The Red House

Last Tuesday evening I stood outside a brothel and cried. I don't know why I was crying and when I finished praying as I walked away the emotion left me. It was a red house that is situated in the same road as The Salvation Army hall. I have passed it many times in the last year and I have always thought it was a student house because I often saw young men going in and out of it.

It was my turn to prayer walk the area around the hall. During a holiness meeting when we were praying for our community G. had told me that there are 4 brothels in our area, so I asked her to go with me so that she could point them out to me.

She set off at a great pace and I worked hard to match her steps as we walked up the road from the hall and turned a corner into the road where she lives. G. stopped outside a lime green house which was just two buildings from where she lives and we prayed. This was the first brothel that we prayed for that night and as we prayed I looked at it. I realised that it was different from the other houses and buildings because instead of a high wall and gates it had a low iron fence in front of it and the windows were completely blacked out. As we walked away two women left the house. Just a couple of minutes later we stopped outside another lime green house and prayed. This time there was a man standing guard at the door. I prayed that he wouldn't see that there were two women praying on the other side of the road and he didn't appear to notice us at all. When we had finished praying, we continued walking up to the hospital, and the man went inside the house. We prayed for the hospital and other buildings as we continued on our way. Once we were outside the hospital we had walked a full circle and were once again in the road where the hall is situated. As we approached the red house, G pointed out that a young man had got out of a car that he had parked in front of the house and when we stopped outside the house the man was waiting at the door. As we prayed, another man left the house and walked up the road looking back towards the house as he walked. From where G lives she can see this house and told me that some days she can see up to 40 men walking through it's front door.

We returned to the hall a few minutes after the prayer meeting had ended and there was no time to pray for the 4th brothel.

Our group of prayer walkers is growing and in a few weeks time we will have a meeting to share our experiences. I do not know what kind of work God has planned for us to do here but we will continue to pray on the streets of this area and ask God to open doors of opportunity.

Metro Rage!

I have never experienced road rage, either from me or directed towards me, or any other kind of 'rage' that we use to describe losing our temper with a complete stranger. Until now that is - now I have experienced metro rage.

The city of Sao Paulo has a wonderful metro system with lines going in all directions around the city. I can board a train in Sao Miguel Paulista and change from the train line onto the metro line at Bras or Tatuape and then travel to any part of the city by metro. Many lines converge at the stations of Se and Bras so there are certain times in the day when these stations are extremely busy. I have to travel on the metro twice a week in order to attend my portuguese language class.

Last week I was travelling home from my class a little later than usual as I had stayed to have a chat in the student cafe with two members of the class. So, when I got on the tube it was already crowded which meant that I couldn't walk further down into the carriage - I had to stay standing near the doors. When we stopped at Se the doors opened and, ignoring the fact that the carriage was already full, a great crowd of people surged onto the train in one mad push. Unfortunately, as they pushed me forwards, my rucksack, which was hanging over my right shoulder, got caught between two people who were getting off the train through the doors on the other side of the carriage. I felt like I was going to be carried off the train so I let out a little yelp, grabbed hold of a pole and tried to pull my rucksack back towards me. I think the people must have realised what was happening because I was able to retrieve my rucksack. However, at the same time as this was happening, the crowd behind me were continuing to push and I found myself pinned with my face against the pole that I had grabbed hold of. My back began to hurt and so I shrieked! I managed to turn myself around and face the people who were pushing me. 'Calma! Calma! I shouted and came face to face with three quite small looking women. One of the ladies immediately started justifying herself in portuguese. I gathered that she was blaming the people behind her for pushing her onto the train. I wasn't terribly understanding of her situation.

This is not an unusual occurance during the rush hour in Sao Paulo. I prefer to change trains at Tatuape where the people are a little more gracious and sensible. Last Monday I let 6 trains go by without getting on because they were just too full. However, I took a photo of three men who pushed and squeezed their way onto one train and watched as the third man's leg finally disappeared into the train as the doors closed (see photo on sidebar).

