Monday, August 20, 2007

Greyhound North America Circle Tour 2007. Destination: Mañanaville.

“Well I’m nowhere bound with Greyhound once again...”









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Such is the lyric of a song by Tommy Hunter, of the “Tommy Hunter Show” fame (you know, what we watched impatiently at 7:30 pm Friday nights as we were waiting for the Dukes of Hazzard to come on at 8).

Such I guess can also describe my trip around North America this summer, which began in Edmonton and ended in Edmonton – thus in one sense, going nowhere. In another sense, it described the frustration I experienced with the service of Greyhound in the U.S., which stands out as a true blue monopoly. I for one was amazed by this in the land of the free and the home of the brave, where in theory if you don’t offer efficient service, then you will be pushed aside by someone who will compete for the almighty dollar of the consumer. Where do I begin to qualify my statement? Maybe it was the extreme disorganization in Denver and Dallas, causing me to almost miss my connections. Maybe it was the consistent delays and lack of busses to accommodate summer volume, or Greyhound no longer allowing the extension of bus passes, sadly causing me to eliminate visits with some friends. Liz’s Spanish expression “Mañanaville” (i.e. Tomorrow-ville) to describe the lack of efficiency in the U.S. south really seemed to apply.

"Ahhhhhhh... Mañanaville!"
Interestingly, I found Greyhound performs far better in Canada, ironically the U.S.’s lazy cousin on welfare. Maybe I’ve had it wrong all the years that I’ve been a Conservative, and should join the NDP (much to Aaron Goldstein’s chagrin and Kaj Hasselriis’ joy – an inside joke for anyone who knows these two good friends of mine). It’s also ironic that such a person like myself, who is nothing like the typical liberal Canadian patriot, received lots of compliments from younger Americans for no other reason except the fact that I was Canadian.

On the bright side, I guess there was no lack of opportunity to exercise walking and being thankful by faith and not by sight...

In fact, there were many things that showed how blessed I am to be living in Canada. For one, Canada is not crowded (except for Vancouver; Toronto is crowded, but at least it’s way more linear and fluid). I remember as a kid thinking “why is northern Ontario so backward, with only cow paths for highways?” The thing I realized is that many parts of Canada just don’t need twinned highways, etc. – and are all the more beautiful and pristine for it.

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Renny with Liz, a friend from summer camp who lives in Albuquerque NM with her husband.

Seeing so many friends I haven’t seen in ages made up for any bumps along the Greyhound highway. Like Liz in New Mexico, a really dear friend from summer camp who has always been one of the kindest people I know. And James in Geogia, who was one of many signposts who pointed the way to Christ for me way back when. And I finally got to see Robbie and his new wife in Texas after not going to his wedding in May. There were so many others in BC and Ontario who were great to see again.

I’m really glad to be back in Edmonton. Like I mentioned in a previous entry, there is such a feeling of stability in work and other routines that I have here. It was also good to see people from church again. I don’t know yet if I’ll be teaching full time or continuing to sub. If I’m only subbing, I’m starting to see all kinds of possibilities to be working with others in and through the church. Ultimately for those of us in Christ, all our work and corresponding rest and refreshment train us to reign with Jesus in God’s kingdom (2 Timothy 2:12; Revelation 5:10).

Friday, August 03, 2007

Hutterites part II: Continuity and Change

(Click on any photo to enlarge it)
Coming soon: my current circle tour of North America on the Greyhound bus.

“So THAT’S why we’re called Hutterites!”

So said my student, whom I will call B.J., after one day talking about the Hutterites' namesake. I had previously mentioned Jacob Hutter to the students, calling Hutter a brother of mine on account of his faith in Christ. This seemed to cause some kids to think I had an actual brother who was a Hutterite. So I explained and qualified my statement, mentioning that Jacob Hutter couldn’t be my biological brother because he lived 400 years ago on the other side of the world. B.J. suggested that I maybe I could have been Hutter’s brother if I was born 400 years earlier, to which I said “if that were so, then you might be called Makiites.” That’s when the penny dropped for B.J. as to the origin of his identification.

Abner Road: I asked these boys to cross the roadway two steps behind the other. Would there have been any point in saying, "hey guys, pretend you're the Beatles"?


Other than teaching the Hutterites about Hutterites, my wish came true to be called back to substitute teach at their colony for a handful of days throughout the spring. This was before my June teaching assignment in Edmonton teaching the Grade 2 class. The first day I was back, the kids took me on a tour of the colony during classtime, at the direction of the regular teacher. That was alot of fun.

I loved seeing their bright little faces again. I mean, just look at all the little girls who came early to the office while I was preparing, and eagerly put on a tape with the readalong books. How could I not laugh -- and even more so when one of them said in her cute Plautdietsch accent "Misteh Maki, why you laugh?"

I've been learning a little more of what life is like behind the scenes in Hutterite life, some of it being just mind boggling. For one, I found out that Hutterite youth are not exactly strangers to TV, movies and popular music. This, in spite of the pretty stringent regulations concerning such. One day during current events (first thing in the morning when students share colony news, everything from cow brandings to chicken slaughters), I told a student, "That sounds like something Ned Flanders would say... But then again you probably don't know what I'm talking about." At this point, B.J. piped up "oh Mr. Maki, did you see the Simpsons last night?" Well, there goes that misconception. Not only that, B.J. generously lent me his punk rock CD one day. Man, if the colony minister found that in the rafters, B.J. would probably be meeting Die Liebe Rutan (unless the colony minister, for some queer reason, happens to be an Alice Cooper fan).
Die Liebe Rutan a.k.a. "The Love Strap": as mentioned in my previous entry, it is used only by the German teacher, not the "English" one. For a lark, I put it next to my lesson plans and the book I read to them on Mother Theresa (B.J. said "she's hot" when he saw her picture from her youth). The moment I took the strap out of the desk for this photo, there was a collective gasp in the air. Once I found out what the German words on it meant, I spontaneously sang: "Love strap, baby, love strap..." to the tune of the B52's "Love Shack" (which prompted much laughter and calls of "sing dat again Misteh Maki!") .

Hmmm, I wonder if only black hockey helmets are allowed: Yes, the rock says "Oilers". Any way you paint it, "This is Oil Country."
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The kids were fascinated with my camera whenever I took pictures -- and clambering to take pictures whenever I asked for one of them to do so. As such, I did a photography activity with them on my last day. I gave each group of 4 a disposable camera, asking them to take pictures of different things at the colony that they hoped would change, never change, where they'll end up working, etc. The kids ate it right up. So did the regular teacher. She ended up incorporating the photo project into writing and display making activities.
Unfortunately, I didn't get to return to the colony to see their writing projects. These are some of the photos that leave me to imagine what they wrote about. The top two photos show some of the row housing and fields in the colony. The bottom two show the kitchen prepared for supper, and a typical clothesline apparatus.




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Finally, a picture I myself took that encapsulates my hopes of continuity, change, and where life leads. In the handful of days that I was the teacher to these Hutterite children, I grew really fond of them and their world. I hope these children will always work dilligently and delight in the simple things of life, love and nature. I also hope that they will come to know and confess their need in the saving power of Jesus, beyond the traditions that have been influenced by the faith of their forefathers. Though I am pursuing teaching opportunities that are not condusive to being a colony teacher, I would still jump at the chance to see them again and continue to learn about their way of life.
Whatever the shape of this path, I continue the race toward the Son, the author and perfector of my faith, seeking the childlike simplicity with which I am to trust God the Father, and have my delight in him.