It was what was written on Francine’s T-shirt that grabbed my attention.



It simply couldn’t be more inappropriate, of course, because here she was, languishing with about eight hundred other impoverished displaced people in the most miserable of conditions.

Lots of worry, little happiness. 

Just over two years ago there was terrible flooding on the outskirts of Bujumbura, during which more than 130 people died. Over four thousand houses disappeared in a few hours, some of them literally without any remaining trace. Francine was one of those caught up in that time, after which she and these other precious folk were dumped on a small plot of land 5km outside the capital at a place called Carama.

For the last two years then, we’ve been involved in helping them with food, and for the last year have provided the children with 100 litres per day which has massively reduced the hideous malnutrition rate. Gateway Church in Swindon and others from the New Frontiers network have sacrificially contributed so that there is a monthly food distribution to these people who are clearly amongst the poorest on the planet. Without this help, many would have died by now. No doubt at all.

And Evariste, whose initiative it all was in the first place, organized the most basic of classrooms for the 280 kids to receive an education – that’s 140 kids in each class, and we’ve hired a few teachers – hardly ideal but at least providing some hope and structure to these cast-offs of society.

I often tell the story of a little street urchin in the slums. He believed in God and another boy was teasing him one day: “If God loves you, why doesn’t he take care of you?  Why doesn’t God tell someone to bring you shoes and a warm coat and better food?” The little lad thought for a moment, then with tears starting in his eyes, said, “I guess he does tell somebody, but somebody forgets…”

Honestly, it felt overwhelming and hopeless to be amongst those landless dirty hungry people. Life in Burundi on most levels feels overwhelming and hopeless these days. Yet I know God doesn’t forget. Gateway Swindon haven’t forgotten. And I don’t want to forget.

Francine didn’t know what the writing on her T-shirt meant. She was grateful beyond words for the bag of maize and beans she received. She and her grandson Eric will live another day. Don’t worry, be happy…

If you also don’t want to forget, and are able, please do help by clicking here.

I’ve asked one of my Burundian soul-mates who is having an amazing impact in the nation to share with you from his perspective some of what we are up to these days. Over to him:

“Since the current crisis began in Burundi about a year ago, Simon asked me to head up and coordinate what we decided to call ‘Christian Initiatives for Peace.’ As GLO partners over the last number of years, we have met monthly to encourage and sharpen each other. Simon’s vision for GLO was to create a tight informal relational network of passionate local leaders, all of whom were having a strategic impact through their respective ministries in the country.

We were determined to play our role in our beloved nation at this difficult time. Confusion reigned in the Church (as well as in the country as a whole) as some supported the President and the ruling party whilst others wanted to see change. We deliberately positioned ourselves as a non-political body so as to challenge all sides and insist on the sacredness of life, compassion, Ubuntu, and personal responsibility. Whatever folks believed in the political realm, as followers of Jesus those four components were non-negotiable, and must guide how they responded in seeking to maintain the status quo or see change come.

Let me tell you it was scary at times to stick our necks out, on TV and radio, using tens of thousands of tracts, at conferences, bringing youth leaders together, mobilising churches, trying through every means possible to stand for non-violence during violent times. People recognized us wherever we went, and as things became ever more polarized, radicals on each end didn’t like what we were advocating. I often wondered if I would pay the ultimate price of my life for what we were doing, but I (and the others with me) considered it worth the cost as followers of Jesus and because we love our nation so much.

Just this last week, GLO sponsored a pastors meeting, during which a Bishop said to me: “We have failed as a church. We have not been able to use our prophetic voice. All of us are looking to you folks at CIP for help.” That was both encouraging to me, and sad. Encouraging because we are so obviously playing a key role, but sad because he was recognizing and confessing the tragic failure of  his church (and much of the Church at large) to embrace its mandate to be a mouthpiece for moral authority and righteousness.

We have so much work to do. But what I love is that GLO is purposely unknown behind the scenes – not seeking credit for these initiatives, but simply working to facilitate powerful meetings that lead to reconciliation and healing. Some of what we’ve been involved in is too sensitive and can’t be talked about. Maybe we’ll be able to share those stories in ten years’ time!

