Well I certainly enjoyed my last two weeks in New Zealand. The adventure began before I even arrived in Auckland. My flight out of Kolkata was delayed leaving me very little time to check in for my next flight. Also, they couldn't find my bag so I got on the flight knowing that is wasn't coming with me. So instead of heading straight for the north and the trek I'd planned, I stayed a few days with family waitng for my bag.
Once it arrived I headed out with a few new things, like a tarp, some rope and long johns. From Auckland I hitched to Northland and ended up sleeping under a bridge the first night. After that I actually made it to the beginning of my trek, ninety mile beach. But don't let the name fool you, it's actually more like 60 miles. I ended up trekking 100Km and ended up at Cape Rienga where the currents of the Pacific Ocean and Tasman Sea collide. It's a pretty cool place.
After the trek I was ready to go and visit the Pacific Link in Tauranga. On my way there I spent a night in Auckland which was difficult. In the afternoon I began walking through the downtown of the city and that is where I experienced the culture shock after India. before that I'd seen small town, or wilderness or familiar places but here with all the things that go on in a western city, punks, skaters, goths, the sex shops, the fast food was too much to handle. SO I turned around and made my way back to the motorway to hitch out. This is where it gets fun the couple who picked me up were Christian people who after talking to me for maybe five minutes and finding out that I'm involved in missionary work offered me a place to stay for the night. Right away I felt like saying yes. And it was such an amazing experience. The conversation, the hospitality, and generosity. Earlier that day I'd felt very discouraged and after that experience, was pumped to go again.
So I did make it to Tauranga the next day, but I've come to the conclusion that when it comes to hitching in New Zealand, going into or out of Tauranga is the hardest place to hitch.
What an amazing time it was being on the ship for near a week. I got to go surfing at the Mount again, I got to help dock the ship again, I got to help out the deck crew, and I got to see many good friends. How often does a DTS small group get back together? And to make it even better I got to meet a heap of new people who're helping out with the ship tour around New Zealand in an effort to call 30,000 young people into missions.
I am so glad to have met and to know the people that I have met in New Zealand. And I can't think of a better way to have ended my time in NZ than visiting the Pacific Link one last time.
Thanks Marine Reach, and God Bless!
Matt Clarke
Go Big or Go Home!
Monday, October 26, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Leaving somthing beautiful
I've left Kolkata.
I'm standing in an airport and it seems strange.
I'm sad to have left a place that, simply by being there, makes you think about your life in terms of your wealth and how to live out your faith.
I am sad to have left behind the kids of Daya Dan after watching them improve so much over the past two months.
I think most of all I am sad to leave behind my friends and fellow volunteers. Althought the best of them have either left already or will do soon enough, it doesn't make parting any easier. I think that a special shout must go out to Stephen, Grier Maria and Cassi. Y'all are the best.
I realised a couple weeks ago that leaving would be an important process for me as a volunteer. As someone who's considered to be long term, also being tall and wearing a hat makes me stand out a bit, the sisters would ask me to help out outside of the 'regular' volunteering. I found that somtimes being a favored or special helper gave me a sense of self importance that was not befiting of the reason I'd gone to Kolkata.
Let me tell you a true story. As I was serving in Kalighat, or the home for the dying destitute, a group of people came from the US to visit, or to have a look. As we were clearing the dishes after dinner, they were standing off to the side praying rather intensly. As they did this I passed by them three times.
The first time I thought to myself sarcasticly, "Well that's a lot of help!"
The second time I rebuked myself "I'm glad they're doing that. I don't see enough of that here."
The third time they were finishing up and getting ready to leave and I felt a little ill because "that come and gone is exactly what I'm like to some of the true long term volunteers and sisters" (some long term being 8 months, 1 year, 10 years, 15 years)
I want to go back to Kolkata, it's an amazing place, except for the honking, but I wonder if there's greater need of wolunteers elsewhere: with other Missionaries of charity houses throughout the world, with other volunteer organisations or with relief work organisations.
Now, however, I am fixing my eyes upon the next two weeks of breathing God in while I roam around New Zealand one last time and then a different type of service as a YWAM DTS staff member. The next adventure is lined up and waiting.
~Matt Clarke
Go Big or Go Home!
PS. There's no spell check here...sorry
I'm standing in an airport and it seems strange.
I'm sad to have left a place that, simply by being there, makes you think about your life in terms of your wealth and how to live out your faith.
I am sad to have left behind the kids of Daya Dan after watching them improve so much over the past two months.
I think most of all I am sad to leave behind my friends and fellow volunteers. Althought the best of them have either left already or will do soon enough, it doesn't make parting any easier. I think that a special shout must go out to Stephen, Grier Maria and Cassi. Y'all are the best.
