tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71800690622644444292024-03-13T01:41:41.999+02:00When God Comes DownC.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-59036992849164732992015-12-08T06:00:00.001+02:002015-12-08T06:00:25.622+02:00Feeding orphans<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/D-E6L_Wbv84" width="480"></iframe>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-51266481130383024262015-12-06T22:53:00.000+02:002015-12-06T22:53:48.189+02:00You Are Special by Max Lucado<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Hq3jDgSqLUo" width="459"></iframe>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-2428215238278704802014-12-27T13:23:00.001+02:002014-12-27T13:55:46.714+02:00Kwasizabantu Romania - Prezentarea anului 2014<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="333" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//player.vimeo.com/video/115334251" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-67639661325526862792014-12-27T13:22:00.000+02:002014-12-27T13:56:14.930+02:00Papa Panaov - Sceneta Craciun 2014<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="283" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//player.vimeo.com/video/114759520" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-14506916274097606952013-11-24T18:59:00.000+02:002013-11-24T20:26:51.044+02:00Logodna Dani Meila & Denisa Rosca<embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&captions=1&hl=ro&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=https%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2F109218528239078852527%2Falbumid%2F5949839173022507489%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Dro" height="267" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="https://static.googleusercontent.com/external_content/picasaweb.googleusercontent.com/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400"></embed>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-55792313525746956422012-11-10T22:05:00.000+02:002013-01-10T07:47:08.575+02:00My Africa 2012<embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&captions=1&noautoplay=1&hl=ro&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=https%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2F109218528239078852527%2Falbumid%2F5809220737296912113%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Dro" height="267" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="https://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400"></embed>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-61324279600047994052012-01-24T17:23:00.001+02:002012-01-24T17:25:51.396+02:00Kwasizabantu Romania - Prezentarea anului 2011<iframe height="300" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/33473726?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" frameborder="0" width="400" allowfullscreen="" mozallowfullscreen="" webkitallowfullscreen=""></iframe><p> </p>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-90423191052296962242011-09-02T14:10:00.001+03:002012-11-10T09:35:46.971+02:00My Africa 2011<embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&captions=1&noautoplay=1&hl=ro&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=https%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2F109218528239078852527%2Falbumid%2F5809065298305501105%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Dro" height="267" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="https://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400"></embed>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-66649551242218062322011-04-15T20:31:00.002+03:002011-04-15T20:39:10.834+03:00Kwasizabantu Romania - Prezentarea anului 2010<iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/17889549?byline=0&portrait=0" frameborder="0" height="323" width="430"></iframe><p></p>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-18071252209968649122010-12-24T16:02:00.002+02:002013-06-02T18:47:04.016+03:00Craciun Fericit<div style="text-align: justify;">
In fiecare an pe vremea asta, ma intreb ce s-a intamplat cu adevarata semnificatie a sarbatorii Craciunului. Cumparaturi, globuri, sclipiciuri. Sarmale, savarine, salata de boeuf. Sunt asa de multe felurile in care ne-am indepartat de adevaratul inteles al Craciunului.<br />
Stim cu totii povestea nasterii Domnului. Intr-o noapte de demult,<br />
<a name='more'></a> intr-un tinut in care pastori stateau pe camp facand de straja imprejurul turmei lor, o raza de speranta a izbucnit peste o lume captiva in intuneric. Un inger a rostit cuvinte care au ramas oarecum celebre: “ Nu va temeti; caci va aduc o veste buna, care va fi o mare bucurie pentru tot norodul; astazi in cetatea lui David, vi s-a nascut un Mantuitor care este Hristos Domnul.” (Luca 2 :10-11). Apoi ingerilor li s-a alaturat o intreaga oaste cereasca ce lauda si slavea pe Dumnezeu. Iar pastorii, dupa ce i-au gasit pe Maria, pe Iosif si pe Prunc in ieslea Betleemului, au istorisit tuturor ce li se spusese despre Prunc.<br />
Pe masura ce se apropie Craciunul, ma intreb ce au de-a face pastorii, ingerii, pruncul din iesle , cu bisericile opulente de sute de mii de euro si dolari, cu milioanele din conturile bancare ale bisericilor, cu comitiile si comitetele din conducerile bisericilor, care trag de sfori asa-zisii ...“amvonaci”.<br />
Ma intreb ce ar spune pruncul Isus despre frumoasele cantece ce rasuna din toate colturile luxoase ale mallurilor, unde nimeni nu asculta si nici macar nu se gandeste care-i treaba cu mesajul acestui sezon.<br />
Ma intreb ce-ar gandi pastorii daca ar sti ca si noi, ca si ei, am auzit cantarile de bucurie si viata noua, dar am esuat lamentabil in a le spune mai departe.<br />
Ma intreb ce ar spune Maria – care stia adevarul despre pruncul de la sanul ei si se gandea la toate acestea in inima ei – daca ar vedea cum am ajuns sa idolatrizam ieslea si noaptea instelata , in timp ce sarim cu totul peste Cruce si ignoram adevarul mormantului gol.<br />
Ma intreb ce ar spune Iosif – care si-a asumat riscuri uriase pentru a ajunge la acel moment al vietii sale, daca ne-ar auzi pretextele, scuzele… autocompatimirea sonora cand dam de un pic de greu.<br />
Cand magii si-au inceput calatoria spre Pamantul Sfant, stiau ca Pruncul pe care il vor gasi intr-o zi in Betleem nu era unul obisnuit. Ei i-au adus daruri scumpe din tarile lor. L-au onorat ca pe un Imparat.<br />
Ma intreb ce ar crede acesti pagani incarcati cu daruri despre obiceiul nostru ajuns la suprasaturatie a de a face cadouri . Despre pretentiile si vrerile noastre, despre cum ne impingem si ne inghesuim sa gasim cadoul perfect la pretul cel mai bun. Ma intreb ce ar spune daca ar putea auzi un copil cum – sub influenta televizorului sau traditiei familiei – bate din picior si ordona parintilor (sau lui Mos Craciun) sa mai primeasca inca un gadget , inca un accesoriu, inca o jucaria anului. Probabil ca pur si simplu nu ar intelege nimic.<br />
De fapt, in acea noapte speciala de demult, Creatorul Universului a facut un dar lumii acesteia. Darul a fost infasat in scutece si culcat intr-o iesle. Era o raza de soare cald peste unui pamant rece si intunecat. Era un dar de speranta minunata intr-o lume pe o cale gresita. Era Dumnezeu care si-a pus piele si carne ca sa umble printre oameni.<br />
Pruncul a carui nastere o sarbatorim nu a fost doar Isus din Nazareth , cum ar spune unii.<br />
Un om bun…un invatator…poate profet… dar in tot cazul, cu siguranta un rabin intelept si drept.<br />
Nu.<br />
El a fost mult mai mult decat atat.<br />
El a fost Mesia, Fiul lui Dumnezeu. Si inca este.<br />
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Un Craciun cu adevarat fericit tuturor!</div>
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C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-23891295552823373392010-10-10T22:59:00.003+03:002013-06-02T19:19:11.132+03:00A job to remember- English<div align="justify">
I work in the kitchen. I wash, clean, chop, cut. I sweep, I tidy, occasionally I stir the pots which are as huge as industrial boilers, with huge utensils, all to the amusement of the Zulu mamas. I didn’t really learn to cook. I don’t think I caught the secret of spinach with rice or of cabbage with phutu. But what I learn everyday is more precious than any cooking book.<br />
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I watch them working. Zulu mamas and zulu young girls, side by side, from morning till night. Here and there is a volunteer like me. When I go into the kitchen in the morning, they are already there. They all lovingly smile to me. They know me by my name and they ask how I’m feeling, how did I sleep. I look around for a knife, somebody hands one to me. I try to infiltrate into the wall of aprons lined up on duty next to the long tables, somebody moves away to make room for me. Even if this means giving up an area where access to the potatoes or peppers was easy and convenient and the subsequent exercise required for repeated bending and stretching toward the bowl. </div>
