, Lingala and French; we study Gabon and Hong Kong - subjects that do not appear in any conventional curriculums. Sometimes, what initially feels like a painful mess brings forth the most unexpected and delightful of fruits. Both homeschool and traditional school have its pros and cons. At the end of the day, it is about what is right for your children for this season. Out of all the people in this world, God chose you and R to be the parents of your children. As you seek God, you will definitely know what you should do. Keep in touch. So proud of you and R. Lots of love,Joyce PS We are still looking for help with child care and teaching though. If you know anyone who may be interested in coming out to help us in Congo e.g. a gap year student or someone wanting a sabbatical, please forward them this and let us know! Thanks! http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=44671 44671 Sat, 14 Dec 2013 08:10:00 +0000 I am sorry that I have not written here for a long time. Let me bring you up to speed with some of the things that have happened since I last wrote. We did go to Panga, the beach in Gabon where I first answered God's call to Africa 13 years ago. God did speak to me again. I was refreshed. I was strengthened. I felt ready for Congo again. We did come back to Impfondo, the hospital in Congo where we have been serving since April 2012. We unpacked our bags. We kicked off an exciting new season. Then within 2 weeks, out of the blue, we received the phone call that turned our world upside down. I felt ready again… but this time to leave Congo. Henri was the youngest of 12 children. Ten of his eleven siblings died before he was born. His mother was so discouraged that she did not give Henri his father's surname 'Mouboumbi'. Instead, she gave Henri the surname 'Samoutou', which in their dialect meant 'no hope'. She then died when he was about four years old. Henri's elderly and blind father fell earlier this year and became bed-bound. It has always been very hard for us not to physically be there to take care of him. Our weak consolation was that he was being lovingly cared for by Henri's one remaining living brother Julian. And then, the phone call came from Gabon to tell us that Julian was on a business trip when he started complaining about a headache. By the time they reached the hospital, he was already in a coma. A few days later, he died. He left behind a shocked and devastated wife and 8 children, the youngest of which was only 3 years old. Henri hurried home to Gabon to support his family during this heart-breaking time and to settle his father's future that now looked more unsettling than ever. I cannot imagine what it must be like for Henri's frail blind father. He is an incredibly strong man, but how is one to endure the pain of mourning at his child's funeral for the 11th time!? I cannot imagine how much it cost Henri and his father to let Henri come back to Congo this time. Our four-year-old son Ezra asked, 'Why did they bury Tonton (Uncle) Julian?'Our eight-year-old answered, 'Because he died.'Ezra said, frowning, 'But I don't get it! He was young! He was well! He was healthy! It doesn't make any sense!' Son, we don't get it either. It really doesn't make any sense. To work in a remote backward foreign land can be frustrating. To live without the conveniences and comforts of 21st century can be tough. To be far away from loved ones can be painful. (I sulked about all this at my previous blog: Trip to Gabon Part 1) But nothing can even begin to compare with how hard it is for us to be away from Henri's dad now. He is too frail to travel to Congo to live with us. Yet we still feel that we are called to stay and serve in Congo. We don't get it. It doesn't make any sense. Of course, when we answered God's call, we knew that we would have to leave our beloved families and make certain sacrifices. But this,.. THIS!?!? Surely, now that circumstances have changed, God will change His calling and His plans?! Surely, it only makes sense for us to leave Congo to go look after Henri's father in Gabon?! Surely, we can come back to Congo a few years down the line?! Surely, if we stay in Congo, we will be the heartless fanatics who lost the plot and abandoned family in the name of God?! Surely, such a bad testimony will drive people away from God?! It is cruel not to be with our own father when he needs us more than ever! How can God expect or ask us to leave a blind old bedbound father to be without his now only son? Don't you get it, God? It doesn't make any sense! Oswald Chambers wrote, 'If we obey God, it is going to cost other people more than it costs us, and that is where the sting comes in… We can disobey God if we choose, but we shall be a grief to our Lord. Whereas if we obey God, He will look after those who have been pressed into the consequences of our obedience. We have simply to obey and to leave all consequences with Him.' God, we don't get it. It doesn't make any sense. And it stings. But we choose to obey and leave all consequences with you, God, 'because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him for that day.' (2 Tim 1:12) If we 'get it', we do not need faith. If it makes sense, we do not need faith. We don't have to 'get it' and it doesn't have to make sense because we do not walk by sight, logic or reasoning. We walk by faith. Yes, we don't get it. But then I also don't get how God can create all the amazing animals and intricate eco-systems. I don't get how big and complex the universe is. And I certainly don't get how the Almighty Holy God would love, adore and use a dim-witted fickle spoilt-brat like me. Some things are not supposed to make sense. God says, 'For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways… As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.' (Isaiah 55:9) Therefore, 'Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.' (Proverbs 3:5) We don't need to 'get it' to trust Him. We don't need it to make sense to trust Him. This is because we don't trust with our understanding. We trust with our hearts. He has completely won over our hearts, and so we can trust Him with all our hearts. One day, we will look back, we will get it, and it will make perfect sense. We will see the higher way that God met all our needs including our need for Henri's father's needs to be met (Phil 4:19). Until that day, we will keep on believing and trusting, for we are 'confident of this: we will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord' (Psalm 27:14). In loving memory of Julian.We miss you. I am sorry that I have not written here for a long time. Let me bring you up to speed with some of the things that have happened since I last wrote. We did go to Panga, the beach in Gabon where I first answered God's call to Africa 13 years ago. God did speak to me again. I was refreshed. I was strengthened. I felt ready for Congo again. We did come back to Impfondo, the hospital in Congo where we have been serving since April 2012. We unpacked our bags. We kicked off an exciting new season. Then within 2 weeks, out of the blue, we received the phone call that turned our world upside down. I felt ready again… but this time to leave Congo. Henri was the youngest of 12 children. Ten of his eleven siblings died before he was born. His mother was so discouraged that she did not give Henri his father's surname 'Mouboumbi'. Instead, she gave Henri the surname 'Samoutou', which in their dialect meant 'no hope'. She then died when he was about four years old. Henri's elderly and blind father fell earlier this year and became bed-bound. It has always been very hard for us not to physically be there to take care of him. Our weak consolation was that he was being lovingly cared for by Henri's one remaining living brother Julian. And then, the phone call came from Gabon to tell us that Julian was on a business trip when he started complaining about a headache. By the time they reached the hospital, he was already in a coma. A few days later, he died. He left behind a shocked and devastated wife and 8 children, the youngest of which was only 3 years old. Henri hurried home to Gabon to support his family during this heart-breaking time and to settle his father's future that now looked more unsettling than ever. I cannot imagine what it must be like for Henri's frail blind father. He is an incredibly strong man, but how is one to endure the pain of mourning at his child's funeral for the 11th time!? I cannot imagine how much it cost Henri and his father to let Henri come back to Congo this time. Our four-year-old son Ezra asked, 'Why did they bury Tonton (Uncle) Julian?'Our eight-year-old answered, 'Because he died.'Ezra said, frowning, 'But I don't get it! He was young! He was well! He was healthy! It doesn't make any sense!' Son, we don't get it either. It really doesn't make any sense. To work in a remote backward foreign land can be frustrating. To live without the conveniences and comforts of 21st century can be tough. To be far away from loved ones can be painful. (I sulked about all this at my previous blog: Trip to Gabon Part 1) But nothing can even begin to compare with how hard it is for us to be away from Henri's dad now. He is too frail to travel to Congo to live with us. Yet we still feel that we are called to stay and serve in Congo. We don't get it. It doesn't make any sense. Of course, when we answered God's call, we knew that we would have to leave our beloved families and make certain sacrifices. But this,.. THIS!?!? Surely, now that circumstances have changed, God will change His calling and His plans?! Surely, it only makes sense for us to leave Congo to go look after Henri's father in Gabon?! Surely, we can come back to Congo a few years down the line?! Surely, if we stay in Congo, we will be the heartless fanatics who lost the plot and abandoned family in the name of God?! Surely, such a bad testimony will drive people away from God?! It is cruel not to be with our own father when he needs us more than ever! How can God expect or ask us to leave a blind old bedbound father to be without his now only son? Don't you get it, God? It doesn't make any sense! Oswald Chambers wrote, 'If we obey God, it is going to cost other people more than it costs us, and that is where the sting comes in… We can disobey God if we choose, but we shall be a grief to our Lord. Whereas if we obey God, He will look after those who have been pressed into the consequences of our obedience. We have simply to obey and to leave all consequences with Him.' God, we don't get it. It doesn't make any sense. And it stings. But we choose to obey and leave all consequences with you, God, 'because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him for that day.' (2 Tim 1:12) If we 'get it', we do not need faith. If it makes sense, we do not need faith. We don't have to 'get it' and it doesn't have to make sense because we do not walk by sight, logic or reasoning. We walk by faith. Yes, we don't get it. But then I also don't get how God can create all the amazing animals and intricate eco-systems. I don't get how big and complex the universe is. And I certainly don't get how the Almighty Holy God would love, adore and use a dim-witted fickle spoilt-brat like me. Some things are not supposed to make sense. God says, 'For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways… As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.' (Isaiah 55:9) Therefore, 'Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.' (Proverbs 3:5) We don't need to 'get it' to trust Him. We don't need it to make sense to trust Him. This is because we don't trust with our understanding. We trust with our hearts. He has completely won over our hearts, and so we can trust Him with all our hearts. One day, we will look back, we will get it, and it will make perfect sense. We will see the higher way that God met all our needs including our need for Henri's father's needs to be met (Phil 4:19). Until that day, we will keep on believing and trusting, for we are 'confident of this: we will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord' (Psalm 27:14). In loving memory of Julian.We miss you. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=44436 44436 Wed, 27 Nov 2013 05:11:00 +0000 Hello! Sorry that it's been such a long time since we wrote in our blog. We have lots to bring you up to speed with and will certainly write again. But for now, for a super special annoucement, please read New Sight's latest newsletter here. Thank you! Hello! Sorry that it's been such a long time since we wrote in our blog. We have lots to bring you up to speed with and will certainly write again. But for now, for a super special annoucement, please read New Sight's latest newsletter here. Thank you! http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=44383 44383 Sat, 23 Nov 2013 17:27:00 +0000 It has been a long awaited trip. We have not taken any annual leave or holiday for nearly 2 years! Last year, we didn't take them because our hospital director was in the States on furlough. A few weeks ago, Henri's elderly and blind father in Gabon fell and became bedbound. We therefore decided to make a trip to Gabon to see him, as well as spend some time with our dear friends in Bongolo Hospital, where Henri and I met and served. Before we could travel to Gabon, we had to first renew our long-term visas for Congo. Our humanitarian aid visas were supposed to be free, but the immigration staff asked us to pay USD2000! They told us that if we did not pay, then the application process could be 'indefinite'. When we explained about Henri's frail father, they said that if we really wanted to travel, there was nothing stopping us from abandoning our visa application, leave Congo and not come back. They knew about our non-profit medical work, but they acted like they could not care less about our efforts to help their country. I wondered if perhaps our clinic did not matter to them as they could afford to travel to France or South Africa for their own medical care. As I started to fume, I realised that subconsciously, I felt that Congo should be somewhat grateful to us, and that they should support our being here. I was forced to examine my arrogance. I swallowed humble pie as I was reminded to love as Christ loves us and wants us to love – unconditionally - without any expectation of recognition or appreciation. Last year, Congolese Immigration lost all our passports without an apology. We had to do our own detective work to retrieve them! This year, after 9 lengthy visits to an initially hostile immigration office and lots of deep breaths, we finally received our visas! They ended up being free (Ya-hoo!). They were supposed to be for 3 years but Immigration only gave us 1 year. I guess God knows that I will need more practice in patience again in a year! Cherissa and I have not been back to Gabon since we left 5 years ago. Ezra and Karis, our younger two, have never been. They have never met their Gabonese grandfather and family. It has been wonderful to see them connect so naturally with our family, discover their roots and take pride in their breathtakingly beautiful country. For them, Gabon used to be an abstract country on the map. The night we arrived, Cherissa said, 'I am starting to remember… Now I really feel like a Gabonese!' Our children knew that they were half Gabonese, but now they feel it in their bones! As for me, it has been very emotional. I desolved into tears as I jumped with excitement when I was reunited with friends. I swelled with pride and happiness as I witnessed the amazing work our former colleagues have accomplished through hard work, faith and sacrifice. From the pavillion where Henri and I met, to the things that we gave away, to our grateful patients who can now see again, there were just too many memories. When I first met Henri, God gave me the following bible verse, 'Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.' This trip is the first time that I have ever felt the Gabonese to be my people. Here, unlike in Congo, I am welcomed, accepted and loved. I can belong. All of me screams, 'Why should we serve in Congo when we can serve in Gabon?' The non-profit eye centre that we left behind in Gabon continues to be self-sufficient, performing on average 100 operations a month with a 9-month waiting list. The precious village church we planted continues to grow and shine. The hospital we served is thriving and has several exciting projects in the pipeline. It has grown into a fantastic team of 17 doctors, 3 nurses, a mechanic, an administrator, a bookkeeper, a pharmacy / warehouse co-ordinator, a teacher, a logistics agent and a visitors' co-ordinator. In contrast, our hospital in Congo, with us away, only has 1 doctor who is on call 24-7 in addition to fulfilling several non-clinical roles. If we were to come back to Gabon, we could be part of something incredibly exciting, adequately staffed and well run. Everywhere, Henri is bumping into patients and staff sincerely and enthusiastically asking us to come back. 'Why should we serve in Congo when we can serve in Gabon?' Here in Gabon, we feel like we are living in a 5-star hotel (Never thought I'd say that when we lived in the rainforest before. It's all relative. I wonder how we will cope when we revisit the developed world!). Oh the joys of stable electricity, internet, TV, lovely fans, lights that are not dim, and cookers that are not camping stoves / fire hazards! It is AMAZING to have hot showers rather than buckets of cold rusty water. Our children are discovering the new world of washing machine, microwave, toaster, freezer and electric kettle. (FYI, the reason we can't run these mod cons in Congo is because our electric system cannot support them, and our town is often out of fuel.) We keep forgetting that we can now put toilet paper down the toilet rather than in a bin. Call me sad, but I love having laundry soap that makes our clothes smell nice and keeps our towels soft. Dishwashing is actually enjoyable because the water pressure is not dribbling and who knew liquid soap could bring such delight! We are completely overwhelmed by the variety of food that is available. Normally, when we are in Congo, we can only buy 48 items of food where salt, pepper, oil and tea bags count as individual items. When I talk with the amazing teacher for the lovely Missionary Kids in the well-equipped schoolroom and library that we helped set up, I had to fight mother's guilt with all my might. Since we left Gabon, there are now good roads bringing supplies from the capital. There is even a plane and pilot for the hospital! I battle with jealousy as I think of the Gabonese hospital having a plane when they now have good roads, when we don't even have a road to our hospital in Congo! For sure our friends in Gabon have their own set of challenges and difficulties, but for us visiting, it is so refreshing and liberating not to live in a place where so many things seem to be lacking! 'Why should we serve in Congo when we can serve in Gabon?' It was hard visiting our old home here in Gabon. It was such a stark and painful contrast to our living conditions in Congo. It brought back all the memories of how it made no sense to us when God told us to leave Gabon 5 years ago. We were enjoying a fruitful ministry, wonderful friends, a big beautiful home that we lovingly renovated, and a lifestyle that we could cope with with relative ease. Now we are faced with what seems like obstacles upon obstacles, challenging isolation and living standards that are far inferior to what we enjoyed. Congo doesn't seem to even want us, let alone appreciate us! 