I realised a couple weeks ago that leaving would be an important process for me as a volunteer. As someone who's considered to be long term, also being tall and wearing a hat makes me stand out a bit, the sisters would ask me to help out outside of the 'regular' volunteering. I found that somtimes being a favored or special helper gave me a sense of self importance that was not befiting of the reason I'd gone to Kolkata.
Let me tell you a true story. As I was serving in Kalighat, or the home for the dying destitute, a group of people came from the US to visit, or to have a look. As we were clearing the dishes after dinner, they were standing off to the side praying rather intensly. As they did this I passed by them three times.
The first time I thought to myself sarcasticly, "Well that's a lot of help!"
The second time I rebuked myself "I'm glad they're doing that. I don't see enough of that here."
The third time they were finishing up and getting ready to leave and I felt a little ill because "that come and gone is exactly what I'm like to some of the true long term volunteers and sisters" (some long term being 8 months, 1 year, 10 years, 15 years)
I want to go back to Kolkata, it's an amazing place, except for the honking, but I wonder if there's greater need of wolunteers elsewhere: with other Missionaries of charity houses throughout the world, with other volunteer organisations or with relief work organisations.
Now, however, I am fixing my eyes upon the next two weeks of breathing God in while I roam around New Zealand one last time and then a different type of service as a YWAM DTS staff member. The next adventure is lined up and waiting.
~Matt Clarke
Go Big or Go Home!
PS. There's no spell check here...sorry
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Monsoon
A short update, but a cool story. First let me take you back a couple of weeks. One of the other volunteers are Daya Dan and I decided that it would be good exercise to start walking back from the home to our hotel. That sounds fine does it not? Sure as long as the weather’s good, but alas we’re in the middle of monsoon season. Fortunatly for us it’s been a dry monsoon season, which is not so fortunate for the farmers. Now on this one particular day we started walking while the weather was nice enough and we even made it halfway before it began to drizzle. Before long the rain started coming down pretty good, but we, being both of us from the northwest, thought nothing of rain. As the Indian people covered their stalls and sought cover from the torrential downpour, we kept walking.
Just keep walking, just keep walking
I even made the comment, only two guys from the Northwest would walk through this while all the locals stayed dry.
That in and of itself was a cool experience, but the other day I had a better one. As we were at Daya Dan during the morning the rain began coming down at a good pace, and did not stop. So as we finished our morning there and went to leave it was still raining. I felt like walking, or running as I’ve been trying to do lately, back home, I set out in the rain. Little did I know of the situation further along. The roads had become so flooded in points that there was no dry place to stand, even on the sidewalks. The water is so dirty that you can not see the ground be it two feet or two inches beneath the surface of the water. So, for the experience and sheer adventure of it I trekked my way through the flooded streets and sidewalks to make it back to my street, only to find that it is the most flooded of them all. It is indeed a sad story that my camera broke and I was unable to take photos of these events; but even if I had, those pictures would not be able to encapsulate the experience.
One of the favorite street side restraints here was so flooded that it closed down early, but before it did all of their seats were taken by the hardcore patrons who sat with feet up out of the grimy water while eating and the cooks kept cooking while standing knee deep in the flood.
To say the least I loved it, until I realized that my room is on the ground floor and may be flooded. My fears were all for not as the hotel I am at is on high ground and has some excellent drainage. Excellent that is during a monsoon, but during a regular rainfall it’s terrible. Go Figure.
I know some of you out there can vouch for my story, while others may be bewildered. For the people here, this stiff happens, and you live with it, but they still don’t like being splashed when someone goes running past :P Oh, and it’s strange walking down the sidewalk and having waves from the wake of the cars driving down the street breaking around your ankles.
One thing I wish I had had with me on that day was a skim board, it would have been so much fun. How much fun? SO much fun!
Just keep walking, just keep walking
I even made the comment, only two guys from the Northwest would walk through this while all the locals stayed dry.
That in and of itself was a cool experience, but the other day I had a better one. As we were at Daya Dan during the morning the rain began coming down at a good pace, and did not stop. So as we finished our morning there and went to leave it was still raining. I felt like walking, or running as I’ve been trying to do lately, back home, I set out in the rain. Little did I know of the situation further along. The roads had become so flooded in points that there was no dry place to stand, even on the sidewalks. The water is so dirty that you can not see the ground be it two feet or two inches beneath the surface of the water. So, for the experience and sheer adventure of it I trekked my way through the flooded streets and sidewalks to make it back to my street, only to find that it is the most flooded of them all. It is indeed a sad story that my camera broke and I was unable to take photos of these events; but even if I had, those pictures would not be able to encapsulate the experience.
One of the favorite street side restraints here was so flooded that it closed down early, but before it did all of their seats were taken by the hardcore patrons who sat with feet up out of the grimy water while eating and the cooks kept cooking while standing knee deep in the flood.