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I think what I would do in the same situation. I think of it every day. How I would hold on to the knife that I had carefully picked to suit me best, even a couple of knives - cause you never know what you’re gonna need. How I would have <br />
kept still when I found myself in the most convenient position next to the bowl ... or what a bushy argumentation I would‘ve developed if someone “wronged“ me in some way. The Zulu mamas sing and laugh. The old inner man has died. The new man is joyous, warm, peaceful. When they talk, I recognize expressions like “amandla kaJesu” (the power of God) or “Unkulunkulu uyasebenza“ (God works). If I shyly start a song they immediately sing together with me. I listen to them and I KNOW God has a special place prepared in Heaven for these giants of faith. Their only concerns are the things that are truly precious and eternal. If they care to know anything about me it is my walk with the Lord. All the rest will soon burn. We finish the bags of carrots or red beets. They are peeled, cleaned and chopped. Unseen hands constantly collect skins, pips, leaves, the water that is running all the way to the floor. Nobody holds back, nobody expects that the other should do it. Notions like “this I don’t do” are completely unknown. I can work an hour or five or ten. Nobody is counting, everybody works before God not before people. I sweep and I look around for a dustpan. It’s not an easy job because on the floor there are wet onion skins, pepper seeds and drops of white phutu. But by now I am motivated by them and I find pleasure in doing anything. Or more exactly I would have gladly done it, because as I couldn’t find the dustpan in the next moment a zulu girl rises as from the ground and lays down a plastic sack for me and helps me get all the garbage onto it. Her radiant face doesn’t need words. She is glad that she could help me. She is glad no matter what. </div>
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I laughed so much when I heard about a lady who - as she left Sizabantu- said: “I think they put something in the water that they drink, because they are all so….umm… happy…”It’s not the water that they drink, it’s a new heart, cleansed and attached to God. </div>
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We had weddings, birthdays, funerals, anniversaries together. I was with them - the staff and the guests. The anniversary of 25 years of marriage of a very loved couple ( Arno & Franzi) was a rich day and we all enjoyed it alongside each other, serving others and sitting in the hall of ceremonies in our turn. I hesitated until late to sit down at a table and when hunger helped me decide to sit down, I couldn’t see any free seat. Suddenly someone took me by my hand without a word and pulled me to a table in the middle of the room, the only remaining one which was completely unoccupied. Noyimanga – is a kind of chef in the kitchen. I said to her: “ I can’t sit here alone”. “I’ll sit with you” she said and she discretely took her plate from another table (from which she had already finished eating) and set it at my table . Then she brought all the delicious courses to my nose. And she served me. She then put some crumbles in her plate and pretended to be eating with me. From time to time she would turn to me and ask if I was ok. In the middle of a very important speech I choked with the rice. My airways revolted instantly while I desperately tried to avoid a noisy explosion. I turned bright red, anticipating with horror the grotesque noise of the donkey cough that was about to take over me in the silence of the fancy room. Uncle Erlo and the entire family were sitting at the table next to me. I quickly looked to estimate how far was the door, so that I could sprint out, but it was too late. A loud and spontaneous convulsion let everybody know that I was choking on the food. The next moment Noyimanga and a few others turned to me with a worried look on their faces, saying “sorry…. sorry…” and tried to help me. I am sure nobody laughed or even thought to themselves, “how embarrassing, I’m so glad it didn’t happen to me”. I am convinced nobody ever commented on the incident and did not even remember it. </div>
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I think: so many women, for months and years together every day, knowing no tension, no conflicts, no murmuring, no gossiping, no cheating, no resigning and looking for a better job… For so many years in the same job - serving others.</div>
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One night I watched Nokuthula, the one in charge of our tea. It seems simple, you pour water into a cup. But after a little while I humbly reassessed my opinion. I think would need at least a month of intensive training to be able to do what she does. Not only does she know what each of us drinks – some drink Rooibos tea, some English tea, some with milk, some without milk, some milk and water only, some only water, - but she takes about a second to look at the person in front of her and pour water into the cup with the right combination . And that’s for hundreds of people! I drink English tea with milk. When she sees me she pushes toward me the handle of the cup with my combination and smiles. For a while I uselessly still asked, “Is this my tea?” But now I know for sure she knows what I drink. </div>
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One day I misplaced my camera. It was a Sunday night around 7 o clock when I realized. As I reconstructed the filming of the day, I was more and more convinced it’s gone and I’ll never see it again. The place where I wanted to go and talk with someone was the kitchen. “Hau!” they cried looking at my long face when I told them. Then they talked together and I could hear in their voices how sorry they were, how they wanted me to find it. I felt so privileged to know them, to have them around me, to be accepted in the kitchen. I found the camera the same night, forgotten in the Auditorium, but they were happy for me for many days. Even those who were not in the kitchen when I returned with the camera in my hand came the second or third day to hug me.</div>
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Faith isn’t necessarily visible only in big things. There’s no need to give my body to be burned. I can clearly see Christ in the kitchen. The old man doesn’t die unless he is replaced. I am so grateful to the Lord for sending me there and I am so happy I obeyed. Because I can say it’s the most beautiful and profitable job I have ever had. </div>
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Some pictures (and the romanian version) <a href="http://whengodcomesdown.blogspot.com/2010/09/job-to-remember.html">HERE</a></div>
C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-36691277308253434232010-09-27T12:17:00.005+03:002013-06-02T23:58:48.625+03:00A job to remember<div align="justify">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEIt5nUFgI/AAAAAAAADDo/ZRHwBj7005w/s1600/P1260564.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521704202785789442" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEIt5nUFgI/AAAAAAAADDo/ZRHwBj7005w/s200/P1260564.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a>Lucrez in Bucatarie. Spal, curat, toc, maruntesc. Matur, adun, ocazional invart in ...<br />
<a name='more'></a>cratitele imense ca niste boilere industriale, cu unstensile uriase, spre amuzamentul mamelor zuluse. Nu am invatat cine stie ce sa gatesc. Nu cred ca am prins secretul spanacului cu orez sau al verzei cu phutu. Insa ceea ce invat in bucatarie zi de zi este mai pretios ca orice carte de bucate. Ma uit la ele cum lucreaza. Mame zuluse si fete tinere zuluse, cot la cot, de dimineata pana seara.. Ici colo un voluntar ca mine. Cand intru dimineata ele sunt déjà acolo. Imi zambesc cu drag. Stiu cum ma cheama, ma intreaba cum ma simt, cum am dormit. Ma uit in dreapta si in stanga dupa un cutit, cineva mi-l pune in mana. Incerc sa ma infiltrez in zidul de sorturi aflate la datorie langa mesele lungi, <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKD6G7qr7tI/AAAAAAAADCY/MsQMEFNeHqY/s1600/P1250916.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521688140159119058" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKD6G7qr7tI/AAAAAAAADCY/MsQMEFNeHqY/s200/P1250916.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a>cineva se da la o parte si imi face loc si mie. Chiar daca asta presupune renuntarea la o zona in care accesul la vailingul de cartofi sau ardei era facil si comod si exersarea ulterioara continua a conditiei fizice necesare aplecarilor sau intinderilor repetate catre vailing. Ma gandesc cum as face eu in aceeasi situatie. Ma gandesc la asta in fiecare zi. Cum as mai tine de cutitul meu, chiar de vreo doua – ca nu se stie- , cum as sta neclintita <br />
