Remembering Iwan

Vorig jaar, bijna een jaar geleden troffen we Iwan, een van onze vrienden van de straat, in een slechte toestand. Hij lag onder een soort van elkaar geknutseld plastic doek als afdakje langs de rand van het spoor op het randje van de dood.

Iwan langs het spoor

Gelukkig konden we Iwan verzorgen in een huis van vrienden. Zo had hij een dak boven zijn hoofd, een plek om te worden verzorgd en beter te worden. Vooral Lusi, mijn collega en vriendin, nam de verplegende taken op haar. TBC & Hiv waren de diagnose en zware klap voor Iwan. Gelukkig konden we hem vertellen van de Liefde van de Vader door Jezus en mocht ik getuige zijn van hoe Jezus het hart van deze jongen van de straat veranderde. Dat hij niet kon lezen of schrijven, maakte voor God niks uit, Hij gaf zelf in dromen en visioenen uitleg aan Iwan wat Hij had gedaan door zijn Zoon Jezus naar de wereld te sturen om de weg naar de Vader weer vrij te maken. Het was een indrukwekkende ervaring om mee te maken dat God zelf Iwan gaf wat hij zo hard nodig had. En zo mooi om dan gereedschap in Gods handen te zijn om te mogen bidden, te bemoedigen en naast iemand te staan in zijn proces.
Daarnaast hebben we samen gelachen en gehuild, samen momenten van het leven gedeeld. Ik weet nog goed, we zaten op de vloer te praten over onze families en ik vertelde dat ik mijn familie soms zo miste. Aan het einde van het gesprek gingen we bidden. Ik voor hem en hij voor mij. Ik zal nooit vergeten hoe Iwan voor me bad in al zijn puurheid en eenvoud van hart, sprak hij een gebed voor mij uit waarvan de tranen in mijn ogen sprongen. Niet van verdriet, maar omdat het eenvoudige gebed mijn ziel raakte en ik Gods aanwezigheid voelde. En dat er niets anders was dan de eenheid in Christus die alle cultuur, taal en alle andere barrières overbrugt.

Maar nu na een lange weg van vechten tegen Hiv heeft God de Vader Iwan Thuis geroepen op vrijdag 17 januari. Onze geliefde vriend is verlost van de strijd, de pijn en de moeiten van deze wereld en is nu in de hemel, waar het goed is. En zoals Lusi schreef: "For sure Jesus prepared a house for him and for sure he will meet the Father. May he rest in peace in Gods lap"

Remembering Iwan

Wil je meer weten over het initiatief in Jakarta, kijk dan eens op:

http://www.letsfollowjesus.com/

Live on the streets

Odor of sweat, unwashed bodies, urine, rats and cockroaches penetrates my nose as I make my way through small streets. I bend my knees while walking, so I will not hit my head against the low roofs that are sticking out. "Mister, mister" "bule" I hear around me. I simply greet and smile on the Indonesian way as I pass by "permissi". I ask" Me'em can you tell me where I can find the house of S.?" Ofcourse they know, they always know. "S. is not home" I turn around and see the biggest smile on the beautiful face of E. The 7 year old of S.. "Mama will be home soon" he says. So we wait in the front of this little house while the rats eat the rice leftovers from yesterday.

Me and my teammate decided to visit one of the girls because she asked us to. She told us she is sick. We saw her a couple of days ago when we took her and her son to the mall. Gave them a decent meal to eat. After that we received a phone call that she was sick. But obviously she feels better since she isn't home. It was quite a hassle to find them. The person who suppose to pick us up from the local market decided to not show up. But gave us vague instructions instead. Then we could not reach S. by phone. My teammate told me it always happens. I have a lot of growing in patient to do. Finally after more than an hour later we arrive at this little place. That left me speechless. I could not talk for the first hour. I cannot find any words in any language to describe how it looked like or how I felt. I could not believe my own eyes. I could not believe that 'my' dear S. and E. are living here.
As S. came home, she opened the door and excused herself for her house. A little room 2 by 3 meters with something on the ground that looks like mattress on the ground. I count 3 bottles of glue to sniff. No toilet, no running water, but rats and fleas instead. Walls so thin and zero privacy. Salt is thrown on the bed because Satan had entered her body, “that's why she's sick” her neighbors said.

I felt tears burning behind my eyes. And wanted to scream "Why is this world so unfair?" I feel all frustration from earlier that day, about waiting, not holding promises and time, melting away. From the inside I cry out “please show us how!”