To say the least I loved it, until I realized that my room is on the ground floor and may be flooded. My fears were all for not as the hotel I am at is on high ground and has some excellent drainage. Excellent that is during a monsoon, but during a regular rainfall it’s terrible. Go Figure.
I know some of you out there can vouch for my story, while others may be bewildered. For the people here, this stiff happens, and you live with it, but they still don’t like being splashed when someone goes running past :P Oh, and it’s strange walking down the sidewalk and having waves from the wake of the cars driving down the street breaking around your ankles.
One thing I wish I had had with me on that day was a skim board, it would have been so much fun. How much fun? SO much fun!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Daya Dan
As promised I’ll tell you a bit about what I do as a volunteer. I get to the house around 8:00 in the morning. Sometimes I’m late, sometimes not, it’s pretty relaxed. I then help wash clothes, dress the boys, clean and change bedding, hang laundry or just play around. The task depends on how many volunteers we have and who’s already doing what.
On the 1st floor there are between 20-30 boys from age 7-19, all of whom are mentally or physically handicapped, or both. Some of the older boys go to a school and are gone most of the time I am there. Others do physiotherapy to help with their physical symptoms and about 8 boys get taught by volunteers. I help with this group.
We begin with a quiet mediation tie to calm the boys down a little bit, then we greet the children and volunteers which helps the boys practice speaking in English. Some of them can not speak at all, others with extreme difficulty. Then we break from the group and do one on one teaching with the boys. I have been teaching one boy for a month now. He’s quite smart, but also very laid back. The boys seem to have figured out how to play the role of a not so smart kid and not have to do much learning. My student doesn’t speak much, but he can, and he knows a lot of vocabulary. He’s pretty chill and if he’s not in the mood he’s content to just stare into space while I get frustrated that he doesn’t want to learn anything.
Officially he has ADHD, but since most, if not all, of the boys were taken off the street at some point, malnutrition at an early age has effected the growth and development of their brain cells. It is an incredibly sad story but it is the way it is.
For me the thing that struck me the most, especially at the beginning, and continues to the present, is that because there is so much coming and going of the volunteers and teachers and friends, the boys have no father figure, and no consistency in their lives apart from one another and the sister who is in charge. And when I say that she is in charge I mean it. The boys listen to her every word. If she’s watching they behave very well, in comparison to when she’s not around. And they love her so much. How much? SO much! On a number of occasions, one of the more rowdy boys will simply walk up to her and give her a massive hug around the waist. Even if she is trying to accomplish something he wont let go and will just let her carry him around. It’s amazing to see that, and makes all of the frustration of the day worth it.
I wonder if God will ask me to come back here someday to spend a long time with these, boys or other orphans like them…?
On the flip side, experiencing the difficulties of working with these kids just reinforces my desire NOT to have a family of my own. Not to mention it brings to light just how much responsibility a child’s life is.
Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. For all the hard work in providing for me, loving me, teaching me and playing with me. And especially for the perseverance through frustration, I think you did a pretty good job on all 5 kids.
~Matt Clarke
Go Big or Go Home!
PS. No more photos, my camera got wet and is now broken. :’( sad. It just means I can now dream about getting a sweet as camera for making sweet as videos.
On the 1st floor there are between 20-30 boys from age 7-19, all of whom are mentally or physically handicapped, or both. Some of the older boys go to a school and are gone most of the time I am there. Others do physiotherapy to help with their physical symptoms and about 8 boys get taught by volunteers. I help with this group.
We begin with a quiet mediation tie to calm the boys down a little bit, then we greet the children and volunteers which helps the boys practice speaking in English. Some of them can not speak at all, others with extreme difficulty. Then we break from the group and do one on one teaching with the boys. I have been teaching one boy for a month now. He’s quite smart, but also very laid back. The boys seem to have figured out how to play the role of a not so smart kid and not have to do much learning. My student doesn’t speak much, but he can, and he knows a lot of vocabulary. He’s pretty chill and if he’s not in the mood he’s content to just stare into space while I get frustrated that he doesn’t want to learn anything.
Officially he has ADHD, but since most, if not all, of the boys were taken off the street at some point, malnutrition at an early age has effected the growth and development of their brain cells. It is an incredibly sad story but it is the way it is.
For me the thing that struck me the most, especially at the beginning, and continues to the present, is that because there is so much coming and going of the volunteers and teachers and friends, the boys have no father figure, and no consistency in their lives apart from one another and the sister who is in charge. And when I say that she is in charge I mean it. The boys listen to her every word. If she’s watching they behave very well, in comparison to when she’s not around. And they love her so much. How much? SO much! On a number of occasions, one of the more rowdy boys will simply walk up to her and give her a massive hug around the waist. Even if she is trying to accomplish something he wont let go and will just let her carry him around. It’s amazing to see that, and makes all of the frustration of the day worth it.
I wonder if God will ask me to come back here someday to spend a long time with these, boys or other orphans like them…?
