tick-tick-tick...

As our days have gotten zooier, and my time alone for introspection scarcer, I've gotten a little behind on my blogging. I may be able to rectify that, but I can't make any promises.

Right now I'm running on the proverbial fumes. One of the only things I don't love about Northeastern India is the 4:00 a.m. sunrises at this time of year. It's been playing havoc with me sleep, and I'm almost always tired. Wah. Okay. I'm almost finished complaining: our hotel also lacks light-blocking curtains, so if I wake up at 4:00 am as I did this morning, there's no chance of me getting back to sleep.

Okay. 

At any rate, the first part of our trip was really about maintaining and deepening my family's and my relationship with Nandu, his wife and two kids. With more than 150 staff, it's impossible for me to have deep personal frienships with all of them, my affection for each of them notwithstanding. But it's essential that I stay close with my top guys in each country.

As you may know, relational equity and social capital are of infinitely greater value in Asian business and ministry than in Western. In the U.S., for example, you can fly into Boise, walk into a conference room at a Holiday Inn, be introduced to your new regional manager at 8:00 in the morning and launch into a frank and open S.W.O.T. analysis before you've finished you first cream cheese danish. Not so in Asia, where interconnected --  and to me often-incomprehensible -- systems of personal and quasi-familial relationships underly every interaction, business, ministry or otherwise. So for me, sharing a meal is a part of my job whether or not we "talk shop" or explain to each other the differences between cricket and baseball.

Nevertheless, there's quite a lot of work work that we need to get done in the remaining time in India. And that time is slipping by, tick-tick-tick. Addison Smith, my colleage and project manager, and Jared Heveron, a videographer from Scarlet City, one of our partnering churches in Columbus, Ohio, arrived on Monday, and Nandu and I spent the day driving from Kalimpong to Siliguri, and then after we picked them up at Bagdogra Airport, from Siliguri to Darjeeling to Kalimpong. 

Yesterday, Tuesday, we spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon at a dance and music recital that our kids had been preparing for the last few weeks. It was wonderful -- we have some unbelievably cute and talented kids -- but it was very long. Five hours long if you include the lunch. Jared got some great video, and I got a couple good photos as well. In the evening, we met with our Indian lawyer, who is helping us navigate India's byzantine bureaucracy.

We leave India next Monday, so we've still got a lot to do. We have four videos to produce. Thankfully, Jared's sticking around for our Cambodia trip as well and then returning to India with another shooter and some storytellers afterwards. I'm sure we'll get them all "in the can," but right now I don't see how. So today we're meeting with Nandu to go over the shot list and make a plan to get rolling.

We also have at least one more meeting with our lawyer, budget and fundraising discussions, photos of all our staff and kids, various documentation projects and other miscellanea. Not only that, I want to spend more time playing with the kids, chatting with the staff and hanging out at each of our 4 homes. Oh, and we need to look at land for a future capital campaign. So, yeah.

But things are going well. I really do believe not only in Asia's Hope's overall philosophy and strategy, but in Asia's Hope India specifically. Our location is fascinating, complex and of extreme strategic importance. We border China, Bhutan, Nepal and Bangladesh, and are not far at all from Myanmar. We are at one of the world's great crossroads for migration, a dubious distinction given the illicit and exploitative nature of much of that transnational travel. We are in the nation with the world's greatest number of slaves, the most orphans, and much of the worst labor and sex trafficking. I could spend the rest of my life just focusing on India, expand Asia's Hope to 100 times its current size and impact and still have only scratched the surface. 

But God and his people are on the move in India, this vast, diverse country, home to five times as many people as were alive on the planet in the time of Christ. Our ministry is a tiny one, only a bubble on a great sea of need. But we're willing. And we're trying to move ahead with purpose and integrity. And that's what we've been called to do. And I'm so grateful to have all of you along for emotional, moral and financial support. This is all very good.

John McCollum Comment
On Somaly Mam, the New York Times and Cambodian Orphanages

At Asia's Hope, each home is organized and run as a family -- real moms and dads -- supported by teachers, tutors, coaches, nurses and counselors.

