A Short Letter from the Jungles of Cebu

I am writing to you all from deep within a jungle, somewhere outside of Cebu, Philippines. I'm here representing APNTS (Asia Pacific Nazarene Theological Seminary) for the Philippine Nazarene Youth Congress (PNYC) 2011. We're at a place called "Hidden Paradise," and it is very well hidden. It took about an hour on a bus from Cebu to reach the foot of the mountain and another 45 minutes to drive the long and winding mountain roads that eventually brought us to the resort. The place is beautiful enough that you almost don't miss the internet and cellular service. There is one satellite internet connection (presently not functioning) which can be used for a mere 20 pesos an hour. They tell me it will be fixed in a few hours… but that's what they told me yesterday as well.

The event has brought about 400 youth from all around the Philippines and Micronesia. It's been great to see familiar faces from around the Philippines. I'm bunking with some Dabawenyo friends if mine from the East Mindanao district. They usually use English with me in one-on-one conversation, but everything else is in deep, Davao-style, Bisaya (a common dialect in Mandanao). I understand Tagalog (the national language) but it doesn't do much good here. English and Tagalog occasionally garnish their conversation, in which case, I am able to have a very brief window of understanding where I get to determine the basic topic of conversation. Other than that, I'm usually in the dark about most of what they are saying (however, I'm quite fluent in non-verbals). Hopefully, I will be able to brush up on my Bisaya before heading back to Tagalog-speaking Manila this Saturday.

The week has been a wonderful time of reflection and connection with friends from around the Philippines. I have been encouraged to talk with so many people that share my same interests and passions in ministry and social action. I'm very excited to work with some of these dynamic leaders in the future. My conversations this week have started my mind turning and thinking about new and creative ways to live out one's faith and theology in a world and church that is need of new and renewed hope. I don't know what the next few years may bring but I hope that these people can somehow be a part of it.

(more pictures to come...)

"The Art of Bridge Building": Redefining Seminary

As a disclaimer, the following was written by me, but its not really an official blog-post.

I really wanted to blog something today, but there are still so many other things for me to write. I just couldn't justify taking the time to satisfy my blogging appetites. Instead, I decided to post an article that I wrote yesterday for a newspaper column. It gives a good picture of some of the work that I am doing here in Manila for APNTS.

By Jarrett Davis
APNTS Communications Officer

What comes to mind when you think of “Seminary”? Pristine brick edifices? Arched church ceilings? Monks and Priests behind high walls? Asia-Pacific Nazarene Theological Seminary (APNTS) believes that a Seminary should be more about bridging divides, than building walls. Its founding motto is, “Bridging Cultures for Christ.” Through this key drive, the school has committed itself to developing leaders from its surrounding communities.

StepUP

Human Trafficking is perhaps one of the greatest and darkest challenges of today's society. It is an inhumane business that nets a global profit of nearly 32 Billion US Dollars. As a part of the fight against this terrible crime, APNTS has partnered with the Visayan Forum Foundation as well as Microsoft Philippines, to offer the StepUP Program. This program offers employable computer and life skills to out-of-school youth from at-risk communities.

APNTS utilizes what they call the "Multiplier Effect", which is the idea of training trainers from the local communities that are able to, in turn, train others. This method had greatly aided in the programs ability to spread in a grass roots fashion. Dr. Robert Donahue is professor of Missions and Urban Ministry and Director of Donald Owens School of World Mission. He has directed the "StepUP" program since its inception 2 years ago, and reports that nearly 600 trainers and youth have been trained in the program over the past two years, and nearly 150 have been trained to train others and establish community centers.

The stepUP program brought a new awareness of the communities surrounding the APNTS. Many participants in the program came from socially and/or economically underprivileged areas and were delayed in their educations. Although, the StepUP program was able to give them employable skills, it was not able to help them finish a basic education. Something else was needed.

Alternative Learning System

In response the greater educational needs of its surrounding community members, APNTS partnered with the Philippine Department of Education (DepEd) to establish the Alternative Learning System (ALS) on their campus. ALS is designed for filipnios who have not gone through formal schooling. The program, funded by a grant from Overseas Council International, helps academically delayed students to meet requirements for graduation, employment, and even higher education.