But for now, I want to thank you so much for your support and ask you to continue to pray for us in Burundi. These are very difficult times. We have a long way to go. Nobody knows how things will turn out. Please continue to contribute to GLO so that we can continue to leverage our networks here for peaceful strategic change in precious Burundi.”

You can contribute here at www.greatlakesoutreach.org

Thanks!

Below is a fantastic story of perseverance under relentless trial. I’ve lived it alongside Jeremy, with whom I meet weekly for breakfast to talk and encourage each other. I love what he has done, is doing, and will do, alongside his precious family and devoted team at The King’s School. My favorite image of this challenging time was when oral exams were taking place to the sounds of gunfire up the street – at all costs the show must go on! Be stirred and inspired. Jeremy writes:

Why  Bother?

Burundi’s now, apparently, the poorest, hungriest and most unhappy country in the world. The recent crises have had a devastating impact on the country, its economy and its prospects. So why bother?

In 2012, I moved my wife and four of our five children to Burundi where I had been given the awesome responsibility and privilege of running The King’s School – a Christian, English-speaking, international school in Bujumbura that was established over 15 years ago to educate children from a local orphanage; and continues to do so to this day along with fee-paying students.

What followed was an exhausting mixture of spiritual attack and fiery trials that ought to have finished both us as a family and the school. Here are a few of the high(low)lights:

2012 – Six weeks into the job our administrator disappeared, having emptied all our banks, whereupon I discovered to my horror he had creatively played off numerous creditors in the school’s name, leaving us in the catastrophic situation of being hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt. Our international supporter base rallied with some extra funding and I embarked on a tough restructuring of our finances. On a positive note, this brought us to our knees as a community and led to an increased reliance on God, and hunger for Him. Amazingly, by His grace, and the flexibility of our creditors, we were able to keep the school open.

2013 – Part of the fallout of the above was the further discovery, as Burundi’s tax system became more systematized, that years of unpaid tax were being demanded by the authorities. The school had paid for local teachers, but not for foreign ones, which turned into a huge retrospective bill. Our school bank accounts were suddenly frozen. We found ourselves catapulted back into a second similarly-massive crisis, but yet again, by God’s grace and the compassion of the tax authorities, who want us to succeed, we restructured debts and were able to remain afloat.

2014 – Although our belts were severely tightened to address the ongoing consequences of the previous two crises, I became progressively more excited at the sustainability of the business model, as with a full intake of 600 students, our debts were diminishing at an impressive rate. Maybe we’d even be able to actually invest next year…

April to July 2015 – Political disagreements resulted in conflict and an attempted and failed coup. The school closed early, a number of staff were forced to leave and many students fled with their families. Most fees for that summer term were unpaid so there was nothing left. Small amounts could be given to local staff, but they went unpaid for June and July.

September to December 2015 – The school opened in severe debt and with only 60% of the original student numbers. Heavy fighting on December 11th further reduced student numbers.

January 2016 – The bleak situation forced us to make drastic financial changes to the school impacting many staff who were already struggling to survive. 

But by God’s grace, we still pulled through. We’re still here. We’re not giving up.

The last 3½  years have been a fight for survival…and the school might not have pulled through. Yet in these impossibly difficult times we have seen God work through and be glorified by some amazingly dedicated people.

Staff have:

– had to go unpaid
– conducted iGCSE and A-Level exams to the sound of gunfire and explosions
– taken pay cuts
– continued to serve God and the students
– continued to deliver a high standard of education
– continued to innovate and develop the school
– remained devoted to the school and the students
– persevered in the face of massive uncertainty and changes

So why bother? Is it worth it?

There have been more times than I can count when we could have just given up. It looked impossible. But this is God’s school and we’ll never give up, the stakes are too high and the impact is too strategic.

And what a story! In spite of multiple and relentless attacks by the enemy, the school has refused to die, refused to drop its standards and refused to give up on its goal to create future generations of godly leaders.

And now?

Now, more than ever, Bujumbura needs a strong, vibrant Christian school standing out from the crowd as a beacon of hope in the nation. Many of these kids will be running the country in twenty years time. It’s so utterly strategic. We simply refuse to give up. We are a school that won’t quit on Burundi… and it will still be here long after I have left.