Last month, prominent Cambodian activist Somaly Mam resigned from her foundation amid allegations that she had embellished or fabricated the most dramatic details of her widely-repeated life story as a victim of child sex trafficking.

The New York Times, whose columnist Nick Kristoff had been one of Somaly Mam's biggest boosters, is in damage control mode. Yesterday they published an article that draws attention to widespread fraud in other Cambodian aid sectors, and they focused on very real problems of misrepresentation and profiteering among some orphanages.

We at Asia's Hope deplore fraud and corruption, especially when it involves the most vulnerable in society -- poor, orphaned or otherwise disadvantaged children. I join the Times in decrying the worst of the worst kinds of deceptions, those that further victimize children and mislead foreign donors to earn a buck for some "orphanage owner" somewhere.

In fact, the term "orphanage owner" is deeply disturbing to me. Asia's Hope operates as a transparent, accountable, not-for-profit charitable initiative in our support and our operation countries alike, and we work hard to ensure that there is never any financial incentive to admit any child into any of our homes. 

In Cambodia, for instance, we have actually slowed down our expansion over the past few years as the country's social services infrastructure and economy have developed, and we have continually tightened our admission standards to ensure that only the most needy orphaned children -- those have been permanently relinquished or abandoned by their remaining family members -- are brought to live in our homes.

We've also worked to provide truly comprehensive, holistic care for the children already living with us. We remain committed to grow deeper faster than we grow wider, better before getting bigger. 

Whereas the lousy orphanages that receive most news coverage barely provide "three hots and a cot," Asia's Hope provides a real family environment for each child in our care. Our staff receives ongoing training in child protection, childhood development, leadership and management. 

Our kids enjoy art classes, intermural sports, music and dance training, and have access to a wide array of tutors, enrichment courses and activities. And when they graduate, every child at Asia's Hope is entitled to a university education or vocational training.

Unfortunately, the stories of abuse and neglect at some orphanages make great copy, and provide for journalists and activists an easy hook. Bad news often travels a lot faster than good, and so we too seldom see the media profile organizations that we would consider our peers.

In the same way, it would easy to focus only on the tragic sins and shortcomings of abusive churches and draw the tragically simplistic conclusion that religion itself, rather than bad religion, is the source of the world's problems. But as James 1:27 reminds us, "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress."

So, as Bruce Cockburn would put it, we'll continue to "kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight." For every story you'll read of a child being treated poorly in an awful institution somewhere, we'll tell stories of kids whose lives have been transformed by the love of a family and the awesome power of hope. And we'll continue to set a high standard that other residential orphan care providers can aspire to. Together, we'll engage suffering and unleash hope in Cambodia, in Thailand, in India and beyond.

At the Prek Eng 3 children's home, as at all of our 29 homes in Cambodia, Thailand and India, orphaned children receive the kind of care we'd want for our own chldren if they were suddenly alone and unable to receive loving support from extended family members.

John McCollumComment
Ice Cream on the mountain

We took the kids from Kalimpong 2 to the top of Delo mountain (a hill, practically, considering we're in the Himalayan foothills). We had ice cream, games and an all around great time. Here are some pics for the day. Special thanks to NorthChurch in Lewis Center, Ohio for sponsoring these wonderful kids! 

By the way, the kids all caught chicken pox a few weeks back -- you'll notice that some of the kids haven't quite healed yet...

John McCollumComment
"I Am Asia's Hope."

Children at the Asia's Hope School in Kalimpong, India

A couple of years ago, one of our partnering churches had printed up some t-shirts to give to the kids in the home that they sponsor. The shirts read, "I Am Asia's Hope."

The staff offered me one, and I accepted it to be polite, but I knew I could never wear it. In fact, I really don't want any of our Western ministry partners, U.S.-based Asia's Hope staff or any of our donors to ever wear one of those shirts.

You see, the "I Am Asia's Hope" is a message that only our staff and the kids in our homes in Cambodia, Thailand and India can and should carry. 

It's for them, not us, that our organization is named. On occasion and in retrospect I've second guessed the naming of our ministry. I'm not sure what else we would have called it, but I regret that it's caused misunderstanding once or twice. I remember, for instance, when someone asked me, "Don't you think it's a little arrogant to suppose that a bunch of white guys in America are Asia's Hope?" Oy vey. As if.

