Animal Crackers.

Babble babble babble

Bonus points to the brave few who’ll make it through all 9 minutes and 46 seconds of me. High five in advance.

Haven’t stopped moving yet… jeepers. This day will end at some point. This I know.

xx Aimee Cait

Quick Preemptive Apology

Right, so – this week is the week of all weeks (so far, that is – MAY is gonna be properly MENTAL). I will be busier than the proverbial bee, and there’s a chance it might not end up bein’ real pretty, sooooooo I’m gonna go ahead and apologize for a potential lack of posting this week. Iffn I get the chance, I’ll totally give y’all a quick rundown on how things are goin’ and the like, but otherwise, I really can’t see when I’ll have a spare moment (that I’m not sleeping, of course).

This weekend was wild – woke up and got lots of work done on Saturday (because that’s what everyone wants to do with their “time off”), then went out with friends for my friend Rebekah’s 19th birthday. Y’know, it still feels strange to say that I’m nineteen years old. Very strange indeed. I feel about seven.

This morning was an early start – woke up at 9 (sliiiightly later than I might have done had I been thinking) & rushed to get ready for a youth-led church service at St. John’s. I am SO proud of my youth. They were amazing. They shared their Slum Survivor experience & what they learned from sleeping rough for a few nights. I don’t think I’d realized what a cool thing we’d done that weekend until this morning. Listening to a bunch of 17 & 18 year olds talk about how much they’d been challenged & how much they’d gotten out of this experience really just broke me. Thank you God for letting me be a part of their lives, getting to play a role in events that actually mean something to them, helping them to grow into these amazing people… I’m so grateful for the role I get to play in their lives. Man.

Later on, I’ll post something a girl named Eleanor wrote – it was so flippin’ convicting. It affected the whole congregation & I got all misty – granted, it doesn’t take much to get me to cry, but it was just so honest & true. Homegirl’s got talent & faith that could move mountains. I’m really humbled when I hear what these kids worry about & what they spend their time learning about — I was not that kind of kid. I mean, I wasn’t completely selfish, either, but I don’t think I could be bothered sometimes. They’ve challenged me so much this year. Their passion has ignited passion in my own heart, and that’s something I’m incredibly thankful for.

Soooooo again, I apologize for a potential dry patch in my blogging, but I’ll be back soon.

Love you dearly.
xx Aimee Cait

Funny Story

No, really.

So get this: here I am, awake at WHAT time? 7 am.
Ooooh I’m soooo not made to be functioning at this hour of the dayyyyyy. Whine whine whine.

But at any rate, it’s looking like a fairly ’stuff’-packed day, so I’ll see what I can relay to you later.
Must tell you about J. John and the kick off of Just10 last night in Gateshead – stunning.

Have a brilliant day – I’m off to grab myself some tea & get ready for a gig at a school!

xx Aimee Cait

My day’s labo(u)r…

Your thoughts?

I’m sooooooo tired. It’s been suuuuuch a long day.
(How ridiculous is it that I can be ‘exhausted’ from Photoshopping?)

Life is good — Mondays are more or less my least favorite day of the week, but to be fair, today was alright. I’m currently relaxing and listening to This American Life (which I’ve done for most of the day; Ira is my homeboy).

I listened to a story earlier about this guy who introduced the phrase ‘…raises new and troubling questions…’ into American journalism, all as a contest between himself and a colleague. Amazing. I absolutely love the stuff This American Life discovers. Jeepers. Regular contributor to This American Life: that’d be my dream job. What a life.

Right. It’s late — I hope you’re all havin’ a lovely week.  

xx Aimee Cait

Post Slum Survivor Wrap Up

As part of Hope 2008, young people in Durham gathered together to spend their weekend the way a billion people across our world spend a lifetime. 26 young people between 13 and 19 years old signed up, recruited sponsors, and together raised (so far – money is still coming in) £275 past the target sum of £1000 for Soul Action projects. The weekend was absolutely amazing. Here are a few high points.

The actual slum building challenge was an excellent team building activity. The slum dwellings all ended up looking pretty unique as different ideas came into play – at one point it looked a bit shaky but as the families worked together they were all up and completed within 2 hours – as well as passing the weather tests!

Our first meal of rice & dhal (lentils) took ages to cook and as such was appreciated by hungry tummies! However, meager portions and lack of meal options helped communicate to us what real hunger might be like. 