Bras is at the end of the line so when the train arrives it is always empty. For those who are determined to get a seat, they push anyone who gets in their way and throw themselves at a seat almost throwing a triumphant arm in the air. I have seen frail old men and ladies discover new strength as they charge towards the seats using elbows and sticks to make sure they get a seat on the train. I have never seen anything like it before!!

Well, this posting is probably more therapy than blog. Thank you for listening - it's been a great help to me to share with you my first experience of metro rage.

The Fainting Lady

So, we had just started the prayer walking and the hall had been full of young people pledging to be salt and light in the world the night before The Fainting Lady came to our church. A couple of weeks ago, after the Sunday morning meeting had finished, the Corps folk gathered to chat in the courtyard outside the front doors which were flung wide open as always. A lady caught my attention as she stumbled slowly around a car parked in front of the hall holding onto it as if it was the only thing holding her upright. She walked through the front gates of the church into the courtyard and then collapsed behind a group of chatting Salvationists.

Immediately, P, who is a nurse, bent down and took her pulse and then phoned for an ambulance that never came. I went into the hall to tell my husband, P. what had happened but he was praying with a member of our church who is undergoing treatment for cancer. I returned to the scene and saw that although she was still lying on the ground I could see that the Lady who had fainted was breathing. Members of the church were standing in a row to protect her from the sun. Having finished his prayer, P. came to see what was happening and the Lady began to move her hand and open her eyes. P. bent down and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. 'Are you ok? Do you need some help?' he said. With wild staring eyes she suddenly raised her arm to hit him. He quickly stepped back and she waved her arm in front of her eyes as if to swat away a fly. It looked like she was hallucinating, and to me, it was beginning to look like she had taken some kind of drug.

The Lady stood up and began to square up to P. and we could see that she was almost as tall as him. P. used all his conflict management skills to calm her down but any kind of movement set her arms waving around. We took the children inside the hall for Sunday School and a small group of church members remained with P. as he began to talk to the Lady along with our visitor from THQ.

Whilst in the hall I took a look to see if anything had changed outside. I felt a strong urge to pray into the situation and so I went outside again but unfortunately, my little boy, A. wanted to come with me. P. was talking to the Lady on the pavement outside the church grounds and she had her back to me. So, I stood behind her and prayed a binding prayer in the name of Jesus. Unfortunately, out of habit, I raised my arm to pray and the Lady caught sight of the movement of my arm out of the corner of her eye as I brought it down by my side. She turned round and hit my arm, not at all hard, but I left the scene again carrying A. with me and P. continued to calm her down.

The children went to their Sunday School classes and so I went outside again and was very pleased to see that everything had now calmed down. The crowd had dispersed and P. was talking to the Lady a little further away from the church building with the help of G. who was translating for him. Afterwards P told me that once she calmed down he was able to have a proper conversation with her and discovering she was homeless he offered her food and clothing.

How can I explain the events of that morning and how did the situation get resolved? Were our prayers effective, did the drugs wear off or were P's conflict management skills effective in this situation? I will probably never know but there is one thing that I have learned - don't raise your arm when you are praying for a Lady who is behaving in an unpredictable way.

Getting out there.

P and I have been working in Sao Miguel for just over a year now. We have spent the past year getting to know the people, the area, the language and the culture. The needs in this area are so vast it is difficult to know where to begin or what to do, so our hope for this next year is that, as a congregation, we will discover together God's vision for our church.

On Saturday 21st August a group of 10 members of our church met together with Major Joan Burton (Territorial Projects Co-ordinator) to discuss how we can engage effectively with our community. Our action plan at the end of the day was to, 'look for open doors by prayer walking the area around the hall'. We were inspired by the testimony of Major Estelle Blake (Kings Cross, London) who prayer walked her area and after many months she was able to extend her ministry as new doors opened up to her.

