December Newsletter

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a special "newsletter" (a must read!)

Greetings!

Although you will be soon receiving a "normal" newsletter from us, we wanted to ask you to take a moment and read the attached newsletter and consider it prayerfully. One of the greatest things that Vita and I try to do here is champion the local Albanians we work with. Zhani & Vasilika are two of those Albanians!

Thanks for taking a moment to read and respond!

Much love,

Sean & Vita Mason

(click on the image below for a more readable version)

A Small Venture

The sun finally showed up after a week of constant drizzling, and the blue skies were more than inviting. “Here’s a day to be spent outside”, decided I and undertook a task I had long been thinking about – cleaning a little square in front of our house. (Notably, there is a container to be found at the corner, yet the rubbish has a unique tendency to bypass it.)

With a bucket in hand and selfless thoughts of preserving our beautiful Earth, I commenced scanning the little grassy area to and fro. With the bucket No. 10 I stopped counting. The funds were not spectacular. And my dog kept on finding delicacies of bony substance even after the mission was over.

Some neighbourhood kids were hanging around. I shyly lifted my head to greet them and carried on my humble venture. As it is proper for a solitary hero, I didn’t request help. Yet out of the blue comes one teenager, takes his jacket off and eagerly starts piling all the trimmed grape vines. Later, his friend shows up and adds to the company. The professor living across the street (the only person I had earlier observed cleaning somebody else’s mess) joins the crowd as well. Now we attract not just the looks, but even the comments of the passer-by’s. Eventually even a local “bad boy,” who doesn’t do much throughout the day except for lingering and the selected corners of our block, grabs the shovel and gets to work.

I left smiling. Looking from our window, the square doesn’t seem any cleaner, yet unsolicited help made my day. I should venture out more often.

August Newsletter

Sorry it took us so long to post this online!

A Tree or Not a Tree?

They go by mules (enjoy the thistles, buddy!)

The mules go by packs

The stronger ones carry the logs

And no tree can resist a chainsaw

But can a sign "Holy Forest" do the trick? (As it did for this oak grove.)

Welcome to Mashkullore

Mashkullore in Albanian - masculine

The town on the road to a UNESCO heritage city of Gjirokaster tells more about the Albanian culture than you can imagine! Literary descriptions aside, let me share a few observations. Some weeks ago, passing by a posh new outdoors cafe in down-town Korce, I counted the customers. Roughly 50. Not a single woman. Not an uncommon view. (Korca has only one waitress.)

Woman at home, man at a club. A friend talks about the flat that her son (4 years old) is to inherit. Her 14 year old daughter didn't make it to the list of the heirs. 

Since the toddler years, the girls are being taught to serve; the boys are being taught to be served. 

A pregnant unmarried girl risks to be kicked out of the house and never accepted into the family again. Who would think there was also an impregnator involved? 

Never in my entire life had I seen such crowds of guys going for walks down the boulevard! They certainly outnumber the girls. 

Teenage girls don't go for an ice-cream without their parents' permission. Teenage boys are safe to wander out and about as they please. 

Abused wives are not welcomed to return to their parent's homes - divorce is a shame and the wife is always the guilty one.

Welcome to Mashkullore!

(I am not a feminist. And certainly there are many exceptions! But if you try to tell me my observations are untrue, you'll risk to achieve the opposite effect.)

In & Out

The other day, coming back from a day trip to Greece, we gave a ride to an Albanian policeman working at the border. During Enver Hoxha's (the communist dictator's) times he was a bee-keeper. Re-education followed the advance of democracy. From his lips we found out some interesting facts about immigration. Every time we go to Greece, we see big blue buses rushing towards the border, where they are being emptied. Apparently, illegal immigrants are kept in jail in Greece only until a bus fills up. And back in Albania, one is being brought to court only after three deportations. (The prisons would be overflowing, smirked the policeman.) So if you are to cross the border at night over the mountains, you should only worry about the possible bad mood of the Greek police - in case you do get caught, that is.

Visits & Visitors

The spring winds brought busyness to the Mason family. The busyness called “people”. Those were interesting, merry, enriching and simply good times.

First, four men from Romania came our way. Sean’s college friend Chad, who’s been a missionary to Romania for 6 years, brought along his pastor and two other church leaders – to fulfil his old promise to visit Sean and to build some bridges between the two churches. Here in Korçe, they visited an asylum, donated some clothes to an orphanage, replaced me at the English class, at the Bible study taught us to serve God with what He’s given us, stayed at our house and phoned their wives day and night.

Soon afterwards we welcomed another five visitors – this time a team of youth leaders from Lithuania. Together with the church teenagers they showed a drama at the Easter service, hung out with the youth indoors and outdoors, cleaned an old lady’s house and helped yet another family with supplies to rebuild their burnt down bathroom, and encouraged our church members sharing their testimonies.

Last but not least, Sean and I decided to pay a return visit to the Romanians. Thus we packed our bags and flew over to spend a few days in Târgovişte (where Vlad the Impaler, the prototype of Drakula, had his stronghold). We shared at the Sunday morning and night church services, visited our friends and found some time to relax as well.

What fun, joy and privilege it is to share our faith with believers from other countries! It was a timely reminder that we are not alone in our fight for the Kingdom. We were refreshed by the visit of the serving Lithuanians and inspired by the dedicated Romanians. I believe the teams didn’t leave Albania empty-handed either. Everybody has gained something, everybody has grown a bit.