We spent a few hours this afternoon at the Asia's Hope school here in Kalimpong. It's a wonderful landing place for our younger kids who are often not ready to be mainstreamed into public schools, given their rough and often traumatic early years. Our teachers are so patient, so kind to the little ones. It's an honor to serve with them.

I told the kids that they're same age now as their older brothers and sisters in Cambodia and Thailand were when I first met them. And now, those same kids are graduating from high school, heading to university, getting married, starting jobs and preparing to take leadership positions in their society. Among our students, we have future physicians and physicists, preachers and teachers, barbers and tailors. We'll have judges and legislators, moms and dads. 

I'm not joking or indulging in hyperbole when I say that the kids in our care really do represent the best hope for their community, their country and even their continent. These kids are growing, as the Bible says, "in favor with God and with man." So many of them are passionate in their faith and diligent in their studies. If my own kids grew up as well as some of the Asia's Hope kids have, I'd be the happiest dad on the planet.

So while I pray for things like political stability, improved infrastructure and economic development, the real hope for Asia is a generation of Godly children. Sure, their number is small. But God changed the world with 12 dudes from a backwater in a dusty corner of the Roman empire. Imagine what he can do with 750 former orphans...

John McCollumComment
Darjeeling (visibility) Limited

Darjeeling. I'll post more pictures later, but the internet is very slow up here...

Variety is one of India's most beguiling attributes. Mark Twain is reputed to have written of her, "Anything that can be said about India is simultaneously both true and false." The subcontinent is home to myriad languages and ethnic groups, customs and clothes, religions and gods, climates and topographies.

It's boiling in Delhi (118F today), simmering in Siliguri and nearly freezing here in clammy, wet Darjeeling. Of the three cities, Darjeeling is my clear favorite, despite the abysmal early-Spring-in-Ohio weather we're having here tonight.

We arrived in India two nights ago around midnight. By the time we cleared immigration, retrieved our bags and reached our hotel, it was almost 2am -- and the next day's morning's was scheduled to depart at 7:05. That meant about three hours of sleep after nearly 12 hours of traveling. We could have probably slept at the airport and saved a little money, but it was probably good that we got at least a little real shut-eye in a real bed. 

We got to the airport in time for our morning flight, and after about four hours, we arrived in steamy Siliguri. We had planned on having lunch in Siliguri and driving anywhere from three to 11 hours -- it all depends on the road conditions on any given day -- to reach Kalimpong by nightfall. Our host Nandu, however, had a much better idea. Let's stay the night in Siliguri, sleep in late and drive to Darjeeling for a couple days of fellowship and recreation before going to Kalimpong, where Asia's Hope is headquartered.

After enjoying a pretty decent night's sleep, we did just that. Despite consisting of hundreds of perilous hairpin turns along steep mountain paths, the road to Darjeeling from Siliguri is in much better condition than the one to Kalimpong. We stopped along the way in Kurseong to enjoy freshly-made Tibeten momo dumplings and tea.

Delicious momos in Kurseong.

The closer we got to Darjeeling, the worse the weather became. The temperatures dropped, the spattering of rain turned into a steady drizzle and the light fog that had clung to the distant mountains for the first portion of our drive now enveloped us. Having visited Darjeeling before in January, when the monsoon rains make way for blue skies and Himalayan vistas, I'd agree that it's much nicer other times of the year; you really can't see much right now. But what you can see is beautiful nevertheless.

We checked into the preposterously charming Cedar Inn which, I've been assured, usually offers stunning views of the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas. This hotel is a mix between a Swiss ski resort and a Wes Anderson movie set in the late 1970s. After a couple hours of rest, we headed into town to tour the shopping district. In the past, I've bought tea from Nathmull's or a Pashmina shawl from one of the many fine purveyors of woolen delicates. This time, it was raining so hard, the only thing I bought was an umbrella.

Nicholas and Apphia, Nandu and Anu Gurung's kids; My daughter Xiu Dan.

