Libby: I worked at Fort William and Macrory Presbyterian Church and the Partnership in Community Transformation in north Belfast.

Kori: I saw the face of adversity early in my months in Peru while walking with church members back from a community of rural people who migrated as a group from the jungle in search of a better life for their families. They set their homes on the bank of the Rimac River, behind a large hardware market. The community was built of thin, less than plywood-weighted walls and thatched roofs. The children that attended our Sunday morning bible school often came in worn out sandals or barefoot, and the same faded shirt they wore the week before. But they came and sang and listened and colored with us.

One morning, returning to the church on foot, I saw a man on the side of the Evitamiento highway. He was passed out, barely alive. His head rested on a bag, mouth slightly open. One hand lay on his stomach, the other fallen to his side. He lay as if he had given up. Given up hope. Given up survival in this tough city – where people are just trying to make it through the end of the day the best they can with enough change in their pockets to feed their children. This city, explained to me my second day "there’s a certain crudeness to life here." He had given up on life. And we – in turn – walked by – one by one stepped around him. We had given up on him too.

The following days I struggled with what I had seen and done – or not done. I didn’t feel confident enough in my Spanish to engage a conversation with my family or church yet, so I carried it with me. I carry it now to each one of you.

Conrado Olivera, the director of the Joining Hands Network of Peru, describes poverty as exclusion. The person who is alone, whose spirit aches for accompaniment, is in poverty. Attacking poverty is not simply the process of giving money – a gift, its more than that; it’s the whole environment. Conrado explains, poverty doesn’t come from God - it comes from this exclusion. This means it is a problem of ours. We, as humans created it, and therefore must address it. The Joining Hands network looks to address these issues – hunger stemming from the grander problem of poverty – by seeking out and braking down the barriers of exclusion. We look to accompany as a network, as equals, the marginalized of society.

I failed him, the man on the street, I failed God and I failed myself.

Libby and Kori: WE WERE CHANGED FROM THE INSIDE OUT

Libby: Chris McGrath was the oldest youth at Fort William and Macrory Presbyterian, turning 17 during my time in Belfast. After a lazy afternoon spent with the whole McGrath family and an amazing dinner, we sat around drinking Guinness and chatting about my holiday to Egypt. He openly admitted to me that he ‘wasn’t a fan of Arabs.’ We talked about how you learn from experience and if you haven’t ever encountered people from a different culture there is an element of the unknown. About two hours later, the family and I got into an intense conversation about American politics, particularly foreign policy. While I don’t claim to be a huge political buff, I do have my set of opinions. Chris told me "I thought all Americans love Bush, were in full support of the war, and really conservative. Then we started having American volunteers at church." I was happy to hear this because I think teaching people about the US was an important part of my experience. Also, it gave me the opportunity to re-open the conversation about his opinion of Arab people, and the value of first-hand experience and open-mindedness.

Our conversation could have just as easily been applied to the Troubles of Northern Ireland. That night as Chris drove me home, I made him take a different route, which meant we would drive up the main Catholic street in north Belfast, the New Lodge Road. Only because I knew him well, did I dare to force him out of his comfort zone. As soon he realized what road he was on, he nearly shouted "why did you make me drive up here? Do you know where we are?" "Yea I know where we are… and why is this all that bad?" I replied. "Well, I don’t really know actually, I guess it’s not," was all he had to say. I found that the youth group I worked with responded with a similar attitude towards the troubles that Chris discovered during our drive up the New Lodge Road.

During our youth group one night we talked about conflict in general, and more specifically the issues in Belfast. I was anxious to hear what they thought about the situation and how they viewed their experience with it. When I posed the question, "How are you daily effected by the Troubles?" they looked at me blankly. I wondered if they were feeling shy or if they really just weren’t sure. They finally responded, agreeing that the conflict is not something they think about day in and day out. While the discussion seemed stagnant, being an outsider, it was very easy for me to list off ways that they are affected. So I began to press. I asked them to tell me where they went to school, and was bombarded with names of school after school with Protestant names in the area. I asked them what sports they played, hearing Rugby and Hockey rather than Hurling and Kimogey. I asked them which football team they support, and while none of them said the highly Protestant-supported Rangers, none of them dared say the Catholic-followed Celtics either.

