Kuala Lumpur

I left Penang while it was still dark and night had not quite given way to morning. Arriving in KL, I was picked up by two of Hama's cousins. I think perhaps this initial meeting was the one that was most difficult, as we could sort of read in each other's eyes the awareness of all that had transpired since our last meeting. We asked the polite questions inquiring about family and pets and jobs, and then we spoke of Hama. I think I almost felt relieved by this because we didn't give in to any fear of speaking about her loss, and we talked about her and the tragedy of her death within the comfort of friendship. Our first stop was to the morning market to buy fresh ingredients for dinner. It is quite a sight--chickens hanging, fresh fish staring at you, vegetables, and dozens of people bustling around.

Through the National Kidney Foundation of Malaysia, Wellspring began supporting dialysis treatments for Hama in February of 2006. Knowing that it was only a transplant that had the hope of extending her full life, her family began to make plans for surgery. Wellspring planned to help with the necessary medicines and a place to stay. In fact, a doctor friend of ours donated a significant amount of the medication required before surgery.

Two weeks before her planned departure to have a kidney transplant, Hama collapsed and never full woke. They told me her eyes were open, but after losing consciousness for five minutes, her brain never recovered, and so her eyes registered no recognition or reaction. On a respirator to breathe for her, they talked of how much it hurt when doctors and medical personnel so easily said she couldn't be helped, and that they needed the respirator and bed for others.

Hama's mother is a small, sweet-natured woman, but they admirably spoke of the extent of her strength that surprised them as she fought for her daughter. To her, it didn't matter if she spoke again, or if her brain allowed her to work, or even to function at all. Her love for her daughter was never based on that, and so simply to have her live and be loved even if Hama could never show it in return was enough. We talk of how a mother's love is so unique and how even with the many beauties found in different kinds of love, there is something different about your mother. You know she'll never let you go and her love is entirely born out of something inside her that needs to love you entirely for your own sake. If your brain no longer allows you the gift of recognizing that love, and so her sacrifice will never be recognized or appreciated, it doesn't matter to her. For her, the joy and purpose is simply in her need and desire to love you. And when the hospital would simply no longer allow the use of the bed and the machinery, her mother found a way to bring equipment home to keep her breathing, and she prepared to take care of her. But the night before she was to be brought home, Hama's body surrendered on its own and even the respirator couldn't extend the breath of life.

It is now nine months later, and there is a bit of new sadness in her mother's eyes, but it was not outshone by the same sweet smile. She surprised me by speaking some English so well, and she laughed and told me she had just been embarrassed that she would say it wrong and so never tried before. Together with Hama's two sisters and brother, cousins and cousins' children, uncles and aunts, we all gathered at home and really just had a wonderful time together. There was so much laughter and acceptance, I actually felt like I was with family. It almost surprised me because I have actually only known them for a short time, and our visits have been few, yet it just seemed natural. With two young girls keeping us entertained, we all surrendered to their easy laughter and just enjoyed life together over spaghetti, Chinese soup, and shrimp—a little something for everyone! Hama's older sister is working at her first job and is so excited. Her younger sister has just started school and plans to be a lawyer. The loss did not go unrecognized, but neither did the life that remained.

Over coffee late that night with a friend, I was reminded how the realities of life do not always line up with the fairytales. And yet, it seems it is almost what is born out of our loss and struggles that creates the bond between us. For the things we can fix, it is a gift and a call that we should answer. For the things we can't, this is what we have each other for, and the simple act of being there is binding.

As I sit typing, I have watched the sun come up this morning and realize its time to go. I'll board a plane in a few hours and be on my way home.

Penang

I boarded a plane for Penang, barely making my connection, and at that only because the plane actually waited to get me on board. I slumped into the seat to take a breath, and readied myself for the trip ahead. I was on my way to visit two women Wellspring has had the privilege of sponsoring. Each in challenging circumstances, they have become friends to me and spending time with them and hearing their stories affects me in a different way than the business aspects sometimes called upon for larger scale projects. When you get to know people, it's always personal, as it really should be. And knowing that part of me would be drawn out by getting to see them, I looked forward to landing.

