Romania 2002

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Newsletter 4

Sunday 29 December 2002

On the evening of Christmas day I visited a missionary couple in Timisoara and we had a good talk about a number of things. It seems I got the numbers of streetkids a little low - they're at least twice what I said in my last email. In between stopping their dog peeing on one cushion then humping another, they told me how 90% of the streetkids here are boys. However, 80% - 90% of the short term volunteers on teams that come here are women. I find this disparity quite disappointing, quite apart from the practical difficulties for women doing some of the work.

For example, many of the streetkids are now over 18, which means they are no longer able to stay at an orphanage, even if they wanted to, and don't qualify for government programs. They are often many years behind, both socially and educationally, so manual labour or prison are really the only options for them. It can be very difficult for women to handle these guys. (Actually even the young boys can be a handful.)

Teaching the kids practical skills like welding is something that, yes, women could do, but I only know a few women who know how or would want to. But if kids aren't your thing, how about something like construction? There's always something that needs to be fixed or expanded.

I'm not saying that women aren't needed as volunteers - they do most of the work on the mission field, after all - but there is a sad lack of men on the mission field, both short and long term. So why don't men volunteer? Timisoara isn't exactly uncivilised. It has electricity, flush toilets, Coca Cola. It's too far away from the mountains to have problems with bears or wolves. If you want a scary taxi ride driven by someone who can't speak English you can get that in Auckland.

Is money that much more important for us than it is for women? Do we feel that we have to work hard every month of the year to provide for our family? As men do we feel too uncomfortable with the idea of God doing the providing for us? Are our careers all-important?

Are we just scared of doing something crazy? Either the trip itself, or something silly we do while there. (Remind me to tell you about how I once confused the Romanian words for "neighbour" and "fart" which sound somewhat similar if you're not paying attention. Or the Romanian word for "come" which sounds exactly like the English "hi" - I've learnt if you want to greet a kid on the street here, say "ciao" if you don't want really weird looks.) We do crazy things. We live with it.

Do we feel that we're not qualified to do short term mission work? Well, what sort of qualification does someone need to hug a child? Just one arm, that's all. Two is better, of course, but not actually necessary. You don't need very much else. How much experience do we need to kick a ball around or teach a bunch of kids touch rugby? We don't need multiple diplomas in foreign culture from the local missionary school to join a short term mission team. Besides, as Steve (the missionary) said, God doesn't call the equipped, He equips the called.

However, the most important thing people can do is pray. For the country, the people, the missionaries and short term volunteers, and the local (in this case Romanian) workers. If you want specifics, get on the prayer email lists of the people in your favourite mission location.

New Year here is a really big thing, and everyone seems quite disappointed that I'm not going to be around for it. Crackers are sold which range in size from Tom Thumbs to Thunderflashes, with anywhere from one to five explosions per "petarde" (cracker). They have no external fuse, but instead have an orange blob on one end that can be lit or (I'm told) struck against a suitable lighting strip such as the side of a matchbox. A short delay and they explode. Having no external fuse means they can be dropped into water, inserted under the surface ice of a partially frozen puddle, etc. Great fun, and probably very dangerous, too. I haven't heard of anyone being seriously hurt but I'm sure it must happen.

[I found out later that kids get killed with these things - like the group who dropped some down a manhole, then found out the hard way there had been a gas leak down there. And of course there are kids every year who lose fingers because of them.]

I can't remember if I mentioned how big a problem alcohol is here. The number of kids on the streets or missing one or more parents thanks to alcohol is quite staggering. That's something else to pray about.

Animal/twisting balloons are still a great way of being mobbed. Whether old or young, streetkids or from loving homes in a nearby village, kids here MUST have these balloons. They don't seem to believe me when I tell them they're too difficult to blow up. Incidently, I still haven't found a Romanian who can blow one up. The kids here love the Jonah story done with a twisting balloon (ask a local clown to show you), especially making Jonah jump around in the belly of the big fish or if the balloon gets stuck to the ceiling. Jonah getting safely to Nineveh doesn't seem that important, or finding out if the fish/whale explodes on the beach or spits Jonah out non-self-destructively.

The kids seem to love sabiers even more than animals. After a Christmas Eve church meeting at a village north of Timisoara (mentioned in my last email) I dared to make a giraffe then found no one wanted it. I guess it was because of all the Roman soldiers in one of the dramas. The various home groups were having a competition which included dramas and Bible knowledge. The girls' house home group won the drama section, BTW, but missed out on the Bible knowledge so didn't get the pig head first prize.

I've also found that in lower than freezing temperatures twisting balloons don't inflate very evenly. The rubber just isn't quite as stretchy.

A team of myself and a couple of girls from the girls' house have figured out how to do three colours of the "wordless book" with ordinary round balloons. A white balloon is placed inside a red balloon, which in turn is placed inside a black balloon. The white balloon is blown up (which may be tricky, since it's blowing up three balloons at once), and all balloons are tied off separately. They must be left for at least ten minutes in their inflated state. Without the wait when doing the trick the balloons pop all at once, presumeably because the trauma of having the outer balloon pop is too much for the inner balloons before the rubber becomes accustomed to being stretched. With the wait it even works with water bombs.

The outermost balloon is black, and represents the state of our heart full of sin. After this is explained, the balloon is gently sliced with a sharp knife. The balloon pops with a satisfying bang, revealing a red balloon. (It seems as though the balloon just changed colour with a bang.) The red balloon represents Jesus' blood that was shed on the cross, and the children are told how Jesus died for them to pay the price for their sin. The red balloon is then sliced, which reveals the white balloon with a bang. The white balloon represents the clean state of our heart after we accept Jesus as our saviour. The only problem is that I have white, pink, and green or blue balloons. No red or black. Ah well.

I leave here at 2am Monday morning. God bless everyone in nice warm New Zealand, and everyone here in not-really-very-cold Romania. (It's raining at the moment.)

Ian
8 )

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