So now, every Tuesday evening, while our regular prayer meeting is taking place between 8 - 9pm , two people go out and prayer walk the immediate area surrounding the church building. Tonight will be our third night out and I am looking forward to it. Our eyes are being opened to what is happening in our local area and we have had many opportunities to pray into different situations. On one evening we passed a long bus that had a window smashed in. The driver and conductor were filling in accident report forms and my prayer partner, N, spoke to them both and prayed for protection and blessing for them and the bus in the future.
There is a hospital with an emergency department at the top of the road where our church is located and this is often a focus of our prayers. We pray that God will guide us and give us wisdom as we get out there and look for ways to engage with the needs of our community.

A walk down the Avenida

I can hear my footsteps echoing down the nine flights of stairs as I descend from my apartment on the third floor. I walk out of the front door, turn right and walk down the alley past the large exotic plants in the oversized plastic containers welcoming me to the outside world. My key turns with a click in the lock of the towering, metal gate and as I push it outwards my senses are assaulted by the sights and sounds of the Avenida.
The sun shines brightly and I feel the heat on my face. Loud distorted voices announce special offers from loud speakers attached to the top of moving cars, onibus after onibus rattles by pumping thick smoke into the air and I feel the familiar sensation of pollution settling down into the back of my throat. I move from side to side avoiding pedestrians who either do not see me or do not care whether they bump into me or not; they walk at a different pace and a different rhythm to me. Music thumps out of a furniture shop and I can smell sweetcorn and hot dogs mingled with a hint of alcohol from petrol pumping traffic.
And then there is another smell; it is out of place. Amidst the smell of pollution and food stalls the smell of urine is unmistakeable and shocking because it shouldn't be here, on the Avenida. Instinctively, I look for the source of this smell and almost 5o yards along the road I see a dirty, crumpled blanket huddled in a broken down doorway and underneath.....there is a human being, a child of God. I look closer and I see a face but I cannot tell if it is a man or a woman and I am not sure if they are young or old. Poverty has taken away the luxury of identity and they have been reduced to a crumpled blanket in a doorway. This person pulls the blanket over them as if to make themselves more invisible to the crowds who show no interest in them at all.
The Avenida continues to clatter and clang as I walk past but I do not hear it. I am unaware of the pollution in the back of my throat and I no longer hear the men shouting their adverts from the tops of cars as they chug by. What story does this person have to tell? Did they once run and jump as a little child. Did they have hopes and dreams, a favourite food, a best friend, a Mum or a Dad who loved them? I think of Jesus and I wonder where He is in this person's life and then I am reminded that I am part of the body of Christ and this is where God has sent me. I cannot speak the language well enough to approach this person without causing them some concern. I have nothing with me that I can offer as a gift. I say a prayer. What can I do Lord? Show me how I can help? Not just this person, but all the people I see, each day, living in poverty, living without the basic human needs that we take for granted in the western world.
My key turns in the lock of the metal gate. It shuts with a bang and I am now on the other side. It is quieter here but that crumpled blanket continues to invade my senses and disturb my heart as I climb the nine flights of stairs back to my apartment.

Learning portuguese...

A little bit of the language is a dangerous thing....! On Thursday (8th July) P came back from the office at lunch-time and announced that the house next door to The Salvation Army hall was up for sale. I was so excited - every time I walk past that house I pray that we will be able to buy it one day (I also pray for the land behind the hall as well). I went round to the house in the afternoon and got a telephone number. One of our soldiers phoned the owner on Friday and sent a disappointing e-mail to us. Apparently, we had completely misunderstood the sign - they are selling a mobile home and not their house. This isn't the first time we have got things wrong.

On 26th June we were invited to a wedding. It was a lovely way to spend our own 11th wedding anniversary. After the service we spoke to the father of the groom. I said to P wouldn't it be good if we could say something like, 'You must be so proud of your son'. We try to keep conversation simple as we are not at all fluent in portuguese yet. P was confident he knew the word for 'proud' so he spoke to the father of the groom who gave him a strange look and said, 'No' in a kind of embarrassed manner. Fortunately, P realised that he had got his words muddled up and correcting his portuguese spoke again to the father of the groom who then looked very pleased and agreed wholeheartedly. I am so relieved P was able to correct his mistake because he had originally said, 'You must be very ashamed of your son' - which would explain the rather gracious but embarrassed response.