We talk for a while and decide to wait for the next day to bring her to the doctor. So we can go to a clinic that provides medical care for people without identity cards and directly gives medicine too. We leave a little fresh water supply and food. As we found out she didn't eat since the last time we meet. I look at her and see how skinny she is. Her eyes lay deep in her skin. I can see all signs of malnutrition and see that live on the street is wearing her young body out. Her cough worries me to. And her living circumstances  don' help at all either.

In her eyes I see the fear to face the night. I know she will run into the arms of her boyfriend and that it will only be a matter of time when she'll tell us another child is on the way. Even though today we told her again she has a choice, there is hope and a future, there is a way out if she wants to. But she needs to be the one to choose that way. And I just pray with all that is within me, she will find the courage to step into the unknown. And starts walking down that road to discover that there are many more walking down that pathway called Hope...

Jakarta craziness

Let us dare to test God’s resources…

Let us ask Him to kindle in us and keep aflame that passion for the impossible

that shall make us delight in it with Him,

till the day when we shall see it transformed into a fact.

 

Stuck by these words I look back on my first week in Jakarta. I am sitting on the roof of my new home, enjoying the airflow in a this hot city.

It’s a new season! After coming back from Jakarta last Christmas I knew that Jakarta was my next step to take. A time of preparing, period of transition, wrapping up my live in Bandung and goodbyes followed. It was a weird realization that (almost) all of my belongings fit in 1 car. Realizing that I got a ‘real’ job for the first time in my life, making the switch from language learning into this new step of being involved in that where my heart is beating for.

You have to understand for me as a girl from a village in the Netherlands with ‘only’ 50.000 inhabitants, Jakarta feels pretty overwhelming. And eventhough in the last year and a half I got used to live in the 7 million city Bandung, still Bandung feels like a dot on the map in comparing to Jakarta.

Just to give you a picture of the daily craziness that is surrounding me. Here some facts:

Jakarta fits 51 times in the Netherlands, size wise.

Jakarta counts 13 million people, and the Netherlands 16,5 million…

You can do the math yourself ;)

This week walking down the streets I feel like an ant, it seems that the city is swallowing me, and its buildings are big giant ugly monsters that stare down at me. And in the midst of it rich and poor live and exist right next to each other. The difference between rich and poor here is so big, that I can’t wrap my head around it and I wonder how to bridge. I try but it’s too much. Being rich here means you live in more wealth than the queen of the Netherlands, and when your poor your daily income is barely enough to feed your family, not even 1 euro a day. Think about it what you can buy for 1 euro in Holland.. even though things here are cheaper. But take in into your context. And think you and your family had to eat from that, pay the rent for the house in the slum and send your children to school…

And where I am at a place where I can enjoy the luxury of AC, still my body has a hard time adjusting to the heat. In hot days it can rise above 40 degrees. Not that it’s all from the sun, but the pollution adds up. On some days you can see the smog hanging in the sky, like a fog over the city. Yuk, realizing that that is what I breath in every second of the day…

..But I am still able to pull myself back, but how many of these beautiful people are wandering down the streets, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, not knowing that they have the freedom to decide to not run into the arms of their abusive boyfriend. Working hard for a less than scratch and living in an inheritance of hopelessness.

Yet in all the giants I face, in my adjustments, in my work, in my personal struggles. Those giants who like to scream: WE ARE IMPOSSIBLE TO DEFEAT and in the midst of what I call ‘Jakarta craziness’: I have faith, I believe, and I know that it only takes the size of a mustard seed…

A Christmas to never forget

“What do you wanna drink?”  I’m looking in the dark brown eyes of a homeless teenager who just got of the local bus and earned some money with playing his guitar and singing songs – before I can answer the question he walks away and comes back with 2 bottles of Ice tea, one for me and one for my friend – “here”..and hands me the bottle. “So are you already longtime in Indonesia?” he asks. I stumble over my words as I’m so touched by the generosity of this teenager.

It’s a couple of days after Christmas and in the last few days I’ve learned more about Christmas then I did the last 26 years. I struggled so much with “getting in in Christmas mood” since its hot and again no white Christmas this year. No familiar family traditions or gatherings. But a tropical Christmas, like the one last year and the one in 2009. As I struggled with how does Christmas look like, and do I need to get in the Christmas mood, and what is that Christmas mood. And as I was surrendering my struggle and my stuck places to God. I felt that He was whispering about His gift to the world, and that Christmas is about giving and sharing. Now a couple of days later in the hot shining sun, in the strong smell of the local pasar, garbage and people who did not shower for some days, where the pollusion of a 20 million people city sticks to my skin I find the answer to what Christmas is about: giving and sharing with each other. Like God did, He gave His son to the world: the ultimate gift! My heart flows over in thankfulness and in the midst of this dark and yukkie place. I see a glimps of God’s love coming down.

