Final Stretch

My almost-last journal entry

Jul 20, 2024

The other day, I stopped by ENDE, an energy company here in Luanda, to take care of some bills when a woman came in, asked the attendant to put the Kwanza equivalent of about $2.50 on her account, and then quickly stepped out to handle something else. Earlier that morning, I’d grabbed some extra cash before leaving the house just because of a little feelin’ I’d had that I might need it. When she left, I discreetly asked the attendant how much more she’d need to cover the month… It was the exact same amount as the extra I’d brought with me. And so, with just a few dollars, I pre-paid her entire month’s electricity and left before she returned.

It makes me happy to imagine her reaction when she came back. I like to imagine that without the stress of something like the electricity bill this month, she’ll be able to take care of some other urgent need, or maybe she’ll do something thoughtful for a loved one, or even pay the favor forward to another stranger!

What a privilege it is that something that is so big for someone else, is so small for me.

It’s hard not to recognize my privilege while living here. For example: Here, when I get racially profiled by the police, it’s because they assume I’m someone wealthy who might pay a bribe. I’m generally un-afraid for my life, because as a white man in Angola, while I am a target, the police also think I might have connections to their Portuguese chief or someone else important. So, the cops are afraid of me. Not the other way around. Which is not at all the same kind of prejudice people not born with my specific skin pigment and sex suffer. Not at all.

Or even education-wise… Turns out, it’s the simple things that matter; especially when you’re young. Things we take for granted, like learning to fit a square peg through a square hole as a 3 year old, make a huge, lasting difference. You, reading this, may not remember everything you learned in your high-school math class, but you learned HOW to learn, and that’s a privilege that’s not available all over the world. It’s an opportunity that is relatively rare here, and it’s gut wrenching to see the long term effects it has.

I may have “dropped out” of high-school at 15, but I still know the difference between “there”, “their” and “they’re,” and I didn’t have to study to be able to pass the GED. So that’s gotta count for something. I grew up being encouraged to learn whatever I showed interested in, getting dragged along to my parent’s conferences or networking events, and forced to memorize the 7 Habits of Highly Successful People (with choreographed hand signs and everything). While unconventional, my education is a major privilege that I hadn’t even realized I had.

I’m thankful to have an opportunity to educate others while I’m here. After a year of working in and around the mission office, I’ve picked up a decent amount of niche skills and knowledge. It would be a shame to see all that get lost after I leave. That’s why I’ve planned with my mission president to make sure that doesn’t happen.

Our mission covers 2 large districts made up of smaller branch units, primarily based in Huambo and Lubango, plus a few stragglers in more remote parts of the country. These branches are extremely under-staffed in terms of leadership and have little to no training on… well, anything. Cut to 3 weeks ago when President basically said to me, “Look, soon enough these districts will grow to the point that they become stakes, and once that happens, they won’t have the mission’s help any more. We need to train them now so that they’re ready.”

So, with my time as financial secretary coming to an end, the plan is to send me to Huambo (a province about 10 hours away from Luanda by bus— which I’m on as I write this) with no specific assigned area, 1 backpack, and just 5 weeks to train everyone … on everything … in the Huambo District. Afterwards, the hope is that these local leaders have all the training they need to be able to plan, fund and host activities for the community, put on self-reliance classes, provide those in need with necessary resources/medical treatment, and to send young people on their own missions, where they’ll gain life-changing, unconventional education, too. I get to pay my privilege forward, and I’m so excited.

Afterwards, we’ve got a few new couples arriving to help keep up with trainings and office work. So I’ll come back to Luanda to train a new missionary couple on their office responsibilities for another while (since I’m the only person left who knows how to do… well, everything that needs to be done in the office). I’ve spent the last nearly-a-year doing the work of 5 people so that the next 5 after me can each do the work of 1, and the time to pass the torch is almost here! The stress has been immense, with no breaks, and I’ve developed a constant twitch in my left eye. Soon I’ll get to rest.

`I actually am not kidding at all about that eye twitch. I should probably get it checked out…`

I think the greatest privilege I have, is spiritual. I’m fortunate enough to have a relationship with God, with the Universe, with Life, that is unique to me, that I’m firmly grounded in, and that I can tap in to to find guidance, peace, and oportunities in any and every situation. I’m especially fortunate that said relationship is no longer one based on a paradigm of guilt or fear, and that the reality of this relationship doesn’t depend on whether or not a certain book is true, or a certain person paid for my sins. It’s just me n’ Love with no room for nothin’ else.

After an intense phase of deconstruction I still chose to serve a mission…. Why? For whatever reason, the universe we call God told me that this was the right place for me to reconstruct, that it’d be better for me in the long run, and that there were people to be helped along the way. I was afraid, but I was reassured that it wouldn’t at all be the kind of mission I’d expected it to be (which has obviously been correct). Reconstructing my a new spiritual paradigm in this environment has been extremely complicated, but what’s the point in deconstructing if you’re not gonna renovate and put in something you like better (and in this case something stronger) in it’s place?

When we challenge our faith (or even our lack of faith), we either win by evolving into something greater or we win by strengthening our conviction.

There’s no losers unless you let yourself become one.

I’m nervous going back into the field, but the nerves just mean I’m about to be brave.

Talk soon, love you!

Raleigh