Dr. Nativity Petallar is the Director of the Holistic Child Development Program at APNTS and coordinates the ALS program at the school. Dr. Petallar is able to work alongside of her Masters and PhD students to help them not only teach and minister to the children and youth, but to help them to become advocates of the children and young adults in their contexts. She comments that most NGO's focus on social and economic development a people groups, however, the approach of APNTS the approach of APNTS adds another special concentration on the spiritual development of children.


The students of this program come from a diversity of backgrounds. Some are coming out of Human trafficking situations and receive rehabilitation from the School's partnering agencies. Other groups are vulnerable to drugs and other social equally significant social problems. The HDC students of APNTS strive to work in this context to bring a holistic kind of development these young people.

Why a Seminary?

While the common image of Seminaries may be their walls and edifices, APNTS hopes that its image will be of the bridges that it is able to build. APNTS president Floyd Cunningham says, "Seminary education must not only convey knowledge, build competency, and shape character, but direct attention to our immediate context of ministry. ...We must think outside the walls and reach beyond whatever seals off the church, by bridging the walls that separate us from the people among whom we live."

APNTS continues to expand its advocacy in these areas through the integration of trafficking and migration issues into its curriculum, and by encouraging its students and ministry partners to support such community-based initiatives. The school is excited to be an integral part of the lives of the people it serves, however it recognizes that it would be unable to do what it does without the generous participation and support from its partnering organizations.

A Significant Gathering:

Yesterday, I had the privilege of attending the “Commitment Day Against Trafficking in Persons." The event drew a host of significant political and civic figures from the Philippines and partnering nations as well as humanitarian, religious and academic groups to reaffirm and celebrate their commitment to end Human Trafficking and Exploitation of persons in the Philippines. Everything about this gathering excited me. It excited me not only because I care deeply about the fight against human trafficking and exploitation, but also because there were few people at this gathering whose job I did not want. Namely, the jobs of the Ambassador of the United States to the Philippines and absolutely ANYONE from the US Agency for International Development.

I was there in behalf of APNTS and in support of the school and Nazarene Compassionate Ministries which have both played some big roles in programs for trafficking awareness and prevention. While there, Dr Donahue gave the school's official pledge to aid in empowering vulnerable communities through alternative learning, values formation and vocational, life skills and computer training.

I truly enjoyed to see the great amount multi-sector collaboration that had gone into this event. Religious Groups, Academic Instituions, the Department of Justice, and even MTV. The crowd was incredibly diverse, but incredibly unified in their passion and support for the work against trafficking and exploitation.

It was fascinating to see how each group played it's own unique role. I remember one group, called "HapPinoy", who teaches with rural Sari-Sari Store* owners in Philippine villages about the dynamics of Human Trafficking. Why Sari-Sari store owners, you ask? Because, anyone who has ever lived in a filipino community knows that the local Sari-Sari Store is the hub for all of the community's gossip. Seriously, if you need to know anything about ANYONE, at all, at any time, ever, in a filipino community, just ask the local Sari-Sari store owner. They are the eyes and ears of every barangay. HapPinoy works to teach these shopkeepers about the system of trafficking and what signs to look for. Its an immediate grassroots, community of informants, operating in the rural, hard-to-reach places, where eyes and ears are needed most.

This was an encouraging day. It gave me new ideas, questions and made me want to do much more in this line of work.

That brings me to tomorrow. I will be going to Antipolo to the "Center of Hope" to talk with the director of a center that deals with girls that have been rescued from trafficking and exploitation.

(* A Sari-Sari Store is like a Small, rugged convenient store--sometimes even a stand--which is found on nearly every street corner in the Philippines.)

A Brief Update:

Greetings, readers of this blog!

I have made it back to the Philippine Islands safe and unharmed. (Also, on an unrelated side note, I have not been killed by a giant Tsunami, nor have I perished in a gaping crater opened up by an violent earthquake. After receiving a few long-distance phone calls, I realize that this might be something that I should say. ) My journey back was long, stressful, and deserving of an entire blog post (maybe two) in its honor. However, that story will take some time to tell, and time is something that has been running scarce. So, that story, along with its pictures, is still to come.