Only as the questioning continued did they then begin to realize they are all still affected by the troubles. They are placed in a certain lifestyle and culture because they are Protestant. For these youth, this was the way it had always been and they didn’t see it the way I did. Sometimes it takes an outside eye to see your reality, to see the exclusion that exists within society. While Belfast is now peaceful, there was still segregation between Catholic and Protestant. Until they realize the exclusion that still exists in their society, it cannot be addressed.

Kori: One day in March I got called into a meeting between the Joining Hands facilitator and the Filomenas, a group that focuses on environmental rights in La Oroya, where 97 percent of the children have lead poisoning. The Filomenas lead a group of youth and were planning a conference for young adults from Huancayo and the United States to join in solidarity with their efforts for a cleaner and healthier city. La Oroya is the home of Doe Run’s smelting plant, which has contributed to earning La Oroya a sad spot on the top ten list of the most polluted places in the world. They were discussing the prospect of painting a large-scale mural addressing the theme of the conference: Juntos Podemos Cambiar y Soñar Como Queremos Nuestra Oroya (Together we can change and dream how we want our Oroya). They also discussed the possibilities of finding an artist to lead this project. My interest immediately sparked. I had painted murals before and led youth at summer camps to paint murals. So I shared this with them, and they invited me to lead this project.

Easter morning I traveled from Huancayo to La Oroya to sketch the design, prepare before the rest of the youth joined me. I worked quickly, but as soon as the sun went down and the streetlights came on it became too cold to continue working; my fingers were frozen! Early the next morning Juan and I started working. The groups were arriving at 11; fortunately they were – in usual Peruvian fashion – late, so I had time to finish my sketching. As the busses drove into town, they slowed down and honked and waved, very excited about the project and conference. During these three exhausting and amazing days of activities and translating we shared meals and songs and devotionals together. We split the 70 young adults into work teams who accomplished radio interviews, performed a play, participated in a parade, wrote and sang on the radio a beautiful song about uniting to accomplish your dreams. They also photo-documented the events, and had a first time meeting with the mayor, in which he answered questions from the La Oroya youth, and my team painted the mural.

We painted the leaves in the many trees with hand-prints, to symbolize the idea that as humans created this disaster, humans can also fix it: by adding measures to improve the health and safety of not only the workers, but also the entire people of La Oroya. After explaining its significance to the crowd at the dedication ceremony, I painted the mayor’s hand and he added it to the mural as a show of solidarity. These three days of laughter, hard work, and community were powerful to me. They demonstrated how when we work together, reach out to the stranger, and accept new ideas beautiful things can be and will be accomplished.

Libby and Kori: WE LAUGHED … A LOT!

Libby: My first afternoon with the students at Castle High School is one I will never forget. I was to help with the school production of Oliver Twist, working with Fagin’s gang at rehearsals each Thursday afternoon. Having never seen Oliver before, and only meeting the students once, I walked in to my first rehearsal in the Drama Suite not knowing what to expect. The kids were wrapped in the curtains, destroying the organization of the costume closet, and mucking about. There was no other teacher in sight. Assuming I was it, the one in charge, I tried to get them settled and started by saying "Alright guys…" All I got in response was a chorus of wannabe American accents mocking me "Alright guys…" Meanwhile, the stage curtain is still being swung from. Laughing with them, instead of getting frustrated, I tried again, "Y’all come down here and we will introduce ourselves and get started." The hysterics began "Y’all… haha, y’all… lets all introduce ourselves y’all…" While I was still trying to laugh at myself and work out where to go from here, the PE coach, who would be starring as Fagin, came in to help with the rehearsal group.

Kori: Entering into the year I was very weak in my Spanish speaking ability. My favorite time of the day was lunch. We would go together as an office and talk. Well, mainly I would listen. And we would laugh hysterically as they taught me new words or new meanings to words that I already new. Little by little I began to understand what was said to me and around me more and more. The language of the church was new to me. I realized the words used in worship services were very different than I had been taught, words like saving souls, sinner, head of the house hold, training your children, your wife. At times I felt so lost in the meaning I didn’t feel I would ever understand, but as a child I learned to speak.

Libby: Working with the elderly wasn’t my favorite endeavour.

Kori: Well interacting with little kids wasn’t mine.