cand as prinde un loc langa castron sau ce argumentatie stufoasa as avea pe marginea faptului ca cineva m-a “nedreptatit” in vreun fel. Mamele zuluse canta si rad. Omul vechi a murit. Omul nou este bucuros, cald, plin de pace. Cand vorbesc, recunosc expresii ca “amandla kaGesu“ (the power of God) or “Unkulunkulu uyasebenza” (God works). Daca incep timid un cantecel mi se alatura imediat. Cele mai multe dintre ele canta in corul Kwasizabantu. Le ascult si STIU ca Domnul are un loc special in Cer pregatit pentru acesti colosi ai credintei. Lucrurile cu adevarat pretioase si vesnice sunt preocuparile lor. Daca le intereseaza ceva despre mine, este umblarea mea cu Dumnezeu. Restul va arde curand. Terminam toti sacii de rosii sau morcovi sau sfecla, i-am curatat, i-am tocat. Maini nevazute strang in permanenta cojile, cotoarele, frunzele, apa care siroieste pana la podele. Nimeni nu se da inapoi de la nimic , nimeni nu asteapta sa faca celalalt. Notiunea ca “asta nu fac” e total necunoscuta. Pot sa lucrez o ora sau cinci sau zece. Nimeni nu se uita, toata lumea munceste in fata Domnului, nu a oamenilor. Matur si ma uit dupa un foras. Treaba anevoiasa fiindca pe jos sunt coji de ceapa ude, seminte de ardei , picuri de mamaliga alba… si nu e usor sa le sui pe foras. Dar de-acum m-am molipsit si eu de la ele si fac cu placere. Sau mai exact as face, fiindca in urmatorul moment o fata zulusa rasare ca din pamant si imi asterne pe jos un sac – forasul- si ma ajuta sa sui tot gunoiul pe el. Fata ei bucuroasa nu lasa loc nevoii de cuvinte. E bucuroasa ca m-a ajutat. E bucuroasa orice-ar fi.<br />
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Odata am ras asa de bine cand am auzit despre o doamna care, plecand de la Kwasizabantu, a zis : “cred ca le pune ceva in apa aia care o beau, ca sunt toti asa… fericiti”.<br />
Nu e apa pe care o beau… E o inima noua, curata si lipita de Dumnezeu.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEGiKA96AI/AAAAAAAADDY/K65duGmDHpI/s1600/P1260553.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521701802006669314" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEGiKA96AI/AAAAAAAADDY/K65duGmDHpI/s200/P1260553.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEEJohprEI/AAAAAAAADC4/ghxpkPiVjvc/s1600/P1260483.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521699181676833858" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEEJohprEI/AAAAAAAADC4/ghxpkPiVjvc/s200/P1260483.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEIuomCDGI/AAAAAAAADDw/eQTETROjzA0/s1600/P1260516.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521704215396879458" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEIuomCDGI/AAAAAAAADDw/eQTETROjzA0/s200/P1260516.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
Am avut nunti, aniversari, inmormantari. Am fost cu ele si angajat si invitat. La aniversarea a 25 de ani de casatorie a unui cuplu foarte iubit (Arno&Franzi), a fost o zi fastuoasa si toti ne-am bucurat de ea cot la cot, si servind pe altii si stand jos in sala de ceremonii la randul nostru. Am ezitat pana tarziu sa ies din bucatarie si sa iau loc la masa, iar cand foamea m-a impins, nu mai vedeam nici un loc liber. Deodata cineva m-a luat de mana fara nici un cuvant si m-a tras pana la o masa din mijlocul salii, singura ramasa libera si la care nu statea nimeni. Noyimanga - este ca un bucatar sef la bucatarie. I-am zis :“Nu pot sa stau aici singura”. “Eu o sa stau cu tine” mi-a zis, si si-a luat discret farfuria de la alta masa (din care mancase déjà tot) si si-a aranjat-o la masa mea. Apoi mi-a adus felurile de mancare delicioase la nas. Si m-a servit. Si-a pus si ei niste firimituri ca sa pretinda ca mananca cu mine. Din cand in cand m-a intrebat daca sunt ok. In mijlocul unui speech foate important m-am inecat cu orezul. Caile respiratorii mi s-au revoltat instantaneu in timp ce eu incercam disperata sa evit o expulzare zgomotoasa. M-am inrosit, anticipand cu groaza grotescul tusei magaresti care urma sa ma cuprinda in linistea din sala. Uncle Erlo si toata familia erau la masa de langa mine. M-am uitat cat de departe e usa , sa ma reped, dar a fost prea tarziu… O convulsie spontana si sonora a facut cunoscut tuturor ca m-am inecat cu mancarea. In urmatorul moment Noyimanga si inca cativa din jur s-au intors spre mine cu o privire ingrijorata zicand “sorry… sorry…” si au dat sa ma ajute. Am avut certitudinea ca nimeni nu a ras si nici macar nu au gandit in sinea lor… “ce penibil, bine ca nu mi s-a intamplat mie” . Sunt convinsa ca nimeni nu a comentat vreodata incidentul si nici macar nu si-l mai amintesc. </div>
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Ma gandesc : atatea femei, toate luni si ani impreuna zi de zi, fara sa se calce pe nervi una pe cealalata, fara conflicte, fara sa se barfeasca, fara sa triseze, fara sa murmure, fara sa-si dea demisia si sa-si caulte alt loc de munca, fara , fara, fara. De atatia ani in aceeasi slujba. In slujba celuilalt. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEEzQY-p1I/AAAAAAAADDI/FaIACydCS4s/s1600/P1260490.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521699896752514898" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEEzQY-p1I/AAAAAAAADDI/FaIACydCS4s/s200/P1260490.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKD6IdnmJ_I/AAAAAAAADCw/7wnWPVwws_Y/s1600/P1250980.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521688166452832242" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKD6IdnmJ_I/AAAAAAAADCw/7wnWPVwws_Y/s200/P1250980.JPG" style="height: 149px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEEzJgjy-I/AAAAAAAADDA/V7ET1CFh4wI/s1600/P1260489.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521699894905261026" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEEzJgjy-I/AAAAAAAADDA/V7ET1CFh4wI/s200/P1260489.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
Intr-o zi am stat langa Nokuthula, cea care are sarcina ceaiului. Pare simplu, torni apa intr-o cana. Dar dupa o jumatate de ora langa ea, m-am uitat cu smerenie si mi-am spus ca mi-ar trebui cel putin o luna de intensive training sa reusesc ce face ea. Nu doar ca stie pe fiecare in parte ce bea – unii beau rooibos tea, altii English tea, unii cu lapte, altii fara lapte, unii doar lapte si apa fara ceai, altii doar apa. In final sunt combinatii de n luate cate k, iar ea are cam o secunda sa se uite la persoana din fata ei si sa stie ce cana trebuie sa apuce ca sa fie combinatia potrivita.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEGiDaVtOI/AAAAAAAADDg/h0jBJIq9xfk/s1600/P1260561.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521701800234038498" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEGiDaVtOI/AAAAAAAADDg/h0jBJIq9xfk/s200/P1260561.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEGh1eiKJI/AAAAAAAADDQ/TT3_2kgUV30/s1600/P1260505.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521701796493535378" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEGh1eiKJI/AAAAAAAADDQ/TT3_2kgUV30/s200/P1260505.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
Si asta pentru sute de oameni. Eu beau English tea cu lapte. Cand ma vede , imi intinde toarta canii cu combinatia mea si imi zambeste. Nu trebuie sa ii spun nimic. Intr-o vreme mai intrebam inutil :“Is this my tea?”, dar acum stiu précis ca e ceaiul meu. Odata mi-am pierdut camera foto. Era intr-o Duminica seara, in jur de 7. Pe masura ce reconstituiam filmul zilei, eram din ce in ce mai convinsa ca e dusa si nu o voi mai gasi niciodata.. Locul unde mi-am dorit sa ma duc sa vorbesc cu cineva a fost la bucatarie. “Hau!” au strigat ele uitandu-se la fata mea plouata cand le-am spus. Apoi au vorbit intre ele si am auzit in vocea lor ce rau le pare, ce mult ar vrea s-o gasesc. M-am simtit privlegiata ca le am, ca ma cunosc, ca ma primesc in bucatarie. Camera am gasit-o uitata in Auditorium in aceeasi seara, dar ele s-au bucurat pentru mine mai multe zile. Chiar si cele care nu mai erau acolo cand m-am intors cu camera in mana, au venit sa ma stranga in brate a doua sau a treia zi.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKD6G1x0XPI/AAAAAAAADCg/b7FscdnvPbo/s1600/P1250964.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521688138578418930" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKD6G1x0XPI/AAAAAAAADCg/b7FscdnvPbo/s200/P1250964.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