As many of you may already know, I have returned to the Philippines to serve temporarily as the Communications Officer for APNTS (Asia-Pacific Nazarene Theological Seminary). My goal is essentially to get people talking and connected: person to person, department to department, committee to committee, and then APNTS to the Globe. A large focus (and my personal interest) will be with an initiative against Human Trafficking and Exploitation called "StepUP". This is a large partnership between APNTS, Visayan Forum, NCM, and a few other NGO/Humanitarian groups. I hope to become well acquainted with this kind of work and eventually do my Dissertation in the community/human development and the integration of such programs. That is another story that is yet to be told.

In the meantime, my life has been consumed with papers and final revisions to my thesis before it goes for publishing. I have felt terrible for, once again, allowing this blog to gather dust while my life galavants onward--stories untold, and thoughts unrecorded. So... to stave off the encroaching feelings of guilt and soothe the inklings journalistic negligence, I thought I would jot you all a quick note to say that all is well. And it is.

Until next post,

Jarrett

(** The picture above is from "American Culture Day". I made it back to the Philippines just in time to join. At APNTS every cultural group has their own day in which they share a little about their culture and provide some "cultural food". This year, we made Peanut Butter and Jelly.)

"If It Ain't Broke..."

This morning began in disappointment. I woke up thinking that I had a job as a substitute at Teays Valley High School. In my rush to get to arrive at my assignment on time, I neglected to pay attention to the date and time of my assignment. I found that I had actually made it to the school early--an entire day early. "There goes a good 70 dollars down the drain," I thought to myself. To make matters worse, I had turned down two other teaching assignments for today thinking that I already had an assignment.

Frustrated and disappointed, I headed home. As I made my way down State route 23, I was inspired by a simple sign. It read, "Diner" and featured a crude arrow pointing to the rear annex of a highway gas station. Before even considering to stop, my decision was made. I turned the car around and arrived at "the Fork and Spoon Diner" for Breakfast.

I’ve learned that diners, much like barber shops and hardware stores, are epicenters of rural culture. They are indigenous hubs for the exchange of the stories, thoughts, and ideas of whatever local community that they are a part. If there is anything that you want (or don't want) to know about a certain place, you'll most likely hear it over bacon and eggs at a place like this--and I do mean anything. Not to mention, their waitresses are priceless!

The other day I visited "The Fork and Spoon" cafe, and it was certainly no disappointment. I mean, how could it be a disappointment? It was very clearly printed on the restaurant’s doors and menus that, this place--- was the "best forking place in town." A true place of class, I'd say. I mean, who could argue with a statement like that?

I walked right in, entering into an empty diner.  For a moment, I wondered if the place was even open. The walls were boldly painted and decorated with a vague mexican theme. Across the room hung a giant fork and spoon which bordered a large plate-shaped chalkboard announcing that on Fridays, $8.99 would get you all the fried fish you can eat with fries and cole slaw. Beside that was the "Wall of Flame"--two shelves loaded with a enough hot sauce to euthanize a hippo.

I walked up to the counter and immediately a hearty-looking, woman of middle age, burst through the pivoting kitchen doors calling, "You jus go 'head and have a seat, honey."  She was a brawny woman, wearing an open flannel shirt and a baseball cap. She had a tough, straight-forward personality, and looked like she could hold her ground in a fist-fight. She was a hoot and a half, plus two thirds of another hoot.  She came to take my order and spoke with each other in short clips:

"Start with coffee?"

"Sure."

"Cream?"

"No thanks."

"Getcha some water?"

"Sounds good"

"what'll ya have, hun?"

"A la carte: eggs, bacon, and home fries.

"Right back, hun."

She had that characteristic truck-stop waitress finesse: tough, quick, with a rough and tumble, tell-it-like-it-is attitude. She seemed to know the life stories of nearly all of "the regulars" who come in to eat there. She prides herself in givin' the boys big, hearty portions of home-cooked food. She knows just what they like. That's why she's had to teach the new managers a thing or two about the gravy. "I told her there just wasn't enough flour in the roux; wasn't anything like what we had before." she explained. "You know they tried to put hot sauce in the gravy--no one around here's gonna eat that." Before long, I knew the entire history of "The Fork and Spoon Diner", formerly known as "The Hot Spot", formerly known as "The Iron Horse Cafe," but unanimously known to the locals as the "Whompler truck stop".