This week we have applied to start a portuguese language course in Sao Paulo.

Day trip to Niteroi

When I wrote my last blog on May 6th I had no idea that I would have the opportunity to meet some of the survivors of the disaster in Niteroi, Rio de Janeiro. A few weeks ago I was invited to attend a training course called, 'Developing Tools for work in the Community' and during the week we spent a day in Niteroi. My group visited an old barracks where 415 people from Bumba (the favela that experienced the mud slides and gas explosion in April) are currently living until they are re-housed in more permanent accommodation which the government has promised to provide.
While I was there I had the opportunity to talk with a lady, J, who was sitting on the steps of one of the accommodation blocks. E and P were with me and P helped me with translation. I learnt that just providing shelter, food and toiletries is not sufficient although it is a good place to start. Each family living there is given R$ 400 a month from the government. They do not need to pay rent and all their meals are provided. This may sound like a good deal to western ears but living in community brings with it many issues. They have to eat meals together at set times and one of my colleagues spoke to a man whose work (taxi driver) meant that he often missed meals and without a kitchen of his own he was not able to cook his own meal.
J was worried about safety for her 11 year old adopted daughter and she said that she felt more secure living in her house on the favela than she does living in this community. She has considered returning to her home because only half of it was destroyed - the other half is still standing. She still feels very sad and often cries. She thinks about the children who died whilst waiting for their parents to collect them from the school - the children who were collected early are still alive. On that day J was at the bar with her husband when someone came and told her that somethng had happened to her house. Before the disaster happened she had told her friend that she thought something bad was going to happen and after the mudslide her friend remembered this. She said that she believed in God so we prayed with her before we left. After the prayer she thanked us for listening to her story and she asked if someone could come back to see her. This is possible because the officers and soldiers of Niteroi Corps were heavily involved in the emergency operation and have a long term goal to work with this community. On the same day we had the privilege of attending a public ceremony with the Fire Department where the DC of the Rio de Janeiro Division received a medal on behalf of The Salvation Army for the work of supporting the emergency services at the disaster area.
Please pray that God will open doors into this community for Niteroi Corps and please pray for J and the 415 people living in temporary accommodation.

Living on a rubbish dump

Last Wednesday P, A and I travelled into the city of Sao Paulo by train. It is a 2 hour journey with 3 different changes which we have done before. However, this journey was different because at a certain point the train slowed down and because we were sitting by a window we were able to see what was outside.
There was rubbish piled up high against the bank of the railway track. We were passing a massive rubbish dump that continued along the track for about half a mile. Looking more closely I could see people on top of the rubbish scavenging for something which might be of use to them. As the train continued slowly along we noticed that small structures had been built out of wood, corrugated iron and some even of brick. I looked across the carriage to where P. was sitting to see if he had noticed that we were passing a favela built on a rubbish dump and he had.
There were children playing amongst the debris, washing hanging to dry and all the usual signs of a community but they were living on a rubbish dump. It is a dangerous place to live.
The week after Easter Rio de Janeiro experienced as much rain in a few hours as it was expecting in a month. The result was massive flooding and mud slides in different parts of the city. However, in Niteroi, a favela that had been built on a disused rubbish dump had suffered a worse fate. The gases contained deep within the rubbish below had become compressed and then exploded leaving an enormous hole where the community had lived. Deep within that hole were the remains of numerous houses, a church where a service had been taking place and a school where many children were attending an after school club. After a massive rescue operation there are still 54 people missing.
A Salvation Army team from the Sao Paulo Division and Rio were on site almost immediately, greatly aided by the fact that there was already a Salvation Army Corps in the area. They served rescue services with refreshments, counselled the bereaved at the makeshift morgue, facilitated donations and liased with the media.
Paul and I were on holiday at the time but we saw some of our colleagues from THQ on the TV news reports.
You can find more information about the work of The Salvation Army in Rio de Janeiro during this crisis on the Brazilian Salvation Army website: http://www.exercitodesalvacao.org.br/

One warm, dry evening.