Credinta nu se vede neaparat in lucrurile mari. Nu trebuie sa-mi dau trupul sa fie ars. Eu il vad clar pe Christos la bucatarie. Omul vechi nu moare decat daca este inlocuit. Multumesc asa de mult lui Dumnezeu ca m-a trimis acolo si sunt asa de bucuroasa ca am ascultat. Fiindca pot sa spun ca este slujba cea mai frumoasa si mai profitabila pe care am avut-o vreodata.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKD6HXFNwcI/AAAAAAAADCo/uJnsqw18ibA/s1600/P1250978.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521688147518144962" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKD6HXFNwcI/AAAAAAAADCo/uJnsqw18ibA/s200/P1250978.JPG" style="height: 200px; width: 172px;" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEIu82X8aI/AAAAAAAADD4/FUi3OqiburQ/s1600/P1260014.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521704220834132386" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEIu82X8aI/AAAAAAAADD4/FUi3OqiburQ/s200/P1260014.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKD6Gk9PlVI/AAAAAAAADCQ/pa4YgaCtVMs/s1600/P1250909.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521688134062937426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKD6Gk9PlVI/AAAAAAAADCQ/pa4YgaCtVMs/s200/P1250909.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEJi6uP4RI/AAAAAAAADEA/N9zyJhJo6Eg/s1600/P1260521.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521705113616376082" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TKEJi6uP4RI/AAAAAAAADEA/N9zyJhJo6Eg/s200/P1260521.JPG" style="height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a></div>
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C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-55539258330634286702010-09-18T23:08:00.004+03:002010-09-22T00:44:13.754+03:00A CFT award<div>CFT gave me an award during the Annual General Meeting 2010 that took place at KSB at the beginning of September. The whole conference. (which is a huge event), was from the first to the last moment a blessing to me. The CFT leadership didn't mention anything about awarding me though, so I wasn't even there when it happened. But I am very happy that people who heard a little more details about the World Cup outreaches, told me they were blessed by it.</div><div> </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519484062140728130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 264px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TJklgtNUA0I/AAAAAAAADCI/ICxVM7sdwLM/s320/P1260584.JPG" border="0" />C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-50893194752863882182010-08-17T16:49:00.017+03:002013-06-02T18:51:08.180+03:00The Ultimate Goal - a World Cup 2010 story<div align="justify">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqxQWIxIMI/AAAAAAAADA4/pRa4W-PaBew/s1600/P1230814.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506408388792230082" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqxQWIxIMI/AAAAAAAADA4/pRa4W-PaBew/s320/P1230814.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a>Yes, it is over. The World Cup 2010, the way I experienced it in South Africa. The Lord called <a href="http://www.cft.org.za/">Christians for Truth</a> and <a href="http://www.doctorsforlife.co.za/">Doctors for Life </a>to a certain work during the World Cup and fo<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqliEa4pvI/AAAAAAAADAw/DLAR0O1YRAw/s1600/P1210022.JPG"></a>r me it was an immeasurable privilege to be (sometimes) part of it. Our teams took the message of the Gospel to the big soccer fans, using tracts in English, Zulu, Portuguese and Spanish. The matches where I could go along were: South Africa- France (22.06.2010); Portugal –Brazil (25.06.2010); Semifinal Spain-Germany (07.07.2010) and the Final Spain- Holland (11.07.2010).<br />
Two of the matches (Portugal-Brazil & Spain-Germany) were played on Moses Mabhida Stadium in Durban . Therefore,<br />
<a name='more'></a> we could be there, close to the very heartbeat of the event. But even though I’ve been around 4 major matches, I can’t tell much about the World Cup at this stage, except for how the message of the Gospel was received or rejected by the different nationalities we offered our tracts to.<br />
Being around the stadium where the matches were played or in a fan park where people watched the game on a huge screen, sometimes waiting for hours for them to come out of the stadium, I could ask myself many times, what is it about that ball that is able to unite 70 thousands people’s hearts into one beat and one accord to shout loud with the same excitement, the same anxious desire and the same explosive reaction. That is to count only those on the Stadium and not the millions watching it in front of some screen all over the world. For about a month South Africa’s blacks and whites knew no segregation. When “Bafana Bafana” scored against France, even grandmas ran up and down the streets of South Africa. Blowing vuvuzelas couldn’t express it anymore. For a second I thought they were going to throw themselves into the ocean. When they scored again, I even ran and bought a beautiful vuvuzela with the southafrican colors and I blew it myself with enthusiasm. I was happy for my South Africans. The ball managed to enter twice the adversary’s goal and that meant victory over France. And? I can’t really grasp the real importance of it…. But it felt like a great unifying event.. a revolution of some sort… or Christmas… people were hugging each other, singing or shouting, all vehicles were hooting. I think even the horses that the Durban Police were riding, neighed. The guards that were supposed to do the body and bags search to enter a fan park closed their eyes when they saw the hundreds of tracts hidden in our bags and simply let us in. You are not allowed to hand out any advertising material in the fan parks and according to the explanation of the third policeman that escorted me out of the fan park, Jesus Christ was a product like any other. What difference does it make that I’m promoting life itself and for no profit of my own? Isn’t it what “Nike” used as a slogan too, when they launched their new line of shoes?<br />
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Some of the lines I received when handing out a tract:<br />
- Thank you very much, muchas gracias, ngiyabonga, muy amable ,obrigado, etc.<br />
- What is this?<br />
- Que es eso? (Spanish speaking people asking what is this)<br />
- Es esta su testimonio ? (a lovely Spanish lady in MontRose where my bus stopped for 30 min, asking if that was my testimony)<br />
- Do you sell tickets? ( around the Stadium gates)<br />
- Do you want a ticket?<br />
- Sim, falo muito bem português (at the Portugal – Brasil match both teams spoke Portuguese and we could hand out Portuguese tracts) ;<br />
- No thanks, we have our own religion ( Jehovah’s witnesses)<br />
- But I am Muslim! (his face lightened up when he was told that’s ok, he can still read it);<br />
- No thanks, we are atheists and this is Christian stuff (a white couple watching the Final on the fan park screen in Durban)<br />
- Nah, I don’t need it ( young boys smoking on the beach)<br />
- No thanks, I’m driving! (white foreign man – German or Dutch, trying to be funny - maybe at the expense of his eternal life. I insisted I wasn’t selling beer and he eventually took it);<br />
- Thanks, I already got one ( many of those who already met others from the team)<br />
- I’ll read it and call you tomorrow.<br />
- Can we go have dinner and you will talk to me about it?<br />
- Can I please have another one?<br />
- I thought I told you that you are not allowed to do this inside a fan park! (Oh, sorry… am I inside? I thought I was outside);<br />
- I’m not buying anything!<br />
- You came from Romania to watch the soccer or to give me this?<br />
- Is it from God? ( a Zulu boy who seemed to be in a middle of a scolding from the Police officers);<br />
- Maam, my religion is none of your concern (same policeman who told me Jesus was a product like Nike and I wasn’t allowed to advertise Him without a license. I can’t help wondering now whom should I have gotten the license from , in order to advertise Jesus)<br />
- Miss, the FIFA president orders are to clear this zone and I have a career to look after! ( a fine police gentleman, chasing me out of the Moses Mabhida Stadium in Durban after the Spain-Germany match. I asked if I could take a picture of his nice colleagues, then I kept going inside the Stadium).<br />
- May the Lord bless you and the work you are doing! (This lady had to really scream this into my ear so I could hear anything).<br />
- Will you marry me? I’ll give you 14 cows as a dowry (this generous offer was actually made by a Zulu man to Anita, a white beautiful girl from the team, who can speak Zulu; she told him: “no thanks, the price for me was paid by the Lord Jesus Christ”).<br />