We are still only surviving… and we want to thrive! So much effort is spent balancing the books, managing the debt and keeping things moving… but we want to invest in more resources and facilities, and appreciate the people who are so committed to the school. We’ve shown how, despite insurmountable challenges, we’ve been able to pull through, and there’s not much more that we could have thrown at us. I’ve said that I’d love just one year where I can concentrate on growth and investment.

So why bother? We bother because we love God… because we love Burundi… because God loves Burundi… because, although we’ve been tested, God is not giving up on us or Burundi… because now is a perfect time to share and show the love of Jesus.

Jeremy done, back to me:

I can so relate to the anguish Jeremy feels, knowing his colleagues are struggling to eat as a result of their slashed salaries. 85 staff, with maybe another 400+ children as their dependents. Education is key. As he said, these students, having attended one of Burundi’s premier schools, will be the nation-shapers of the future. £50k/$70k will get them over the hump at this time, and then we trust as student numbers pick up this lean establishment will begin raking it in and thriving again for God’s glory. If you can help, please donate here and earmark it for The King’s School. If you can’t give, they’d value your prayers. Thanks so much.

I turned 43-years-old today, which provides a natural chance to look backwards as well as forwards.

Birthday lunch en famille at Cafe Gourmand

As I review this last year, it feels somewhat schizophrenic.

I have a wonderful life in Burundi. It is incredibly challenging, exciting, and fulfilling. Our marriage is strong, the children are thriving, we are all healthy. 

Amidst great upheaval, we experienced God’s stunning intervention and faithfulness. As the crisis loomed last April, Josiah’s accidental inhaling of a kernel of popcorn into his lung meant the family left the country because he needed an operation that couldn’t be carried out in Burundi. Lizzie and the kids flew back. The following week a failed coup took place and things further deteriorated, but they missed out on what might have been a highly traumatising episode. Meantime in Southampton, a lovely free home was provided for us, and the kids went to a wonderful school that they blossomed at. Thousands around the world prayed. And beautifully, amazingly, a day before Josiah’s invasive operation was due to take place, he coughed up the kernel and therefore no longer needed it – something that simply does not happen. Thank God! Over the next few months, we made the most of being (rich) refugees and thoroughly enjoyed time with family and friends (particularly over the Christmas period) that we don’t normally have the chance to share.

So much to be thankful for.

Yet I think it’s fair to say it’s been the worst year in my life. 

That might just reflect what an easy life I’ve had in general, but it’s true. 

In January, we took the (some would say) bold or (some would say) foolish step to return as a family to beautiful but broken Burundi. It was an act of faith, of defiance towards those who forecast genocidal doom. Burundi is our home, we are now Burundian nationals, and we want to be here, on the ground, part of the solution rather than getting further depressed at a distance listening to and reading (often twisted) reports on what is taking place.

So here we are, and I’ve shed more tears these past eleven months than in all my previous four decades put together. Watching Burundi tear herself apart, seeing dead bodies in the street, listening to gunfire and knowing that innocents were being caught in the crossfire; observing the collapse of long-standing transformational initiatives, hearing about my colleagues’ traumatised children, facing the reality of the consequences of the withdrawal of international aid; we hoped that war was in the past, but progressively things have degenerated to the extent that now things are as bad if not worse than those bad old days, because Bujumbura, which is the economic lifeblood of the country, has almost ground to a halt.  

I dread going to my office to have to deal with desperate mothers begging me to provide for their children’s education, fathers who can’t feed their kids, relatives of sick folk who aren’t allowed to leave hospital until they have paid their bills, freshly-unemployed friends lamenting over how they will survive the coming days, folks whose roof blew off in the previous night’s storm, and more.

I eat well, take exercise regularly, and insist on retaining a (some would say quirky) sense of humour. Laughter is critical to survival, I reckon. And honestly, for those of you who worry about my sanity, I think I’m doing OK. Yet I also often do feel like I’m about to crack up, break down, or howl in despair (that’s happened once or twice). 

My biggest challenge is clinging to, and in turn offering, hope. I ask God regularly to help me bring encouragement and hope to those I come into contact with. They have so much more on their plates than I do. Life is so, so tough for so, so many of them. I’m humbled by the dignity, endurance and faith I repeatedly encounter.