Apparently the new management had come in to the place with the idea of "cleaning it up" and giving it a few modern twists. They added a couple LCD TV Screens, brought in the new "Texican" (my word for it) theme, changed the menu, and even put the place on Facebook. What they didn't realize is that they had introduced two things that most of their local clientele were not comfortable with: change and "foreign stuff".

"This place used to be packed," she explained. "I'd spend 8 hours back there just trying to keep up with the dishes." But this morning it was just her. She was the cook, dishwasher, cashier, waitress and entertainer. We talked for some time, she behind her counter, and I on the other side of the dining room. She gave me a real ear-full how NOT to improve a Truck Stop Diner. "A lot of these guys that come in here they say that I'm the only reason they come in... and I do my best to give 'em a generous helping of good food," she said. I realized something very important this morning. Diners are not restaurants. They are deeply interwoven into the fabric of their surrounding culture, and the facilities and food are really so important. Diners seem to be a kind of outgrowth of the people of a community. Like I said, if you want to know anything about a place, find it's local diner.

Earning a special place in my heart, "The Fork and Spoon Cafe" delivered a "forking good time," just at they had promised.

What is the moral of the story, you ask?

"When it comes to small town america (especially Circleville), the old saying, 'If it ain't broke, don't fix it,' always rings true."

A Little Slice of Americana

Today I was a substitute Spanish teacher at Teays Valley High School in Ashville, Ohio. On my lunch break, I stopped by the “Cherry Street Diner” in Downtown Ashville. It’s a quaint little diner which still bears all the furnishings and style of the 70’s and 80’s. The walls are decked with all sorts of random americana. Everything from a Betty Boop imitating marilyn monroe, to a clock featuring Elvis Presley with swaying hips. A sign hangs above the front counter reading, “Prices subject to change according to customer’s attitude.” Beside it, is a notice from the complaint department featuring a hand grenade with a small number attached to it’s pin. Just below it it reads, “Take a number”

I seated myself at a small table just down from Elvis and directly below an old tin sign for Vernor’s Ginger Ale. The simple upholstered metal chairs and wood-patterned laminate tabletop immediately brought back memories of my great-grandmother. The steady twangy beat of the FM Country station playing in the background seemed to blend so much into the decor that I almost didn’t notice it until sometime after I had been seated.

The diner’s one waitress was named “Kimy”; spelled K-I-M-Y, “KI..MY”--NOT Kimberly, NOT Kim, but Kimy. She was very clear on that point. Kimy was as classic as they come, it was as if she was one and the same with the whole downtown diner package. She always seemed to have a coffee carafe in her hand, which she carried with her as she sped about from table to table, awing her customers with her extraordinary wit, blunt quips, and take-it-or-leave it attitude. She’s was a real gem. As she sped around to my table, I quickly placed an order for a real “greasy spoon” classic: Two fried eggs--over-medium, bacon, home fries, and a cup of that magically mediocre coffee sloshing around in Kimy’s pot. The order was done and on the table in no more than two and a half shakes (give or take a quarter of a shake). It was everything I had hoped: a salty and greasy goodness that slid straight down, fulfilling a deep longing for a classic kind of Americana that I had nearly forgotten.

I have never been here before, but somehow, I feel like I know everyone. This is truly one of those places that knows no strangers--or maybe its just Flo. I just watched her fish through a big bowl of candy Valentine hearts sitting on the front counter for Valentine’s day. As she dug through, she would read allowed each heart in an attempt to award her customer with a heart that is most like him. She claims to be an excellent judge of character and she didn’t even hesitate to tell this man exactly who she perceived him to be. “He likes the ladies” she announced to the woman sitting beside him--a comment which I am certain was given plenty of attention on the couple’s ride home.

As a went up to pay and I handed my card to an obvious “new hire”. At the mere scent of unconfidence, Kimy burst through the pivoting cafe door and seized her golden opportunity to take the young fledgeling under her wing. The three of us walked through the painstaking process of processing a credit card--the right way. This, of course, lead to several fiery stories of countless run-ins that she has had with customers who have had their cards handled the wrong way. Slightly ruffled, and with eyes that looked as if they had just witnessed a furious hurricane, the new hire delicately handed me back the card as Kimy continued the force of her story. After batting back and forth a few playful quips with the seasoned waitress. I sat back down and finish off that mediocre cup of downtown diner goodness, reflecting on the rich slice of americana that lay before me.