'Why should we serve in Congo when we can serve in Gabon?' We tell ourselves that compared to our Congolese neighbours who struggle even to put food on the table, we should be thankful. We tell ourselves what a privilege it is to be able to restore sight and transform lives. We tell ourselves that people in Congo are much poorer, that their needs are much more desperate, and that very few people seem to be interested in helping them. We tell ourselves that we are only beginning in Congo and that one day, with hard work and perseverance, things will change. But I know that deep down, the honest truth is that I care a lot more about our immediate comfort and our children's development than anyone else, no matter how poor and needy they are. So for selfish, spoilt and impatient me, it comes down to this and this alone: God called us to Congo. We trust Him. We follow Him. Is it hard? You should have seen me swallowing hard the ugly head of self-pity and fighting back tears. Do I struggle? Hell yes! As I kick and scream like a crazy toddler, God quiets me with His indescribable love (Well, He is working on it). This Saturday, we will travel to the beach where I first responded to God's call to Africa 13 years ago. I am looking forward to going back to my Bethel, hear God speak, build an altar and lay my life down again. I am struggling at the moment, but I am expectant. Watch this space. It has been a long awaited trip. We have not taken any annual leave or holiday for nearly 2 years! Last year, we didn't take them because our hospital director was in the States on furlough. A few weeks ago, Henri's elderly and blind father in Gabon fell and became bedbound. We therefore decided to make a trip to Gabon to see him, as well as spend some time with our dear friends in Bongolo Hospital, where Henri and I met and served. Before we could travel to Gabon, we had to first renew our long-term visas for Congo. Our humanitarian aid visas were supposed to be free, but the immigration staff asked us to pay USD2000! They told us that if we did not pay, then the application process could be 'indefinite'. When we explained about Henri's frail father, they said that if we really wanted to travel, there was nothing stopping us from abandoning our visa application, leave Congo and not come back. They knew about our non-profit medical work, but they acted like they could not care less about our efforts to help their country. I wondered if perhaps our clinic did not matter to them as they could afford to travel to France or South Africa for their own medical care. As I started to fume, I realised that subconsciously, I felt that Congo should be somewhat grateful to us, and that they should support our being here. I was forced to examine my arrogance. I swallowed humble pie as I was reminded to love as Christ loves us and wants us to love – unconditionally - without any expectation of recognition or appreciation. Last year, Congolese Immigration lost all our passports without an apology. We had to do our own detective work to retrieve them! This year, after 9 lengthy visits to an initially hostile immigration office and lots of deep breaths, we finally received our visas! They ended up being free (Ya-hoo!). They were supposed to be for 3 years but Immigration only gave us 1 year. I guess God knows that I will need more practice in patience again in a year! Cherissa and I have not been back to Gabon since we left 5 years ago. Ezra and Karis, our younger two, have never been. They have never met their Gabonese grandfather and family. It has been wonderful to see them connect so naturally with our family, discover their roots and take pride in their breathtakingly beautiful country. For them, Gabon used to be an abstract country on the map. The night we arrived, Cherissa said, 'I am starting to remember… Now I really feel like a Gabonese!' Our children knew that they were half Gabonese, but now they feel it in their bones! As for me, it has been very emotional. I desolved into tears as I jumped with excitement when I was reunited with friends. I swelled with pride and happiness as I witnessed the amazing work our former colleagues have accomplished through hard work, faith and sacrifice. From the pavillion where Henri and I met, to the things that we gave away, to our grateful patients who can now see again, there were just too many memories. When I first met Henri, God gave me the following bible verse, 'Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.' This trip is the first time that I have ever felt the Gabonese to be my people. Here, unlike in Congo, I am welcomed, accepted and loved. I can belong. All of me screams, 'Why should we serve in Congo when we can serve in Gabon?' The non-profit eye centre that we left behind in Gabon continues to be self-sufficient, performing on average 100 operations a month with a 9-month waiting list. The precious village church we planted continues to grow and shine. The hospital we served is thriving and has several exciting projects in the pipeline. It has grown into a fantastic team of 17 doctors, 3 nurses, a mechanic, an administrator, a bookkeeper, a pharmacy / warehouse co-ordinator, a teacher, a logistics agent and a visitors' co-ordinator. In contrast, our hospital in Congo, with us away, only has 1 doctor who is on call 24-7 in addition to fulfilling several non-clinical roles. If we were to come back to Gabon, we could be part of something incredibly exciting, adequately staffed and well run. Everywhere, Henri is bumping into patients and staff sincerely and enthusiastically asking us to come back. 'Why should we serve in Congo when we can serve in Gabon?' Here in Gabon, we feel like we are living in a 5-star hotel (Never thought I'd say that when we lived in the rainforest before. It's all relative. I wonder how we will cope when we revisit the developed world!). Oh the joys of stable electricity, internet, TV, lovely fans, lights that are not dim, and cookers that are not camping stoves / fire hazards! It is AMAZING to have hot showers rather than buckets of cold rusty water. Our children are discovering the new world of washing machine, microwave, toaster, freezer and electric kettle. (FYI, the reason we can't run these mod cons in Congo is because our electric system cannot support them, and our town is often out of fuel.) We keep forgetting that we can now put toilet paper down the toilet rather than in a bin. Call me sad, but I love having laundry soap that makes our clothes smell nice and keeps our towels soft. Dishwashing is actually enjoyable because the water pressure is not dribbling and who knew liquid soap could bring such delight! We are completely overwhelmed by the variety of food that is available. Normally, when we are in Congo, we can only buy 48 items of food where salt, pepper, oil and tea bags count as individual items. When I talk with the amazing teacher for the lovely Missionary Kids in the well-equipped schoolroom and library that we helped set up, I had to fight mother's guilt with all my might. Since we left Gabon, there are now good roads bringing supplies from the capital. There is even a plane and pilot for the hospital! I battle with jealousy as I think of the Gabonese hospital having a plane when they now have good roads, when we don't even have a road to our hospital in Congo! For sure our friends in Gabon have their own set of challenges and difficulties, but for us visiting, it is so refreshing and liberating not to live in a place where so many things seem to be lacking! 'Why should we serve in Congo when we can serve in Gabon?' It was hard visiting our old home here in Gabon. It was such a stark and painful contrast to our living conditions in Congo. It brought back all the memories of how it made no sense to us when God told us to leave Gabon 5 years ago. We were enjoying a fruitful ministry, wonderful friends, a big beautiful home that we lovingly renovated, and a lifestyle that we could cope with with relative ease. Now we are faced with what seems like obstacles upon obstacles, challenging isolation and living standards that are far inferior to what we enjoyed. Congo doesn't seem to even want us, let alone appreciate us! 'Why should we serve in Congo when we can serve in Gabon?' We tell ourselves that compared to our Congolese neighbours who struggle even to put food on the table, we should be thankful. We tell ourselves what a privilege it is to be able to restore sight and transform lives. We tell ourselves that people in Congo are much poorer, that their needs are much more desperate, and that very few people seem to be interested in helping them. We tell ourselves that we are only beginning in Congo and that one day, with hard work and perseverance, things will change. But I know that deep down, the honest truth is that I care a lot more about our immediate comfort and our children's development than anyone else, no matter how poor and needy they are. So for selfish, spoilt and impatient me, it comes down to this and this alone: God called us to Congo. We trust Him. We follow Him. Is it hard? You should have seen me swallowing hard the ugly head of self-pity and fighting back tears. Do I struggle? Hell yes! As I kick and scream like a crazy toddler, God quiets me with His indescribable love (Well, He is working on it). This Saturday, we will travel to the beach where I first responded to God's call to Africa 13 years ago. I am looking forward to going back to my Bethel, hear God speak, build an altar and lay my life down again. I am struggling at the moment, but I am expectant. Watch this space. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=42691 42691 Thu, 8 Aug 2013 20:42:00 +0000 To read all our latest exciting news, please click here. To read all our latest exciting news, please click here. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=42495 42495 Tue, 23 Jul 2013 11:56:00 +0000 Why we had to move:Our old eye clinic in the administrative building: The room was too crowded for our workers and patients! We had to conduct parts of our eye exam outside. Preparing the new eye clinic (We renovated an old Sunday school classroom on the hospital grounds): We built an extension to protect patients from the heat and the bugs. Lots of progress: the roof is on and the concrete floor is finished. Cleaning and preparing the inside was a big project. The kids and visitors came to help. A water system was created. The building is finished and ready for the eye equipment. Working to organise and take stock of all our medicine and materials. The new eye center is finished and ready for patient visits: Patients waiting to be seen in the newly built porch. No need to go outside, there is enough room for all of the eye exam indoors! We love our new home. It gives us a glimpse into the exciting project to build a permenant home in the future - a dedicated eye centre with inpatient and outpatient facilities, optical shop, pharmacy, training centre, as well as our own operating rooms. But until then, we are very thankful for our new home and are grateful for everyone who helped make the move possible! THANK YOU! Why we had to move:Our old eye clinic in the administrative building: The room was too crowded for our workers and patients! We had to conduct parts of our eye exam outside. Preparing the new eye clinic (We renovated an old Sunday school classroom on the hospital grounds): We built an extension to protect patients from the heat and the bugs. Lots of progress: the roof is on and the concrete floor is finished. Cleaning and preparing the inside was a big project. The kids and visitors came to help. A water system was created. The building is finished and ready for the eye equipment. Working to organise and take stock of all our medicine and materials. The new eye center is finished and ready for patient visits: Patients waiting to be seen in the newly built porch. No need to go outside, there is enough room for all of the eye exam indoors! We love our new home. It gives us a glimpse into the exciting project to build a permenant home in the future - a dedicated eye centre with inpatient and outpatient facilities, optical shop, pharmacy, training centre, as well as our own operating rooms. But until then, we are very thankful for our new home and are grateful for everyone who helped make the move possible! THANK YOU! http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=42157 42157 Tue, 23 Jul 2013 11:30:00 +0000 People often say to me, 'I don't know how you do it.' They say, 'How do you manage to run a charity, eye centre, home school, ministry and home in the depths of Africa? I wish I were as good, brave and capable as you.' If only they see the reality! If only they see how chaotic and comical our lives actually are! At work, I have unknowingly worn trousers that my kids had personalised with Disney stickers. I have walked around with a limp until I realised that I was wearing shoes from different pairs. I was so nervous when I gave speeches that I had to hold my shaking leg to stop my noisy shoe heel from interfering with the microphone. I regularly forget my own children's names when I talk to them, which is one of the reasons why we are stopping at three! Subconsciously, we often make self-assessments against standards set by ourselves and / or standards we perceive to be set by our friends, family and society. We have this image of what we should be as a person / Christian, as a professional / student, and as a parent / family member. When we do not resemble that image, we feel that we have fallen short. We may even feel guilty believing that we have let ourselves, people and God down. For example, when I say no (again!) to my children's request to paint, I feel like the worst and laziest homeschooling mum denying my children's potential. When I look around my cluttered house, I feel like the disappointing wife who fails to provide a relaxing home for her hard working husband. When I look at the many ancient items that are still on my to-do list, I feel like the incompetent apprentice shamed before Donald Trump / Alan Sugar, and wish I were more able. Here are a few things that help me when I start measuring myself against these mythical standards: 1. Recognise your humanity When I was in medical school, my father always encouraged me to 'try your best and let God do the rest'. And my heart would sink because I always felt like I had not done my best. It was only during my final exams that I realised that my idea of doing my best meant never stopping to take a break, to sleep, and to eat! My idea of doing my best was to be some kind of super-human. Well, super-woman I am not. But a human-being I am! One with flaws and weaknesses; one who gets tired, and who messes up on a regular basis! I'd rather be super-woman, but I am learning to make the most of who I am and more importantly, whose I am! I am a child of God and He's got my back!2. Follow your heartAt our first baby shower, friends wrote tips and encouragement on a book as a gift to me. Our beautiful friend Helen Jones wrote, 'Of all the millions of people in the world, God chose you to be the particular parents of this particular child. So when you don't know what to do, follow your heart.' This was the best parenting advice we ever received, especially when well-meaning people gave us conflicting parenting advice and we didn't know what to do. When our first-born was a few months old, it seemed like everyone around us succeeded in getting their babies into a routine. People would ask us what our routine was. Well, our routine was 'not having a routine'! So we tried to implement these methods all the 'good' parents were using to get our baby into a routine. That was the worst 72 hours of our parenting life! Just because it is right for others doesn't mean that it is right for me! I have since learnt that if God has something to say to me, He may well speak through others but He will also talk to me. Not listening to my heart was definitely one of the most painful things in the world. I do not recommend it!3. Prize faithfulness above results When we were in Gabon, we enjoyed great 'success'. We were performing over 1000 eye operations and 3000 consultations a year. We were planting a rapidly growing church. We were part of a team that saw over 1700 decisions for Christ each year. So when God told us to leave Gabon and to return to the UK to wait for directions for our 'next step', it did not make any sense to us. Why on earth should we abandon productivity for apparent barrenness? I realised then that I derived a lot of my value from what I do. I needed tangible results to validate my existence. Patiently, God taught me that He is interested in our obedience and faithfulness, and that He is relatively indifferent to our so-called success and fruitfulness. Success and fruitfulness will come as a by-product of obedience and faithfulness, but what God is after is just for us to follow Him. 4. Do your thingSometimes people say to us, 'I can never do what you do.' Most people probably won't do what we do, but equally, we also probably won't do what they do. The Bible says. 'How can they go unless they are sent?' There is no way that we can be here in Congo and do what we do without a host of other people. We need to do our thing, and we need others to do their thing, be it to encourage, finance, spread the word, build, ship, sort administration, accounts! While it is good to aspire to be like people we look up to, we will never be any good at trying to be someone else. There will never be another person like you, there are things that only you can do and there are people whom only you can touch. So let's all get out there and do our thing! If you are one of those people who wondered how I do what I do, well now you know the truth: I probably am not as good / brave / capable as you may imagine me to be; and I too also don't know how you do what you do! We burden ourselves wishing we could be something else, something more, when we can concentrate on excelling in who we are. Let's enjoy the truth that it's not about what we do, but about whose we are, and yes like my Dad said - God will do the rest. People often say to me, 'I don't know how you do it.' They say, 'How do you manage to run a charity, eye centre, home school, ministry and home in the depths of Africa? I wish I were as good, brave and capable as you.' If only they see the reality! If only they see how chaotic and comical our lives actually are! At work, I have unknowingly worn trousers that my kids had personalised with Disney stickers. I have walked around with a limp until I realised that I was wearing shoes from different pairs. I was so nervous when I gave speeches that I had to hold my shaking leg to stop my noisy shoe heel from interfering with the microphone. I regularly forget my own children's names when I talk to them, which is one of the reasons why we are stopping at three! Subconsciously, we often make self-assessments against standards set by ourselves and / or standards we perceive to be set by our friends, family and society. We have this image of what we should be as a person / Christian, as a professional / student, and as a parent / family member. When we do not resemble that image, we feel that we have fallen short. We may even feel guilty believing that we have let ourselves, people and God down. For example, when I say no (again!) to my children's request to paint, I feel like the worst and laziest homeschooling mum denying my children's potential. When I look around my cluttered house, I feel like the disappointing wife who fails to provide a relaxing home for her hard working husband. When I look at the many ancient items that are still on my to-do list, I feel like the incompetent apprentice shamed before Donald Trump / Alan Sugar, and wish I were more able. Here are a few things that help me when I start measuring myself against these mythical standards: 1. Recognise your humanity When I was in medical school, my father always encouraged me to 'try your best and let God do the rest'. And my heart would sink because I always felt like I had not done my best. It was only during my final exams that I realised that my idea of doing my best meant never stopping to take a break, to sleep, and to eat! My idea of doing my best was to be some kind of super-human. Well, super-woman I am not. But a human-being I am! One with flaws and weaknesses; one who gets tired, and who messes up on a regular basis! I'd rather be super-woman, but I am learning to make the most of who I am and more importantly, whose I am! I am a child of God and He's got my back!2. Follow your heartAt our first baby shower, friends wrote tips and encouragement on a book as a gift to me. Our beautiful friend Helen Jones wrote, 'Of all the millions of people in the world, God chose you to be the particular parents of this particular child. So when you don't know what to do, follow your heart.' This was the best parenting advice we ever received, especially when well-meaning people gave us conflicting parenting advice and we didn't know what to do. When our first-born was a few months old, it seemed like everyone around us succeeded in getting their babies into a routine. People would ask us what our routine was. Well, our routine was 'not having a routine'! So we tried to implement these methods all the 'good' parents were using to get our baby into a routine. That was the worst 72 hours of our parenting life! Just because it is right for others doesn't mean that it is right for me! I have since learnt that if God has something to say to me, He may well speak through others but He will also talk to me. Not listening to my heart was definitely one of the most painful things in the world. I do not recommend it!3. Prize faithfulness above results When we were in Gabon, we enjoyed great 'success'. We were performing over 1000 eye operations and 3000 consultations a year. We were planting a rapidly growing church. We were part of a team that saw over 1700 decisions for Christ each year. So when God told us to leave Gabon and to return to the UK to wait for directions for our 'next step', it did not make any sense to us. Why on earth should we abandon productivity for apparent barrenness? I realised then that I derived a lot of my value from what I do. I needed tangible results to validate my existence. Patiently, God taught me that He is interested in our obedience and faithfulness, and that He is relatively indifferent to our so-called success and fruitfulness. Success and fruitfulness will come as a by-product of obedience and faithfulness, but what God is after is just for us to follow Him. 4. Do your thingSometimes people say to us, 'I can never do what you do.' Most people probably won't do what we do, but equally, we also probably won't do what they do. The Bible says. 