And as we were sitting down all of a sudden lots of beautiful bright colored butterflies filled the sky and fluttering around us, yellow, blue, green, purple and orange. God is showing beauty in this dark place, remembering that there is Hope and new life for everyone. Remembering this quote: “ What the caterpillar thought it was the end of the world, the Creator calls a butterfly.”

His Love gifts, His Christmas gifts to me this year, so I can give away..

That evening we headed downtown to celebrate Christmas with a bunch of(ex) transgenders and people from different parts of the world. Lots of hearts, including mine, got touched by the love of God. I could truly celebrate Christmas this year, and felt so happy and richly blessed as we were jumping and singing Joy to the world and when we waved with our hands in the sky while singing glo-ria in excelsis deo. Singing with all my heart: Glory to God in the Highest!

And a Christmas to never forget!

And so it happend...

As live goes on here in Indonesia things seems to become so natural and at the same time there is loads of stuff that is new to me. And yet going to school every day, being a language learner I feel so many times inadequate and not ready.

Knowing that next week I will start unit 9, the very last unit before my official time at school as language learner ends. And realizing that I just feel ready to actually learn the language. I now gained the tools and language to learn the language and with that to understand the culture. You know I guess the process of learning another language besides your mother tongue will continue forever. Which sometimes is really a stretching thought to me and I think: ‘will I ever get it’? Will my Indonesian ever be without grammar mistakes or embarrassing mistakes that makes you wanna sink into the ground, disappear and never ever have to face that person again. You know I guess learning a new language is a very humbling process. And it comes with tears and laughter. And after all you will laugh at your own embarrassing mistakes and realize that it’s actually funny. I consider a good laugh about myself as grown up!

So learning in the higher units at school gives me more insight in the culture helps me to understand more of the way the Indonesians think. And with those insights and tools to deepen my friendships with the locals. I feel so blessed by my school! Seriously! And with that I’m so thankful for my friends here in Indonesia and it’s incredible how deep some of those friendships already are. I know that some of you are reading my blog so “Makasih bangat buat persahabatanmu”!! ;) (thank you so much for your friendship)

So here another story of me, a Dutchy in Indonesia.

The other day I was going up to Majalaya with my friends on the motorbike. This is a 50K drive and it usually takes us 2,5-3hours to get there.

This time I took the five year old of my friends with me on my bike. I have to say that I’m used to drive my motorbike in a lot of situations (dust, rain, land roads, up/down the mountains, nightime & endless traffic jam) and feel pretty comfortable driving around with people at the back in all those circumstances. But driving with one child or more is still a challenge. Especially here a lot of them don’t have a helmed for the kid. I tell ya I’m drivin VERY SLOW.. but goin for 50K with a child was quit challenging. But anyways we made it save and I felt more and more OK with it during the ride.

Ready for a ride!

So as I spent the day with friends I had a new cultural experience. As we arrived I found out that we would eat duck for dinner and that the duck was still walking around the farm that time. My friend told me, that later on, her husband would kill the duck and take care of the process after that (getting rid of the feathers, intestines and stuff). She and my other friend would take care of the seasoning.  So as impulsive and thoughtless I can be sometimes, I said with my big mouth, that I wanted to kill the duck. And so it happened..

We caught the duck, grabbed a knive out of the kitchen.

I kinda felt nervous for killing a duck and all these thoughts are spinning trough my head: “O my am I actually, seriously going to do it?”, “O no I’m about to kill a living being”, “what if half way through I faint” or  “what if half way in the process I don’t wanna do it anymore”, “maybe after this I’ll never eat meat again”. But yet I grabbed all the bravery I could find and put together.. ready to give it a go.

As my friend was holding the duck I was holding his head .. and men I tell ya I was sweating like a pig..I could feel the heart rate from the duck going up (&mine too). As it knew its end had come. But it was amazingly quiet tho..

So I put the knive on its throath and cut... I will spare you the juicy details, but you can see what happened for yourself at the pix below.  

Meet sih Bebek (the duck)

Our dinner

Ieuww I can't do it..

O my Im going to kill it..

Yup Im really doing it

Yakkie now there is no way back.

almost done

Just a little bit more of cutting to go

Had to go till the very end...

which means

till the head is seperated..

can I wash my hands now?

Ahhhh I killed a duck! And ate it for dinner (had to say it slightly tasted different this time)

So if one day I get stuck in the jungle I know at least what I’m capable of ;)