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Some of these are fun, some led to more serious discussions. We don’t know the fruit of this now, but we did what we could as we asked the Lord to go ahead of us and send us the people who needed the message. I remember that during the match South Africa against France, we walked to Life Place to meet with the Doctors for Life team and I gave a tract to someone who was crossing the street right in front of me. Later that man was with us at Life Place asking to speak with a pastor. He followed us there after reading the tract in his hand. He said he knew about Kwasizabantu for years from his sister and that he lost track of it and was not able to find it again… He was from Congo, speaking French... his English was terrible. We simply could not understand much. Marius loaded the Mission website on his cell phone to show him a little about KSB and its location. Then Doctors for Life organized to take him to the Mission the next trip they went to Durban.<br />
The Lord knows the needs of each one of us. We could see how some took our good news and mocked it, throwing it away. Some even brutally hit our hands offering out the tract in front of them because it was just an obstacle they had to surpass rushing for the soccer game. Some were too drunk to try and decipher what was written on the tract and we prayed that they would find it in their pocket when they would have a hangover next morning. For some it could take years of nurturing and watering that seed to start growing. And some just bloom in front of you and you get to see the fruit quicker than you expect. To me it was an honor to be found worthy of this job and do it together with a Christians for Truth or Doctors For Life team. Because I also had a lot to learn, sometimes I found myself acting as if the outreach was my own battle which I was losing. So I learned to walk by faith, trusting the Lord for both practical arrangements and the spiritual outcome. And He was always faithful not only in using me for His Kingdom, but also holding my hand to teach me to walk with Him, giving me the words or sealing my lips sometimes. And, I just realize once more that my life is worth nothing unless I myself follow that which could be read on our World Cup outreaches t-shirts:<br />
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"Our only goal is to please GOD "</div>
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(2Cor5:9)</div>
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506385857067222482" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqcw066BdI/AAAAAAAAC-I/XX--Kh1Foso/s200/P1200980.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqcxEhPBdI/AAAAAAAAC-Q/wwhVtpItDQE/s1600/P1210020.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506385861254514130" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqcxEhPBdI/AAAAAAAAC-Q/wwhVtpItDQE/s200/P1210020.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqeYvr0DhI/AAAAAAAAC-o/Kr5OsPUVO2w/s1600/P1210029.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506387642368134674" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqeYvr0DhI/AAAAAAAAC-o/Kr5OsPUVO2w/s200/P1210029.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqeYieXhsI/AAAAAAAAC-g/iG55GoaddC8/s1600/P1200964.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506387638822078146" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqeYieXhsI/AAAAAAAAC-g/iG55GoaddC8/s200/P1200964.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqcwAL0pGI/AAAAAAAAC94/kdFDpEtJsxM/s1600/P1200973.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506385842911093858" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqcwAL0pGI/AAAAAAAAC94/kdFDpEtJsxM/s200/P1200973.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqcwRGNUTI/AAAAAAAAC-A/WkFbxFi7Xsc/s1600/P1200976.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506385847450947890" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqcwRGNUTI/AAAAAAAAC-A/WkFbxFi7Xsc/s200/P1200976.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqeZHlDdoI/AAAAAAAAC-w/Ddoh-NGRTgs/s1600/P1210088.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506387648782235266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqeZHlDdoI/AAAAAAAAC-w/Ddoh-NGRTgs/s200/P1210088.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqj_fIqM1I/AAAAAAAADAY/7Utlheecl7M/s1600/P1240021.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506393805498757970" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqj_fIqM1I/AAAAAAAADAY/7Utlheecl7M/s200/P1240021.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqhgHjk2lI/AAAAAAAADAQ/g4SVUsVqyGI/s1600/P1240007.JPG"></a> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGruOu1PAWI/AAAAAAAADBA/ls3vJGrZehA/s1600/P1210022.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506475431270744418" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGruOu1PAWI/AAAAAAAADBA/ls3vJGrZehA/s200/P1210022.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGrvFxn1ZJI/AAAAAAAADBY/_hrC0juU3hQ/s1600/P1230902.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506476376912651410" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGrvFxn1ZJI/AAAAAAAADBY/_hrC0juU3hQ/s200/P1230902.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqeZuvOeWI/AAAAAAAAC_A/YaCntBQzkOg/s1600/P1210201.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506387659293882722" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqeZuvOeWI/AAAAAAAAC_A/YaCntBQzkOg/s200/P1210201.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqgYwyNKaI/AAAAAAAAC_I/Pzmcmr1nhSE/s1600/P1210211.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506389841686636962" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqgYwyNKaI/AAAAAAAAC_I/Pzmcmr1nhSE/s200/P1210211.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqgZJpikbI/AAAAAAAAC_Q/UfPeNoBrk0s/s1600/P1210246.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506389848361177522" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqgZJpikbI/AAAAAAAAC_Q/UfPeNoBrk0s/s200/P1210246.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqgZSL2UII/AAAAAAAAC_Y/FsJW-eqRUTo/s1600/P1210255.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506389850652561538" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqgZSL2UII/AAAAAAAAC_Y/FsJW-eqRUTo/s200/P1210255.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGrvFQt_fwI/AAAAAAAADBQ/pV2Xh5q1NKI/s1600/P1210124.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506476368080109314" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGrvFQt_fwI/AAAAAAAADBQ/pV2Xh5q1NKI/s200/P1210124.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGrvFBmEx0I/AAAAAAAADBI/OnZdbP6EbVk/s1600/P1210122.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506476364020369218" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGrvFBmEx0I/AAAAAAAADBI/OnZdbP6EbVk/s200/P1210122.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqeZht503I/AAAAAAAAC-4/nnFR8gUYbMs/s1600/P1210193.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506387655798674290" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqeZht503I/AAAAAAAAC-4/nnFR8gUYbMs/s200/P1210193.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqgZxyUYNI/AAAAAAAAC_g/3Rqs8SUXGNk/s1600/P1230810.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506389859135414482" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqgZxyUYNI/AAAAAAAAC_g/3Rqs8SUXGNk/s200/P1230810.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGrvtpIQ-6I/AAAAAAAADBg/eJqaP4W7RZM/s1600/P1230818.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506477061827525538" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGrvtpIQ-6I/AAAAAAAADBg/eJqaP4W7RZM/s200/P1230818.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGrvuH8d0wI/AAAAAAAADBo/6zNBh9Mw87k/s1600/P1230819.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506477070099534594" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGrvuH8d0wI/AAAAAAAADBo/6zNBh9Mw87k/s200/P1230819.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqj_mQOBLI/AAAAAAAADAg/_SDtSPf-cMo/s1600/P1240032.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506393807409513650" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqj_mQOBLI/AAAAAAAADAg/_SDtSPf-cMo/s200/P1240032.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 200px; width: 180px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqhfzjfa4I/AAAAAAAADAI/LVm7yYdRSJs/s1600/P1230893.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506391062200937346" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqhfzjfa4I/AAAAAAAADAI/LVm7yYdRSJs/s200/P1230893.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqgZ9z9NGI/AAAAAAAAC_o/ybT5okmTAxU/s1600/P1230831.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506389862363509858" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqgZ9z9NGI/AAAAAAAAC_o/ybT5okmTAxU/s200/P1230831.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqhfEADkwI/AAAAAAAAC_w/fZ5zd1RH5Ls/s1600/P1230842.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506391049435845378" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqhfEADkwI/AAAAAAAAC_w/fZ5zd1RH5Ls/s200/P1230842.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqhfkEy9pI/AAAAAAAADAA/LUiLcOnhKEU/s1600/P1230865.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506391058045662866" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqhfkEy9pI/AAAAAAAADAA/LUiLcOnhKEU/s200/P1230865.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqhfC_GMPI/AAAAAAAAC_4/2qziaBxXVpY/s1600/P1230854.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506391049163387122" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TGqhfC_GMPI/AAAAAAAAC_4/2qziaBxXVpY/s200/P1230854.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