Every Tuesday evening we hold a prayer meeting at the hall between 8 - 9pm. Between 20 - 30 people come along and some come stright from work. It was a warm, dry evening last Tuesday (20th April) so I was able to stand at the entrance gate to our hall and give out copies of the Rumo (the Brazilian War Cry) to passers by.
I gave away 50 copies and not one person said, 'No thank you'. During the course of the evening I noticed a young woman (aged between 19 - 22 years old) walking by on the other side of the road dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. While I was wondering whether to cross the road and give her a Rumo she also caught the attention of 3 young men in a car. The car stopped suddenly in the middle of the road right outside the Salvation Army hall and one of the men called out to her. She threw back a comment and continued walking. I watched as the driver reversed the car up the road and continued to talk to her. I wasn't aware of whether she knew the men or not but at this point I became concerned for her. I prayed that she wouldn't get into the car.
The young woman continued to walk in the same direction and the driver then turned the car around in a junction and pulled up next to her about 300 yards from where I was standing. The young woman stopped and there was a conversation between her and the young men.
I wasn't sure whether she was in a vulnerable position or not but I felt that I couldn't just watch and do nothing. So, I walked up the road to where they were talking and asked the young woman if she would like a Rumo. She took a copy of the magazine and I gave one each to the young men in the car. I turned again to the girl and said, 'Tudo bem?' (everything ok?) and she said, 'Tudo' (everything). By now she was sitting on a low wall and smoking a cigarette. So, I walked back to the Salvation Army hall and when I looked back I noticed that the car had gone and the young woman was sitting on the low wall......reading the Rumo!

Keeping my eyes open.

Not long after we were married I told my husband, P, that when I was a cadet on my Summer Placement that God had called me to work in Brazil. P said, ´Now you tell me! Why didn´t you mention this before!´ The truth was that I hadn´t thought about it since then. 8 years ago I had returned to the college after my Summer Placement and shared my thoughts about Brazil with my Sectional Officer. He told me that I should work in the UK and I breathed a sigh of relief! I thought no more about it until P and I were working in our first married appointment in Erskine, West Scotland. I wondered whether my thoughts had turned to warmer climes because I was feeling a bit chilly, so together P and I sought guidance from God. Many, many times God confirmed that He wanted us both to work for The Salvation Army in Brazil and so P became as convinced as I was that God had put a massive signpost in front of us pointing in the direction of Brazil. However, not once did God tell us why He wanted us to go or what we would do when we got here.
As we are approaching our 11th wedding anniversary we find ourselves here in Brazil working in the Corps at Sao Miguel Paulista. We were both thrilled and amazed to receive this appointment; thrilled because we love working in Corps and amazed because we can´t speak portuguese! God has still not given us any word about why he has sent a girl from Basingstoke and a boy from Pompey to work here but He has given me one very clear instruction, ´Keep your eyes open´. I was sitting on the platform waiting to preach in our Welcome Meeting last August when I felt God say this to me. So, I have tried to do this in a literal sense in every meeting.
Yesterday, I was walking through the market on the way to the Post Office to collect a parcel (see photos below) when I passed a makeshift shelter made from a large umbrella and bits of cardboard. A major thunderstorm had just ended and the multicoloured umbrella caught my attention. The answer came before I even asked the question, ´Keep your eyes open´. It felt like God was talking to me again and then I asked Him, ´What are we to do here?´
I once had a DC who said, ´The call is often seeing the need´. He had spent some years working in the Caribbean. It occurs to me that God has taken the trouble to write down what He wants us to do in the Bible and Jesus was kind enough to share His manifesto at the synagogue in Nazareth (Luke 4). I probably don´t need God to tell me why I am here, I just need to keep my eyes open, see what needs doing and do it!