The challenges throughout the weekend were a massive success.  A cold, muddy pitch set the stage for a homemade footy tournament (with some balls holding out longer than others!). Slum dwellers felt the sting of rejection whilst bartering in the ‘market place’, selling their own handmade paper bags. (Oddly, after two meals of rice & dhal, the flour & water paste we cooked up for the bags smelled strangely appetizing.) They were forced to make snap decisions between different-coloured Skittles – which was medicine, which was tainted? – illustrating the value of literacy in slum settings. Prizes for winning families ranged from a fizzy drink (one drink to share between their whole family) and a bag of small apples. 

In the evening of the Saturday we had a campfire where the teams were asked to provide entertainment for each other, which birthed a particularly hilarious human bowling game. They were also surprised at 11pm by a ’soup-run’ from the back of a volunteer’s car – I don’t think I’ve ever seen people run so fast for soup!

The demolition challenge was an unexpected (well, fairly unexpected) twist as two ‘officials’ turned up and announced (with convincing malice) our eviction. One official advanced threateningly towards a particular ‘family’s’ slum and the young people, including members of other slum families, formed a human barricade around the structure. Sadly, their efforts were in vain & with a bit of brute strength, the slum was destroyed. The official, however, was not off the hook just yet – in a show of community, several young people picked him up and carried him away from the slum. (One youth wittily remarked: “You can take away our home… but you will never take our FREEDOM!”)

Now, there were decisions to be made. We had an issue: four of our mates had now been rendered shelter-less. What to do? Take them in? Let them sort it out themselves? Help them rebuild? The young people got their heads together and shared ideas on what to do and voted for the best option which involved expanding some of the standing slums to accommodate for those whose homes had been destroyed.

Whilst on night watch on Friday (night one) we came face to face with the reality of homelessness as a man turned up at 2AM and sat sharing his story through the night. With help from the vicar at the church we made steps to do what we could to help out and signpost him to longer-term agencies. All in all, his arrival that morning added an unexpected but helpful facet to the weekend that allowed young people to put a name & face on the issues we were dealing with.

By the time 8AM Sunday rolled around, we were exhausted, hungry and ready to go home. Personally, I’d never valued the bed I sleep in more than I did then. We tore down the slum, packed up & moved out. St. John’s Neville’s Cross went back to its original state, all in time for Palm Sunday services to happen. We learned loads from our weekend simulation experience. We’ve walked away with, if nothing else, a fresh perspective on poverty & social injustice and also, questions about what God might have us do to help change it.

(Copied/pasted from the original @ the DurhamYFCweblogzz)

xx Aimee Cait

Stars upon thars…

Submitted for your approval…

THE SNEETCHES
by Dr. Seuss

Now the Star-bellied Sneetches had bellies with stars.
The Plain-bellied Sneetches had none upon thars.
The stars weren’t so big; they were really quite small.
You would think such a thing wouldn’t matter at all.
But because they had stars, all the Star-bellied Sneetches
would brag, “We’re the best kind of Sneetch on the beaches.”

With their snoots in the air, they would sniff and they’d snort, “
We’ll have nothing to do with the plain-bellied sort.”
And whenever they met some, when they were out walking,
they’d hike right on past them without even talking.

When the Star-bellied children went out to play ball,
could the Plain-bellies join in their game? Not at all!
You could only play ball if your bellies had stars,
and the Plain-bellied children had none upon thars.

When the Star-bellied Sneetches had frankfurter roasts,
or picnics or parties or marshmallow toasts,
they never invited the Plain-bellied Sneetches.
Left them out cold in the dark of the beaches.
Kept them away; never let them come near,
and that’s how they treated them year after year.

Then one day, it seems, while the Plain-bellied Sneetches
were moping, just moping alone on the beaches,
sitting there, wishing their bellies had stars,
up zipped a stranger in the strangest of cars.

“My friends, ” he announced in a voice clear and keen,
“My name is Sylvester McMonkey McBean.
I’ve heard of your troubles; I’ve heard you’re unhappy.
But I can fix that; I’m the fix-it-up chappie.
I’ve come here to help you; I have what you need.
My prices are low, and I work with great speed,
and my work is one hundred per cent guaranteed.”

Then quickly, Sylvester McMonkey McBean
put together a very peculiar machine.
Then he said, “You want stars like a Star-bellied Sneetch?
My friends, you can have them . . . . for three dollars each.
Just hand me your money and climb on aboard.”