'How can they go unless they are sent?' There is no way that we can be here in Congo and do what we do without a host of other people. We need to do our thing, and we need others to do their thing, be it to encourage, finance, spread the word, build, ship, sort administration, accounts! While it is good to aspire to be like people we look up to, we will never be any good at trying to be someone else. There will never be another person like you, there are things that only you can do and there are people whom only you can touch. So let's all get out there and do our thing! If you are one of those people who wondered how I do what I do, well now you know the truth: I probably am not as good / brave / capable as you may imagine me to be; and I too also don't know how you do what you do! We burden ourselves wishing we could be something else, something more, when we can concentrate on excelling in who we are. Let's enjoy the truth that it's not about what we do, but about whose we are, and yes like my Dad said - God will do the rest. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=41819 41819 Fri, 31 May 2013 04:28:00 +0000 I remember the first time Henri took me to his village to meet his family. We had met two years earlier. It was love at first sight. We only had two weeks together before we parted. I went back to the UK, and he to the Democratic Republic of Congo (formerly Zaire) to continue pursuing our medical training. As there was no phone, email or internet, we communicated by post that would take 6 weeks to arrive, sometimes never. I was visiting him in Gabon. It felt natural for us to visit his family in Idemba Village. I remember the commotion caused by our arrival. Within minutes, the entire village appeared from nowhere! The women all hugged us, laughed, talked excitedly, argued amongst themselves and asked a lot of questions. When they realised that I had no idea what they were saying, they laughed and hugged me again! I remember Henri telling me what the ducks, chickens and goats were saying to each other. I thought he was joking, but he totally wasn't! For example, he would say that the cockerel was calling for his wife to go to the roof, and then within seconds, the hen arrived and they hurried to the roof together! I remember being surprised and impressed by Henri's father. He had devoted his life as a village chief, and had killed a lion and an elephant in defence of their village. He was extraordinary wise. He was blind, but he behaved as if he could see. He 'saw' every mischief his grandchildren were up to before anybody else saw. He saw right through my embarrassing fear of the fighting cockerels, as well as my hidden worries of my most unlikely relationship with Henri. I remember being blown away by the way he spoke with such a remarkable mixture of gentleness and authority, graciousness and wisdom. But the thing I remember most is a conversation I had with Henri. It is one that I will never forget. We were watching the children, dressed in filthy rags, snots on their faces, ringworms in their hair, playfully rolling on the ground scattered with animal faeces. Nobody had any books, pens, writing paper, or toys. It seemed that all day, the children did nothing but hit each other to amuse themselves. I said, 'I am so sorry and so ashamed, but I want to be honest with you. If we end up getting married and we have children, I will probably struggle to let our kids play with their cousins like this.' And without a trace of emotion, Henri looked straight ahead, and said in a neutral matter of fact like manner, 'You know Joyce, I grew up just like them… only worse.' Henri's story is a-maz-zzzzing! In short, 10 of his 11 older brothers and sisters died. His mother was so traumatised that she did not give Henri his father's surname 'Mouboumbi'. Instead, she gave him the surname 'Samoutou'. In their dialect, the word samoutou means 'no hope'. By the time Henri was four, his mother also died. His distraught father sent him to live with his grandmother in the village. He became in his own words, 'the angriest little boy you can ever meet'. He would walk 15km bare feet under the scorching sun to school. He would sit quietly and work hard in the front row of the classroom. But he would never play with anyone. He had no friends, and he did not want any. When he was 14, he heard about Jesus for the first time. He said yes to Jesus, and everything changed. Before our senior pastor Dave Gilpin from Hope City Church in England met Henri, he asked me if having suffered such tragedies in the family, Henri had any 'issues' that he needed or received counselling for. The answer was no. He never had any counselling or therapy. God changed him - completely. Anyone who has met Henri will tell you that it is impossible to imagine him ever being an angry troubled person. Every time I go to a village, I am amazed by what God has done in Henri, and wonder what unbelievable plans God has for these children in rags before me. 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord,'plans to prosper you and not to harm you,plans to give you hope and a future.'Jeremiah 29:11 To find out more about Henri's story in his own words, please click here. www.samoutou.com/StoryOfHenri I remember the first time Henri took me to his village to meet his family. We had met two years earlier. It was love at first sight. We only had two weeks together before we parted. I went back to the UK, and he to the Democratic Republic of Congo (formerly Zaire) to continue pursuing our medical training. As there was no phone, email or internet, we communicated by post that would take 6 weeks to arrive, sometimes never. I was visiting him in Gabon. It felt natural for us to visit his family in Idemba Village. I remember the commotion caused by our arrival. Within minutes, the entire village appeared from nowhere! The women all hugged us, laughed, talked excitedly, argued amongst themselves and asked a lot of questions. When they realised that I had no idea what they were saying, they laughed and hugged me again! I remember Henri telling me what the ducks, chickens and goats were saying to each other. I thought he was joking, but he totally wasn't! For example, he would say that the cockerel was calling for his wife to go to the roof, and then within seconds, the hen arrived and they hurried to the roof together! I remember being surprised and impressed by Henri's father. He had devoted his life as a village chief, and had killed a lion and an elephant in defence of their village. He was extraordinary wise. He was blind, but he behaved as if he could see. He 'saw' every mischief his grandchildren were up to before anybody else saw. He saw right through my embarrassing fear of the fighting cockerels, as well as my hidden worries of my most unlikely relationship with Henri. I remember being blown away by the way he spoke with such a remarkable mixture of gentleness and authority, graciousness and wisdom. But the thing I remember most is a conversation I had with Henri. It is one that I will never forget. We were watching the children, dressed in filthy rags, snots on their faces, ringworms in their hair, playfully rolling on the ground scattered with animal faeces. Nobody had any books, pens, writing paper, or toys. It seemed that all day, the children did nothing but hit each other to amuse themselves. I said, 'I am so sorry and so ashamed, but I want to be honest with you. If we end up getting married and we have children, I will probably struggle to let our kids play with their cousins like this.' And without a trace of emotion, Henri looked straight ahead, and said in a neutral matter of fact like manner, 'You know Joyce, I grew up just like them… only worse.' Henri's story is a-maz-zzzzing! In short, 10 of his 11 older brothers and sisters died. His mother was so traumatised that she did not give Henri his father's surname 'Mouboumbi'. Instead, she gave him the surname 'Samoutou'. In their dialect, the word samoutou means 'no hope'. By the time Henri was four, his mother also died. His distraught father sent him to live with his grandmother in the village. He became in his own words, 'the angriest little boy you can ever meet'. He would walk 15km bare feet under the scorching sun to school. He would sit quietly and work hard in the front row of the classroom. But he would never play with anyone. He had no friends, and he did not want any. When he was 14, he heard about Jesus for the first time. He said yes to Jesus, and everything changed. Before our senior pastor Dave Gilpin from Hope City Church in England met Henri, he asked me if having suffered such tragedies in the family, Henri had any 'issues' that he needed or received counselling for. The answer was no. He never had any counselling or therapy. God changed him - completely. Anyone who has met Henri will tell you that it is impossible to imagine him ever being an angry troubled person. Every time I go to a village, I am amazed by what God has done in Henri, and wonder what unbelievable plans God has for these children in rags before me. 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord,'plans to prosper you and not to harm you,plans to give you hope and a future.'Jeremiah 29:11 To find out more about Henri's story in his own words, please click here. www.samoutou.com/StoryOfHenri http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=41519 41519 Fri, 10 May 2013 01:00:00 +0000 Whenever we can, we like to go to a Pygmy village on Sunday. Depending on road conditions, it is a 45-60 minutes' drive. Every time we go, the pygmies always ask my husband Henri to preach as they do not have a pastor. After church, Henri and our older two children often went on jungle walks with them. Our 7-year-old daughter once brought these back home and excitedly told me that the Pygmies told her that they would make her run super fast. They turned out to be amphetamines! Thank God our daughter had the sense to tell us before trying them on herself or her siblings! I have never been to these jungle walks as I always stayed behind to look after our youngest. I finally followed the Pygmies into their fascinating world two Sundays ago. Entering the rainforest (I always marvel at how it is perfectly landscaped) The Pygmies have a remedy for every ailment possible: from backache, cough, diarrhoea to nasal drops that work wonders on both preterm babies and their mothers! They even had… Wait for this… They told me matter of factly - If your wife does not want to have sex with you, use this leaf in the oil and give her a massage. Then she cannot refuse you! It didn't smell of anything! They have several other interesting health beliefs. For example, they believe that when they see this flower, they will get conjunctivitis. I wonder if the blossoming of this flower signals the start of pollen season, which leads to an increase in allergic conjunctivitis. They enthusiastically showed me … how they plant (Manioc / Cassava – a major food here). They were so hyper they reminded me of jocks doing reps in the gym! … how they trap animals … how they climb trees to get fruits and palm nuts. (When I was in Gabon, I met Pygmies who could climb trees several storeys high at the speed of lightning) … how to 'Tarzan' and swing from tree to tree! … how they fish and catch crocodiles (sometimes by putting leaves that are poisonous into the water). The rivers will stay dried up until it is rainy season again. … their 'house' which they use when it rains (I cannot see how this can keep the rain away at all!) Traditionally, pygmies are very shy and hide in the forest. I have been to this Pygmy village several times. Whilst they have gotten used to us the 'mondeles' (white ghosts) and have always be welcoming, they have always struck me as quiet, reserved and serious. This walk has completely changed the way I see them. Once we were in the forest, they became very animated, energetic and excited. They were talkative, at times silly, and simply a lot of fun to be with! They were so proud to show me how they make a living and how they look after their health. They were swinging like Tarzan, climbing on trees and chewing on leaves. They were so enthusiastic about their forest, their home. It's like the forest made them come alive! Their way of life is undoubtedly primitive, but their self-sufficiency impresses me. It is like they are not buried under any unnecessary layers. They live life in its essence, in its glory. To us, it seems so incredibly 'poor'. Yet their pride and contentment in a way make them richer than many in the developed world. We left the jungle and headed back to the village where the Pygmies showed me… their own wine making machine! How about that in the depths of Africa! This world never ceases to amaze me! Wish you were here! Love, Joyce Whenever we can, we like to go to a Pygmy village on Sunday. Depending on road conditions, it is a 45-60 minutes' drive. Every time we go, the pygmies always ask my husband Henri to preach as they do not have a pastor. After church, Henri and our older two children often went on jungle walks with them. Our 7-year-old daughter once brought these back home and excitedly told me that the Pygmies told her that they would make her run super fast. They turned out to be amphetamines! Thank God our daughter had the sense to tell us before trying them on herself or her siblings! I have never been to these jungle walks as I always stayed behind to look after our youngest. I finally followed the Pygmies into their fascinating world two Sundays ago. Entering the rainforest (I always marvel at how it is perfectly landscaped) The Pygmies have a remedy for every ailment possible: from backache, cough, diarrhoea to nasal drops that work wonders on both preterm babies and their mothers! They even had… Wait for this… They told me matter of factly - If your wife does not want to have sex with you, use this leaf in the oil and give her a massage. Then she cannot refuse you! It didn't smell of anything! They have several other interesting health beliefs. For example, they believe that when they see this flower, they will get conjunctivitis. I wonder if the blossoming of this flower signals the start of pollen season, which leads to an increase in allergic conjunctivitis. They enthusiastically showed me … how they plant (Manioc / Cassava – a major food here). They were so hyper they reminded me of jocks doing reps in the gym! … how they trap animals … how they climb trees to get fruits and palm nuts. (When I was in Gabon, I met Pygmies who could climb trees several storeys high at the speed of lightning) … how to 'Tarzan' and swing from tree to tree! … how they fish and catch crocodiles (sometimes by putting leaves that are poisonous into the water). The rivers will stay dried up until it is rainy season again. … their 'house' which they use when it rains (I cannot see how this can keep the rain away at all!) Traditionally, pygmies are very shy and hide in the forest. I have been to this Pygmy village several times. Whilst they have gotten used to us the 'mondeles' (white ghosts) and have always be welcoming, they have always struck me as quiet, reserved and serious. This walk has completely changed the way I see them. Once we were in the forest, they became very animated, energetic and excited. They were talkative, at times silly, and simply a lot of fun to be with! They were so proud to show me how they make a living and how they look after their health. They were swinging like Tarzan, climbing on trees and chewing on leaves. They were so enthusiastic about their forest, their home. It's like the forest made them come alive! Their way of life is undoubtedly primitive, but their self-sufficiency impresses me. It is like they are not buried under any unnecessary layers. They live life in its essence, in its glory. To us, it seems so incredibly 'poor'. Yet their pride and contentment in a way make them richer than many in the developed world. We left the jungle and headed back to the village where the Pygmies showed me… their own wine making machine! How about that in the depths of Africa! This world never ceases to amaze me! Wish you were here! Love, Joyce http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=41471 41471 Sat, 4 May 2013 02:12:00 +0000 Cherissa fell in love with the violin the moment she first laid eyes on it at the age of two. She has been asking to learn ever since. Whenever she brought the subject up, which was often, I would shift uncomfortably. She would ask me why she couldn't; I would have to explain to her yet again that violin teachers did not exist in remote Africa. I would suggest learning the piano (which I can just about teach her) or the flute (which our missionary colleague plays). She would say ok but I would hear her asking God to let her learn the violin one day. I secretly hoped that this passion for the violin would pass, but to my dismay, it never did. This has been a constant sting to me as a mother. What kind of a mother am I to deny my child of such a perfectly healthy interest! What if she was supposed to be the next Niccolo Paganini and I stifled her potential! (Tiger mum rearing its ugly head) I might have prayed once or twice about this, but mostly I silently resented God for this. Three weeks ago, beautiful Kate arrived from America to volunteer at our hospital for 9 months. She brought a violin for Cherissa and that was how our girl cried her first tears of joy. She was so overcome with excitement and emotion that for several minutes, she could not speak but cried tears of happiness. So it turned out that violin teachers do exist in remote Congo! Cherissa loves taking violin lessons from Kate. She says that it is even better than she thought! She may well lose interest in the violin within a few months, but she has received something far more precious – one that she will never lose - she knows and she knows and she knows that this is God answering her prayer. Not her mummy's prayers, not mummy's prayers with her, but HER prayers. Every time I hear Cherissa making squeaky sounds on the violin, my heart sings. Often my eyes will well up with tears too. That the King of Kings would bring a violin and a violin teacher to remote Congo in answer to a little girl's prayer! Me of little faith and me of little trust! Forgive me, Lord. And thank you, God – you do hear every child's prayer! Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart. (Psalm 37:4) Cherissa fell in love with the violin the moment she first laid eyes on it at the age of two. She has been asking to learn ever since. Whenever she brought the subject up, which was often, I would shift uncomfortably. She would ask me why she couldn't; I would have to explain to her yet again that violin teachers did not exist in remote Africa. I would suggest learning the piano (which I can just about teach her) or the flute (which our missionary colleague plays). She would say ok but I would hear her asking God to let her learn the violin one day. I secretly hoped that this passion for the violin would pass, but to my dismay, it never did. This has been a constant sting to me as a mother. What kind of a mother am I to deny my child of such a perfectly healthy interest! What if she was supposed to be the next Niccolo Paganini and I stifled her potential! (Tiger mum rearing its ugly head) I might have prayed once or twice about this, but mostly I silently resented God for this. Three weeks ago, beautiful Kate arrived from America to volunteer at our hospital for 9 months. She brought a violin for Cherissa and that was how our girl cried her first tears of joy. She was so overcome with excitement and emotion that for several minutes, she could not speak but cried tears of happiness. So it turned out that violin teachers do exist in remote Congo! Cherissa loves taking violin lessons from Kate. She says that it is even better than she thought! She may well lose interest in the violin within a few months, but she has received something far more precious – one that she will never lose - she knows and she knows and she knows that this is God answering her prayer. Not her mummy's prayers, not mummy's prayers with her, but HER prayers. Every time I hear Cherissa making squeaky sounds on the violin, my heart sings. Often my eyes will well up with tears too. That the King of Kings would bring a violin and a violin teacher to remote Congo in answer to a little girl's prayer! Me of little faith and me of little trust! Forgive me, Lord. And thank you, God – you do hear every child's prayer! Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart. (Psalm 37:4) http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=41338 41338 Fri, 26 Apr 2013 12:56:00 +0000 I am honoured to have been invited to write for the Mission Express Magazine. This article was published in Feb 2013. For Chinese version, please click here. For English version, please click here. I am honoured to have been invited to write for the Mission Express Magazine. This article was published in Feb 2013. For Chinese version, please click here. For English version, please click here. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=41320 41320 Thu, 25 Apr 2013 12:49:00 +0000 21 years ago today, on Easter Sunday 19 April 1992, Henri was getting baptised in a river and I in an air-conditioned modern church building. God said to His angels, 'See that village boy being baptised over there in Gabon, and that city girl being baptised over there in Hong Kong? They are completely oblivious to each other's existence right now. In fact, she has never even heard of the country Gabon. In 8 years' time, on 2 Dec 2000, they will meet under a massive rainstorm in the depths of Africa. Their destinies will collide. Right away they will know that they will marry each other. Right away they will wonder if they have gone mad in the rainforest. But for now and until then, they have absolutely no idea what is about to hit them… ' The angels chuckled softly. Fast forward to Easter 10 April 2005. Henri and I were exchanging wedding vows in the same air-conditioned church where I was baptised. God said to His angels, 'See? Told ya! They may have some idea that I have joined them from different corners of the world to serve the people of Africa, but they are completely oblivious to the fact that in 7 years' time, on another fateful Easter week-end, they will go pioneer an eye centre in remote Congo. They will be consumed by a passion to help people see - both physically and spiritually. They will leave their loved ones and their salaries, and wonder if they have gone mad in rainy England. But for now and until then, they have absolutely no idea what is about to hit them…' The angels chuckled softly. Henri and I always chuckle at the thought of God and his team amusing themselves over our cluelessness at our Easter baptism and wedding. Never in a million years would we have imagined then what was to become our story. But God has always known - just like He knows our future, our kids' future, and your future. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. (Psalm 139:16) No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him. (1 Cor 2:9) Easter 7 April 2012. I looked out of the plane and saw Congo for the very first time. I had absolutely no idea what was about to hit us. I chuckled very nervously. I took a deep breath and smiled, 'Twenty-one Easters from now, I will look back and God, the angels and I will have a proper chuckle.' (To be continued) 21 years ago today, on Easter Sunday 19 April 1992, Henri was getting baptised in a river and I in an air-conditioned modern church building. God said to His angels, 'See that village boy being baptised over there in Gabon, and that city girl being baptised over there in Hong Kong? They are completely oblivious to each other's existence right now. In fact, she has never even heard of the country Gabon. In 8 years' time, on 2 Dec 2000, they will meet under a massive rainstorm in the depths of Africa. Their destinies will collide. Right away they will know that they will marry each other. Right away they will wonder if they have gone mad in the rainforest. But for now and until then, they have absolutely no idea what is about to hit them… ' The angels chuckled softly. Fast forward to Easter 10 April 2005. Henri and I were exchanging wedding vows in the same air-conditioned church where I was baptised. God said to His angels, 'See? Told ya! They may have some idea that I have joined them from different corners of the world to serve the people of Africa, but they are completely oblivious to the fact that in 7 years' time, on another fateful Easter week-end, they will go pioneer an eye centre in remote Congo. They will be consumed by a passion to help people see - both physically and spiritually. They will leave their loved ones and their salaries, and wonder if they have gone mad in rainy England. But for now and until then, they have absolutely no idea what is about to hit them…' The angels chuckled softly. Henri and I always chuckle at the thought of God and his team amusing themselves over our cluelessness at our Easter baptism and wedding. Never in a million years would we have imagined then what was to become our story. But God has always known - just like He knows our future, our kids' future, and your future. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. (Psalm 139:16) No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him. (1 Cor 2:9) Easter 7 April 2012. I looked out of the plane and saw Congo for the very first time. I had absolutely no idea what was about to hit us. I chuckled very nervously. I took a deep breath and smiled, 'Twenty-one Easters from now, I will look back and God, the angels and I will have a proper chuckle.' (To be continued) http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=41221 41221 Fri, 19 Apr 2013 12:32:00 +0000 Come with us for a stroll around our town and market in Congo! HIGH STREET IMPFONDO PHONE CHARGING CENTRE [Most people don't have electricity at home] BEAUTY PARLOUR IKEA COUTURE [Mostly second hand. I have seen uniforms for Circle K (convenience store chain) and Fettes (the Scottish private school where Tony Blair studied) ] Very interesting mixture of 'designer' and 'fashion statements' ACCESSORIES? [A live monkey at the clothing store!] BAG SHOP [This was at Christmas when special stocks came in hence the impressive spread of goods] MEAT SECTION [I stay away from this section as much as possible. There are no fridge, freezers or ice box. There are, however, lots of flies and a strong smell. Skip this section if you are vegetarian] Crocodile [Plastic bags are forbidden in the market by law. It's Bring-Your-Own-Bag or packed in leaves.] Live Turtle Lizard [I did not stay long enough to see if it was alive.] Live Electric fish Antelope Live chickens running around [not for sale] Caterpillars [Apparently they are nice and crunchy] McDONALD'S [Note the head of the goat on the floor] MY FAVOURITE SHOP [It stocks almost all the food and grocery items the other shops stock. Note the white red yellow plastic bags at the second bottom shelf on the right. They are MSG – looks more like rat poison.] COSTCO / Wholesale shop[50kg flour which we sieve through to get rid of bugs, 25L cooking oil, 5kg sugar] PICK N' MIX [Most people just buy small bags of salt, pepper, rice, sugar, flour etc., The fact that people buy 10 macaroni shells and teaspoons of coffee tell you how much people can afford and how people live] PEANUTS and CHARCOAL [Not for BBQ, but for cooking – the smoke is a risk factor for cataracts] FRUIT AND VEG SECTION So voila! A brief tour of our town! The most interesting thing about shopping here is that you never know what you are going to see e.g I would love to give you a personal tour! Come with us for a stroll around our town and market in Congo! HIGH STREET IMPFONDO PHONE CHARGING CENTRE [Most people don't have electricity at home] BEAUTY PARLOUR IKEA COUTURE [Mostly second hand. I have seen uniforms for Circle K (convenience store chain) and Fettes (the Scottish private school where Tony Blair studied) ] Very interesting mixture of 'designer' and 'fashion statements' ACCESSORIES? [A live monkey at the clothing store!] BAG SHOP [This was at Christmas when special stocks came in hence the impressive spread of goods] MEAT SECTION [I stay away from this section as much as possible. There are no fridge, freezers or ice box. There are, however, lots of flies and a strong smell. Skip this section if you are vegetarian] Crocodile [Plastic bags are forbidden in the market by law. It's Bring-Your-Own-Bag or packed in leaves.] Live Turtle Lizard [I did not stay long enough to see if it was alive.] Live Electric fish Antelope Live chickens running around [not for sale] Caterpillars [Apparently they are nice and crunchy] McDONALD'S [Note the head of the goat on the floor] MY FAVOURITE SHOP [It stocks almost all the food and grocery items the other shops stock. Note the white red yellow plastic bags at the second bottom shelf on the right. They are MSG – looks more like rat poison.] COSTCO / Wholesale shop[50kg flour which we sieve through to get rid of bugs, 25L cooking oil, 5kg sugar] PICK N' MIX [Most people just buy small bags of salt, pepper, rice, sugar, flour etc., The fact that people buy 10 macaroni shells and teaspoons of coffee tell you how much people can afford and how people live] PEANUTS and CHARCOAL [Not for BBQ, but for cooking – the smoke is a risk factor for cataracts] FRUIT AND VEG SECTION So voila! A brief tour of our town! The most interesting thing about shopping here is that you never know what you are going to see e.g I would love to give you a personal tour! http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=41095 41095 Wed, 17 Apr 2013 03:23:00 +0000 To read our newsletter to celebrate our first year in Congo, please click here.  Happy Reading! To read our newsletter to celebrate our first year in Congo, please click here.  Happy Reading! http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=41145 41145 Wed, 17 Apr 2013 02:59:00 +0000 Some of you may have heard of Mama Hélène. We wrote about her in our newsletter back in July 2012: <One day, Henri was running when he saw an old papa pushing his wife in a wheelbarrow. He decided to stop to help him push her to their destination even though it was completely opposite to where he was going. This was how they found out about our eye centre and came the following week. Mama Hélène turned out to be blind from cataracts and was dependent on Papa Jerome. We also diagnosed glaucoma and gave her treatment. We are so glad we got her in time to stop her glaucoma causing irreversible damage so that when we operate on her cataracts, she will see again! This was a powerful lesson for us to remember to stop to care even when we are busy.> (New Sight News July 2012 Guinness Edition) Fast forward 6 months to January 2013. Our operating theatre was finally ready! We operated on Mama Hélène. The next day, we removed her eye pad. She looked around and realised that she could now see again! She had been blind for so long that she couldn't even remember when the last time she could see was! She was overjoyed! She kept laughing as she scratched her head. Even as she left the clinic to return to the ward, she kept on giggling as she shook her head! Within days, she looked younger and went home. This time, Papa Jerome did not need to push her! (It used to take him 50-60 minutes to push her home, often under the strong equatorial sun - which would have put him at risk of developing cataracts!) A few weeks ago, this time, I was the one running. From a distance, I thought I saw Papa Jerome, but I wasn't sure as I realised that I had never seen him without Mama Helene or his wheelbarrow! 'Docteur! Docteur!' He waved excitedly. I stopped to chat and asked him where his wife was. He gave me a broad smile and said, 'Before the operation, I could never leave my wife alone. I would worry too much. Now I can go out, work on our plantations so that we can have food to eat, run errands… It's good, Doctor. It's good, Doctor!' We said good-bye and I carried on with my run. My legs somehow felt lighter, just as Papa Jerome's burden was also lightened. When sight is restored, lives are transformed - for both the patients and their families. The transformation never ceases to amaze me! Move over Gok and Channel 4's TV 10-Years-Younger, the ultimate reality make-over show is all here - the very happening Impfondo, Congo! Thank you to our sponsors who had made Mama Hélène's operation possible. She and Papa Jerome have no family, income or any savings. They didn't even have any food to eat when they came to the hospital. (Don't worry – we fed them =) ) Her medical care is 100% paid for by our supporters. It was truly a priceless gift of sight! Some of you may have heard of Mama Hélène. We wrote about her in our newsletter back in July 2012: <One day, Henri was running when he saw an old papa pushing his wife in a wheelbarrow. He decided to stop to help him push her to their destination even though it was completely opposite to where he was going. This was how they found out about our eye centre and came the following week. Mama Hélène turned out to be blind from cataracts and was dependent on Papa Jerome. We also diagnosed glaucoma and gave her treatment. We are so glad we got her in time to stop her glaucoma causing irreversible damage so that when we operate on her cataracts, she will see again! This was a powerful lesson for us to remember to stop to care even when we are busy.> (New Sight News July 2012 Guinness Edition) Fast forward 6 months to January 2013. Our operating theatre was finally ready! We operated on Mama Hélène. The next day, we removed her eye pad. She looked around and realised that she could now see again! She had been blind for so long that she couldn't even remember when the last time she could see was! She was overjoyed! She kept laughing as she scratched her head. Even as she left the clinic to return to the ward, she kept on giggling as she shook her head! Within days, she looked younger and went home. This time, Papa Jerome did not need to push her! (It used to take him 50-60 minutes to push her home, often under the strong equatorial sun - which would have put him at risk of developing cataracts!) A few weeks ago, this time, I was the one running. From a distance, I thought I saw Papa Jerome, but I wasn't sure as I realised that I had never seen him without Mama Helene or his wheelbarrow! 'Docteur! Docteur!' He waved excitedly. I stopped to chat and asked him where his wife was. He gave me a broad smile and said, 'Before the operation, I could never leave my wife alone. I would worry too much. Now I can go out, work on our plantations so that we can have food to eat, run errands… It's good, Doctor. It's good, Doctor!' We said good-bye and I carried on with my run. My legs somehow felt lighter, just as Papa Jerome's burden was also lightened. When sight is restored, lives are transformed - for both the patients and their families. The transformation never ceases to amaze me! Move over Gok and Channel 4's TV 10-Years-Younger, the ultimate reality make-over show is all here - the very happening Impfondo, Congo! Thank you to our sponsors who had made Mama Hélène's operation possible. She and Papa Jerome have no family, income or any savings. They didn't even have any food to eat when they came to the hospital. (Don't worry – we fed them =) ) Her medical care is 100% paid for by our supporters. It was truly a priceless gift of sight! http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=40970 40970 Thu, 11 Apr 2013 01:19:00 +0000 Have you ever heard parents who say that they can't wait for the school holidays to finish so that they can have a break? Well, my kids are on their last day of Easter holiday and I – am – ex-haus-ted! For a moment, I consoled myself that they would soon be back at school. Then I remembered, 'Oops! I am the school!' Welcome to our world of homeschooling. When people hear that we are homeschooling our 3 children, we receive very mixed reactions. They vary from shock horror to rapturous delight, from genuine pity to awe and admiration. Some rave about the virtues of homeschooling, while others give us names of boarding schools that offer missionaries discounts. All of them are well-meaning, but their views on homeschooling cannot be more different. And us? We don't tend to analyse the pros and cons of homeschooling. As far as we are concerned, there is no other option. We have been advertising for a teacher for a year, but until one comes to live in Congo or until our kids are old enough for us to consider boarding school, we are homeschooling by default. Before we left the UK, we had the great pleasure of meeting the parents of our friends who happened to be homeschooling gurus. They homeschooled their four amazing children and now run a successful company to support homeschoolers. They advised us that until high school, as long as our kids can read and write, do a bit of arithmetic and love to learn, then that is enough. They continued, 'As you go through your daily life, teach them. When you bake, teach them about weight, volume, time, temperature. Talk about where the flour comes from. General knowledge…' I found myself raising my hand, 'Err… I am sorry. I am from Hong Kong. We don't do general knowledge there. We don't even do academic knowledge. We just do exam knowledge. As long as we get an 'A', then goal accomplished!' That got me thinking about the goals of our homeschool. What do I really want my kids to learn? Goal 1: Love God More than anything, I want them to know God. I want them to know who they are. I want them to know that who they are is not determined by what they do, don't do; can do, can't do; what they have, don't have; who they are with; or what others think of them. I want them to know that it is ok to mess up, fess up, and start again. I want them to know that God has an amazing plan for their lives and that with God, they can do anything. I want them to know that they are never alone, that there is always anchoring hope, empowering joy, guiding peace, saving grace, and above all, unconditional love. Goal 2: Love People I want them to laugh and cry with family and friends. I'd love them to find the love of their lives and discover the joy of building their own families. I want them to accept people who they don't understand, forgive those who hurt them, and not be flustered by those who annoy them. I want them to courageously look at the needs of the world, be moved by kindness and compassion, and dare to make a difference. I want them to walk humbly, choose to see the good in others, and always be gracious. Goal 3: Love Life: I want them to find things that make them tick, be it music, sports, art, books or things others find rather strange. I want them to eat, drink, and be merry. I want them to take time to soak in the beauty of nature and discover the diversity of our wonderful world. I pray that they will be better than I at waiting, at facing uncertainties and rejections, and at overcoming adversities, fears and failures. I don't want them to ever stop playing, asking questions or trying new things. And I don't want them to ever lose their sense of wonder, enthusiasm and delight at every day life. I want them to live passionately and have lots of fun, laughter and silliness along the way. I am often tempted to grieve and even feel guilty about the things that I can no longer give my children. I can't take them to swimming, ballet and violin lessons. There are no libraries, museums and concerts. I have no training in teaching whatsoever. In fact, in order to teach my kids, I have to learn things that I should have learnt when I was in school but didn't! When I follow homeschool curriculums and try ideas from the internet, I sigh that there are no shops for me to buy the things called for. But when I look at this list of the most important things that I want my children to learn, the sense of despair begins to lift. They are things that my kids can learn without a qualified teacher, wherever we are, even in our remote corner of the world. In fact, our foreign environment and challenging situation may even be conducive for many of the goals. For example, while we may be 'deprived' of the delights of the material world, we are free to enjoy the simplicity of life. While we miss family, apples and parks, we treasure them more. The way of life here creates ample opportunities to practise patience, flexibility and tolerance. The problems we face exercise faith and produce trust. We learn not to take things like electricity and water for granted. We try funny-sounding language, strange-looking food and other crazy new things. We find a hundred things to do with a card box, play restaurant serving real food and give our creativity a daily work-out. After all, necessity is the mother of invention! Our children may not always listen to us, but they always imitate. They see us mess up, fall down, get up and go again. They see us pray and experience its power. When asked what she liked most about Congo, our 7-year-old answered without hesitation, 'That we can help people.' Am I saying that I prefer this way of educating my kids? Not at all. What I am saying is that while my children miss out on some things, they also gain other things. Like any parent, I want my children to succeed. I want them to have the best opportunities and be prepared for them. Often, I worry that our obedience to God will cost our children more than it costs us, and that is where the sting comes in. Coming here, I have to believe that God loves my children more than I ever will, and that He can do a much better job at raising them than I ever can. Living here questions those beliefs, and reveals my secret tiger-mother ambitions. Perhaps that is why I am in school, so that I can learn to surrender my children, and truly trust God with them. NB. If you or a teacher you know may be interested in coming to help us with homeschool, please click here. Thanks! Have you ever heard parents who say that they can't wait for the school holidays to finish so that they can have a break? Well, my kids are on their last day of Easter holiday and I – am – ex-haus-ted! For a moment, I consoled myself that they would soon be back at school. Then I remembered, 'Oops! I am the school!' Welcome to our world of homeschooling. When people hear that we are homeschooling our 3 children, we receive very mixed reactions. They