In Kazakhstan, people squat. They squat by the side of the road, they squat by their front door, they squat in groups to have conversations. It's like a nation of catchers. I find myself wishing I had a bag full of baseballs with me so that I could practice throwing my curve at every squatting Kazakh. (My curve needs a lot of practice on account of the fact that I can't throw a curve.) This is just one of the most prominent things of many that I'm noticing as we head to a more rural part of Almaty to install the next dish on the home of a foster family. As we drive, Rudi and Nurlan and I discuss the social and spiritual situation here.
Like Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan is culturally Muslim, but most believers are only Muslim because they were raised in Muslim homes, and few are very devout. The branch of Islam practiced here is Sunni Islam, and specifically the Hanafi school of Islamic law. Speaking in broad generalizations, Sunni Islam is the less militant branch of Islam, emphasizing 5 pillars of faith; the declaration of faith, prayer, charity, fasting, and pilgrimage. All very reasonable foundational elements of faith. The idea of jihad is found more in Shia Islam, which also has several sub-branches, and even among these divisions, jihad doesn't always indicate the pursuit and persecution of non-believers. Speaking in broad generalizations, the notion that all Muslims are violent is a broad generalization. Still there is often significant chastisement for those who choose to turn their backs on their Muslim faith, and sometimes significant danger in preaching Christ to them, even in areas where their faith is nominal. So great care must be taken to present radio that approaches issues from a welcoming talk-show standpoint, and not treating the airwaves as a pulpit.
The FEBC station in Almaty is currently running satellite and internet broadcasts only. They have yet to procure a radio frequency. A frequency has been promised, but in Kazakhstan, there is plenty enough red tape and corruption to make it a lengthy process, even if there weren't many opponents to the mission of FEBC, and there are plenty of opponents. The facility, however, is well-maintained and sizable. Well-maintained enough for each of us to feel comfortable living there for a week. Sizable enough to house a peanut butter factory downstairs which I wouldn't even know about if I hadn't been told. The building is owned by a charitable foundation and is under Rudi's management. Due to its size and quality, he's on the lookout for partnership opportunities with other Rudi-approved projects and ministries interested in sharing the building and joining the vision Rudi has for it.
Kazakhstan is home to a great many orphans. Some would not even be categorized as orphans, having parents who aren't necessarily absent, but have marginalized their children so much that they essentially become social orphans, living on their own even though their parents are known and quite nearby. There is a foster care system here, but it's somewhat inefficient and poorly populated. Rudi has a passion for getting Christians on the forefront of the development of an effective and widespread foster program in the former Soviet Union. Lots of missions money is going to orphanages, and that's admirable–orphanages play a badly needed role with disenfranchised kids, but the institutions are not as efficient as a foster care system could be. The best solution would be to pull the kids out of institutions and orphanages and place them with real families. In the long run, it would cost less, and generally, it would help reverse the cycle producing a generation of kids who feel forgotten, giving them instead a situation in which they feel accepted. Rudi would like to use the foundation in Almaty as a center for developing such a foster system–perhaps as a headquarters as well as a church and an apartment with tenants and a peanut butter factory. What is needed more than materials is mentality. People need to be trained. Radio is a great medium for training and advertising training. We don't need to ask of the Kazakh people "who is willing to be a missionary?" We need to ask, "who is willing to start a home church, or take in some orphans or older people to care for who don't have convalescent homes?"
Today we set up the satellite dish for a family who clearly fits in with Rudi's vision. Oscar, with his wife and three young kids, represent a family that's 5 pillars of Christianity, established as an excellent example of what Christian living ought to look like in Kazakhstan, even during this time when Christian living can be dangerous. Oscar has taken in 4 foster children (making his family of 5 a family of 9), between the ages of 15 and 19. The state does provide a small amount of money per child for those willing to participate in the foster care system, but it isn't a large sum, and it seems that people are already somewhat culturally opposed to the idea, so there aren't many families taking part. Oscar is also coordinating an underground church project, aimed at growing the 0.01% population of ethnic Kazakh Christians. Rudi explains that "a Kazakh administrator is a rare breed." Again, speaking in broad generalizations, the notion of encouraging and managing joined forces is somewhat unfamiliar to a culture that has been historically nomadic. Cities here did not really exist until after the Soviets brought the infrastructure and the vision to build an empire. After a very generous lunch prepared by Oscar's wife (who I'll refer to as Pat, even though I'm certain that isn't her name), Oscar scurried away from the table and returned with a packet of paper outlining the plan of expansion for the house church movement. If he had possessed a computer and a little software-savvy, he would surely have shown us an elaborate powerpoint presentation. He flipped page after page, first explaining statistics about the population of Christians in Kazakhstan, both those who are ethnically Kazakh and those of other racial backgrounds. Then he detailed the action plan for reaching the surrounding cities, by starting one house church in each of 10 surrounding areas, and training each church to found 10 more. It's a very Acts-inspired vision; it made such a stupid amount of biblical common sense, I wondered why every evangelical organization ever isn't doing it, and how we could get Oscar to explain it to them.