They clambered inside and the big machine roared.
It bonked. It clonked. It jerked. It berked.
It bopped them around, but the thing really worked.
When the Plain-bellied Sneetches popped out, they had stars!
They actually did, they had stars upon thars!

Then they yelled at the ones who had stars from the start,
“We’re exactly like you; you can’t tell us apart.
We’re all just the same now, you snooty old smarties.
Now we can come to your frankfurter parties!”

“Good grief!” groaned the one who had stars from the first.
“We’re still the best Sneetches, and they are the worst.
But how in the world will we know,” they all frowned,
“if which kind is what or the other way ’round?”

Then up stepped McBean with a very sly wink, and he said,
“Things are not quite as bad as you think.
You don’t know who’s who, that is perfectly true.
But come with me, friends, do you know what I’ll do?
I’ll make you again the best Sneetches on beaches,
and all it will cost you is ten dollars eaches.

Belly stars are no longer in style, ” said McBean.
“What you need is a trip through my stars-off machine.
This wondrous contraption will take off your stars,
so you won’t look like Sneetches who have them on thars.”

That handy machine, working very precisely,
removed all the stars from their bellies quite nicely.
Then, with snoots in the air, they paraded about.
They opened their beaks and proceeded to shout,
“We now know who’s who, and there isn’t a doubt,
the best kind of Sneetches are Sneetches without.”

Then, of course those with stars all got frightfully mad.
To be wearing a star now was frightfully bad.
Then, of course old Sylvester McMonkey McBean
invited them into his stars-off machine.
Then, of course from then on, you can probably guess,
things really got into a horrible mess.

All the rest of the day on those wild screaming beaches,
the Fix-it-up-Chappie was fixing up Sneetches.
Off again, on again, in again, out again,
through the machine and back round about again,
still paying money, still running through,
changing their stars every minute or two,
until neither the Plain- nor the Star-bellies knew
whether this one was that one or that one was this one
or which one was what one or what one was who!

Then, when every last cent of their money was spent,
the Fix-It-Up-Chappie packed up and he went.
And he laughed as he drove in his car up the beach,
“They never will learn; no, you can’t teach a Sneetch!”

But McBean was quite wrong, I’m quite happy to say,
the Sneetches got quite a bit smarter that day.
That day, they decided that Sneetches are Sneetches,
and no kind of Sneetch is the BEST on the beaches.
That day, all the Sneetches forgot about stars,
and whether they had one or not upon thars.

Yes, it applies.

You have now heard possibly the greatest bedtime story ever.

Feeling blessed? That’s ’cause you arrrrre.

Borrowed from Wikipedia:

There is a reference to The Sneetches in the Dead Kennedys song, “Holiday in Cambodia”

“You’re a Star-bellied Sneetch,

you suck like a leech.

You want everyone to act like you.”

Also: “The Sneetches” is written in anapestic tetrameter, and – as is typical for Seuss books – follows the rhyme scheme and meter very strictly.

Brilliant, much? I know.

The story of The Sneetches came up today whilst I was reviewing/planning with Kate for a few lessons we’re doing next Wednesday at a school. Our themes are respect, individuality, looking at who they are and why they are the way they are. Prejudice came up, and Kate started talking about some story where people have green noses, and then I suddenly remembered the glory of the Sneetches. One of my favorite films growing up (sooooo retro) it also had the story of the Zax (South Going & North Going — you remember, right?) and the little musical interludes with the Cat in the Hat were fabulous. So groovy. It makes me smile, ’cause I know my mom is going to read this and smile. (Bubba, thank you for raising me on the finer things in life: my name is the Lorax, I speak for the trees!)

So at any rate, I hope this gives you a bit of a laugh. Youth work is good fun & manages to be different every day. Love it.

xx Aimee Cait

 

And now for something completely different…

Three fairly unrelated things:

1. Slum Survivor article in the Northern Echo!!

2. Chocolate Guinness Cake? Best idea possibly ever.

Created this confectionery miracle at Ben & Sam’s earlier. Suchhhh a gorgeous idea. The flavour of the stout was just barely recognizable with the amount of sugar & chocolate that was involved. Gorgeous, capital G. 

