“Performance is a potential pitfall in any aspect of the Christian life where communication is involved. I’ve seen plenty of Christians bullshit one another in entirely convincing ways because they were able to articulately mouth the words they were expected to say. And I’ve done that, too. Some of those performances were worthy of an Oscar. But I left a very nice, proper stained glass and pews and robed choir church partly because of the performance aspects I saw, complete with strutting mezzo-sopranos in the choir loft and virtuoso Buxtehude organ preludes, and I’m quite content in a church that incorporates contemporary praise and worship music precisely because I don’t see those performance aspects.”

– From Andy Whitman’s blog. The entire post, about contemporary worship music, is worth a read.

the perfect mango, originally uploaded by Fay(ola).

I rarely talked back to my mom when I was growing up — no child argues with Mrs. Shakes — but when it came to mangoes, I was ready to take her on. Whenever a relative went to Jamaica and returned with fresh, almost-ripe mangoes, I argued that it wasn’t fair that I only got one, when my parents sometimes got two or three each.

Nevermind that bringing fresh fruit into the country was probably prohibited; somehow, at least five or six mangoes always made it past customs officials and into the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter.

I’d wait for my precious mango to ripen, praying it wasn’t bitter and I was rarely disappointed. I’d peel and eat it slowly with lime juice and salt, not caring about how messy it was, or that I had mango juice on my shirt and fingers.

(I saw Martha Stewart on TV once, showing viewers how to properly cut a mango into perfect little squares and eat it. Seriously, it was all too proper for me. Who has time for all that? Life is short.)

Mangoes were scarce in Cleveland and the overpriced ones in the grocery stores tasted like “last year’s mangoes defrosted,” my Dad would say. He bought them anyway because a bad mango was better than no mango at all, but he complained the entire time. Even after he ate three or four. The only place to get real mangoes, he said, was in Jamaica. Florida was a close second.

Well, my cousins have two mango trees in their backyard and this year, both trees bore so much fruit so they’re giving them away left and right. Today, the mango in the photo above fell from the tree as I was walking in the backyard. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more perfect piece of fruit.

I had some major communication problems today that made me question my reliance on technology. I was ready to toss the computer out the window and go back to a typewriter. Typewriters never crashed. And rotary phones? Those don’t freeze.

The PC at work?  It crashed five times in an hour, and three more times after that — all before 1 p.m. Then my CrackBerry broke, again. It’s bad enough I can barely see the screen; now, when I press the “5″ it dials the “7,” and the other keys don’t work, save for the “1″ so I have to use the pearl to do everything.

(How many days till the iPhone?)

Add to that some ridiculous deadline pressure (all my fault — I don’t know why I do this to myself)  and some more lost files, and I was a ready to call it a day at 3 p.m. Traffic was surprisingly light but I grumbled the whole way home…until I saw the packages waiting at the front door.

First, Mars sent me a jar of Trader Joe’s raw, crunchy almond butter. I’m ignoring the fact that it’s 190 calories per serving (about two tablespoons). I’ll eat it with apples to assuage my guilt. I still don’t understand why there are no Trader Joe’s in South Florida. Whole Foods needs some competition.

Package #2: I ordered some free Nominate ‘08 buttons last month because I like kitsch like that. They arrived. I was only expecting one or two but they sent 15. Thank you, NBC.

Finally, the latest issue of the Economist finally arrived. It’s usually delivered on Saturday mornings and I read it throughout the weekend so I was wondering what happened. It’s one of the two magazines I subscribe to and at $77 a year, I want to make sure I get every, single issue or I’ll be on the phone, tracking it down.

So that was my day. It doesn’t take much to cheer me up. Trader Joe’s, good reading material, and kitsch do the job.

A working phone would be nice, too.

Your Monday?

(This post is part of the 40 Day Fast. Check out more entries here.)

Standing in the beverage isle at Target one morning, it occurred to me that Bono was right: freedom really does look like too many choices. I was buying bottled water for a day at the beach, and in front of me were no less than eight different brands, all promising nirvana-like levels of refreshment.

My choices ranged from the store brand to “smarter” water; pristine water from Norway to an untouched-by-man brand from Fiji; and purple, grape-flavored water inspired by 50 Cent. Its entourage of vitamins could help me claw my way to the top, the label read.

For the 1.1 billion people on the planet (that’s about one in six) the choice is always the same: dirty water and dirtier water. Sometimes, with leeches. From a swamp where animals relieve themselves. If there’s any water at all. There I was, trying to decide what to buy when the water in my toilet’s reservoir — water I yell at my dog for drinking — is cleaner than the water 1.1 billion people have access to.

Those are the people that Nicky Yates and the staff of charity: water are helping by providing access to clean, safe drinking water. In less than two years, charity: has funded over 600 projects in 11 countries that will provide 250,000 people with clean water. The method is simple: you buy a $20 bottle of spring water and, thanks to donors and partners, 100% of the proceeds directly fund water and sanitation projects on the ground.