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C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-55066507998051153542010-06-12T10:12:00.006+03:002013-06-02T19:09:23.192+03:00Inapoi in Africa<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBM_We1wZ-I/AAAAAAAAC78/8kncuKDD71E/s1600/P1180693.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481794826908231650" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBM_We1wZ-I/AAAAAAAAC78/8kncuKDD71E/s200/P1180693.JPG" style="float: right; height: 150px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a>Incerc de cand am venit sa pun in cateva cuvinte ceea ce fac si traiesc aici, insa ma simt atat de nepuntincioasa in privinta asta. Sunt deja 9 zile dar imi par a fi cam o jumatate de ora. Seara adorm destul de brusc, dar ma trezesc la 6 dimineata cu o bucurie care imi inunda sufletul si abea astept sa inceapa ziua. Prima noapte<br />
<a name='more'></a> sau doua m-am trezit de cateva ori doar sa ma uit la usa rondavei, sa fiu sigura ca sunt tot in Africa si nu am visat.<br />
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Drumul pana aicea a fost mai ok decat m-am asteptat. La check-in aveam la valiza cea mare 900 de grame peste greutatea admisa la bagaje dar nu au zis nimic. La bagajul mic aveam 2 kg in plus dar nici nu mi-au cantarit-o. Zborul cel mai lung, de la Munich la Johannesburg , a fost destul de lejer si, desi era cineva care primise loc langa mine, au ramas cateva perechi de scaune goale si m-am repezit pe ele de indata ce imbarcarea s-a terminat. Asa ca am avut doua scaune si a fost destul de suportabil. Chiar de la 2 la 6 dimineata nu imi prea amintesc mare lucru, posibil ca am si dormit. In Johannesburg a trebuit sa merg din nou cu bagajele la cantar si de data asta mi-au cantarit si valiza cea mica. Aveam 10 kg in loc de 8 si dupa ce o tanti neagra a cantarit-o si pe cea mare ( 20,9kg), mi-a pus in mana <br />
o eticheta pe care scria 21 de kg si mi-a zis sa iau 2 kg din valiza mica si sa le bag in cea mare. Am facut asa, incepand sa am oaresce emotii . Pe cand am terminat, surpriza , tanti care fusese la cantar prima data nu mai era acolo, iar in locul ei erau alti doi negri care m-au pus sa cantaresc din nou ambele valize. Acuma, unii dintre voi stiti, nu incepi sa te certi cu negrii daca esti alb si ai nevoie sa ajungi la destinatie cu toate lucrurile. Asa ca atunci cand mi-au scris o noua eticheta pentru valiza cea mare , de data asta cu 23 de kg, am aratat spre eticheta intiala , cu 21 de kg si m-am rugat in gand sa se intample ceva sa pot trece. Cu 23 de kg in valiza nu aveam cum sa trec de check-in. Vazand prima eticheta , unul din ei a zis “ah, ok” si mi-a intors spatele ducandu-se cu cealalta eticheta cu tot. Cu asta am depasit faza preliminara, inainte de coada de la check-in, pe cantarul din podea. La check-in, cantarul obisnuit, de pe care pleaca valiza spre avion. Ma gandeam ce ia in considerare omul de la check-in… ce vede cu ochii pe cantar , adica 23 de kg in valiza mare, sau eticheta din mana mea, cu 21 de kg, pe care i-o tot asezam frumos in fata ochilor, zambindu-I cat mai calduros. Dar el nu m-a intrebat nimic, decat unde vreau sa stau in avion, poate si pentru ca ma straduiam din rasputeri sa-I abat atentia de la cifre punandu-I tot felul de intrebari la care sa-I faca placere sa imi raspunda. In aeroportul din Durban inca nu aveam o sensatie prea acuta ca sunt in Africa, poate si de oboseala, poate si fiindca nu vedeam pe nimeni sa vina dupa mine. Sesizasem ca aeroportul nu mai este la fel, dar abea dupa o vreme am realizat ca este cu totul alt aeroport . Am intrebat pe cineva daca sunt doua in Durban si cand mi-a zis ca da, m-am gandit ah, am ajuns pe celalalt aeroport. Dar apoi mi-au spus ca cel vechi este dezafectat si a fost mutat cu totul in acesta nou si m-am linistit. Peste cateva minute a aparut David Green (un vechi prieten de la Misiune) si cand l-am vazut, mi s-a parut ca a trecut mai putin de o saptamana de cand l-am vazut ultima oara. Cu acelasi drum a mai luat doua persoane care veneau la Misiune din Cape Town. Afara – cald. Mult mai cald decat ma asteptam. Oamenii in maiouri si slapi. Eu- cu haine groase ,ciorapi , pantofi inchisi, peste toate o geaca de blugi si un poncho gros care nu au mai incaput in valize. L-am intrebat pe David : dar nu incepe iarna acuma? Ba da, dar inca este cald. Foarte cald.<br />
La receptie, o persoana pe care nu eram sigura daca o cunosc sau nu. M-a intrebat cine sunt si a introdus numele meu intr-un calculator. Adresa cu care apari este “Kwazulu-Natal, Romania”, mi-a zis amuzat. Apoi mi-a intins un formular sa scriu adresa corecta si o cheie. E de la German Building? am intrebat resemnata. German building pentru cine nu stie, este o cladire a femeilor, cu camere mari , fiecare cu 6-7 paturi , iar gandul la zgomotul dinauntru ma cam ingrozea. Nuu, a zambit el, e de la o rondava. Brusc , toata oboseala mi s-a topit. Trageam dupa mine valiza ca pe un fulg, desi chemasera pe o fata zulusa sa ma ajute cu bagajele. Toate rondavele sunt frumoase, dar a mea este cea mai frumoasa din lume. Am o curticica cu gazon verde, un gard maro frumos in jur, numai al meu, o masuta si un scaun de piatra, si cele mai frumoase plante al caror nume poate il voi afla odata. Inauntru e zugravit alb , curat, tavanul e foarte jos fiindca mai este si al doilea nivel, chiar in acoperis, unde se ajunge pe o scara interioara din lemn, insa eu nu il folosesc. Draperiile sunt albastre cu irisi rosii si totul arata ca in povesti. Nu am o masa, dar poate voi gasi cu timpul una. O vreme am trait cu spaima, daca nu cumva inca o mai am, ca ma vor chema inapoi si vor spune ca a fost o greseala si sa ma mut in German Building. Dar sunt inca aici. De indata ce am lasat jos valizele in rondava, inainte de orice altceva, am alergat literalmente spre rondava pe care stiam ca o primise <a href="http://www.van-der-walt.blogspot.com/">prietena mea Lydia cu familia </a>, dupa ce Auditoriumul a ars acum 2 ani impreuna cu casa lor aflata in aceeasi incinta. Atunci, 7 oameni , dintre care 4 copii<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBM_XnpymOI/AAAAAAAAC8U/h7fikgZ6z6I/s1600/P1190071.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481794846453831906" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBM_XnpymOI/AAAAAAAAC8U/h7fikgZ6z6I/s200/P1190071.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 150px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a> au ramas fara nimic, doar cu hainele de pe ei, si mult timp dupa aceea nu au avut un loc al lor. Casa mea e in Cer, imi zicea Lydia cand mai intrebam unde stau acuma. Dar de curand au primit o rondava frumoasa, cu etaj inalt, pe care o stiam si eu destul de bine. Asa ca ma indreptam naprasnic spre rondava aceea , ca stiam ca Lydia urma sa nasca al 5-lea bebe in urmatoarele zile si aveam asa de multe sa intreb si sa-I spun. Cand am ajuns, eram gata sa dau buzna inauntru si sa strig ca am venit, cand o femeie alba a rasarit ca din pamant si m-a tras deoparte, rugandu-ma delicat sa vin alta data. Mi-a zis ca Lydia tocmai a nascut in noaptea precedenta si acum se odihneste. <a href="http://www.christiaan-vanderwalt.blogspot.com/">Christiaan van der Walt </a>s-a nascut pe 18 mai 2010 , in ziua cand eu am plecat spre Africa.<br />
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Da, au mai trecut inca vreo 9 zile de cand am scris mai sus… Este incredibil cum trece timpul aici, pe acest taram departe de lume… Au trecut 3 ani de cand am plecat de aici dar parca nu am plecat niciodata. Multora nu le vine sa creada ca sunt totusi 3 ani, cand le spun. Ma strang in brate cu o caldura si o bucurie care abea mai incap in bataile inimii. Oameni despre care nu mai stiu sigur cine sunt, imi ureaza bun venit cu fete radioase. Fiecare om cu care ma intalnesc are o vorba buna sa imi spuna. Fete zuluse de la magazin, despre care imi amintesc si nu prea, imi spun pe nume iar zambetul cu care ma primesc vine dintr-o inima plina de dragoste si pace iar nu de… strategii de marketing. Una din ele, care spala pe jos in magazin, nu e sigura cum ma cheama exact , dar nu renunta sa-mi arate ca stie o parte. Imi zice “hello Chris.. tin” iar ultima silaba e mai mult o soapta sovaielnica, pierduta intr-un zambet de inger. Ma intreaba “how are you today?” si asteapta cu interes raspunsul. Daca zic “am nevoie de…”, lasa totul ca sa ma ajute. Asa sunt toti.<br />
Cam ce s-a intamplat de cand am venit:<br />
- Uncle Erlo m-a chemat si s-a rugat pentru mine;<br />