I saw little children everywhere. Fiorella became one of my favorite people. Fiorella, now 2, began to speak while I was living with her family. She would repeat a few things; one of them was my name, running around the house saying KORI-kori-kori-kori, knocking on my door even when I wasn’t at home.

Libby: Every Tuesday morning I worked at the Newington Day Centre. Members come for a chat and cup of tea, have their lunch, participate in armchair aerobics, telling stories from the past, and singing. While I did learn to enjoy my time on Tuesday mornings, Newington was not a place where I felt really comfortable. However, two of the other volunteers became my two best friends in Belfast. Joan and Teresa, ages 49 and 59, kept me laughing and introduced me to the members who would be interested in talking with me.

Kori: I worked as a camp counselor for a week in Huanuco, Peru. This summer camp focuses on sexual abuse rehabilitation. For the introduction project, we used our names to draw a picture. I asked each of the 11 youth to tell a story about their name, or simply how they got their name. It was difficult to get the kids to talk, but, they each said a few words – until we got to Berta. She had barely begun her drawing and wouldn’t say a word – not to me, not to anyone. I looked to one of the other leaders and she shook her head as if to say she won’t speak. It pained me to think of what she had been through in her life. I wondered what had been done to this 13 year old girl that she could barely even look at me, or anyone.

One night all the electricity on the farm went out. Having planned a movie for the evening activity, we thought quickly what to do. I suggested a story telling game where each person adds to the story. As the story passed around the circle, I watched Berta. I was unsure of what would happen when the story came to her, because she hadn’t spoken for 2 days. But, in the darkness, she found her voice. I’d like to think I had something to do with this moment. But, as she began to speak and make friendships with the girls and boys, I knew it couldn’t have been anything but God’s hand helping her begin to heal.

Libby: During the year I worked with the 41^st company of the boys’ brigade, which is similar to a boy scout troop here in the states. I worked with the youngest group, the Anchor Boys, who were age 4-8. One of the youngest boys named Carson, age 4, grew to be my favorite. He was the wild child, the one we couldn’t get to stand still, the one who constantly made ridiculous faces, and would spend his whole nights in Time Out if we actually put him there. He had tiny, bright blue superman brand glasses. One night he told me he wanted to tell me a special secret. He whispered, "my glasses give me super powers, because they’re superman."

Carson acted up, and while I thought he was adorable, it was obvious that he had real behavior problems. One night I was sitting out of the games with Carson, who really only participated when I was right with him. He told me in his amazing 4-year-old animated way about spending the weekend with his Auntie and all that they had done. Then he paused. ‘I told my mummy that I want to live with my auntie…’ he said. Another pause, he looked down and meekly said ‘my dad is bad to me, so I want to live away with her.’ Letting him leave at the end of the night when his dad came to pick him up was very hard. I talked with the other leaders about it, but it wasn’t new news to them. I decided then and there that Carson was going to have someone rooting for him, someone who was good to him.

The Boys’ Brigade year ends with a display night in the spring, where the boys march, sing songs, and show off what they have learned during the PE time. Our last practice night is one that I will never forget. Getting Carson to march properly was like getting Carson to do anything serious – pretty difficult. I had watched for two weeks as the other leaders told him to sit aside because he couldn’t do it. This week as we lined up, Carson of course was right by my side. I stepped out of line, telling him I wasn’t going to march because I didn’t know how. I convinced him to show me how, telling him I would copy him as I marched right behind him. I will never forget how straight his little arms were, how they swung as he marched, how high he held his chin, and the smiles over his shoulder making sure I was marching correctly. I knew he could march perfectly and that all kids need is a chance and someone who believes in them. I am so grateful that I got to be that person, even just for one night, for an amazing little boy.

Libby and Kori: WE FOLLOWED OUR CALL

Kori: At times I questioned myself.

Libby: There were times when the right words didn’t come.

Kori: But we were called to Peru

Libby: And to Belfast, for a specific reason.

Kori: There were times when I knew I was in the right place at the right time.

Libby: This was where I was supposed to be, needed to be.

Kori: God asks us every day to reach out,

Libby: To step across our boundaries

Kori: And overcome our fears.

Libby: By breaking down the barriers of exclusion

Kori: Of poverty

Libby: Of hostility

A Witherspoon conference
on global mission and justice