I've heard reports of a school shooting in Virginia, and I know that that must be at the front of everyone's minds. Tragic events like these break through that barrier we think we have between the violence and suffering that plague the rest of the world, and us. We believe that these things aren't supposed to happen, so where is God in all this? When tragedy strikes, we reach out to other people, we care, we come together… but we also get scared. We look for where we can assign blame, and so many times we forget that we are not alone in suffering. We care most about those who are closest to us; I understand that. But we miss so much when we close our hearts to the rest of the world. In January more than 100 union demonstrators were killed by their government in Guinea. The demonstrators were standing up against the corruption of their government (ranked the most corrupt in Africa). The people of Guinea are becoming united against their government, and most likely moving toward a coup. I'm sure Guinea wasn't on the US news. When I first got here, a Liberian I was talking to was shocked that I didn't hear that the presidential mansion had caught on fire. "But we get all of your news, you mean you don't hear about what's going on here?" I didn't have the heart to admit I didn't even hear about Liberia's war when it was raging just over 3 years ago. In the states, when you do hear about the suffering in Africa, it seems so distant almost not real. And Virginia Tech seems very far away to me too. But perhaps when we speak the language of suffering we will understand one another. Where is God in all of this?

The last few days at Cuttington have been a mixture of scary, sad, and hopeful. The students staged what they claimed was a non-violent boycott of classes on Monday, to bring attention to the grievances they had against the administration. It began by a group of chanting male students, driving all students and teachers from classrooms, and not allowing them to re-enter. The female student leaders had not wanted the boycott, but the men went ahead. The tension on campus continued to escalate as both students and the administration issued demands and a forum for dialogue could not be agreed on. The students blocked entrances to the school, and threatened to break down the generator. The students concerns are valid, having to do with services they are paying for but not receiving, but their methods got out of control. In what seemed to be a moment of panic on the second day, the President of the University, issued a memo declaring that the school be closed indefinitely, and the dorms be vacated. None of the administrators made this announcement to the student body because they did not believe the situation to be safe. A mob of students began throwing stones at official vehicles, and all administrators' vehicles fled across a field to escape campus (all the roads were blocked). All the ex-pats were asked to evacuate campus, so we packed our bags, and left via footpaths to avoid the roadblocks. We sought refuge with friends at the Phebe Hospital Compound, about a mile from campus. They call it "running" when they talk about the war, "when we had to run". As Mary and I walked through an overgrown field, and across a stream, pursued part way by jeering students, with all our valuables on our backs, I thought to myself how unreal it was that I was running. Running from students I know and love and do not fear. Jumping from a ship that I couldn't believe was sinking. None of it made sense. We were in classes last week, and everything seemed fine… how could all that be snatched away so fast? Where was God in all of that?

Mary and I were greeted warmly by our friends. We waited, and slowly the other six Americans arrived. We passed the evening talking, sometimes laughing. Several of my students called to check that I was safe. We got the news that the president of Liberia, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf (affectionately known as Ma Ellen), was herself coming to meet with the two sides in the morning. So Wednesday we all got up and headed back to campus. The men in our group were called to meet with the President of the University, to discuss the situation. The rest of us waited in the chapel for a couple hours with the students. Packed into the building like sardines, we could feel the energy and tension as though it were waves and all of us were the ocean. Waves crashed down as riot police and a huge caravan of UN troops arrived, and as troops marched in with metal detectors to secure the area. Finally the music director started playing songs on a keyboard, and the music calmed the waves. There was God!