- Am pus in ordine cateva lucruri din viata mea; <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBM_XStKV5I/AAAAAAAAC8M/yhVKVM7HvoU/s1600/P1190550.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481794840830826386" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBM_XStKV5I/AAAAAAAAC8M/yhVKVM7HvoU/s200/P1190550.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 150px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
- Am petrecut mult timp in partasie cu familia de romani care a vizitat Misiunea pentru prima data;<br />
- Am fost in Safari – Umfolozi si Mtunzini;<br />
- Am fost la minunatul-magnificul-superbul ocean ;<br />
- Am vizitat Emseni – spitalul de SIDA al Misiunii, aflat undeva pe un deal din apropiere.<br />
- Am tradus pentru vizitatori locul din Misiune in care inima mea bate cel mai tare : <a href="http://www.doctorsforlifeinternational.com/">Doctors for Life</a>;<br />
- Uncle Friedel s-a rugat de ziua lui pentru Oltenia si satul bunicilor mei;<br />
- Mi-am perfectionat tehnicile de spalat vase si calcat haine acasa la Lydia, in plus si de <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBM_YNkTyxI/AAAAAAAAC8c/ko8PkTxJfgA/s1600/P1180823.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481794856631388946" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBM_YNkTyxI/AAAAAAAAC8c/ko8PkTxJfgA/s200/P1180823.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 150px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a>interactionat cu copii intre 0-6 ani;<br />
- Am ascultat marturii incredibile, povestite direct sau inregistrate.<br />
- M-am jucat cu nenumarati cameleoni, mai mari sau mai mici pe care copiii Lydiei mi-I aduc de prin copaci;<br />
- Am facut si mancat sarmale romanesti la <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBM_WyHimWI/AAAAAAAAC8E/oHpE-VBnJ7Y/s1600/P1180771.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481794832083097954" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBM_WyHimWI/AAAAAAAAC8E/oHpE-VBnJ7Y/s200/P1180771.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 150px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a>familia de rusi;<br />
- Am fost la cumparaturi in cel mai mare mall din Durban, Gateway.<br />
- Euro in cadere libera de cand a inceput World Cup.<br />
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Ce nu s-a intamplat:<br />
- Nu m-am intalnit cu dr. Albu;<br />
- Nu mi-am prelungit viza;<br />
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Frigul a venit brusc, intr-o sambata . Dintr-o data toate insectele inspaimantatoare care ma intampinau de indata ce deschideam usa rondavei, au disparut ca prin farmec. In locul lor au aparut cizme si caciuli in tinutele oamenilor. Intr-o seara veneam de la Doctors for Life si era deja intuneric si frig . Pe drum nu era nimeni fiindca toti se adunasera in dining hall la serviciul de seara. Intr-acolo ma grabeam si eu. La un moment dat dintr-un drum lateral mi s-a alaturat pe drum o femeie zulusa necunoscuta. A zis catre mine ceva in zulu, eu am raspuns ceva in engleza. Dupa tacerea care a urmat am realizat amandoua ca ea nu vorbeste engleza iar eu nu vorbesc zulu. Mergeam una langa alta. Eu fredonam un cantecel. Si atunci a fredonat si ea un cantecel. Zulusii sunt mult mai talentati decat albii, de fapt, sunt celebri pentru vocile si simtul lor muzical. Dar ea a cantat incet, ca sa nu ma acopere , in partasie cu mine. Si asa am vorbit pana am ajuns. Si am inteles perfect.<br />
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Nu pot sa spun totul despre Sizabantu, nici macar in parte. M-am resemnat sa mai incerc. Trebuie sa fii aici. Acum trei ani am scris despre Sizabantu ca mi se pare asa ciudat, sa existe doar o diferenta de distanta intre lumea de acasa si cea de aici. Cu alte cuvinte sa poti ajunge aici strabatand doar o distanta in kilometri, oricat de mare, cand de fapt, ar trebui sa existe o alta dimensiune care sa separe acest taram de restul pamantului. Dar acuma realizez ca de fapt, este o alta dimensiune… doar ca ne este ingaduit sa o percepem cu simturi omenesti, pentru catva vreme, pe frumoasa planeta albastra.<br />
Cu drag,Cristina<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBNOVkPPMpI/AAAAAAAAC8k/a4M7DZAplag/s1600/P1200024.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481811303851831954" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBNOVkPPMpI/AAAAAAAAC8k/a4M7DZAplag/s200/P1200024.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBNOW9u6fvI/AAAAAAAAC88/pcJ3QHIuP98/s1600/P1190994.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481811327875448562" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBNOW9u6fvI/AAAAAAAAC88/pcJ3QHIuP98/s200/P1190994.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBNOWgoIKAI/AAAAAAAAC80/-Cz7qG6XDPU/s1600/P1190983.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481811320062355458" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBNOWgoIKAI/AAAAAAAAC80/-Cz7qG6XDPU/s200/P1190983.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBNOWCdSOAI/AAAAAAAAC8s/2CjnQeAa5IU/s1600/P1190897.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481811311963813890" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBNOWCdSOAI/AAAAAAAAC8s/2CjnQeAa5IU/s200/P1190897.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBNOXd3TNfI/AAAAAAAAC9E/Ge5LkjMv2cc/s1600/P1200194.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481811336500557298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBNOXd3TNfI/AAAAAAAAC9E/Ge5LkjMv2cc/s200/P1200194.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBNQi2gNlxI/AAAAAAAAC9M/fSouK0vB0hs/s1600/P1180894.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481813731116422930" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/TBNQi2gNlxI/AAAAAAAAC9M/fSouK0vB0hs/s200/P1180894.JPG" style="cursor: hand; height: 150px; width: 200px;" /></a>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-6463194649256046652010-03-13T19:30:00.005+02:002013-06-02T18:53:17.779+03:00Micuta<div align="justify">
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/S5vVM-oFDhI/AAAAAAAAC5k/uqTnX9vZEYY/s1600/Home+Luci+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448182593180995090" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZmYT_tjotyw/S5vVM-oFDhI/AAAAAAAAC5k/uqTnX9vZEYY/s320/Home+Luci+(1).JPG" style="display: block; height: 240px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>Ma plimbam cu Micuta prin Mall, cautand o geanta de umar pentru Africa, cu care sa ma pot plimba de colo-colo pe acolo, dar sa incapa si laptopul. Micuta stie mai bine ca oricine ca obiectul trebuie sa fie mai intai frumos si numai dupa asta sa fie eventual si practic.<br />
<br />
Stand in fata unei vitrine, ma intreaba:<br />
- Da' valiza mare ai?<br />
- Pai nu mi-ai cumparat tu una data trecuta cand am plecat?<br />
Acum trei ani m-am suit in avionul spre Africa de Sud cu un <br />
<a name='more'></a>superb troller portocaliu aprins, primit cadou de la Micuta in vederea calatoriei ...dar care s-a transformat intr-un fel de maro-gri-murdar pana am ajuns la destinatie. </div>
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<br />
- Trebuie curatata cumva, adaug gandindu-ma cu oroare cum s-ar mai putea ajunge de la acel maro prafuit la portocaliul frumos de la inceput.<br />
- Da, adu-mi-o mie s-o frec...<br />
- (un pic mirata) Da' ce , eu nu pot s-o frec?<br />
- Tu nu ai rabdare...<br />
<br />
(dupa o mica pauza in care am vizualizat mental derularea sarcinii cu pricina):<br />
- Pai mai bine vii si-o speli acasa la mine.<br />
- Da, chiar! asa o sa facem...<br />
<br />
Cata dragoste incape intr-un om micut? Se poate masura cu ceva? Eu nu reusesc.</div>
C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-10542223827625535152010-03-13T12:06:00.001+02:002013-06-02T19:28:36.175+03:00Beware of Terrorist Groups in ChurchLatest news reports are that five terrorist cell groups have been operating in many of our churches. They have been identified as: Bin Sleepin, Bin Arguin, Bin Fightin, Bin Complainin, and Bin Missin. <br />
<br />
Their leader, Lucifer Bin Workin, <br />
<a name='more'></a>trained these groups to destroy the Body of Christ. The plan is to come into the church disguised as Christians and to work within the church to discourage, disrupt, and destroy.<br />
<br />
However, there have been reports of a sixth group. A tiny cell known by the name Bin Prayin is actually the only effective counter terrorism force in the church. Unlike other terrorist cells, the Bin Prayin team does not blend in with whoever and whatever comes along. <br />
<br />
Bin Prayin does whatever is needed to uplift and encourage the Body of Christ. We have noticed that the Bin Prayin cell group has different characteristics than the others. They have Bin Watchin, Bin Waitin, Bin Fastin, and Bin Longin for their Master, Jesus Christ to return.<br />
<br />
NO CHURCH IS EXEMPT!<br />
<br />