vary from shock horror to rapturous delight, from genuine pity to awe and admiration. Some rave about the virtues of homeschooling, while others give us names of boarding schools that offer missionaries discounts. All of them are well-meaning, but their views on homeschooling cannot be more different. And us? We don't tend to analyse the pros and cons of homeschooling. As far as we are concerned, there is no other option. We have been advertising for a teacher for a year, but until one comes to live in Congo or until our kids are old enough for us to consider boarding school, we are homeschooling by default. Before we left the UK, we had the great pleasure of meeting the parents of our friends who happened to be homeschooling gurus. They homeschooled their four amazing children and now run a successful company to support homeschoolers. They advised us that until high school, as long as our kids can read and write, do a bit of arithmetic and love to learn, then that is enough. They continued, 'As you go through your daily life, teach them. When you bake, teach them about weight, volume, time, temperature. Talk about where the flour comes from. General knowledge…' I found myself raising my hand, 'Err… I am sorry. I am from Hong Kong. We don't do general knowledge there. We don't even do academic knowledge. We just do exam knowledge. As long as we get an 'A', then goal accomplished!' That got me thinking about the goals of our homeschool. What do I really want my kids to learn? Goal 1: Love God More than anything, I want them to know God. I want them to know who they are. I want them to know that who they are is not determined by what they do, don't do; can do, can't do; what they have, don't have; who they are with; or what others think of them. I want them to know that it is ok to mess up, fess up, and start again. I want them to know that God has an amazing plan for their lives and that with God, they can do anything. I want them to know that they are never alone, that there is always anchoring hope, empowering joy, guiding peace, saving grace, and above all, unconditional love. Goal 2: Love People I want them to laugh and cry with family and friends. I'd love them to find the love of their lives and discover the joy of building their own families. I want them to accept people who they don't understand, forgive those who hurt them, and not be flustered by those who annoy them. I want them to courageously look at the needs of the world, be moved by kindness and compassion, and dare to make a difference. I want them to walk humbly, choose to see the good in others, and always be gracious. Goal 3: Love Life: I want them to find things that make them tick, be it music, sports, art, books or things others find rather strange. I want them to eat, drink, and be merry. I want them to take time to soak in the beauty of nature and discover the diversity of our wonderful world. I pray that they will be better than I at waiting, at facing uncertainties and rejections, and at overcoming adversities, fears and failures. I don't want them to ever stop playing, asking questions or trying new things. And I don't want them to ever lose their sense of wonder, enthusiasm and delight at every day life. I want them to live passionately and have lots of fun, laughter and silliness along the way. I am often tempted to grieve and even feel guilty about the things that I can no longer give my children. I can't take them to swimming, ballet and violin lessons. There are no libraries, museums and concerts. I have no training in teaching whatsoever. In fact, in order to teach my kids, I have to learn things that I should have learnt when I was in school but didn't! When I follow homeschool curriculums and try ideas from the internet, I sigh that there are no shops for me to buy the things called for. But when I look at this list of the most important things that I want my children to learn, the sense of despair begins to lift. They are things that my kids can learn without a qualified teacher, wherever we are, even in our remote corner of the world. In fact, our foreign environment and challenging situation may even be conducive for many of the goals. For example, while we may be 'deprived' of the delights of the material world, we are free to enjoy the simplicity of life. While we miss family, apples and parks, we treasure them more. The way of life here creates ample opportunities to practise patience, flexibility and tolerance. The problems we face exercise faith and produce trust. We learn not to take things like electricity and water for granted. We try funny-sounding language, strange-looking food and other crazy new things. We find a hundred things to do with a card box, play restaurant serving real food and give our creativity a daily work-out. After all, necessity is the mother of invention! Our children may not always listen to us, but they always imitate. They see us mess up, fall down, get up and go again. They see us pray and experience its power. When asked what she liked most about Congo, our 7-year-old answered without hesitation, 'That we can help people.' Am I saying that I prefer this way of educating my kids? Not at all. What I am saying is that while my children miss out on some things, they also gain other things. Like any parent, I want my children to succeed. I want them to have the best opportunities and be prepared for them. Often, I worry that our obedience to God will cost our children more than it costs us, and that is where the sting comes in. Coming here, I have to believe that God loves my children more than I ever will, and that He can do a much better job at raising them than I ever can. Living here questions those beliefs, and reveals my secret tiger-mother ambitions. Perhaps that is why I am in school, so that I can learn to surrender my children, and truly trust God with them. NB. If you or a teacher you know may be interested in coming to help us with homeschool, please click here. Thanks! http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=41014 41014 Tue, 9 Apr 2013 08:49:00 +0000 As soon as he was born, they knew that he had a problem with his eyes. Bokota's eyes bulged like a goldfish. They looked like they were about to burst any minute. All day, they darted from side to side at the speed of lightning. As the months went by, they also came to know that he was not like the other children. He did not seem to be as alert, responsive or 'nosey' as the other babies in the village. They longed for help, but the only potential help would be in the capital, which was out of their reach. Firstly, there were no roads to the capital. Secondly, even if they could beg and borrow from their family, they would not be able to afford the travelling costs, never mind the astronomical medical fees. They felt trapped and helpless. Every time they looked at their son's sweet face, they wondered if he could see and worried that he never would. Every day, that dark fear hung over them like a thick black cloud. One day, they received a message from their uncle in Impfondo that a couple had arrived from abroad and had opened the first non-profit eye surgical centre. Immediately, they did everything they could to raise enough money to set off on their journey. As they carried Bokota along the dirt roads under the scorching sun, they dared not dwell on that flicker of hope lest they extinguish it somehow. When they arrived at New Sight Eye Centre, they met Henri. He told them that Bokota suffered from congenital glaucoma in both eyes. Sadly, Bokota might already have irreversible visual loss. Still, he explained that it would be worthwhile to operate on him to try save whatever vision he might still have. As Bokota's family could not afford to send him abroad to a paediatric specialist eye centre, Henri promised that by God's grace, he would do his best. He planned to operate on the right eye first and then the left one at later date. On 4 February 2013, his parents were very quiet. Worry was written all over his mother, whilst his father tried his best to contain his nerves. With hands shaking, they gently laid him on the operating table, not at all sure if he could see what was in fact happening. The surgery went well. Everyone was relieved that little Bokota tolerated the anaesthetic and the operation well. Henri had warned them before the surgery that as it was hard to test vision in babies, it might be several months before they would know how successful the surgery was. So when morning came and Henri started removing Bokota's eye pad, they did not expect any great change. They were encouraged to see that the right eye that was operated on certainly looked much more 'normal' now. A few minutes later, Bokota started looking around the consultation room. To his parents' great surprise, for the first time in his life, he seemed to be taking things in! Could it be that he could see better now? No-one knew. No-one could be sure. Then the most incredible thing happened! Bokota stretched his arms to give a yawn. Suddenly, he stopped his arm in mid air. His eyes seemed to be looking straight at his arm. He shook his fist and suddenly, his whole body moved ethusiastically. He stopped moving his arm. He became very still. Moments later, he shook his fist again and immediately, his whole body responded excitedly once again! He repeated this several times. It was as if when his hand moved, he could see it moving and was ecstatic by this most amazing discovery! By now, his mother was smiling. She didn't really know what she felt. She thought that perhaps she was finally allowing herself to feel something that she had almost forgotten. This thing was called hope. Two months later, they were once again carrying Bokota on the same dirt road, under the same scorching sun. This time, his eyes were not protruding. This time, he was busy looking around. This time, their steps were lighter. This time, when they arrived at the eye centre, they broke into a wide smile as they saw Henri. They told Henri that since Bokota had both his eyes operated, he was like a different child. He was eating better. He was much more energetic. He started to 'play non-stop' and to get into everything. 'Like a boy,' the mother quietly and proudly announced. His father interrupted her in high spirits, 'Yes, like a boy! Like a boy!' It was still early days, but for now, Henri enjoyed Bokota looking into his eyes. As soon as he was born, they knew that he had a problem with his eyes. Bokota's eyes bulged like a goldfish. They looked like they were about to burst any minute. All day, they darted from side to side at the speed of lightning. As the months went by, they also came to know that he was not like the other children. He did not seem to be as alert, responsive or 'nosey' as the other babies in the village. They longed for help, but the only potential help would be in the capital, which was out of their reach. Firstly, there were no roads to the capital. Secondly, even if they could beg and borrow from their family, they would not be able to afford the travelling costs, never mind the astronomical medical fees. They felt trapped and helpless. Every time they looked at their son's sweet face, they wondered if he could see and worried that he never would. Every day, that dark fear hung over them like a thick black cloud. One day, they received a message from their uncle in Impfondo that a couple had arrived from abroad and had opened the first non-profit eye surgical centre. Immediately, they did everything they could to raise enough money to set off on their journey. As they carried Bokota along the dirt roads under the scorching sun, they dared not dwell on that flicker of hope lest they extinguish it somehow. When they arrived at New Sight Eye Centre, they met Henri. He told them that Bokota suffered from congenital glaucoma in both eyes. Sadly, Bokota might already have irreversible visual loss. Still, he explained that it would be worthwhile to operate on him to try save whatever vision he might still have. As Bokota's family could not afford to send him abroad to a paediatric specialist eye centre, Henri promised that by God's grace, he would do his best. He planned to operate on the right eye first and then the left one at later date. On 4 February 2013, his parents were very quiet. Worry was written all over his mother, whilst his father tried his best to contain his nerves. With hands shaking, they gently laid him on the operating table, not at all sure if he could see what was in fact happening. The surgery went well. Everyone was relieved that little Bokota tolerated the anaesthetic and the operation well. Henri had warned them before the surgery that as it was hard to test vision in babies, it might be several months before they would know how successful the surgery was. So when morning came and Henri started removing Bokota's eye pad, they did not expect any great change. They were encouraged to see that the right eye that was operated on certainly looked much more 'normal' now. A few minutes later, Bokota started looking around the consultation room. To his parents' great surprise, for the first time in his life, he seemed to be taking things in! Could it be that he could see better now? No-one knew. No-one could be sure. Then the most incredible thing happened! Bokota stretched his arms to give a yawn. Suddenly, he stopped his arm in mid air. His eyes seemed to be looking straight at his arm. He shook his fist and suddenly, his whole body moved ethusiastically. He stopped moving his arm. He became very still. Moments later, he shook his fist again and immediately, his whole body responded excitedly once again! He repeated this several times. It was as if when his hand moved, he could see it moving and was ecstatic by this most amazing discovery! By now, his mother was smiling. She didn't really know what she felt. She thought that perhaps she was finally allowing herself to feel something that she had almost forgotten. This thing was called hope. Two months later, they were once again carrying Bokota on the same dirt road, under the same scorching sun. This time, his eyes were not protruding. This time, he was busy looking around. This time, their steps were lighter. This time, when they arrived at the eye centre, they broke into a wide smile as they saw Henri. They told Henri that since Bokota had both his eyes operated, he was like a different child. He was eating better. He was much more energetic. He started to 'play non-stop' and to get into everything. 'Like a boy,' the mother quietly and proudly announced. His father interrupted her in high spirits, 'Yes, like a boy! Like a boy!' It was still early days, but for now, Henri enjoyed Bokota looking into his eyes. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=40969 40969 Sat, 6 Apr 2013 10:46:00 +0000 Whenever I phone my family of 30 plus members in Hong Kong, we play 'Pass the telephone'. First auntie comes to the phone, and says loudly (to overcome the noise of mah-jong and children), 'Ah Yan! (My Chinese name) Have you eaten? What did you eat?' She proceeds to say that international calls are too expensive, yells for another auntie to hurry, and passes the phone to her. The same conversation is repeated with every auntie. In my family, what we eat is the only question truly worth asking. So, what do we eat in Congo?How have we changed the way we eat?Has the way we eat changed us too? 1. Becoming creative Before we came, a missionary emailed us a list of every food item that one can potentially buy in town. There were a total of 48 items:1. Oil2. Salt3. Pepper4. Sugar5. Teabags6. Instant coffee7. Milk powder8. Eggs (sometimes) … Distressed, I sent the ingredient list to BBC Good Food and culinary friends. They helpfully sent some recipes back to me. Unfortunately, it was only when I arrived in Congo that I realised that I cannot find fuel for my oven most of the time, rendering the majority of the recipes useless. So for the first 9 months, we ate pretty much the same things every day:- Breakfast: Porridge- Lunch: Spaghetti and tomato sauce, with whatever meat available in the market that day- Dinner: Mostly Bread / Fried RiceThe lack of variety forced us to become more creative. Last week, I invented crocodile congee. This week, I experimented with sweet potato peanut stew. I drew the line when my kids asked me to make monkey stock.2. Not worrying about tomorrowCompassionate visitors from abroad sometimes bring coveted food items that are unavailable here e.g. crackers, dried herbs and cocoa powder. When we lived in a rainforest in Gabon, my prized possessions included a bottle of soy sauce and a packet of chocolate chips from abroad. One day, one of our best friends Liza phoned to tell us that her cancer had recurred. That was the day I decided that life was too short. Things should be used, rather than just held onto, even if they are hard to replace. With great gusto, I poured the whole bottle of soy sauce to make Soy Sauce Chicken (I froze the sauce afterwards and reused twice). When we made cookies, my daughter's eyes widened with excitement as I threw in the whole cup of chocolate chips rather than my usual stingy few. Since then, we have never run out of chocolate chips. Visitors somehow kept bringing us chocolate chips even without our asking. As Henri likes to say, 'Don't worry! Just enjoy it! It needs to run out so that God can fill it up again. God always provides.' 3. Food tasting extra good when it is a labour of love We love (Eggless) Pancake Sundays! (Finding eggs is a treat in our corner of the world) Steps: Buy flour in 50kg sack and try sell some off to other missionaries Sieve through all the flour to get rid of bugs and store batches in Ziploc bags. Perceive aching arms as gym work-out As we have no freezer, set the fridge to 1°C to store the flour overnight to try kill the eggs of the bugs On Sunday, sieve the flour again to get rid of new bugs (Once, there were still bugs after sieving the flour 6 times. Henri told me to stop trying as the bugs are protein. I did not know if I should laugh or cry). Filter water to make pancakes and consider the heat in the kitchen as free sauna Make maple syrup with maple syrup imitation The happiness the pancakes bring to the diners… Priceless!4. Developing a sense of pride - I was never much of a cook. I can say that I was too busy but the bottom line was that I was spoilt. I never boiled an egg until university. I bought ready-wash salads and any short-cuts / ready-mades to make my life easier. Who would have thought that I now make my own ketchup, bread, yogurt, cereals, stock and every meal from scratch! I am proud to be the reluctant domestic goddess! - When we first arrived, I would get lost in the market maze made up of hundred of stores. They looked almost identical, but a few of them stocked unique food items. Now when a newcomer comes, I am proud to navigate him / her to the particular store that sells canned sweet corn (when available), and another that sells popcorn kernels (when available). I now know a papa who can make peanut butter for me, and the nuns who often have chicken eggs. I like the feeling of being 'resourceful'. - Our vegetable garden produced 100% organic tomatoes, cucumbers, sweet potatoes, spinach, and sweet-corn. Our harvest was so ridiculously abundant that we had more than enough to give to our patients. With our increasing workload, it has become sadly neglected but when we tended it, self-sufficiency was empowering! - For a long time, I struggled with controlling the heat on our kerosene stove (like a camping stove) and oven (works when we have fuel). They do not have temperature controls. I felt nervous about lighting and extinguishing them, and was always armed with fire blankets and fire extinguisher. Now I am no longer afraid of them (most of the time).5. Learning thankfulness I am so thankful that - My children are such good eaters. They are braver than I in trying new food such as caterpillars. - God blesses us with surprises. We miraculously had chickens for Christmas and my birthday! Absence sure makes the heart grow fonder! We have a new found appreciation for apples, butter and all the things that we cannot get here. - Compared to our neighbours, we live in such abundance. I cannot imagine how they afford to feed their big families. An average day's salary is USD3, which will only be enough to buy a handful of potatoes. Do I crave chocolate? Yes! Do I dream about sashimi? You bet! Do we miss food from home? You should see us drooling over the sight of food on DVDs! But are we thankful? Absolutely! Unlike our neighbours, we always have food on the table. More often than not, we have left-over. We have running water. We installed a solar fridge. We have a house-help who burns rubbish for us. We do not need to chop wood to cook with a smoky open fire that puts our eyes at risk of developing cataracts. An ungrateful heart renders the choicest food tasteless. A thankful heart turns the blandest food into the most magical feast. We may have less 'good food' than we had, but what we now have is by far more satisfying. Whenever I phone my family of 30 plus members in Hong Kong, we play 'Pass the telephone'. First auntie comes to the phone, and says loudly (to overcome the noise of mah-jong and children), 'Ah Yan! (My Chinese name) Have you eaten? What did you eat?' She proceeds to say that international calls are too expensive, yells for another auntie to hurry, and passes the phone to her. The same conversation is repeated with every auntie. In my family, what we eat is the only question truly worth asking. So, what do we eat in Congo?How have we changed the way we eat?Has the way we eat changed us too? 1. Becoming creative Before we came, a missionary emailed us a list of every food item that one can potentially buy in town. There were a total of 48 items:1. Oil2. Salt3. Pepper4. Sugar5. Teabags6. Instant coffee7. Milk powder8. Eggs (sometimes) … Distressed, I sent the ingredient list to BBC Good Food and culinary friends. They helpfully sent some recipes back to me. Unfortunately, it was only when I arrived in Congo that I realised that I cannot find fuel for my oven most of the time, rendering the majority of the recipes useless. So for the first 9 months, we ate pretty much the same things every day:- Breakfast: Porridge- Lunch: Spaghetti and tomato sauce, with whatever meat available in the market that day- Dinner: Mostly Bread / Fried RiceThe lack of variety forced us to become more creative. Last week, I invented crocodile congee. This week, I experimented with sweet potato peanut stew. I drew the line when my kids asked me to make monkey stock.2. Not worrying about tomorrowCompassionate visitors from abroad sometimes bring coveted food items that are unavailable here e.g. crackers, dried herbs and cocoa powder. When we lived in a rainforest in Gabon, my prized possessions included a bottle of soy sauce and a packet of chocolate chips from abroad. One day, one of our best friends Liza phoned to tell us that her cancer had recurred. That was the day I decided that life was too short. Things should be used, rather than just held onto, even if they are hard to replace. With great gusto, I poured the whole bottle of soy sauce to make Soy Sauce Chicken (I froze the sauce afterwards and reused twice). When we made cookies, my daughter's eyes widened with excitement as I threw in the whole cup of chocolate chips rather than my usual stingy few. Since then, we have never run out of chocolate chips. Visitors somehow kept bringing us chocolate chips even without our asking. As Henri likes to say, 'Don't worry! Just enjoy it! It needs to run out so that God can fill it up again. God always provides.' 