I don't know if it's the altitude, the travel or some sort of bug, but I'm feeling kind of lousy. It's difficult to breathe and I'm not sleeping well. Thankfully, we're spending another day in Darjeeling with Nandu's family, so I won't have to endure another long road trip this morning. I'm hoping to recover quickly -- I'd like to enjoy some quiet time with my family (Indian and American).

Anyway, my mild discomfort excepted, we're having a good time in India. Thanks for your prayers and your words of encouragement.

John McCollum Comment
Holding up and heading on

Well, our brief time in Vietnam is coming to an end. It's been a good experience for us. By stringing together all of our "days off"  and putting them at the beginning of the trip, it's allowed us to ease into our time in Asia and get over jet lag before jumping right into ministry and work time. It also means that we're pretty much going non-stop from here on out, and that we won't be enjoying any buffers between the various legs of our journey. It's a bit of a gamble, but we're betting that it will work out okay.

Pictured left to right: Pak, John, Kori, Xiu Dan and Chien McCollum in Hanoi, Vietnam

In the past, we've gone almost directly from the last day of school to the first day on mission with no time at all for adjustment. This year, we've enjoyed the opportunity to spend a few days as a family, and I think it's been healthy. Vietnam is a special place to us, the birthplace of our love for and commitment to Asia. 

On our way back from breakfast this morning, we paused briefly in front of the former Claudia Hotel where, 16 years ago, a rust-red Chevy Suburban rolled to a stop and produced an old Vietnamese woman who, without a word, handed a tiny sleeping infant whose name, Chien, was written on his arm in blue ballpoint pen to a couple of mostly-clueless kids from Ohio who really had no idea what they were getting themselves into. It's almost unbelievable that Chien is almost an adult, ready -- at least in theory -- to navigate the world without us to guide and protect him. I'm not sure who's more unprepared for our oldest son to leave the nest, him or me. 

Ugh. Ouch.

But I digress. Tomorrow afternoon we head off toward India to spend a few weeks with our Asia's Hope family in India. Our travel schedule will be pretty intense until we reach Kalimpong -- Bangkok, Mumbai, Kolkata, Siliguri -- I think we miss a night's sleep in there somewhere. After a week by ourselves, we'll be joined for a couple weeks by Addison Smith, Asia's Hope's project manager and Jared Heveron, a videographer from Columbus, Ohio. Later, we'll be joined by other friends, colleagues and co-workers for various portions of the summer.

While in India, Cambodia and Thailand, we'll be interviewing, photographing, documenting. We'll be consulting, planning and strategizing. We'll also be laughing, singing and playing. If all goes well, we'll leave Asia with all of the documents, stories and hugs we'll need to keep the organization running smoothly until next summer's trip.

I'm sure that there will be hitches -- attitudes will falter, shots will be missed, phones will be stolen (as mine was last night), luggage will be lost and appointments will be unavoidably missed. But for now, despite a few minor mishaps, the McCollum family is holding up pretty well, and we're heading into the rest of the summer in good spirits and as much esprit de corps as a couple of teenagers, an old married couple and a fourth grader can be reasonably expected to possess. 

It's morning now. We leave in a few hours. But first, I'm going to head off to the stolen phone black market area of town to see if I can find and buy mine back, or at least get a good deal on one lost by some other hapless traveler.

John McCollum Comments
Maintaining my sense of wonder

When Kori and I first visited Hanoi, Vietnam 16 years ago to adopt Chien, the city was unlike anything we'd ever experienced. We were impressed and, at times, nearly overwhelmed by what seemed like a constant barrage of sights, smells and sounds. Hanoi seemed a blur, a blender. Everyone was honking and shouting and bustling from before sunup to way after my bed time.

After 20-some trips to Southeast Asia, this place seems to have slowed down quite a bit. Compared to, say, Phnom Penh, traffic in Hanoi is downright orderly, and commerce is positively genteel. This morning, Chien and I were walking around the Old Quarter, and a motorcycle came buzzing towards us down the middle of the sidewalk. We stepped aside without thinking and Chien observed, "A few years ago that would have freaked me out." Yeah. Me too.