Yates, 26, is an Alabama native who began her humanitarian work in Africa and Central Asia after high school. She earned a master’s degree in psychology and worked as a child victim specialist with the New York County district attorney’s office, but “the call of Africa wouldn’t stop,” she said. Here, Yates discusses her work at charity: and creative ways you can help provide safe drinking water for those in need. 

Q. How did you get involved with charity?
A. I heard about [founder Scott Harrison’s] vision after he came back from his travels with Mercy Ships. I started out volunteering. The more I got involved, the more I wanted to be involved. The grassroots effort, the hip vibe, the passion, and the genuine, personal nature of the people and organization really drew me in. I learned about the water crisis during my previous travels but didn’t know what could be done to help. charity: water made it easy to do something that would directly make an impact. With a staff of five, we all do a bit of everything! But I focus a lot of my time and attention to being Scott’s assistant. I also help with event planning, fielding corporate donors and their requests, handling media requests, coordinating volunteers, and general office management.

Q. You’ve worked in Namibia and Kazakhstan. What was that like?
A. I traveled first to rural Namibia right out of high school. It was community development mission trip. We went there to help raise awareness about the AIDS situation, but we wanted to really get to know the culture and the community first. As a woman, I assisted the other women in the community with getting their daily water from the British embassy, about a mile away. We weren’t allowed to shower but once a week and for five minutes, due to the water situation. It just blew my mind. I was used to 45 minute baths everyday, sometimes twice a day. I never thought about the fact that this could be something that someone didn’t have.

The next summer I went to Almaty, Kazakhstan, again for community development. This time I was staying in an urban area, but we still didn’t have water to spare. We’d have to heat up a bucket of water for the entire household’s showering needs. And we were permitted a kettle’s worth of water a day for other hygiene and sanitation purposes.

These two experiences were probably the most enlightening of my life. I learned so much about myself and how to love like my God does. During these two trips, I realized that while I grew up below the poverty line, I had more than I could ever need. I became really grateful for the little things that were provided everyday for me. I came back, and I knew I wanted to dedicate my life to actively helping others.

Q. How does your faith factor into your work?
A. My faith is my drive. One of my favorite verses is “comfort others with the comfort with which you’ve been met.” After coming back from Namibia, I realized  how much my Father in heaven had provided for me. I want to spend my life helping others and giving them out of the abundance I have. I believe that we’re called to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. For me, this means living a compassionate life and I can do that by using my professional skills to help get the basics to those in need. It’s easy to become jaded today with so much need around us. My faith keeps me grounded and encouraged that there is help. I know without God, I would be so burned out.

The other amazing thing about working at charity: water is that we’ll get together and pray. We recognize it’s all Him at the end of the day anyway. So, it’s such a relief to be able to lift it up and know that if charity: water fails or succeeds, it’s in His hands. There’s something about knowing it’s not all up to me.

Q.  What’s new with charity:?
A. Our next focus is our september campaign. We’re looking to provide 333 communities in Ethiopia with clean, safe drinking water. We’ll need $1.5 million raised. It’s a huge goal, and we’re looking to accomplish it by inviting individuals who were born in September to give up birthday presents for this year. Instead of gifts, we’re asking their friends and families for donations equivalent to their age. We’ll have 33 communities on our site, each with a different story and video. We’ll be traveling to Ethiopia in September to video the drilling process as it starts.

We’re also expanding to Honduras this summer, and I’ll be [there] for a week to view some communities. Our projects in Honduras will be 25 freshwater wells. During our trip, we’ll be viewing 45 sites for the freshwater wells that will be funded by our Saks partnership La Mosquitia in central Honduras. We’re really excited to be in that area.  After that, we’ll be focusing on our third annual charity: ball here in New York.

Q. How else can people get involved?
A. We have a weekly volunteer night here at our office every Wednesday night. If interested, they can email us at info@charitywater.org to get more details. We look to volunteers to help raise awareness by telling others about the water. We can ship DVDs and information to equip these people to go out and spread the word.

Then we have individual fundraisers. These people get creative with how they raise money for a well. We have engaged couples, individuals biking across America or Africa, old college roommates hiking Mt. Kilimanjaro, and people not having parties. It’s really cute to read their stories. One engaged couple is not having a wedding. Instead of spending the money on a wedding dress or bridesmaid dresses or a cake, they’re donating what they would’ve spent on those items toward a well.

I’m also working with a 12 year-old who is raising money for a well in Ethiopia for his bar mitzvah. He’s raised over $3,000! It’s incredible. He goes to the parks on the weekends with his little brother and sells our wrist bands. It really shows the power of one.

What You Can Do Right Now

Buy a bottle of water. Or two. Or a case.

Buy a fundraising kit.

Add charity: as a friend on Facebook, MySpace or Virb.  Make them your top friend, where people can see it.