2011 Status Report (part 2): Where am I now?

Coming back home has been great. As I said in my last post, my arrival was greeted by a greatly missed group of family and friends who provided me with hugs and a good hour or so of late-night catching-up at Steak and Shake.

At our house, the Christmas season is not to be missed. My Dad is the uncompromising, iron-clad director of Christmas in the Davis Household. He decorates with an authoritarian zeal that has epitomized the holiday season throughout my Childhood. The moment the thanksgiving turkey is taken from the table, lights, garland and other various golden knickknacks slowly begin appearing on every mantle, end-table, bench and ledge of our home--even the dog is adorned with festive scarfs. Our tree is a brilliant and burning ball of yuletide joy. It stands 7 feet tall and has nearly 4,000 lights. It literally radiates heat. I can easily read a book by its light from across the room. It is draped with thick gold-lined, ivory ribbon and is dripping with glass icicles and vintage-looking golden ornaments. The heat from thousands of incandescent lights coupled with all of those stunningly flammable adornments--it's a wonder that this Davis-family marvel hasn't gone up in flames. My sister and I used to joke of fears that helicopters bound for the hospital (which sits a few blocks away from our house) would mistake our house for a helipad and attempt a landing. Although my sister and I have made a tradition of harassing my Dad's seasonally-onset mania--we secretly love it, and both agree that the Davis home is really a wonderful place to be for Christmas. --Also, speaking of my sister, she is the eccentric one in the picture (above), sporting a Sari that I brought her from India.

Amid Christmas and New Year and all that those holidays bring with them, I have also been working--a lot, since I have gotten home. I hadn't been home a week and I had already gotten my old job back as a server at the Spaghetti Warehouse, in Columbus. It's a fun place to work, and probably the most diverse group of people that I have worked with... ever. For those of you who don't know, the Spaghetti Warehouse is literally just that--an old Warehouse that was built in the late 1800's. The place was one first cold-storage facilities of it's type. The mammoth building was converted into a gigantic restaurant with seating for over 800 people. The lobby still features the giant fly-wheel (it stands about 10 feet high) that used to pressurize pipes with ammonia gas, which was used to refrigerate the facility. Inside the main dining room is an old street car from the early 1900. The street car was formerly used for commuters in Columbus, now you can eat dinner in it. Regardless, it's a fun place to work, and it has kept me busy and connected with people since I have gotten back.

It has been exactly two months since I have landed in the United States. I have notice that my culture-hopping skills have been greatly honed over the past few years. The transition has not been nearly as hard as previous years. Coming back to my home culture is not as easy as it would seem. After a couple years of immersion in the cultures of South-east Asia, adjusting back to the US usually leaves me in a heavy sort of existential dilemma. Living at home, the people and places are all so familiar, and it is because of that familiarity you would expect the whole scenario to be comfortable. But, it's not.


Immersion in another culture has a way of changing you. It opens you up to alternate ways of thinking about people and society. In many South-east Asian nations, relational harmony is a key value. That means, its important to minimize one's own points of conflict with another, in order to maintain smooth interpersonal relationships. In America, we often value the "bottom line". The bottom line couldn't really care less about relational harmony. It more concerned about the end result, and ones own ability to produce that end result in a quick and efficient manner. This has made us into the people that we are. It is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, this is more than likely one of the reasons of America's great success and productivity over the years. It's really a great value. However, if you are coming from a more euphemistic culture (ie. the Philippines) that would rather placate than deliver cold objective truths for the sake of a revered "bottom line"-- then, this American cultural reality will hit you like a glass of cold water to the face, and it always does.

I credit my ability to deal with all of this to what I have been learning in ethnography. I have learned how to observe and value something from the outside. It has taught me how to respect the great differences that I see in people and appreciate them for what they are. Rather than going into a deep existential dilemma and bemoaning the fact that I don't fit in, I have learned to simply observe, learn, and enjoy the people around me, including all of their cultural oddities and personal peculiarities. This has been revolutionary to me. It has allowed me to gain perspective on my own culture and upbringing, and rather than throwing me into a dilema, it's given me an understanding of who I am.

Who I am inevitably leads to "where am I going?" That is something that I would like to talk about in my next post.