It was early afternoon by the time I landed after settling in I took the bus into town so the three of us could meet up. Jumping into a small taxi together, we headed to Little India. We walked into a small restaurant, also named Little India. This is the type of restaurant known for its authentic food rather than its charm, and we so we didn't waste any time sitting down and ordering chapatis and curry. Catching up on life, we eased into stories that brought us all laughter, and we just as easily moved into stories that brought sadness as we listened to the challenges each of them faces. In this way, the conversation resembled real life, with its ebb and flow and how it often seamlessly seems to move from struggle into a new season of hope, a constant winding between the things that make you hang on to it and the things that tempt you to give in to it. We walked around the narrow streets for a while, past speakers blaring the latest in Indian pop music, and vibrantly colored fabrics for saris. As afternoon turned into evening, we headed back to my bus stop. I felt sad to leave them, and wished so much there was more I could do. But as they have done before, they ended up hugging me reassuringly and promising me they are really okay, and that they see Wellspring as a reminder that God is watching. I climbed up the bus steps and turned around to see both of them waving goodbye with big smiles on their faces, and it was so cute I captured a quick picture to remember them sending me off until next time.

Jakarta

Veronica and I landed in Jakarta close to midnight, and as we tiredly said goodnight, we also confirmed details for our speaking engagement the next morning. It was career day at a local school, and together Veronica and I gave a 30 minute presentation on humanitarian work. We spoke to two classes of 14 year old students, and I gained a new sympathy for teachers as dozens of pairs of eyes looked at me with an expression that seemed to reveal they weren't quite sure if this was going to be entertaining or not! We had a few good questions, and the one that was most entertaining was asked by a young girl who said, with an element of doubt, "So do you actually make any money doing this kind of thing?" It was quite a fun experience, and while I enjoyed explaining what I do and why, I also really enjoyed hearing what they dreamed of doing one day, and why it appealed to them. I heard everything from psychologists to film directors to business persons—all worthy efforts, and all with a unique niche.

The following day, the RZIM itinerant team started to trickle in from their various places around the world. We attended a few speaking engagements for our fearless leader, and then our meetings began. It was a profitable three days. Strategy and goals were discussed in an effort to ensure we were working as a team and a shared focus. It was our first meeting with new team members from the Middle East and Asia, and it was helpful for all to put faces with names. As the organization continues to expand we see the growing need for a unified vision and the desire to look together to the future with a healthy dose of realizing the responsibility upon us and anticipating the opportunities that lie ahead.

We ended the meeting at a traditional Balinese restaurant where we ate more than we needed to and laughed just as much. For those of you who know Michael Ramsden, it's like traveling with your own personal comedian. He kept everyone in good spirits and all of us wishing we could have just a fraction of the energy. Then on Friday morning, we all went our separate directions, home to different countries or continuing on to further engagements. I was on my way to Penang.

Aceh-Part 2

Our time in Aceh was full, which is why I decided to spare you from reading it all in one post. As we approached the building that houses several Wellspring projects, I was excited at the prospect of all I'd find. We first walked into our computer lab. We currently have 150 students enrolled in our computer course, each working on a computer purchased by Wellspring. With a curriculum from a Jakarta based university, each student is part of a three month course under the direction of a certified trainer. Their final exam is sent to Jakarta for grading, and the certificate of completion is stamped with the university seal. Most of the students are female, and this course will greatly assist them in obtaining suitable jobs.

We next walked into our beauty training salon, the first of its kind in Aceh. Fifteen girls very attentively applied makeup to their models as part of their three hour day. In three months, they will have completed hair and beauty training, be employed in the salon for an internship, and then be qualified for an outside position.

We then walked upstairs to the counseling center, where four counselors we have hired and trained are currently seeing 60 regular clients. Talking over orange juice and wonderful Acehnese fried peanuts, we spent some time talking with these therapists and learning of their experiences and challenges. What we heard is particularly interesting. In America, one can openly comment about visiting a therapist, and in fact, if you don't have one, you're in the minority. But in Acehnese culture, therapy and counseling, discussing fears and talking about grief, are entirely new ideas. And so initially, the people were skeptical. They were not sure they wanted to open up, or even how to do so. Today however, the counselors say the people can't wait to come again and have grown so appreciative of what they can share in confidence. The counselors' greatest problem now is turning down numerous marriage proposals from people just so thrilled to find someone who will listen to them!