Ma Ellen had a big task on her shoulders. She is so loved and respected here, I had high hopes, but it seemed like it was going to take a real miracle to change things. I have seen female politicians and scientists in the US, who have had to fight for every rung of the ladder they climbed, and in joining the "man's world" they had to adopt a certain amount of cold aggression. I expected to see that, especially since women are given so little authority here. But Ma Ellen was the picture of a loving African matriarch. Refreshingly feminine, and very much in charge, it felt to me like she was reconciling two children who had had a fight. Without undermining either party's authority, she managed to put the bigger picture back in focus, re-open dialogue, and restore peace. The dorms will remain open while dialogue continues (eliminating the need for a military forced evacuation), and academic activity will be suspended until an agreement can be reached. Ma Ellen said that the government would pay for the dorms to remain open, and in return the students would agree to stop their protest activities, understanding that any perpetrators of violence will be dealt with by the government. An agreement has not yet been reached, we expect to be out of school until the middle of next week at least, but we are home on campus again, and safe to resume life as usual. Our housekeeper asked when we got back from the meeting, "Did the woman come make everything alright?" Yes, the woman did. There was God!

When I think of it, it's easy to see God in Ma Ellen, in the music director, in my students calling to check on me, in the camaraderie of friends during our one night of exile, in the student body president's apology. But God isn't just in the stuff that's easy to see. If I think about it hard, God was in the jungle smell of the fresh green overgrown field we "escaped" through. God was in the sense of calm I felt, even when I was scared or sad. God was in the unusual restraint the Liberian National Police showed in dealing with the students. God was in the beating of every heart, whether in fear or excitement. And If I think about it even harder, God is in everything, everywhere, all the time… we are all the pieces of God woven together into a vibrant ever changing awe inspiring terrible wonderful creation.

Until today I have been afraid to ask, "where is God?" because I was afraid that I wouldn't see God anymore. What other questions are we afraid to ask? What answers are we afraid to see?

Yesterday I heard the assembly of students sing the Liberian national anthem in the presence of their President, who came to spark reconciliation when others were afraid. "… the home of glorious liberty by God's command!" How many times has that promise been broken? How many oppressive regimes have stolen the liberty of

Liberians? And yet they sing. Yesterday I was privileged to sing

along.

May the answers to difficult questions enrich our lives, and lead us ever outward, into the world.

 May the peace and fire of Love be with you,

Robin

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Announcements

 Internet- anyone with a skill for searching, I'm looking (on the net) for education opportunities and scholarships for my students, any assistance in searching would be most appreciated.

 Supporting Sanitation- Lifewater is a great well drilling, latrine building organization who does wonderful work in Liberia.  You can donate to them online at: http://www.lifewater.ca/  

 Supporting Health- You can donated to Curran Hospital in Zorzor (the one I wrote about in my last update) or to Phebe Hospital (the one across the street from Cuttington):

• write a check to "Evangelical Lutheran Church in America" Memo: "Level II/Liberia/Curran" (or Memo: "Level II/Liberia/Phebe)
• Enclose a letter that states: donor name/address, amount of gift, and the designation of the gift, such as what is written out for the memo line above
• Mail to: ELCA Division for Global Mission,

Attn: The Rev. David Lerseth

8765 W Higgins Road,

Chicago, IL 60631

 Textbooks-  I have a textbook wishlist with a tropical agriculture bookstore in the states.  They will collect the whole order and then I will have it all shipped at once.  Once here, the books will be placed in Cuttington's Library.   If you'd like to buy a book, you can call them.  (If you'd like a donation letter for taxes, I can arrange that if you email me).  Call: (239)543-3246, and ask for the bookstore.   Ask to order from my wish list (Jeri Hampton is the manager).

 Packages- The mail is working, but packages are very difficult to talk the post office out of.  Please only send letters. 

 Mission Fund- So far I have used my mission fund to buy books, and to fix a well, I was advised to wait until the end of my year here to make contributions.  So I am using this time to decide what I will fund as I'm leaving.   Thanks for all your contributions, my fund has reached almost double what I intended to raise!

Make checks to: St. Luke's Episcopal Church, Memo: Robin's Mission

Mail to: St. Luke's Church, P.O Box 1168, Atascadero, CA 93423

 To be added to my update list email me at: redenney99@yahoo.com

Blog: http://www.growinginliberia.blogspot.com/

Website: www.geocities.com/redenney99