Looking ahead, of course we want to stay. That’s our plan. Nobody knows how things are going to pan out, but humanly-speaking, the signs aren’t good. Day-to-day living is relatively ‘normal’ for those of us that aren’t impoverished, but the situation is very fragile indeed. We have an emergency bag with key documents and basic clothes packed and ready, hoping we’ll never have to use it. The uncertainty of the future for us is compounded by the fact that Lizzie’s Mum has leukemia and we don’t know how long it will be before she graduates to glory. We don’t want to have any regrets over missing precious times with her and Dad, so that might swing our leaving dates at some stage too. 

So as we move through Holy Week, we remember how things couldn’t have been more bleak or depressing on that first Good Friday. Yet unlike the scattered disciples, we know the rest of the story: Sunday’s coming! 

I often quote these words from Oswald Chambers, so I’ll close with them, hoping they bring you both comfort and challenge: “Future plans are uncertain, but we all know that there is first God’s plan to be lived, and we can safely leave everything to Him, ‘carefully careless’ of it all.”

He is risen indeed! Happy Easter!

Burundi has nearly doubled in size since I arrived here in 1999.

Clearly, that’s incorrect, but I make that absurd statement to highlight the horrific implications of the undeniable fact that whilst Burundi’s landmass has not changed in the last 17 years, it’s population has indeed nearly doubled. It was 6 million back then, and now it is approximately 10.5 million.

That, in a nutshell, is Burundi’s elephant in the room. That has a lot to do with why we are the hungriest country in the world. That is a major reason we are experiencing instability.

The average fertility rate (children per woman) in Burundi is 6.3. 90% of Burundians live off the land. So imagine that my grandfather had one acre to cultivate and live off. He had six children, so his three sons (sadly by law daughters don’t yet benefit), including my Dad, inherited a third of an acre to produce food to survive on. And now I and my two brothers will inherit a ninth of an acre – which is simply impossible to live off, so we are destined to die of starvation, live in extreme poverty, or fight (and kill, as is now sadly common) each other for rights to the land.

Burundi has enough land to produce food for 3.3 million people. For the rest, it depends on aid, or the people simply starve.

I think of Jacques, whom I employed as our day guard. I paid him three times as much as others in his position down our street. His wife is 26-years-old, and already has four children. When I discussed with him whether it was wise to have more children, he said: “God will provide.” Jacques doesn’t believe in birth control or family planning. So his wife has time for another half dozen children. He usually asked for his salary by the 20^th of each month, because his money had run out by then. And he was far better paid than many others. How do people survive here…?

The answer is that many don’t, or they do in misery. We have the highest malnutrition rate in the world. So most new lives are destined to be lived out in chronic poverty. I want to celebrate new babies with my friends, and of course I do, but what kind of a life are they being prepared for?

As a follower of Jesus, it’s all the more frustrating because Christians are amongst the biggest obstacles to addressing this issue. Burundi is predominantly Catholic, whilst the biggest Protestant denomination is Pentecostal, and both of these groups think contraception is sinful. But surely it’s better to have quality of human life, not quantity of human flesh? God can ‘bless’ us with more children but he’s not given us more land. He told us to fill the earth – not to over-fill it. So it must be better to have children by loving choice rather than by unplanned ‘accident’. Ultimately, we have not inherited the earth from our grandparents, we have borrowed it from our grandchildren.

As Christians we are meant to love our neighbour – and that includes our future neighbours in Burundi. So loving them requires – inter alia – as many parents as possible to embrace family planning willingly, to ensure there are not too many of them, such that a halfway decent life becomes possible. It is of absolute necessity that courageous decisions are made to help lower Burundi’s fertility rate. It will require cooperation and funding from family planning agencies, and also committed leadership and endorsement from the Government. Difficult, but not impossible. Mexico, Sri Lanka, Thailand and Iran are some examples of countries who managed to reduce their Total Fertility Rate within a decade to close to two, and they did it by their respective governments recognising the population-poverty connection and removing the barriers to fertility planning.

I’m aware this is a controversial topic, that it’s very complicated, and that it’s justabout the last thing on decision-makers’ minds right now in the current crisis. Some Burundians reading this, as well as others, might question my credentials in broaching the subject. I’m not writing as an expert or a theologian. I’m simply devastated by the poverty, hunger and desperation that surround me right now in Burundi. And all the other problems we are dealing with in this precious nation spring off the back of this great big elephant. God help us!

Some images don’t require a thousand words.