Preferential treatment

Last week I decided to take A. shopping with me. I was a bit concerned about whether he would slow me down and whether I would get back to the apartment in time to have lunch and take him to school at 13:30. I really didn't need to worry. In Brazil they have something called preferential treatment so if you are elderly, disabled, pregnant or have a small child with you, you will always be able to go to the front of the queue, sit down on the bus or train or be served at a special counter. So, as I walked into the Post Office I was very surprised to see that there was no-one else in the queue (very unusual!) but even better than that, as soon as I stood at the front of the queue I was called over to a special counter where I was served immediately. I really think I should take A. shopping with me more often!
So, because we had some extra time on our hands we were able to buy some birthday presents for Daddy and have a look at some televisions. Last year we bought a Brazilian TV in a Brazilian Makro and P. has enjoyed watching premiership football on it and I have enjoyed watching the occasional film. However, two weeks ago our apartment block was hit by lightning. I was at the Hall for a prayer meeting that had just ended and we heard an enormous bang - like a bomb going off. We have alot of tropical thunderstorms here, practically every day in the summer months, so I thought it was a particularly loud thunder clap. However, when I got back to the apartment I found that P. was in the bedroom as the light in the living room was no longer working. He told me that the apartment block had been hit by lightning and the other casualty had been our TV. Fortunately, we insured it with SAGIC and our policy covers lightning. Yesterday, the light fitting was repaired and today P. took the TV to a repair shop. This is life in Brazil - there is always something to be repaired or fitted or organised and because we are so new here it takes us a long time to find out where we need to go or what we have to do. It is a great adventure!

March 1st 2010

Last week we gave away two of the church chairs to a family of five. It was a bit unusual but they only had three chairs in their house and there are two more children who stay with them every weekend. We sit on benches in the main church hall and we have about 20 - 25 blue plastic chairs in the store cupboard. We haven't missed the chairs yet. We also gave them a big box of food and some clothes. They have attended every meeting since and last night both parents knelt at the mercy seat. It is not exactly organised social work but when people come to the Salvation Army Hall in Sao Miguel Paulista and ask for help, we help them in the best way we can.
So, how did I get here? I had no idea when I gave my life to God at the age of 12 that I would one day live in Brazil. Although, I had a feeling it was something that would change my life forever, which is why it took me so long to do it. I had been going to the Salvation Army Sunday School in Basingstoke since the age of 3. My Auntie G. took me with her and when my sister was old enough, she came too. Several times a year the Sunday School leaders would give the children an opportunity to come to the front and pray and give their life to God (ie become a Christian) but I had resisted for 9 years. Then, one Sunday afternoon I was happliy ignoring God's voice calling me to follow Him when something shocked me. We were coming to the end of the prayer time and Mrs L, the Sunday School teacher at the front of the hall, was saying, 'I know there is someone here who should be at the front praying'. I was shocked. How did she know? Of course, I can look back now and realise that after 9 years the Sunday School teachers all knew that I wasn't a Christian and must have been tempted to give up all hope that I would ever make a commitment as I was heading sulkily into my teenage years. However, God used that moment to give me the big push. I turned to my sister who was 4 years younger than me and asked her to come with me. She said, 'No', and I thought that I would stay in my seat but instead I got up and knelt at the Mercy Seat. Two seconds later my sister, C, was kneeling next to me. Mrs H (my favourite Sunday School teacher) came and knelt between us and as she put her arms around us she said, 'I am so glad you have decided to do this'. For the next 6 years I tried to be a good Christian but my prayers seemed to just float away unanswered and I just couldn't seem to find the joy and peace that I was supposed to have. Then, at the age of 18, I had an amazing encounter with God. I repented of my sin, found salvation and was filled with the Holy Spirit. What a difference that made!
And now, 27 years later, here I am living in Brazil with my husband, P, and my little 4 year old boy, A. We arrived here on 1st August and immediately took up our appointment as the Commanding Officers of Sao Miguel Paulista Corps, in the Eastern part of the city of Sao Paulo, Brasil.
I have started this blog so that I can talk about my life here in Brasil for those people who are interested. It will make my e-mails a little shorter...! I am also going to set up a Facebook page for Sao Miguel Paulista so that I can illustrate my stories with photographs and videos and give an update of the work that is being done here.
Well, that's enough for today. My husband has just phoned to say that it is getting dark (at 6pm) and I should come home now. He's probably right. Thank you for reading my first blog!