3. Food tasting extra good when it is a labour of love We love (Eggless) Pancake Sundays! (Finding eggs is a treat in our corner of the world) Steps: Buy flour in 50kg sack and try sell some off to other missionaries Sieve through all the flour to get rid of bugs and store batches in Ziploc bags. Perceive aching arms as gym work-out As we have no freezer, set the fridge to 1°C to store the flour overnight to try kill the eggs of the bugs On Sunday, sieve the flour again to get rid of new bugs (Once, there were still bugs after sieving the flour 6 times. Henri told me to stop trying as the bugs are protein. I did not know if I should laugh or cry). Filter water to make pancakes and consider the heat in the kitchen as free sauna Make maple syrup with maple syrup imitation The happiness the pancakes bring to the diners… Priceless!4. Developing a sense of pride - I was never much of a cook. I can say that I was too busy but the bottom line was that I was spoilt. I never boiled an egg until university. I bought ready-wash salads and any short-cuts / ready-mades to make my life easier. Who would have thought that I now make my own ketchup, bread, yogurt, cereals, stock and every meal from scratch! I am proud to be the reluctant domestic goddess! - When we first arrived, I would get lost in the market maze made up of hundred of stores. They looked almost identical, but a few of them stocked unique food items. Now when a newcomer comes, I am proud to navigate him / her to the particular store that sells canned sweet corn (when available), and another that sells popcorn kernels (when available). I now know a papa who can make peanut butter for me, and the nuns who often have chicken eggs. I like the feeling of being 'resourceful'. - Our vegetable garden produced 100% organic tomatoes, cucumbers, sweet potatoes, spinach, and sweet-corn. Our harvest was so ridiculously abundant that we had more than enough to give to our patients. With our increasing workload, it has become sadly neglected but when we tended it, self-sufficiency was empowering! - For a long time, I struggled with controlling the heat on our kerosene stove (like a camping stove) and oven (works when we have fuel). They do not have temperature controls. I felt nervous about lighting and extinguishing them, and was always armed with fire blankets and fire extinguisher. Now I am no longer afraid of them (most of the time).5. Learning thankfulness I am so thankful that - My children are such good eaters. They are braver than I in trying new food such as caterpillars. - God blesses us with surprises. We miraculously had chickens for Christmas and my birthday! Absence sure makes the heart grow fonder! We have a new found appreciation for apples, butter and all the things that we cannot get here. - Compared to our neighbours, we live in such abundance. I cannot imagine how they afford to feed their big families. An average day's salary is USD3, which will only be enough to buy a handful of potatoes. Do I crave chocolate? Yes! Do I dream about sashimi? You bet! Do we miss food from home? You should see us drooling over the sight of food on DVDs! But are we thankful? Absolutely! Unlike our neighbours, we always have food on the table. More often than not, we have left-over. We have running water. We installed a solar fridge. We have a house-help who burns rubbish for us. We do not need to chop wood to cook with a smoky open fire that puts our eyes at risk of developing cataracts. An ungrateful heart renders the choicest food tasteless. A thankful heart turns the blandest food into the most magical feast. We may have less 'good food' than we had, but what we now have is by far more satisfying. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=40586 40586 Sun, 17 Mar 2013 05:38:00 +0000 [My ongoing journey in coming to terms with my awkwardness of living in a poor and needy world] Thomas Gray, the 18th century English Scholar and Poet, coined the phrase, 'Ignorance is bliss!' He sure has a point! I find it easier to pretend not to notice the beggar on the street; easier not to live 'green'; and easier to ignore many news headlines. I find it easier not to look at the needs of the world. If we don't look, then we won't see.If we don't see, then we won't know.If we don't know, then we won't be moved.If we are not moved, then we won't have to do anything about it. It will be bliss! Annoyingly, that bliss will be but fake because it can only exist in a fantasy world devoid of needs. In reality, until Jesus comes back, our world will always be troubled and overwhelmed by needs. Thirty-nine million people in this world are blind. 90% of whom live in developing countries. Whilst it is amazing that 4 out of 5 of them can have their blindness economically treated (e.g. by cataract surgery) or prevented (e.g. by vitamin A), it saddens me that that means that there are 31 million people whom we can help but are not helping, and who as a result are suffering needlessly! Needs like these overwhelm me. I'd rather ignore them and blissfully go to bed. There were once more than 5000 people listening to Jesus' teaching. It was getting late and it was too remote for pizza delivery. I could see that the people were hungry and needy. So I said, 'Jesus, we'd better call it a day and advise the people to go so that they can have a chance to sort themselves out.' Jesus replied, 'They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.' 'Sorry, what did you say, Jesus? You mean you want to give them something to eat, right? I guess you are God and can do anything… What?!? You want me to give them something to eat. ME? But… there are thousands of them! I don't have the time, finances, skill, talent, connections or resources to know from where to even begin to try tackle the problem! You cannot possibly expect me to do something about it! I am sorry Jesus but you are being totally unreasonable! It's crazy! It's ridiculous! It's not that I don't care. In fact, I'd love to be able to help, but come on! The need and demand are obviously way above me. Besides, what if I fail and all my efforts will be for nothing? It takes courage to look, see, know, and be moved by the needs of the world, but for what? So that I can hurt with them and offend them with unhelpful sympathy? So that I can feel guilty, helpless and frustrated?!? Seriously Jesus, what can I possibly do?' 'You give them something to eat.' Gently and patiently, God is teaching the slow and often reluctant learner that I am, that: Just because I can't help everybody doesn't mean that I can't help the one person in front of me, that Just because I can't do everything doesn't mean that I can't do something, and thatJust because I can't do more doesn't mean thatI can't start with what I can now. Abraham Lincoln said, 'The probability that we might fail in the struggle ought not to deter us from the support of a course we believe to be just'. Helen Keller puts it this way, 'I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do.' God does not call the equipped. He equips the called. There is no need for God to give us something that we currently have no use for. That is why we should not refuse to attempt something just because we are yet to be equipped. God will provide when we have need of it. We may be just some kid with 5 loaves and 2 fish. We may be ashamed of our smallness and embarrassed by the little that we have. What we have may be laughably minuscule, but in God's hands, what matters is that it is enough. So it is small, but who cares, it is enough! When we put the little that we have in His hands, He will multiply it miraculously, exceedingly abundantly above all that we can ever imagine, ask or think, to meet the need, and so much more. That, I'd say, is bliss. PS. Thank you for reading my blog. I'd really love to hear your comments and thoughts. For my next blog, I shall talk about some other blissful things, probably food… =) [My ongoing journey in coming to terms with my awkwardness of living in a poor and needy world] Thomas Gray, the 18th century English Scholar and Poet, coined the phrase, 'Ignorance is bliss!' He sure has a point! I find it easier to pretend not to notice the beggar on the street; easier not to live 'green'; and easier to ignore many news headlines. I find it easier not to look at the needs of the world. If we don't look, then we won't see.If we don't see, then we won't know.If we don't know, then we won't be moved.If we are not moved, then we won't have to do anything about it. It will be bliss! Annoyingly, that bliss will be but fake because it can only exist in a fantasy world devoid of needs. In reality, until Jesus comes back, our world will always be troubled and overwhelmed by needs. Thirty-nine million people in this world are blind. 90% of whom live in developing countries. Whilst it is amazing that 4 out of 5 of them can have their blindness economically treated (e.g. by cataract surgery) or prevented (e.g. by vitamin A), it saddens me that that means that there are 31 million people whom we can help but are not helping, and who as a result are suffering needlessly! Needs like these overwhelm me. I'd rather ignore them and blissfully go to bed. There were once more than 5000 people listening to Jesus' teaching. It was getting late and it was too remote for pizza delivery. I could see that the people were hungry and needy. So I said, 'Jesus, we'd better call it a day and advise the people to go so that they can have a chance to sort themselves out.' Jesus replied, 'They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.' 'Sorry, what did you say, Jesus? You mean you want to give them something to eat, right? I guess you are God and can do anything… What?!? You want me to give them something to eat. ME? But… there are thousands of them! I don't have the time, finances, skill, talent, connections or resources to know from where to even begin to try tackle the problem! You cannot possibly expect me to do something about it! I am sorry Jesus but you are being totally unreasonable! It's crazy! It's ridiculous! It's not that I don't care. In fact, I'd love to be able to help, but come on! The need and demand are obviously way above me. Besides, what if I fail and all my efforts will be for nothing? It takes courage to look, see, know, and be moved by the needs of the world, but for what? So that I can hurt with them and offend them with unhelpful sympathy? So that I can feel guilty, helpless and frustrated?!? Seriously Jesus, what can I possibly do?' 'You give them something to eat.' Gently and patiently, God is teaching the slow and often reluctant learner that I am, that: Just because I can't help everybody doesn't mean that I can't help the one person in front of me, that Just because I can't do everything doesn't mean that I can't do something, and thatJust because I can't do more doesn't mean thatI can't start with what I can now. Abraham Lincoln said, 'The probability that we might fail in the struggle ought not to deter us from the support of a course we believe to be just'. Helen Keller puts it this way, 'I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do.' God does not call the equipped. He equips the called. There is no need for God to give us something that we currently have no use for. That is why we should not refuse to attempt something just because we are yet to be equipped. God will provide when we have need of it. We may be just some kid with 5 loaves and 2 fish. We may be ashamed of our smallness and embarrassed by the little that we have. What we have may be laughably minuscule, but in God's hands, what matters is that it is enough. So it is small, but who cares, it is enough! When we put the little that we have in His hands, He will multiply it miraculously, exceedingly abundantly above all that we can ever imagine, ask or think, to meet the need, and so much more. That, I'd say, is bliss. PS. Thank you for reading my blog. I'd really love to hear your comments and thoughts. For my next blog, I shall talk about some other blissful things, probably food… =) http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=40448 40448 Sat, 9 Mar 2013 04:06:00 +0000 At the eye health conference in India, we had to go through security every day at the venue. I have never experienced any conference like that. I found a lot of the CEOs, renowned academics and award-winning doctors rather intimidating. At a breakfast meeting, one of the world famous experts, whom we had (and still have) great admiration for, gave a talk on how to choose which charity to support. Henri and I shifted uncomfortably as it soon became clear that our project was a shining example of what not to invest in – uncooperative bureaucracy, language barriers, logistics difficulties etc., Throughout the conference, we were told time and again by experts after experts that we had 'picked the wrong country' because it was too hard. We live in a world where we, including donors, want fast results and value-for-money. Because of that pressure, the people who live in the world's hardest to reach, to work with and to 'crack' places are at risk of being neglected. But in Jesus, there is no 'wrong country'. He never forgets anyone. In fact, He has an affinity for the ones that the world would rather forget and ignore. We felt God tugging at our hearts: Stand up and be a voice for the 'orphaned countries'. Speak up for the Right to Sight. Say, 'How can we say that because it will cost more money, time and efforts, that a person cannot have his sight?' Psalm 82:3-4 'Defend the cause of the weak and fatherless, maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed.' Henri said that I should speak because my English was better. But I was scared. They all speak so eloquently. They all have training, experience and titles under their belt. Who am I? Just a girl with hardly any experience from a tiny unknown charity. The truth is that I don't like to stand out. I am scared of what other people will think – I am scared that people will think that I am not good enough, or if they think that I am good enough, I am scared that they will think that I am proud. Then God reminded me – it is not about me, it is about those in need. So I went to the microphone. With my feet shaking, my palms sweating and my heart racing, I spoke up. I am still petrified but I know that I am finding my voice. My mother always taught me that if I have nothing to say, then say nothing. Well, it needs to be said, and I am saying it. Come on, let's speak up for those who cannot speak up for themselves – in words and in action. At the eye health conference in India, we had to go through security every day at the venue. I have never experienced any conference like that. I found a lot of the CEOs, renowned academics and award-winning doctors rather intimidating. At a breakfast meeting, one of the world famous experts, whom we had (and still have) great admiration for, gave a talk on how to choose which charity to support. Henri and I shifted uncomfortably as it soon became clear that our project was a shining example of what not to invest in – uncooperative bureaucracy, language barriers, logistics difficulties etc., Throughout the conference, we were told time and again by experts after experts that we had 'picked the wrong country' because it was too hard. We live in a world where we, including donors, want fast results and value-for-money. Because of that pressure, the people who live in the world's hardest to reach, to work with and to 'crack' places are at risk of being neglected. But in Jesus, there is no 'wrong country'. He never forgets anyone. In fact, He has an affinity for the ones that the world would rather forget and ignore. We felt God tugging at our hearts: Stand up and be a voice for the 'orphaned countries'. Speak up for the Right to Sight. Say, 'How can we say that because it will cost more money, time and efforts, that a person cannot have his sight?' Psalm 82:3-4 'Defend the cause of the weak and fatherless, maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed.' Henri said that I should speak because my English was better. But I was scared. They all speak so eloquently. They all have training, experience and titles under their belt. Who am I? Just a girl with hardly any experience from a tiny unknown charity. The truth is that I don't like to stand out. I am scared of what other people will think – I am scared that people will think that I am not good enough, or if they think that I am good enough, I am scared that they will think that I am proud. Then God reminded me – it is not about me, it is about those in need. So I went to the microphone. With my feet shaking, my palms sweating and my heart racing, I spoke up. I am still petrified but I know that I am finding my voice. My mother always taught me that if I have nothing to say, then say nothing. Well, it needs to be said, and I am saying it. Come on, let's speak up for those who cannot speak up for themselves – in words and in action. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=40200 40200 Wed, 27 Feb 2013 10:35:00 +0000 The Secret(Lesson 1 from India) Over the next few blogs, I'd like to share from my journal some lessons that I learnt whilst we travelled to India last September to attend an international eye health conference. We made a stop-over in Hong Kong to leave our children in my parents' care so that we could do our work in India. In Hong Kong, I lost count of the number of times I said to Henri and to my best friend, 'I don't want to go back to Congo.' O I know that New Sight is desperately needed. O I know that New Sight is restoring sight, hope, and life. I said that I didn't want to go back to Congo because I often feel that I can't. Some days, I just don't want to be here at all. The culture. The language. The disorganisation. The slowness. The task before us. The helplessness. The needs. The demands. The heat. The insect bites. The isolation. The way of life.The Impossibility! It is just too hard. I am not cut out for this. I am out of my depth.I can't cope.Just forget it! But… there is a but…. I have since discovered the secret. The secret is: Fall in love. When we are in love, we become super beings. When we are in love, walking in the rain doesn't seem so annoying. It may even be quite romantic. When we are in love, we are not too tired to stay up to talk all night. When we are in love, we delight in the inconvenience of dropping someone off even when it is miles away and completely opposite to where we are going. When we are in love, we become crazy and possessed. We do the strangest things. Henri and I were apart in different continents for four years before we were married. Back then, there was no internet, no email, and Henri lived 3 hours away from the nearest phone signal. A postal letter would take 6 weeks to arrive, and often never. On the Saturdays when he was not working, even though he was tired, and was busy with church ministry, he would travel for 3 hours on dirt roads just to go and call me and then travel for another 3 hours to get back. The phone bills were astronomical but we didn't mind. Our lines often got cut and we would have to redial 10-20 times just to get a line for a minute only to be cut again, but we didn't mind. When we are in love, we find ourselves overtaken by a force that we did not know we had. Nothing is too tough. Nothing is too inconvenient. Nothing is too tedius. Nothing is too annoying. Nothing is impossible. I am learning the secret: Fall in love with Jesus daily. When I am in love, I am a super being. When I am in love, I can do all things. The Secret(Lesson 1 from India) Over the next few blogs, I'd like to share from my journal some lessons that I learnt whilst we travelled to India last September to attend an international eye health conference. We made a stop-over in Hong Kong to leave our children in my parents' care so that we could do our work in India. In Hong Kong, I lost count of the number of times I said to Henri and to my best friend, 'I don't want to go back to Congo.' O I know that New Sight is desperately needed. O I know that New Sight is restoring sight, hope, and life. I said that I didn't want to go back to Congo because I often feel that I can't. Some days, I just don't want to be here at all. The culture. The language. The disorganisation. The slowness. The task before us. The helplessness. The needs. The demands. The heat. The insect bites. The isolation. The way of life.The Impossibility! It is just too hard. I am not cut out for this. I am out of my depth.I can't cope.Just forget it! But… there is a but…. I have since discovered the secret. The secret is: Fall in love. When we are in love, we become super beings. When we are in love, walking in the rain doesn't seem so annoying. It may even be quite romantic. When we are in love, we are not too tired to stay up to talk all night. When we are in love, we delight in the inconvenience of dropping someone off even when it is miles away and completely opposite to where we are going. When we are in love, we become crazy and possessed. We do the strangest things. Henri and I were apart in different continents for four years before we were married. Back then, there was no internet, no email, and Henri lived 3 hours away from the nearest phone signal. A postal letter would take 6 weeks to arrive, and often never. On the Saturdays when he was not working, even though he was tired, and was busy with church ministry, he would travel for 3 hours on dirt roads just to go and call me and then travel for another 3 hours to get back. The phone bills were astronomical but we didn't mind. Our lines often got cut and we would have to redial 10-20 times just to get a line for a minute only to be cut again, but we didn't mind. When we are in love, we find ourselves overtaken by a force that we did not know we had. Nothing is too tough. Nothing is too inconvenient. Nothing is too tedius. Nothing is too annoying. Nothing is impossible. I am learning the secret: Fall in love with Jesus daily. When I am in love, I am a super being. When I am in love, I can do all things. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=40110 40110 Fri, 22 Feb 2013 09:04:00 +0000 This time last year, we were frantically preparing to leave our life in the UK to embrace our new life in Congo. I had never been to Congo before. All I had to go on was what Henri experienced during his 4-day-visit in 2010. Usually, what I find hard, Henri finds easy; and what I find very hard, Henri finds okay. So when he came back from his 'scouting visit', shook his head and said that life in Impfondo, Congo was going to be very very hard, I thought, 'Living there is going to be impossible!' We wanted to go to Congo because their need for eye care was desperate. We wanted to go because we knew that we could restore sight and change lives. The bottom line for us though was that God called us and we were going to go, whatever we find, be it hard or seemingly impossible, no matter what. While I never put it into words, I had expected a radical change in our financial situation. I expected a drastic cut in salary (from middle-class income to zero salary). I expected a harsh cut in spending (the hardest to swallow was no more long haul flights to visit families and friends). People in HK and the UK would ask us when we would visit. Not wanting to give away our financial situation, I would smile politely and say, 'Not too long I hope.' Deep inside of me though, all I could imagine was us living a very basic and quiet life in a very remote part of the world with no spare cash to travel. I expected a content but much humbler way of living. Three months ago, I was marvelling at how many unexpected things had happened in our lives. Since we gave up our jobs in January 2011, - Someone I haven't spoken to for over 15 years proposed and bought me air-tickets to travel to Hong Kong for a fundraising trip (Until then we had never thought about going to HK to fundraise) - I was invited to speak at a world-famous investment bank with live-listening-in from abroad. These bankers have stock market TV running in the lifts because they cannot bear to leave their business for a minute and yet they stopped for an hour to find out about New Sight! - I spoke at the prestigious Royal Geographical Society whose past speakers were legendary astronauts, polar explorers, and conservationists like Dame Jane Goddall. I still cannot get over the fact that people would PAY to hear me speak! - We made full-page in national newspapers and international magazines, and were featured in BBC, local radio and cable TV. Totally embarrassing for me but great publicity for New Sight. I am learning to get over myself - In India, we presented at an International Eye Health conference held every 4 years attended by over 1600 delegates from 84 countries and inaugurated by India's immediate past president Dr. Kalem. - We wiped our emergency fund (supposed for family emergencies) to get to India and leave our children with our babysitters (my parents) in Hong Kong. A month later, a lady whom we have met only once transferred the exact amount of our airfares into our bank account! - We had a stop-over in Malaysia and so we took the advantage of spending two days there as we have never been there before. You guessed it, we did not ask but someone whom we barely knew, paid for our hotel! Whilst I was marvelling at all these unexpected turn of events, we received news that against all odds, we had won the international eXcellence in Ophthalmology Vision Award! Henri had to stay in Congo because of the patients. I really didn't want to leave our kids. Still, for a training grant of 50,000 Euroes for New Sight, who wouldn't make an all-expenses paid trip to Prague for the Award Ceremony - another glitzy event for over 1000 ophthalmologists from all around the world? So in October 2012, I set off on yet another unexpected trip. I was overwhelmed by surprise upon surprise. First, they flew me Business class. Then I arrived at the hotels and realised that they were 5-star hotels. I was taken to my luxurious room on the Executive Floor where there was beautiful free food and drink all day! I even had a maid who would come in every evening to turn my bed out! I thought to myself, 'This is all unbelievably lovely. While I appreciate their kindness and generosity, I can't help but think if only I had been flown in Economy class and been put in a less expensive room, thousands of dollars / pounds could have gone to New Sight instead!' This jet-setting 5-star business-class high-profile life was not the life I expected! I never once asked, hoped, imagined or prepared for anything like it! Just look at me, I didn't even have the right clothes or shoes! When I went to Congo, it had never crossed my mind to put black-tie attire for a Czech palace on my packing list! Over the phone, Henri kept saying that I should just enjoy it. 'I think that God is trying to tell you something.' he said, laughing. I found out what that something was on my way back from Prague to Congo. My business class ticket sat me next to the wife of the President of Congo for 8 whole hours! I had come to Congo to sit next to the poor, and God had me sitting next to the First Lady of the country! She gave me the mobile number of her personal assistant and arranged for me to meet her team a few days later to discuss how they could help our work! I like to plan. I love to plan. Okay, I am addicted to planning! These months have taught me that I actually have no idea what God has planned for us. I know though that God has planned something good, something that no eye has seen, that no ear has heard, that no mind can conceive (1 Corinthians 2:9) And best of all, He has promised to be with me all the way. This time last year, we were frantically preparing to leave our life in the UK to embrace our new life in Congo. I had never been to Congo before. All I had to go on was what Henri experienced during his 4-day-visit in 2010. Usually, what I find hard, Henri finds easy; and what I find very hard, Henri finds okay. So when he came back from his 'scouting visit', shook his head and said that life in Impfondo, Congo was going to be very very hard, I thought, 'Living there is going to be impossible!' We wanted to go to Congo because their need for eye care was desperate. We wanted to go because we knew that we could restore sight and change lives. The bottom line for us though was that God called us and we were going to go, whatever we find, be it hard or seemingly impossible, no matter what. While I never put it into words, I had expected a radical change in our financial situation. I expected a drastic cut in salary (from middle-class income to zero salary). I expected a harsh cut in spending (the hardest to swallow was no more long haul flights to visit families and friends). People in HK and the UK would ask us when we would visit. Not wanting to give away our financial situation, I would smile politely and say, 'Not too long I hope.' Deep inside of me though, all I could imagine was us living a very basic and quiet life in a very remote part of the world with no spare cash to travel. I expected a content but much humbler way of living. Three months ago, I was marvelling at how many unexpected things had happened in our lives. Since we gave up our jobs in January 2011, - Someone I haven't spoken to for over 15 years proposed and bought me air-tickets to travel to Hong Kong for a fundraising trip (Until then we had never thought about going to HK to fundraise) - I was invited to speak at a world-famous investment bank with live-listening-in from abroad. These bankers have stock market TV running in the lifts because they cannot bear to leave their business for a minute and yet they stopped for an hour to find out about New Sight! - I spoke at the prestigious Royal Geographical Society whose past speakers were legendary astronauts, polar explorers, and conservationists like Dame Jane Goddall. I still cannot get over the fact that people would PAY to hear me speak! - We made full-page in national newspapers and international magazines, and were featured in BBC, local radio and cable TV. Totally embarrassing for me but great publicity for New Sight. I am learning to get over myself - In India, we presented at an International Eye Health conference held every 4 years attended by over 1600 delegates from 84 countries and inaugurated by India's immediate past president Dr. Kalem. - We wiped our emergency fund (supposed for family emergencies) to get to India and leave our children with our babysitters (my parents) in Hong Kong. A month later, a lady whom we have met only once transferred the exact amount of our airfares into our bank account! - We had a stop-over in Malaysia and so we took the advantage of spending two days there as we have never been there before. You guessed it, we did not ask but someone whom we barely knew, paid for our hotel! Whilst I was marvelling at all these unexpected turn of events, we received news that against all odds, we had won the international eXcellence in Ophthalmology Vision Award! Henri had to stay in Congo because of the patients. I really didn't want to leave our kids. Still, for a training grant of 50,000 Euroes for New Sight, who wouldn't make an all-expenses paid trip to Prague for the Award Ceremony - another glitzy event for over 1000 ophthalmologists from all around the world? So in October 2012, I set off on yet another unexpected trip. I was overwhelmed by surprise upon surprise. First, they flew me Business class. Then I arrived at the hotels and realised that they were 5-star hotels. I was taken to my luxurious room on the Executive Floor where there was beautiful free food and drink all day! I even had a maid who would come in every evening to turn my bed out! I thought to myself, 'This is all unbelievably lovely. While I appreciate their kindness and generosity, I can't help but think if only I had been flown in Economy class and been put in a less expensive room, thousands of dollars / pounds could have gone to New Sight instead!' This jet-setting 5-star business-class high-profile life was not the life I expected! I never once asked, hoped, imagined or prepared for anything like it! Just look at me, I didn't even have the right clothes or shoes! When I went to Congo, it had never crossed my mind to put black-tie attire for a Czech palace on my packing list! Over the phone, Henri kept saying that I should just enjoy it. 'I think that God is trying to tell you something.' he said, laughing. I found out what that something was on my way back from Prague to Congo. My business class ticket sat me next to the wife of the President of Congo for 8 whole hours! I had come to Congo to sit next to the poor, and God had me sitting next to the First Lady of the country! She gave me the mobile number of her personal assistant and arranged for me to meet her team a few days later to discuss how they could help our work! I like to plan. I love to plan. Okay, I am addicted to planning! These months have taught me that I actually have no idea what God has planned for us. I know though that God has planned something good, something that no eye has seen, that no ear has heard, that no mind can conceive (1 Corinthians 2:9) And best of all, He has promised to be with me all the way. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=39880 39880 Mon, 11 Feb 2013 11:13:00 +0000 I don't know her name. She is so bent over that I can't really see what she looks like. I can't stop thinking about this old wrinkled lady. I am spellbound. I am awe struck. Every Sunday without fail, bent over at 90 degrees from a painful back, barely able to keep her eyes from the floor to look ahead, she comes to the church alone. She walks snail-paced to the front of the church, gives her offering, walks back to the back of the church, and sits. I don't know how much she puts in the offering basket, but from the way she is dressed and from how malnourished she looks, I wouldn't have thought that it was much – not to the world anyway. She looked so poor that she seemed like she didn't have anything. She looked like she had so little that you wonder how she actually managed to find something to give. Last Sunday, she came in and brought a live rooster as an offering. 'As he looked up, Jesus saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. 'I tell you the truth,' he said, 'this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.' Luke 21:6 Humbled. Inspired. She is the truly rich one. Lord, give me a heart like hers. I don't know her name. She is so bent over that I can't really see what she looks like. I can't stop thinking about this old wrinkled lady. I am spellbound. I am awe struck. Every Sunday without fail, bent over at 90 degrees from a painful back, barely able to keep her eyes from the floor to look ahead, she comes to the church alone. She walks snail-paced to the front of the church, gives her offering, walks back to the back of the church, and sits. I don't know how much she puts in the offering basket, but from the way she is dressed and from how malnourished she looks, I wouldn't have thought that it was much – not to the world anyway. She looked so poor that she seemed like she didn't have anything. She looked like she had so little that you wonder how she actually managed to find something to give. Last Sunday, she came in and brought a live rooster as an offering. 'As he looked up, Jesus saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. 'I tell you the truth,' he said, 'this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.' Luke 21:6 Humbled. Inspired. She is the truly rich one. Lord, give me a heart like hers. http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=39843 39843 Fri, 8 Feb 2013 05:05:00 +0000 Samoutou News October 2012: Developmental Milestone Edition MBOTE (Hello in Congolese dialect)! Welcome to our Developmental Milestone Edition! Please come with us as we journey our significant never-the-same moments! FIRST UP, SOME BREAKING AMAZING NEWS! Guess who just won the international eXcellence in Ophthalmology Vision Award (XOVA) and received a 50 000 Euros project grant? And guess who received the Certificate in Community Eye Health with HONOURS? Well done New Sight and Henri (big pat on big heads)! Guess what else have we got? We've got the POWER! Solar panels and Solar Fridge are up and running! Thank you Solar Afrique for donating your precious time and skills, literally lighting up our lives! A LIFE-DEFINING TRIP Every four years, all the key players including charities, field workers, researchers, funders and suppliers for international eye health gather for a conference for Vision 2020, the World Health Organisation global initiative to eliminate all avoidable blindness by the year 2020. This year, Henri's abstract was accepted for presentation. We agonised for a long time if we should go due to the expenses and the timing as we were just beginning to settle in Congo. We felt that the trip was important for New Sight. So we took a deep breath and wiped our family's emergency savings that were reserved for well, emergencies such as family illness. A month later, an amazing lady in Hong Kong asked us for our personal bank details as she wanted to give, not to New Sight, but to our family. Without knowing the costs of the air-tickets, she transferred exactly the same amount! We marvel at God's provision! To travel to the conference in India, we needed our passports back from Congolese immigration where our long-term visas should have been processed two months before. To cut a long story short, Immigration lost our passports. Instead of trying to find them and troubleshoot so that this does not happen again, we were advised to be patient and to 'accept that this is how administration in Congo worked'. Immigration lost our passports, and then some of its staff asked us for money under the table for not producing our IDs! After a few days of our own painstaking private investigations and praying on our knees the rest of the time, they miraculously found our passports four days before our flights and gave us FREE 1-year visas! Whilst this experience was unpleasant, we gained valuable insights into the culture and government of the country that we are serving. It really is telling of the mentality here that our 2-year-old daughter is convinced that there is a gentleman by the name of 'Attendez!' which is the French order form of 'Wait!' At the conference, we worked from 5am until 12 midnight every day but we did not mind one bit! We learnt so much through the updates and exchange of experience. Our stand provided a great platform to raise profile for our charity, for networking and collaborating. We were amazed by the doors opened to several important meetings. Amongst them was a meeting with the doctor in charge of overseeing Vision 2020 in Africa. He is a very experienced giant in the eye health world whom we look up to very much. His first words to us were, 'You know what your problem is – you have picked the wrong country!' This was echoed by so many who said, 'You cannot crack Congo!' We began to see why we were not getting the funding and support that we need from international charities and businesses, and why nobody else wants to give eye care in Congo: Many only want to work with English-speaking countries; Many were put off by the logistical and bureaucratic difficulties of Congo; Many want to concentrate on densely populated areas where one can benefit from economy of scale. We live in a world where we including donors want fast results and value-for-money. Because of that pressure, the people who live in the world's hardest to reach, to work with and to 'crack' places are at risk of being neglected. We cannot bear to see people suffer because they live in 'the wrong country'. How can we say that because it will cost more money, time and efforts, a person cannot have his sight? We are passionate about the Right to Sight for all. We now realised that our destiny is to