Burundi has the highest malnutrition rate in the world. We were officially the hungriest country even before this crisis kicked in. I was at a bush hospital two weeks ago and heard from the doctor there that the already atrocious situation had spiked even more in recent months.

Below, with permission, is a picture that rocks my world – all the more so as a father imagining my children not being able to eat. Taken at the hospital by my friend, this is her well-fed daughter, Alma. She is 4-years-old. Guess how old is the girl in the middle…

…she is also 4-years-old.

That is so, so wrong…

Please keep praying for beautiful Burundi. 

* I post this because I want to keep Burundi on people’s radars in terms of praying and giving, so please fee free to share.

Maybe you’ll think less of me by the end of this stream of consciousness, but I wanted to get down on paper how I feel right now, not when I have calmed down.

I love Burundi. In the past I thought I’d die here, taking crazy risks in the last war as a single man. I still think I’m willing to die for Burundi, although it’s a bit more complicated with a wife and three precious little children. Hmm…

I’m all about Burundi, I love Burundi… but I hate Burundi too. 

I hate what happened literally a minute before starting to write this.

A man came in. I met him yesterday, after he’d asked for a chat. He’d poured out his heart, like so many do to me. He’s a good man. He has a family. He studied and got a degree in Kenya. He wants to work, but he can’t find any. I was yet another door he was knocking at. So I listened to his tale – yet another story of woe – and I then explained I had no job to offer him, and was tied up with multiple commitments to support other folk. We prayed, and I packed him off with a 10,000FrBu note to at least pay for his public transport and maybe food for a day or two for his family ($5, that is).

I (through GLO) help thousands of people. This was someone I didn’t even know before yesterday, invading my time and space, bleeding me of more emotional energy. On the one level, I can totally imagine myself in his position. What wouldn’t I do to feed my kids? What wouldn’t you do, seriously? So I felt for him, but he made me angry as well. Why should he jump the queue of those others desperately needing help? I can’t help everyone. Why am I in this position where I’m almost forced to play God and literally ‘save’ the lives I (try to discern to) choose to intervene in? Why him and not the next person knocking in five minutes’ time?

I hate Burundi, sometimes. I hate poverty, always. It makes me so angry. I hate having to care as well.

And you know what? He had the temerity to come back today. His roof had blown off last night in the storm so his house is a wreck. He’s not making it up, I believe him, he’s a man of trust and we share many friends. But when he came in, I swear, if I didn’t hate him, I was certainly angry at him. How dare he again confront me with this horrible decision of whether or not and if so then how much to help him? I hate being put in that position. Who, without hardening their heart, can adequately bear that responsibility? It’s absolutely crushing.

He said he was desperate. As first-born he has responsibility for more than just his own family. It’s all just so overwhelming. He has no money, so amongst other tragedies his younger brother had died in his arms a few months ago for the lack of a few dollars. What could he do now?

I confess my anger and hatred. Maybe you think I’m mad, sick, insensitive.

I gave him a decent wedge of money. I wanted to get him out of my face, out of my office. I was paying him to leave me alone. I explained, probably with little grace, that I wished him well, truly, but I didn’t even know him two days ago and I support so many widows and orphans and needy people, and I never wanted him to come and ask me for money again, OK? He was ecstatic with gratitude and agreed with my terms.

I love Burundi. I love her people. So many are suffering so much with such dignity. But I hate Burundi. I hate those regular encounters that put me in such a weighty position. Burundians reading this will not be able to understand, and will probably think: ‘What a problem to have! Poor self-pitying rich white man’s problems!’ Westerners? Can you understand what it’s like? Maybe some, most probably not.

If you want to help, please do.

Genesis 4:10  And He said, “What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground.”

Yesterday saw five grenades go off in town. Lizzie and a friend were due to buy fabric at the market where a child was blown up. I gave a talk a few hundred yards away shortly after the explosions, and things were back to normal by the time I arrived, but of course the new normal is an absurdity.  

Why oh why all this senseless killing…?

It’s hard to know what to write.

It is simply soul-destroying to watch this country tear itself apart, to be bombarded daily with stories of colleagues’ and friends’ gut-wrenching woe, to observe so much good work over the previous decade undone.

Yet we remain here because we choose to hope that the impossible can happen, that Burundi can emerge into a new dawn, that somehow a pathway to peace can be established, however improbable that looks at this stage. 