3. This makes me laugh. 

Hope it’s been a brilliant St. Patrick’s Day, with minimal pinching & maximum joyful stuff. More happy thoughts to come as Easter draws e’er nigh. 

What does ‘nigh’ even mean, really?

xx Aimee Cait

Happy St. Pat’s!

Right, so in the States, we’ve always given the Irish a nod come March 17. Every year I’ve been on this earth, I’ve ‘celebrated’ somehow — even if that just meant wearing the obligatory kelly green in an effort to minimalize the risk of suffering a pinch at the hands of my fellow classmates. Being a bit of a mutt, nationality-wise, (we’ll settle on Welsh/Scot for the purpose of this post) I don’t have that sort of distinct identity based on my heritage. Granted, I hold my 18 years in South Louisiana in high regard, but I’m no Boudreaux, Thibodeaux, Bajoie or Martinez. I am Gwaltney. I’ve never been able to say “Kiss me, I’m Irish!” or anything fun like that. So this year, I’m taking St. Patrick’s Day and making it my own.

Right, so we don’t actually do St. Patrick’s Day like we do in the States ’cause here they’ve got something of a friendly cultural rivalry goin’ on with Ireland. Understandable, yeah. But that means no local parades, no green beer, no wearing of the green, nothin’.

Therefore, I’ve decided that I’m initiating my own festivities.

Nigella Lawson (my new favourite kitchen guru) has an amazing recipe for a chocolate Guinness cake. In the spirit of St. Patrick’s Day, I’m making it tomorrow & lovely shall be its name.

Also, I’m sharing the recipe here with you! Yayyy for increasing your calorie intake! Cheers!

CHOCOLATE GUINNESS CAKE
from Nigella Lawson’s book, Feast

cake
250ml Guinness
1 cup butter
75g cocoa
400g caster sugar
140ml sour cream
2 eggs
1 Tablespoon vanilla extract
275g plain flour
2 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

icing
300g cream cheese
150g icing sugar
125ml heavy cream

preparation

1. Preheat the oven to 180C/355F, and grease and line a 9-inch springform tin.
2. Pour the Guinness into a large saucepan, and add the sliced butter. Heat until the butter is melted, and remove the saucepan from the heat. Whisk in the cocoa and sugar. Beat the sour cream with the eggs and the vanilla, then pour into the saucepan. Finally, beat in the flour and baking soda.
3. Pour the batter into the greased and lined tin, and bake for 45 minutes to an hour. Leave to completely cool in the tin – it is quite a damp cake.
4. For the icing, beat the icing sugar and cream cheese together. Add the cream, and beat again until it’s a spreadable consistency. Ice the top of the black cake until it resembles the frothy head of a pint of Guinness.

Sounds lovely! I’ll let you know how it goes.

Also – quick note – Slum Survivor was amazing, and it’s going to take a few posts to debrief on that. Thank you so much for your prayers, they were sincerely felt. I saw God move in me and my kids this weekend — total blessing. I’ll also hopefully be able to give you a sum total of what we raised this weekend for Tearfund. We had several raise over £100 (over $200 USD). That’s amazing. We’re marrying passionate words with passionate works and that’s exciting. Thank you for keeping us in your prayers as we really delved into the subject of poverty and tried to experience just a bit of how others spend their entire lives. It was so worth it.

xx Aimee Cait

It’s a mad, mad world

Right, so I’ve been rummaging through Tearfund’s resources for a few days now, just doing a bit of digging pre-Slum Survivor. (Slum Survivor is the brainchild of Tearfund & Mike Pilivachi of Soul Survivor, and his social action spin off, Soul Action.) I’m really going through a bit of a wake-up call as far as social justice is concerned. Never before has my heart been tugged at like this.

When parents die of an AIDS-related illness and leave their children behind, a new form of family is created: the child-headed household. Malaria, poor health and the violence of war can all create child-headed households, but AIDS is making more than most.

We don’t know as much about child-headed households as we’d like to. Why? Because these are children whose lives are hidden from view – keeping their heads down so as not to draw attention to themselves, working hard and trying to create a life where childhood has vanished.

(Image courtesy of Tearfund)

So, these are the facts.

• According to UNAIDS there are 15 million children orphaned by AIDS
• In Rwanda alone there are as many as 10,000 child-headed households
• One in ten households in Swaziland is run by orphans
• Every 15 seconds another child is orphaned by AIDS
• Every year 1,400 children under 15 die from an AIDS-related illness

Can you imagine being 15 years old and having to take care of your younger brothers? 15 years old, dreams & ambitions of your own, and realistically not having the opportunity to pursue them.