help the most vulnerable, needy and abandoned people of this world. We want to stand up and be a voice for the 'orphaned countries'. A part of us thinks, 'How can we think that we can do what others think are too hard to do?' But we must do our best. And we believe that together, we can. The same doctor who told us that we chose the wrong country came back to encourage us the next day. He said, 'Don't ever stop dreaming.' We are now working with him to pioneer a way to deliver sight to the neglected. WHERE WE ARE AT: AT A GLANCE: Eye Service: We continue to witness the desperate need for eye care every day. It is not easy to practise without our tools and medicine. Even though our equipment isn't here yet, we started emergency surgery. For example, a 2-year-old boy had a huge corneal laceration following an accident. Henri had no choice but to use a colposcope (a weak microscope for gynaecological examination) to operate on him! We marvel that despite the suboptimal circumstances, the little boy recovered rather miraculously! Shipment: All 8 of our shipments had cleared from customs in record speed! We expected to pay about 7-15% of the value of our goods at the port and we are thrilled that we ended up paying just over 5%! We paid for our 110 boxes including the 400kg microscope to be flown 2 months ago from the capital to our town. Sadly, these much needed supplies are still stuck in the freight warehouse. To give you an idea of the difficulties, the 'reasons' for the delay thus far include 'Broken airport radar', 'Preparation for President's visit is a priority', 'Cloudy weather', 'Special military meeting', 'Person who can authorise just been named Minister of Defence' and 'Cannot find the Responsible person'. There are no roads to our hospital. We may try use boats but the conditions are not ideal for delicate and fragile equipment. Construction: We are working on the second draft of our building! We are thankful for local architects who are donating their time and skills to us! It is very exciting to see the 'Grand Design' coming together! WHAT YOU CAN DO AND PRAY ABOUT 1. Please help us find someone to help us with homeschooling and childcare (Teaching experience ideal but not essential; minimum 3 months): www.newsightcongo.com/homeschool 2. Please buy tickets and help us find business sponsors for a fundraising concert in HK (Advert and Acknowledgement deadline 24 Oct): www.newsightcongo.com/DGSconcert 3. If you are from IslandSchool or DGS families in HK, please sign up for a fundraising team trek on 10 Nov: www.newsightcongo.com/rainbowtrek 4. Construction: We need to a) get all the necessary government paperwork to start. It's been difficult; b) find someone to supervise the project (Estimate: 6-9 months) and good builders c) raise finances 5. Shipments: Thank God they are cleared from customs! Let's pray that they get to us safely as soon as possible so that we can help our patients before it is too late and their sight becomes too far gone 6. Please take a look and help us share the hospital's desperate need for manpower / visiting helpers: http://wegners4theroc.blogspot.com/2012/09/help-needs-help.html 7. Please pray for wisdom, maturity, patience and strength for us. It is not always easy to still be living out of suitcases, dealing with flight cancellations (we've been stuck in the capital for over 2 weeks) and learning to adapt to a very different way of life. Please pray for our children's development and education, and for them to learn Lingala quickly so that they can make new friends 8. Praise God for the wonderful support and incredible progress! We need to continue to fundraise for our construction project and ongoing expenses: www.newsightcongo.com/donate Let's pray that together, we can do what some say will cost too much, take too long, and cause too much frustration and hard work. Together, let us be a voice and a hand for the needy and neglected! There is an African saying, 'How do you eat an elephant?' The answer is, 'One bite at a time, with a lot of help from a lot of friends'. We really cannot do it without you. Thank you so much for your support! Love, Joyce, Henri, Cherissa, Ezra and Karis Samoutou News October 2012: Developmental Milestone Edition MBOTE (Hello in Congolese dialect)! Welcome to our Developmental Milestone Edition! Please come with us as we journey our significant never-the-same moments! FIRST UP, SOME BREAKING AMAZING NEWS! Guess who just won the international eXcellence in Ophthalmology Vision Award (XOVA) and received a 50 000 Euros project grant? And guess who received the Certificate in Community Eye Health with HONOURS? Well done New Sight and Henri (big pat on big heads)! Guess what else have we got? We've got the POWER! Solar panels and Solar Fridge are up and running! Thank you Solar Afrique for donating your precious time and skills, literally lighting up our lives! A LIFE-DEFINING TRIP Every four years, all the key players including charities, field workers, researchers, funders and suppliers for international eye health gather for a conference for Vision 2020, the World Health Organisation global initiative to eliminate all avoidable blindness by the year 2020. This year, Henri's abstract was accepted for presentation. We agonised for a long time if we should go due to the expenses and the timing as we were just beginning to settle in Congo. We felt that the trip was important for New Sight. So we took a deep breath and wiped our family's emergency savings that were reserved for well, emergencies such as family illness. A month later, an amazing lady in Hong Kong asked us for our personal bank details as she wanted to give, not to New Sight, but to our family. Without knowing the costs of the air-tickets, she transferred exactly the same amount! We marvel at God's provision! To travel to the conference in India, we needed our passports back from Congolese immigration where our long-term visas should have been processed two months before. To cut a long story short, Immigration lost our passports. Instead of trying to find them and troubleshoot so that this does not happen again, we were advised to be patient and to 'accept that this is how administration in Congo worked'. Immigration lost our passports, and then some of its staff asked us for money under the table for not producing our IDs! After a few days of our own painstaking private investigations and praying on our knees the rest of the time, they miraculously found our passports four days before our flights and gave us FREE 1-year visas! Whilst this experience was unpleasant, we gained valuable insights into the culture and government of the country that we are serving. It really is telling of the mentality here that our 2-year-old daughter is convinced that there is a gentleman by the name of 'Attendez!' which is the French order form of 'Wait!' At the conference, we worked from 5am until 12 midnight every day but we did not mind one bit! We learnt so much through the updates and exchange of experience. Our stand provided a great platform to raise profile for our charity, for networking and collaborating. We were amazed by the doors opened to several important meetings. Amongst them was a meeting with the doctor in charge of overseeing Vision 2020 in Africa. He is a very experienced giant in the eye health world whom we look up to very much. His first words to us were, 'You know what your problem is – you have picked the wrong country!' This was echoed by so many who said, 'You cannot crack Congo!' We began to see why we were not getting the funding and support that we need from international charities and businesses, and why nobody else wants to give eye care in Congo: Many only want to work with English-speaking countries; Many were put off by the logistical and bureaucratic difficulties of Congo; Many want to concentrate on densely populated areas where one can benefit from economy of scale. We live in a world where we including donors want fast results and value-for-money. Because of that pressure, the people who live in the world's hardest to reach, to work with and to 'crack' places are at risk of being neglected. We cannot bear to see people suffer because they live in 'the wrong country'. How can we say that because it will cost more money, time and efforts, a person cannot have his sight? We are passionate about the Right to Sight for all. We now realised that our destiny is to help the most vulnerable, needy and abandoned people of this world. We want to stand up and be a voice for the 'orphaned countries'. A part of us thinks, 'How can we think that we can do what others think are too hard to do?' But we must do our best. And we believe that together, we can. The same doctor who told us that we chose the wrong country came back to encourage us the next day. He said, 'Don't ever stop dreaming.' We are now working with him to pioneer a way to deliver sight to the neglected. WHERE WE ARE AT: AT A GLANCE: Eye Service: We continue to witness the desperate need for eye care every day. It is not easy to practise without our tools and medicine. Even though our equipment isn't here yet, we started emergency surgery. For example, a 2-year-old boy had a huge corneal laceration following an accident. Henri had no choice but to use a colposcope (a weak microscope for gynaecological examination) to operate on him! We marvel that despite the suboptimal circumstances, the little boy recovered rather miraculously! Shipment: All 8 of our shipments had cleared from customs in record speed! We expected to pay about 7-15% of the value of our goods at the port and we are thrilled that we ended up paying just over 5%! We paid for our 110 boxes including the 400kg microscope to be flown 2 months ago from the capital to our town. Sadly, these much needed supplies are still stuck in the freight warehouse. To give you an idea of the difficulties, the 'reasons' for the delay thus far include 'Broken airport radar', 'Preparation for President's visit is a priority', 'Cloudy weather', 'Special military meeting', 'Person who can authorise just been named Minister of Defence' and 'Cannot find the Responsible person'. There are no roads to our hospital. We may try use boats but the conditions are not ideal for delicate and fragile equipment. Construction: We are working on the second draft of our building! We are thankful for local architects who are donating their time and skills to us! It is very exciting to see the 'Grand Design' coming together! WHAT YOU CAN DO AND PRAY ABOUT 1. Please help us find someone to help us with homeschooling and childcare (Teaching experience ideal but not essential; minimum 3 months): www.newsightcongo.com/homeschool 2. Please buy tickets and help us find business sponsors for a fundraising concert in HK (Advert and Acknowledgement deadline 24 Oct): www.newsightcongo.com/DGSconcert 3. If you are from IslandSchool or DGS families in HK, please sign up for a fundraising team trek on 10 Nov: www.newsightcongo.com/rainbowtrek 4. Construction: We need to a) get all the necessary government paperwork to start. It's been difficult; b) find someone to supervise the project (Estimate: 6-9 months) and good builders c) raise finances 5. Shipments: Thank God they are cleared from customs! Let's pray that they get to us safely as soon as possible so that we can help our patients before it is too late and their sight becomes too far gone 6. Please take a look and help us share the hospital's desperate need for manpower / visiting helpers: http://wegners4theroc.blogspot.com/2012/09/help-needs-help.html 7. Please pray for wisdom, maturity, patience and strength for us. It is not always easy to still be living out of suitcases, dealing with flight cancellations (we've been stuck in the capital for over 2 weeks) and learning to adapt to a very different way of life. Please pray for our children's development and education, and for them to learn Lingala quickly so that they can make new friends 8. Praise God for the wonderful support and incredible progress! We need to continue to fundraise for our construction project and ongoing expenses: www.newsightcongo.com/donate Let's pray that together, we can do what some say will cost too much, take too long, and cause too much frustration and hard work. Together, let us be a voice and a hand for the needy and neglected! There is an African saying, 'How do you eat an elephant?' The answer is, 'One bite at a time, with a lot of help from a lot of friends'. We really cannot do it without you. Thank you so much for your support! Love, Joyce, Henri, Cherissa, Ezra and Karis http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=39967 39967 Mon, 15 Oct 2012 06:03:00 +0000 This is my first go at blogging. We have toyed with the idea ever since Henri and I started our charity New Sight Eye Care 18 months ago. Subconsciously, I was always waiting for 'the moment' when I would actually have something to blog about. Never could I have imagined that my 'moment' would come in the form of a bedridden me in the heart of Congo. Only one week ago, I went to bed completely well. Within a few hours, I was awoken by rigors and a raging temperature that refused to relent even with the biggest onslaught of medication. I suffered from a nasty soft tissue infection which probably found its way through the countless insect bites on my skin. For four days, I battled with fever, intense pain, vomiting and low blood pressure. I forgot what the word energy meant. I could not look after myself, let alone our 3 young children. I was blessed to be able to stay at home and be nursed by my own Henri, whose tender and patient care never ceased to amaze me. He tirelessly looked after the patients in the hospital, and the kids and I at home. Whilst I was thankful for the missionaries who so kindly and willingly helped us look after our kids, I loathed feeling like I was a burden (even though I knew in my head that they didn't think that at all). I would cry for 90 minutes three times a day as I endured the most excruciating injections. Some of this was because we did not have the resources to dilute the antibiotics the way we would normally do in resource-rich settings. Some people told me that I was brave. The reality was that I was a straight-up chicken. Nothing had prepared me for this sudden physical weakness. To think that only a week ago I was mourning the death of our blackberry which was our only access to internet at home! Things sure get put into their rightful perspective in illness. More than anything else, I keenly sensed my weakness in character. Much of the week has become a bit of a blur. However, I do remember asking poor Henri to stop the injections even though I knew full well as a doctor that that was the only logical way for me to get better. I remember asking him to take me home, as in our home in England. I was trying to hold onto the promises of God while I waited. But I would have given up in a flash if it had not been for this: Some would call it a vision, some a dream, maybe some even a hallucination in my septicaemic state. Whatever it was, I saw it. As I received the agonising infusion which constantly reminded me of the crucifix (told you I was weak but it must be said that even labour was not as bad as these injections), I saw one by one hundreds of our friends, family, partners in our vision to help the blind see in Congo. One smiled, another nodded in affirmation. One squeezed my hand, another gave me the warmest hug. I saw our dear friends Liza Ong, Marion Winton and Linda Meiklejohn cheering me on from heaven, with cups of Tetley tea in their hands! I then realised that our pastors Chris and Gosia, and our HopeCityChurch family in the UK were laying hands on me as they lifted me up in prayer. Suddenly the continents that separated us no longer existed and we were together. I cannot describe it. It was as if they were only a foot away from me and I could feel their hands firmly on my shoulders. I found myself carried by a force that I had never known before. Suddenly, my strength returned as Samson's strength returned. I was ready to fight again. I got better, quite a lot better, at a speed that surprised us. I know that I still have a way to go but I am so thankful. I appreciate life and health in a way that I have never done before. I treasure all the more our amazing friends, family and supporters all across the world. I am sure that this experience has made me a better doctor too. Above all, this is no longer a theoretical knowledge: 'Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great crowd of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.' (Hebrews 12) I have had the practical. Thank you for your love and support. Thank you for your prayers and encouragement. Thank you for caring to take the time to read this which I hope is what a blog is supposed to be. Thank you for being the wind beneath my wings, my great crowd of witnesses! This is my first go at blogging. We have toyed with the idea ever since Henri and I started our charity New Sight Eye Care 18 months ago. Subconsciously, I was always waiting for 'the moment' when I would actually have something to blog about. Never could I have imagined that my 'moment' would come in the form of a bedridden me in the heart of Congo. Only one week ago, I went to bed completely well. Within a few hours, I was awoken by rigors and a raging temperature that refused to relent even with the biggest onslaught of medication. I suffered from a nasty soft tissue infection which probably found its way through the countless insect bites on my skin. For four days, I battled with fever, intense pain, vomiting and low blood pressure. I forgot what the word energy meant. I could not look after myself, let alone our 3 young children. I was blessed to be able to stay at home and be nursed by my own Henri, whose tender and patient care never ceased to amaze me. He tirelessly looked after the patients in the hospital, and the kids and I at home. Whilst I was thankful for the missionaries who so kindly and willingly helped us look after our kids, I loathed feeling like I was a burden (even though I knew in my head that they didn't think that at all). I would cry for 90 minutes three times a day as I endured the most excruciating injections. Some of this was because we did not have the resources to dilute the antibiotics the way we would normally do in resource-rich settings. Some people told me that I was brave. The reality was that I was a straight-up chicken. Nothing had prepared me for this sudden physical weakness. To think that only a week ago I was mourning the death of our blackberry which was our only access to internet at home! Things sure get put into their rightful perspective in illness. More than anything else, I keenly sensed my weakness in character. Much of the week has become a bit of a blur. However, I do remember asking poor Henri to stop the injections even though I knew full well as a doctor that that was the only logical way for me to get better. I remember asking him to take me home, as in our home in England. I was trying to hold onto the promises of God while I waited. But I would have given up in a flash if it had not been for this: Some would call it a vision, some a dream, maybe some even a hallucination in my septicaemic state. Whatever it was, I saw it. As I received the agonising infusion which constantly reminded me of the crucifix (told you I was weak but it must be said that even labour was not as bad as these injections), I saw one by one hundreds of our friends, family, partners in our vision to help the blind see in Congo. One smiled, another nodded in affirmation. One squeezed my hand, another gave me the warmest hug. I saw our dear friends Liza Ong, Marion Winton and Linda Meiklejohn cheering me on from heaven, with cups of Tetley tea in their hands! I then realised that our pastors Chris and Gosia, and our HopeCityChurch family in the UK were laying hands on me as they lifted me up in prayer. Suddenly the continents that separated us no longer existed and we were together. I cannot describe it. It was as if they were only a foot away from me and I could feel their hands firmly on my shoulders. I found myself carried by a force that I had never known before. Suddenly, my strength returned as Samson's strength returned. I was ready to fight again. I got better, quite a lot better, at a speed that surprised us. I know that I still have a way to go but I am so thankful. I appreciate life and health in a way that I have never done before. I treasure all the more our amazing friends, family and supporters all across the world. I am sure that this experience has made me a better doctor too. Above all, this is no longer a theoretical knowledge: 'Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great crowd of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.' (Hebrews 12) I have had the practical. Thank you for your love and support. Thank you for your prayers and encouragement. Thank you for caring to take the time to read this which I hope is what a blog is supposed to be. Thank you for being the wind beneath my wings, my great crowd of witnesses! http://www.samoutou.com/index.cfm?i=13935&mid=25&blogid=5990&comments=35879 35879 Sun, 22 Jul 2012 15:09:00 +0000