So I guess this is just a heartcry to you to pray for this precious land, to hear the cry of the blood. I was going to post a picture of an angelic six-year-old boy smiling in his Sunday best. He was blown up by a grenade two days ago. The picture is so very poignant. It would definitely move you, as it has me. But then I thought of his mother, his father, his siblings. I don’t think they would want his picture used in that way…

Just so utterly sad. 

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! 

I have been deluged, accosted, and inundated with folks in the last few weeks expressing gratitude for giving them a Christmas gift so that they could have a fun day of celebration in the midst of what is a very dark time in Burundi.  I hope you can catch some of the joy in this brief video of Ephraim and his family, including little 3-year-old Milcah who has been traumatised by the regular shooting such that she wets herself at each round of gunfire. The family’s hanging in there in a tough neighbourhood and they looked pristine in their new sets of clothes, do check it out.

We gave out substantial gifts to 456 families of those we work with, and here are some of their messages:

‘Million thanks because we have prayed with my wife Bernadette and my three little girls during our daily evening devotions, asking God to send us something so we can celebrate Christmas Day. God used his angels to help us through your gift to rejoice, sing, eat well, drink juice, and dress new clothes, fifteen of us in total!’ (Leonidas)

‘We lost a family member and this gift was a relief aid in times of mourning, God bless you!’ (Estella)

‘God used the donor to save our family. We couldn’t pay our rent, so nine of us might be kicked out, but now we are still in our home.’ (Felix)

‘My wife was in hospital  two weeks. I couldn’t pay her bill and they wouldn’t let her leave until I did. And then your gift came! May God bless those who gave to help us!’ (Ernest)

‘We had so much fun because of your generosity. And we had to share the blessing so we invited over a widow and her three children too.’ (Sarah)
 

What can I say? I hope the above is an encouragement to you that your Christmas gift to GLO was money well spent. The needs are still huge and we are deeply grateful that we can continue to provide crisis support for hundreds because of your generosity. 

I read this yesterday in The Message from Proverbs 11:24 – “The world of the generous gets larger and larger; the world of the stingy gets smaller and smaller.” May your world get larger and larger and may God indeed bless you so much in all you do – THANK YOU!

That’s a cryptic title! What do I mean?

I’ve just had an inspiring ‘Christian Initiatives for Peace’ meeting where we’ve analysed the impact of our media campaign over the last seven months. We can see that it has made a huge – but hard to quantify – impact on many people’s lives. Some people are definitely still alive today who without seeing or listening to our TV or radio programs would have made destructive choices and ended up dead.

One simple example straight off: Charles had decided to kill his family members. Before doing it, he listened to the radio, heard our talk on forgiveness and non-violence, and instead became a follower of Jesus, not just in word, but in deed.

Back in May we organized a youth conference with great difficulty amidst burning streets and barricades set up all over town (see here). One of our key young leaders was angry at what we said during those two days, which essentially involved taking a neutral political position but insisting on non-violence as the means of sorting out our political differences, whichever side we were on. That day he wanted us to endorse a violent insurrection, but we didn’t, however displeased we might have been with the status quo. His analysis seven months on is that he is grateful to still be alive. He thanks us now. His friends who didn’t listen to what we said are either dead, in prison, or have fled the country.

The talk that probably had the biggest impact was one addressing multiple (false) prophecies. One such ‘prophecy’ told people to stop interceding for peace, that a bloodbath was imminent as God’s judgment on Burundi, so people shouldn’t pray against that, standing against God’s will. Hundreds (and for some periods thousands) were fleeing daily as a result of such fear-inducing ‘words of God’, but that single program (shown multiple times) had an instant impact in stemming the tide and helping people discern what might or might not be a true prophecy.

There are many more stories to share. The situation here is very far from rosy. Terrible things are still happening. However, the good stories need to be told. Many of you have supported us in this. We continue to stick our necks out. Key contributors talked of the stress of feeling followed in their cars and fearing getting killed for not siding strongly enough with one side or the other in this very polarized situation of ‘if you’re not fully with us, you’re totally against us’. That’s the difficult challenge we are trying to live out, as many others co-opt Jesus as being behind them for their own personal agendas.

God help us to be faithful in this difficult task…