On the flip side, experiencing the difficulties of working with these kids just reinforces my desire NOT to have a family of my own. Not to mention it brings to light just how much responsibility a child’s life is.
Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. For all the hard work in providing for me, loving me, teaching me and playing with me. And especially for the perseverance through frustration, I think you did a pretty good job on all 5 kids.
~Matt Clarke
Go Big or Go Home!
PS. No more photos, my camera got wet and is now broken. :’( sad. It just means I can now dream about getting a sweet as camera for making sweet as videos.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
(Any Title Suggestions?)
So, upon reflecting about my last post “Some Things My Eyes Have Seen,” I feel like I have given Kolkata, India and the Indian people a bad wrap, which is most certainly not my intention. I feel that the issue that is the saddest part is money; money, the desire for which is the root of all evils. I recall at this time something said to me at a bible study where we discussed money; it came in the form of a warning not to get upset about what other people said. The phrase was this: “people get funny, when you start talking about money.” I believe that is true. I was privileged enough to e present at a celebration of the MC Anniversary at which the sister’s re-affirmed their vows of poverty and chastity. After words, I was discussing this with a friend and he mentioned that in the western world, specifically the church, that a vow of poverty is considered a foolish thing. Why? Because one needs to be able to support ones family; but is God not our provider?
I do not have the answer, but I do know that I am afraid of returning to a wealthy country and more specifically what effect it will have on me.
But enough of that let me share about some of the splendid things I have seen here. In the midst of this expanse of decrepit buildings is a beautiful park. It does not go on as far as the eye can but it does go for a number of blocks in many directions. For me it is a nice retreat from the city being able to look a half a kilometer away over flat green ground. It was on one such walk through the park that I was invited to sit and chat with a man who was sitting there by the grass. In the end he seemed only interested in my money, but I liked sitting there and chatting for a bit.
The people here work so hard. How hard? SO hard! A typical day seems to be about 12 hours long. That’s what the waiters at the restaurants work, and no matter what time of day I go out I see the same rickshaw-men and taxi drivers in the same spots all the time. One of the waiters in the nearby tourist café speaks 7 languages, another many who runs a food stand speaks 4, I think, and has been working in that location for 40 years. There are those who work hard, and that is something I think is in the Indian culture. Some people have twisted that hard work to mean making money at all costs, but others want to provide for their families and be successful.
Talking with the other travelers, volunteers, and tourists here is also very enjoyable. It is from them that I’ve learned most of what I know of this place. Friends are easy to make as everyone enjoys hearing the stories of other people’s travels. I’ve even managed to toss the Frisbee around with a few other people. Perhaps on a day of better weather we could get a game of ultimate going. Of course much of my time is spent reading in my room, and I’ve noticed my writing style keeps changing slightly as I read different authors, strange that.
I really not sure what to write about further, but I think next week I will post some stories and more details about the place where I am volunteering. It’s a wonderful place, and as much as I want to go and help out in some of the other houses, I do not want to leave the kids.
Until next time,
~Matt Clarke
Go Big or Go Home!
I do not have the answer, but I do know that I am afraid of returning to a wealthy country and more specifically what effect it will have on me.
But enough of that let me share about some of the splendid things I have seen here. In the midst of this expanse of decrepit buildings is a beautiful park. It does not go on as far as the eye can but it does go for a number of blocks in many directions. For me it is a nice retreat from the city being able to look a half a kilometer away over flat green ground. It was on one such walk through the park that I was invited to sit and chat with a man who was sitting there by the grass. In the end he seemed only interested in my money, but I liked sitting there and chatting for a bit.
The people here work so hard. How hard? SO hard! A typical day seems to be about 12 hours long. That’s what the waiters at the restaurants work, and no matter what time of day I go out I see the same rickshaw-men and taxi drivers in the same spots all the time. One of the waiters in the nearby tourist café speaks 7 languages, another many who runs a food stand speaks 4, I think, and has been working in that location for 40 years. There are those who work hard, and that is something I think is in the Indian culture. Some people have twisted that hard work to mean making money at all costs, but others want to provide for their families and be successful.
Talking with the other travelers, volunteers, and tourists here is also very enjoyable. It is from them that I’ve learned most of what I know of this place. Friends are easy to make as everyone enjoys hearing the stories of other people’s travels. I’ve even managed to toss the Frisbee around with a few other people. Perhaps on a day of better weather we could get a game of ultimate going. Of course much of my time is spent reading in my room, and I’ve noticed my writing style keeps changing slightly as I read different authors, strange that.
I really not sure what to write about further, but I think next week I will post some stories and more details about the place where I am volunteering. It’s a wonderful place, and as much as I want to go and help out in some of the other houses, I do not want to leave the kids.
Until next time,
~Matt Clarke
Go Big or Go Home!
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