(However, you can spot them if you bin lookin and bin goin.)C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-50734057313326419662010-02-07T20:25:00.002+02:002010-02-07T20:32:23.187+02:00Kwasizabantu Romania - prezentarea anului 2009<object width="430" height="323"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=8246395&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=00adef&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=8246395&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=00adef&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="430" height="323"></embed></object><p>Prezentare succinta a activitatilor desfasurate la misiunea Kwasizabantu in anul 2009</p>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-16975476968211848662009-12-17T20:41:00.002+02:002013-06-02T19:29:52.815+03:00Craciun Fericit!<div align="justify">
Ce traim acum nu e viata.</div>
<a name='more'></a> Isus cand l-a inviat pe Lazar a zis: "Eu sunt invierea si viata". Adica viata urmeaza dupa inviere. Ce traim noi acum e o lupta oarba si crunta pentru existenta. Serviciu, scoala, paine, medicamente, copii, masina defectata, un telefon, o cafea. Si iarasi: luni, marti miercuri, sambata, duminica la Biserica. Visam la concediu, la vacanta, dar avem tot mai putin timp. Suntem tot mai reci, mai indiferenti, mai egoisti. Fiecare in cochilia lui, cu visuri marunte, cu refulari zilnice. Iubim narcisist si in fuga. Ne este frica de propriile sentimente. Cerul are gust de pamant, spitalele sunt pline de bolnavi de cancer, suferinta, lipsa, saracie a mintii, a sufletului si a buzunarului. Ne-am risipit prin toata lumea, am vrut sa ne fie mai bine si la multi ne este. Dar sufletele au ramas tot pustii; am luat cu noi si napasarea, egoismul, tristetea, gelozia, neiubirea.<br />Trenul vietii ne poarta cu viteza spre ultima statie. Suntem atat de aproape de sfarsitul tuturor lucrurilor cum n-am fost niciodata. De aceea, acum, a te preocupa de maruntisuri este o nebunie, iar a cauta fericirea pe pamant este moarte sigura. Fericirea nu atarna de imprejurari. Fericirea are de-a face cu Dumnezeu care e invariabil asezat la capatul de linie al vietii noastre.<br />Va trece si iarna. De fapt, vor trece toate. Cine iubeste viata aceasta o va pierde pe cealalta. Priviti spre oameni si veti vedea necazuri mai mari ca ale voastre. Priviti spre pamant si veti vedea ca nimic bun nu poate sa va ofere. Priviti spre cer si veti vedea ca dincolo de stele e ceva ce-ati visat si mult mai mult.<br /><br />Pamantul e ultima statie spre fericire. <br />
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Vladimir Pustan</div>
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<a href="http://www.christianglitter.com/"><img border="0" src="http://off1.picsrc.net/images/allc/holidayCGComments_megaE/xmasReligious56.jpg" /></a><br />
CRACIUN FERICIT TUTUROR!C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-9759217321160603112009-11-24T20:49:00.001+02:002009-11-24T21:02:57.812+02:00Scoala Domino Servite Romania!<object height="323" width="430"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=7661635&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=00adef&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=7661635&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=00adef&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="430" height="323"></embed></object><p>O scurta prezentare despre evolutia lucrarilor de constructie a scolii Domino Servite din Voiteg. </p>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-50488446839801624152009-07-28T10:57:00.003+03:002009-07-28T11:14:49.660+03:0026 July 2009 - "Thankful or thankless"<a href="http://www.kwasizabantu.com/Summary/sermons/2009/20090726_thankful.htm">Summary of sermon by Rev E Stegen</a><br /><a href="http://www.kwasizabantu.com/Summary/sermons/2009/20090726_thankful.htm">Luke 17:11-19</a>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-41113750025081228032009-07-09T21:33:00.007+03:002013-06-02T19:31:24.289+03:00KSB Auditorium resurrection<object height="338" width="450"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=5520774&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=00adef&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=5520774&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=00adef&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="450" height="338"></embed></object><br />
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When it completely burnt down last year, we thought we would never see it again. And yet, </div>
<a name='more'></a>ten months later, it was standing right there, more beautiful than ever. Those who have rebuilt the Auditorium say it hasn't been an easy job. There were times when the fight seemed to be too much even for the strongest ones. But the songs of praise, the prayers and the smiles were always there, never to fade away. If anyone should ask them, even they don't know how they did it, but they built it back. Everything was there, in their songs of praise, in every single screw or stone they laid. Today, the Auditorium is a TEMPLE. God gave it back to us 10 times faster than the first one, and more beautiful than we could have ever imagined it."<br /><br />..."Behold, I make all things new"!<br />Thank You Lord.<br /><br />"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him" ( 1 Cor 2:19)<br /><br /><span style="color: #990000;">Cand a luat foc si a ars complet, am crezut ca nu-l vom mai vedea nicicand. Zece luni mai tarziu era in picioare, mai frumos ca niciodata. Cei ce l-au reconstruit povestesc ca nu a fost deloc usor. Uneori lupta parea sa fie prea grea si pentru cei mai puternici. Dar cantecele de lauda, rugaciunile si zambetul nu au incetat nici o clipa. Daca ii intrebi, nici ei nu stiu cum au putut, dar l-au facut inapoi. Asa s-a ridicat, in cantec, in lauda, surub cu surub, piatra cu piatra. Astazi, Auditoriumul este un TEMPLU. Dumnezeu ni l-a daruit inapoi de 10 ori mai repede si mai frumos decat ni l-am fi putut imagina vreodata omeneste.<br />..."Iata, eu fac toate lucrurile noi"!<br />Multumim, Doamne.<br /><br />"Lucruri pe care ochiul nu le-a vazut, urechea nu le-a auzit si la inima omului nu s-au suit, asa sunt lucrurile pe care le-a pregatit Dumnezeu pentru cei ce-L iubesc" (1Cor 2:19)</span> C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-60214410595177809192009-06-18T13:10:00.003+03:002009-06-18T18:16:26.686+03:0017 May 2009 - "What drives you, your ego or Heavenly calling?" - Sunday sermon"What drives you, your ego or Heavenly calling?" ( Luke 10:38 - 42)<br /><div></div><div><a href="http://www.kwasizabantu.com/Summary/sermons/2009/20090517_drive.htm">Summary of sermon by Arno Stegen</a> </div>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-53178346831715884172009-06-12T20:04:00.005+03:002013-06-02T19:00:50.450+03:00Otniel<div align="center">
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<div align="justify">
<em>This is Casa Otniel, the ministry of my mother, home for 22 orphaned or abandoned kids. Some gypsy, some sick, or bad tempered , the Romanian authorities send there only the most problematic orphans... aware that this little homey orphanage receives them all with same love beyond understanding... and the kids develop and turn into little angels. Each of these kids are like extended family, and some of them are really the favorites of everyone, including my of father or mine. May the Lord take special care of all people who pledged their lives in the service of these orphans. My mom is the director of Casa Otniel, <strong>Pia </strong>(see her in the video). And she indeed is an example of being the selfless leader from the Bible, a golden vessel, the servant of all.</em></div>
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<embed align="middle" allowscriptaccess="always" flashvars="viewkey=e73dcde26cac48a0ca16" height="314" name="tangle" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" quality="high" src="http://www.tangle.com/flash/swf/flvplayer.swf" style="height: 314px; width: 518px;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="518" wmode="transparent"></embed></div>
C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7180069062264444429.post-67735837564154831122009-03-31T22:43:00.004+03:002009-03-31T23:47:40.604+03:00Florin Enescu - Calvary Chapel BucurestiL-am ascultat azi dupa ceva timp si mi-a placut asa mult ca am simtit nevoia sa impartasesc mai departe.<br /><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><object height="377" width="500"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=3804509&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=00adef&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=3804509&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=00adef&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="500" height="377"></embed></object></p><p></p><p></p>C.N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00885089297148176457noreply@blogger.com0