Get your team, office, or school involved.

Volunteer.

Take a look at what others have said about charity:

Watch the videos from last year’s september initiative.

Go to charity: for more info.

I don’t even know why I bother keeping up with the news coming out of Jamaica. The stories are always the same variation of crazy: guns, violence, drugs –  repeat. I’m usually in a bad mood after I read the Gleaner online and today was no exception.

According to a recent survey, Kingston is the 31st most dangerous city in the world and 800 people have been killed on the island this year, 199 of those murders in May, the Gleaner reported.

“Deputy Commissioner of Police Mark Shields, Jamaica’s crime czar, scoffed yesterday at Kingston’s low ranking, saying it was unfair.

“I think it is safer here than in Zimbabwe,” he said.

What kind of rationalization is that? That’s like saying a heart attack is better than a stroke.

An editorial in today’s Observer nails it:

The crime data released by the police on Saturday are enough to make even the most nonchalant among us shudder. In fact, we really can’t think of any Jamaican, anywhere in the world, who wouldn’t now be deeply concerned by what is happening in this country of ours.

In normal societies, 199 citizens don’t get slaughtered in a single month. Normal societies of our size do not experience 158 cases of shooting, 64 cases of rape, 20 cases of carnal abuse, 230 cases of robbery, 191 break-ins, and 27 cases of larceny all in one month.

In normal societies, the police are unlikely, in one month alone, to be recovering 57 illegal guns and 819 rounds of ammunition which, we are convinced, represent the mere tip of the massive arsenal of illegal weaponry in the country. That, however, is the reality of Jamaica today. A Jamaica in which, as we have pointed out before in this space, we are faced with the fact of our mortality each day. For no one among us can be sure that we won’t fall victim to the savagery being unleashed, almost at will, on the society by evil, ruthless criminals who have no respect for people’s right to life and their freedom to enjoy that life.

I used to resent my parents for not taking me back to Jamaica often.  I had that first-generation cultural identity crisis: I wasn’t Jamaican enough for my Jamaican-born family living in the States, my Cuban relatives didn’t know what to make of me and I wasn’t American enough for my classmates and friends.

In retrospect, however, I’m glad they got the hell out of dodge. It was dangerous when they left in the 70s and it seems like there’s no end in sight to the violence. And I’d be lying if I said these stats don’t worry me, as more family members leave for a wedding tomorrow morning. I’ve no choice but to trust God to keep them safe, and I’m sure they’ll be fine.  People travel there all the time…but still.

The last time I visited Jamaica, in 2001, my then 10 year-old cousin Amanda issued a stern warning on a what I thought would be an innocuous bus ride across Kingston:

“Auntie Fay, don’t talk. A gunman will hear your accent, that you come from America, and he’ll rob us.”

Of course when she said this, the bus was quiet and everyone heard her. I laughed, made the my-lips-are-sealed sign and whispered that I’d be quiet for the rest of the ride.

As if on cue, the bus stops and on comes some jackass that didn’t have enough money for the fare. He berated the driver, who wouldn’t relent, and the conversation escalated quickly.  I remember passengers looking anywhere but the front of the bus, trying ignore the shouting match. It was only when the driver got in the idiot’s face did he finally get off the bus, cursing and kicking the side of the bus promising to come back with an automatic. To top it off, that was two weeks after the Braeton 7 killings and the entire country, it seemed, was on the edge.

This is the environment my cousin was raised in? This is why my uncle, a pastor and one of the most peaceful people I know, finally gave up and bought a gun? Why another uncle sold his businesses and moved to the States? Why I’m carefully considering a trip there later this year?

The whole thing makes me sick.  I’m trying to think of a positive way to wrap up this post but right now, I can’t think of anything except that if you pray, pray for Jamaica. I know I am. This level of violence is obscene. The words of the national anthem couldn’t be more relevant right now:

Eternal Father, Bless our Land,
Guide us with thy mighty hand,
Keep us free from evil powers,
Be our light through countless hours,
To our leaders, great defender,
Grant true wisdom from above,
Justice, truth be ours forever,
Jamaica, land we love…

Today is Day One of the 40 Day Fast. Check out blogpal Brant Hansen’s post, the list of participants, and click back here on June 29th for my post.

“The 40 Day Fast emphasizes ways we can help our neighbors in need all over the world. This year’s fast is June 23-August 1. Each day, two bloggers will fast on behalf of specific causes. They will also post about groups that are helping to alleviate the causes of poverty and serve those in need. On the 40th day, we encourage everyone to join in in fasting on behalf of our neighbors in need. Join us by fasting yourself, following along with each day’s post, or linking to the fast on your blog!”

I forgot to mail the card. Gifts are arriving today, but I forgot the card.

I am so in trouble.

cat dog, originally uploaded by Fay(ola).

Candy, doing what she does best — absolutely nothing.