I have parents. (Full stop: first massive difference between me & these kids.) Parents that have given me every chance to excel in life. They’ve provided shelter, food, laughter, love, and education, just to name a few.

More than anything, this makes me want to waste my life on these kids — there’s my nannying instincts kickin’ in. They are so precious, so beautiful, so desperately in need of love and care and doctors and some place warm to sleep. They need mums & dads. They need money. They need clean water, food, healthcare… they need a chance at life outside the hell that they’re currently living in.

Today, Kate and I were preparing for our pre-Slum Survivor meeting. We were gathering our youth – joining a few local youth groups and having them all meet together here at Antioch House to kind of ‘brief’ them on what’s going on this weekend, but more importantly, to really get their attention as to why we’re doing this. Why raise money for kids you don’t know in a country you’ve never seen or heard of? Why slum it for a weekend when you could be doing other things with your time?

We started to gather information and resources from various websites, and Kate came across a few videos from the Make Poverty History campaign. The first one we watched was this tiny little Indian girl in a yellow dress.

There she sat on a noisy city street, preparing her bed for the night. No one will tuck her in tonight. No one will turn on her night light, kiss her on the forehead, tell her “I love you” before she slips off to sleep… This is her life, this is her reality, this is what she does every night. Will anyone rescue her?

That started stirring up emotions in me that I didn’t really know what to do with.

Do I sit and cry in front of my line manager?

(Yes.)

The next video just did me in. It showed two little African children, sitting by a fire. They couldn’t have been more than 4 and 7 years old. They have recently lost their mum to AIDS, and now their daddy is dying. They are currently taking care of themselves.

Someone asks the girl, “Do you miss your mum?” This brother and sister just break down, trying to make sense of something that is so cruel. I mean, you watch as this little girl, who’s now taken on the role of ‘mum’ in her little brother’s life, try to comfort him. She tries to hold him, pats his back, all the while she herself so desperately needs to be held and comforted.

I felt so utterly helpless, so awful, so completely gutted for these two little children, children that God knew even before they were formed in their mother’s womb… The sound that comes from his mouth – it’s that sick, desperate cry that comes from the soul. His voice is strained with grief and want. The entire time I was watching this, all I could think of was my boys – my kids that I nannied back home – and what if this was them, wandering dirty streets, lonely and desolate? I couldn’t take that.

Disregarding whatever ‘professional’ relationship we have, Kate and I just started to cry together. I cried with those children, for those children, for myself.

Why am I this blessed? What did I ever do to deserve the life that I live? Why am I healthy, warm, clothed, cared for? Why does this suffering exist?

After we finished watching, I felt this desperate urge to pray, so we did. Kate and I prayed for that brokenness to remain, for that hurting to spur us on towards action, to really driving this point home with our youth this weekend. If they take anything away from this weekend, I want it to be a desire to ask questions about poverty & suffering. I want them to see it and ask “WHY?” I want my youth to recognize their own God-given ability to change the lives of these kids. They have been blessed, not just for their own sake, but so that they might bless others! Being healthy is brilliant, but if you don’t recognize that as a gift, then it’s wasted! If we disregard these people… we’re disregarding Christ! I want my kids to see their own ability to act on the knowledge they’ve gained. Now that they know, they have a choice: to follow the general trend of the world and to walk past this injustice, or to stray from the pattern and to take action to make a change.

I feel rubbish to say that I’ve never felt this passionate about this. But then, it has to hit at some point. Now is as good a time as ever. From now on, I refuse to let my heart remain hardened against this suffering. This can’t go on any longer. It has to stop.

Oxfam is a brilliant way to get involved, to get active and do something for those in the roughest parts of the world. I’m challenging my youth to consider giving on a monthly basis – please give it a look – it’s absolutely amazing what a few dollars can do for someone in the depths of poverty.

Stay tuned for more Slum Survivor brilliance. It’s going to be amazing. Tonight was such an encouraging experience – having so many of my youth in one room, talking about what God has to say about poverty & what he’d have us do about it. Slum Survivor has the potential to rock these kids worlds. Please join me in praying about this weekend – I know God has much in store for us.

xx Aimee Cait