Let's Celebrate the Life and Hope We Have in Jesus

April Newsletter

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The Road Less Travelled

Albania is so beautiful, so breathtakingly beautiful, yet so hard to travel in! At least in our Subaru Outback… A month or so ago instead of the usual “highway” (it takes just under 4 hrs to cover 180 km) we took another road to Tirana – via Gramsh and Elbasan. Approximately the same 180 km took 6 hrs. Did we know that a road, marked as a major one on the map, isn’t paved? No! We gave a ride to a local town elder (he was on his one and a half hour long walk to the meeting) and found out that majority of the people from that area had moved to the bigger cities. Pretty likely this major road will remain unpaved.

As we drove, I kept on wondering whether the river down in the canyon is suitable for rafting, even if you’re super experienced. And whether we should have ridden our mountain bikes instead. Wait, we don’t have any mountain bikes! So I guess we won’t take that road again anytime soon. Shame, it was so gorgeous! (Did I mention the rocks falling down on the road?)

Come explore the untouched beauty of the land of eagles!

Where Did The Trees Go?

I am not any sort of an environmentalist, but I love the nature. I try not to trash it, but I don’t plant any trees. Nevertheless, the thought has crossed my mind numerous times since I moved to Albania. Coming from a very green country of Lithuania (they taught us at school, that the forests comprise 30%), I take greenery for granted. Thus my eye searches for it even in the rocky terrain of Albania.

Leaving the climatic and geological considerations aside (I cannot boast much knowledge here anyways), it is obvious that some of the tall greenery is gone. But where and how? So far, I could pinpoint two reasons. One is of human origin, the other one is of worm origin.

First, people mercilessly hack trees for firewood. Most households, us included, use firewood for heating. I don’t think it’s much fun to spend a whole day deep in the mountains for a mule-load of firewood. But what can one do? Unemployment is soaring, and winters are cold. So here I started thinking of some sort of reforestation programme.

Second, people have cut a lot of trees during the Communist times to expand their fields. Agriculture in Albania can be tricky – 70% of the country is rugged mountains. But the communists had their own ways, and all over Albania you will see terraced mountain slopes (now I wonder, did Enver Hoxha learn from Mao experts or vice versa?). Fair enough. One needs to grow his own food when the country is surrounded by an iron wall of ideology.

I cannot be angry with the people, as I consider these two reasons economical. But I can surely be angry with the second destroyer of the trees - the Thaumetopoea pityocampa parasites (or pine processionary caterpillars; some knowledgeable people have written about pretty stunning behaviour of this pest) that build silvery nests in the few remaining pine trees, happily feed on them and finally destroy them. After a little bit of research I found out, that various species of insects can destroy the pest. Or the trees can be sprayed. But I have also read that the governments in the Mediterranean region have spent millions on fighting these bugs and the results have not been as satisfactory as expected. So here I started thinking of some sort of “good insect” raising and releasing programme.

While I keep on thinking, the forests in Albania keep on shrinking.

Life Just Around the Corner

In the very south of Albania, on the coast of the azure Ionian Sea, stretches the beautiful town of Sarande. During summertime, the city bursts with tourists. Yet few venture beyond the tall newly built hotels and alluring beaches. However, the begging children on the streets remain a palpable reminder of another, perhaps less decorated and sparkly reality that exists just next door.

The road through the Cuka village is dirty and bumpy. An abandoned bus marks the end of the suburb. Unsurprisingly it serves as a playground for a bunch of Gypsy kids. As the car of church aid workers pulls up, they come out running and shouting, smiles adorning their precious little faces.

An extended family of forty or so Gypsies lives in the village. As the little ones grow up, life doesn’t seem to bring many changes. At first sight, the community seems to be entrapped by the merciless laws of poverty and ostracization. Sadly, Albanian society commonly nourishes racist beliefs. The Caucasian majority more often than not considers itself of “more noble blood” (echoing notions that less than a century ago brought much misery to the whole Europe) and unscrupulously looks down on the darker skinned Gypsies. Unfortunately, segregation starts from an early age; children are ridiculed in the public schools, thus the parents often pull them out and entrust them to “street school.” Unable to receive education, later on in life they struggle to find a vocation in a country where jobs are not readily available. Without a job and with a family to feed, alternative sources of income are being sought, such as sending children to beg on the streets. And more children are being born into the cycle of destitution. One can only wonder – is there a way to break the clutches of poverty?

There are a handful of faithful Albanians and expatriates who have been faithfully visiting Cuka and implementing educational and aid programmes. It would be easy to get frustrated when an irresponsible father sells a donated stove for booze; it would be natural to get disappointed when the people request prescription after prescription to be filled in order to get unneeded medications; it would be natural to quit when today appears to be exactly like yesterday, yet they persevere.

Saranda is in no way unique – most cities in the world have poor neighbourhoods. The question is whether we dare to look at what’s just around the corner.

A 1000 or A 100?

When I first came to Albania, I was warned not to be deceived when shopping at the market - they might tell you a kilo of grapes costs 1000 lek, but actually it is only 100 lek. The Albanians still talk the "old lek", I was told. Naturally it takes time to get used to the new kind of money after revaluation of a currency and crossing off of a zero at the end, I thought. The same happened in Lithuania at the dawn of independence in the 90s. Just one minor detail: the lek was revalued in 1965. Surprisingly, even those born after the 60's also talk about the prices using old lek. They truly uniquely stick to their old ways! Sounds confusing to a foreign ear? I heard a story of an Albanian lady, who mistakenly thought the coffee at a nice resort restaurant was ten times more expensive and therefore was warding off the potential customers! Yet the explanation "new or old lek" is most often omitted. Why bother?