Oscar raises chickens and grows produce, partly for sale, and partly for his own family to live on, so his work is right there at home, and he never has to be away from his children, or his foster kids. Another way in which he fulfills perfectly Rudi's vision for the future of foster care in the former Soviet Union. The chickens provide a constant murmur in the background, punctuated by the occasional rooster crow, and his children provide a constant murmur in the foreground, punctuated by the occasional screech of distress or delight. His youngest boy, about 3 years old, was a particularly entertaining rascal. When he wasn't firing his bow and arrow at me, he was stomping on the wooden patio floor (causing the entire structure to resonate from his behemoth footfall), or climbing onto the unused bags of cement around the house, causing them to burst open and spill their contents as a miniature avalanche cascading to the ground. His two older sisters, perhaps about 5 and 7, would prance around the yard humming their English A,B,Cs, but to a different tune. I desperately wanted to correct them, because I love crushing the spirits of children, but I was too busy entertaining the young one. Or perhaps I was being entertained. It was difficult to tell. For the final hour of our time there, after I had taken all the pictures I could possibly have needed, and while the final touches of the satellite dish were being set, and Rudi and Oscar were talking in Russian, I allowed the little one to play with my camera. I kept it strapped around my neck, which kept the camera from being destroyed several times, but also resulted in strangulation several more. First, I took his picture and showed him. He giggled. Then I allowed him to look through the viewfinder while I flipped the camera around and took a picture of myself. He snickered. Finally, I allowed him to aim the camera and push the button himself. He bellowed with joy. I had to support the camera, because it was a little too heavy for him, and too precious to me, but he did most of the aiming and shooting for a solid 10 minutes. We would examine every picture together. I didn't want to instill any false hopes in him regarding his future as a great artist, so I told him with a completely straight face what I thought and didn't hold anything back. "Dude, that's a terrible shot." I'd say, or, "I'm sorry man, but that's probably the worst picture I've ever seen." or sometimes, "Little guy, don't quit your day job as a mediocre archer to become a pathetic photographer." Surprisingly enough, he loved being berated. Every time I mercilessly critiqued his work, he laughed with glee. Of course he didn't understand a word I was saying, but I like to think that my very constructive criticism has given him the tools for success in the future.
After our time at Pat and Oscar's, we returned to the station for some family time with Nurlan, whose family is also a family of five. After our meal of bishbarmak (which means 'five fingers' because you're meant to eat it by the handful), we headed up through a small town whose name translates as 'Five Trees' up to a nearby resort low in the mountains known as 'Five Hills'. Apparently the number 5 is important in the Islamic culture. When we got home, we all sat down to watch re-runs of Party Of Five. Just kidding. When we got home, I did an interview with Nurlan and his wife, Karlygash (whose name also translates to mean something regarding the number 5, but I don't recall exactly what). Their story is truly remarkable. Nurlan's ancestors journeyed to Central Asia from Persia as Muslim missionaries. Now, he preaches Christ to Muslims. As he's telling me about his ancestry, I can hear the call of the mosque in the distance, impelling the Muslim faithful to take part in the second pillar of their faith–prayer. Nurlan and Karlygash married 23 years ago, both very young, and had their first son Ardak within a year. He spoke Kazakh and she spoke Russian. Like most Kazakhs, they were nominal Muslims, and didn't have much spiritual foundation personally, let alone for the building of a family. After a short time, Nurlan turned to alcohol, and when things spiraled out of control, they separated. He eventually called a self-help hotline, and the counselor on the other end advised him to turn to Christ. He was desperate enough to try anything, so he took the advice, and his life began to turn around. He went to his then estranged wife, and told her that he had changed. She didn't believe him. But after watching him closely for a couple of years, it became clear to her that he truly was a different man, and when she took him back, she took Jesus along with him. During the interview, Nurlan explained his ancestry and their family history in about 12 minutes, and then Karlygash talked for over an hour. Husbands and wives in Kazakhstan are still husbands and wives. I wish I could relay more of their story, but I can't because most of it was told to me in Russian. My Russian is still a little rusty, so Rudi relayed to me many pieces of their story, but I know that I still haven't presented them all, and God is still working on the puzzle. Now, Nurlan is a pastor of one of the few ethnically Kazakh Christian churches in Almaty. Along with Karlygash, Ardak, Adina, and Dana, their family is beacon of light on a pillar outshining the dead faith that once had imprisoned them, and still confines so many in this city.
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