After eating lunch at the two-week old Pizza Hut, we continued onto our final project, which is underway in two locations. We visited both villages and our tailoring projects at each site, where a total of 45 women are learning to make clothing. This group is still early in their learning, and they proudly showed us clothes they had made for themselves as part of their training. Some even modeled them for us, and laughed wholeheartedly when they tried them on. They were a very lively group of women of all ages. Currently, there is one salesman for both locations, who zips around on his motorbike with bundles of colorful clothes to sell.

It is with both a little sadness and much satisfaction that we anticipate turning all of our Acehnese projects over to local leadership in September. The first time I came to Aceh, we spent quite a bit of time at a refugee camp near the water. Once a village of 1500, only 300 people remained. Just hours before we had arrived, insurgents had attacked the camp and stolen medicines and clothing. A large mosque was an identifying landmark; one whole side of it had been destroyed by the water, and it was somehow barely supported by broken pillars. I asked to visit this same location, as its memory has stayed so vividly in my mind.

The mosque is now fully repaired, and only the bent star on the very top of the dome reminds you of the powerful wave that once swept over it. There is no longer a refugee camp, and brilliant green vegetation is all around. But what surprised me most was the color of the water. Before, it had been almost black in color. And now, I suppose as sediment has settled, it has returned to what was its natural color—a gorgeous shade of electric green. With the pure white sand as a contrast, it is a picture so striking, you don't even want to blink. As I stood in the middle of the street in front of the mosque, two boys flew toward me on their bicycles. They were racing, and just laughing and riding with abandon with their hair blowing in the wind. And I thought it was a really beautiful picture. Sometimes when you are immersed in something, you fail to see the sign of healing and growth, as they tend to come in baby steps easily missed. But as an outsider with a periodic view, it was incredible to see the signs of restoration. We can never replace what was lost, and the lives will never be forgotten, but you see one foot moving forward and new life on the horizon.

Aceh, Part 1

On the day we were to leave for Aceh, I was scheduled to be picked up at 4:30 in morning. I even surprised myself to be waiting outside a whole 5 minutes early. This is one of the benefits of international travel; before my body adjusts to a new time zone, I'm early to everything for about two days. I had just arrived in Jakarta the day before—after over 30 hours of travel—so I was tired, but the anticipation of the trip and the flipped body clock had me ready to go. I met Veronica, the director of YCAB, at the airport and we boarded our flight to Banda Aceh, in what was our third trip to one of the locations most severely damaged by the tsunami.

We landed almost two hours later, and were met by Steven, the YCAB representative who left his home in Jakarta to move to Aceh and be our on-the-ground project manager. I asked him how he had been doing since I saw him last year, and he very honestly answered with a smile and shake of his head, "Today? Not so good!" Steven has been the crucial element to any success for these projects. While for us the sacrifice of being away from home and unfamiliar culture are temporary, he has willingly made it his home.

To provide a bit of history, last year YCAB established these projects in Aceh along with several approved NGO's joining together for a UN emergency relief plan. Wellspring underwrote the approved YCAB projects under this UN umbrella. As the UN only stays in regions for a set amount of time, they pulled out a few months ago, in keeping with their deadline. YCAB and Wellspring decided to stay longer, in an effort to provide ongoing support and enable us to slowly pass the baton to local managers. Our hope is that the projects we have started will now continue, but in the hands of those to whom they truly belong.

On my first visit to Aceh, which was six weeks after the tsunami, all I could see was sand, and I thought the terrain was desert-like. At this time, bodies were still being recovered, and a painful silence hung in the air, the sound of intense despair. On my return trip one year later, I was shocked by all the sprouting vegetation and signs of new life. And now, another year later, it was an island. Full of coconut trees and flowers and shrubs, it was beautiful and I would never have guessed it to be the same place. We drove through the country side, passing rice fields and semi-permanent housing provided by the government. There are also permanent brand new homes that are being built in the villages where some of our projects exist. Aren't they cute?

We stopped to peek into a primary school that is funded by UNICEF. These cute, tiny little children sat in desks bigger than they were, reading numbers from a chalk board. Their big brown eyes stared at us cautiously, but shy smiles quickly followed. We spent a few minutes talking with those operating the small school, and introduced ourselves. Wishing them every success, we continued on our way. As we pulled up to a small building, a big smile broke out on my face as I was met with a red sign outside that said "Wellspring International." It never ceases to affect me when I see this name, representing so many of you around the world, a mark of your presence somewhere far away.

Check back in with me tomorrow when I post the remainder of our time in Aceh.