Breakfast in Hanoi

It would be easy to become jaded: "Oh. A motorcycle with four live pigs stacked on the back like firewood. Ho hum." "Guy has his arm inside a cow's rectum. Nothing to see here." "Weasel poop coffee and phở for breakfast. Again?" I'll admit that I'm not as easily scared, amazed or impressed -- I don't walk the streets, slack-jawed in a gobsmacked daze. But I've worked hard to maintain my sense of wonder.

I don't take any of this for granted, and I hope my kids don't either. Stewardship of this ministry is an awesome privilege. In just a few days, we'll be heading to India, flying into Mumbai, passing through Kolkata, driving through the Darjeeling foothills of the Himalayas and spending a few days with orphaned kids and the wonderful people who have rescued them and welcomed them into their family. I get to call them my friends. They remember me and I remember them. I'll get to watch them grow up, get married and have kids. That's my day job. 

Wow. 

I'm not sure how or why this happened, but I'm humbled and I'm still surprised that I get to represent Jesus -- and all of you -- in Cambodia, Thailand, India and beyond. 

This summer is just beginning. Soon, we'll be with the kids and staff. I'll try to keep the posts and photos interesting! Keep praying for us.

John McCollumComment
Good morning Vietnam

After nearly 30 hours in the air and in airports, we arrived in Hanoi at about 10pm last night. Even though it was dark, it was clear upon approach that some aspects of Hanoi, specifically Noi Bai airport, have changed  since our last visit 16 years ago. Last time, the airport was just a low-slung concrete 1960s-style box with a couple of runways and a dozen or so water buffalos lazily munching along the tarmac. 

Today's Noi Bai is a modern, glass-and-steel airport with airconditioned jetways and flat screen TVs. The intimidating middle-aged soldiers unhappily stamping huge ledger books with blood-red crests and seals have been replaced by bored twenty-something functionaries indolently scanning passports into modern PCs. It's all very efficient, but somehow disappointing from a travelogue standpoint.

We made our way through immigration and baggage claim with no trouble at all, and were greeted by a driver with "MR. JOHN MCCOLLUM" written on a placard. After a 40 minute drive on a modern interstate highway, we reached Hanoi. The outskirts of the city certainly start out a bit farther than I remember them, and I'm certain that there weren't nearly this many shiny hotels. There may or may not have been a shopping mall.

When we finally reached the Old Quarter, I smiled and sighed -- this is Hanoi as I remembered it: tightly packed buildings, each about 6 feet wide and 4 stories high; street corners filled with shirtless men sitting on red plastic stools drinking weak yellow beer and smoking white filterless cigarettes. The smells, the sounds, the signs -- some things haven't changed much at all.

We checked into the Hanoi Central Hotel, which is unsurprisingly a hotel in the center of, well, Hanoi. It's cheap, but it works. There's no hot water and the bathroom smells a bit like sewage, but the internet is fast and there are a couple of English-speaking TV channels. The location makes up for the simple amenities: it's just a block from lake Hoan Kiem, and is in the heart of the city's oldest neighborhoods. When we adopted Chien, we stayed just a couple of blocks away.

Chien and me at the Thuy Ta Cafe today.

Chien and Kori at the Thuy Ta Cafe, June 1998.

The boys went to their room, and Kori, Xiu Dan and I tried our best to get some sleep by around 12:30 a.m. Aided by Ambien, I got a couple of hours of decent shuteye. Thanks to jetlag, I was wide awake again by 5:00. At around 6:00, I took a cold shower, got dressed and grabbed my camera. When I got down to the lobby, the desk clerk was still asleep on the floor. He quickly got up and let me out, and I hit the streets. 

I headed straight for the lake and wandered among the hundreds of Hanoians exercising in the cool of the morning. The lake is an oasis of tranquility in the heart of the busy capital city. Young men jog and lift weights, children play badminton, and old women practice Tai Chi under the boughs of ancient willow trees. A red lacquered bridge stretches from the west bank to a tiny pagoda on an island in the center of the lake where tourists snap pictures and supplicants burn incense at the shrined dedicated to the magic turtle who once returned the sword of power to King Ly Thai To.

There are fewer cyclos and bikes and more cars. Most of the motos are fizzy, late-model Honda Dreams and Yamaha 125cc jobs, rather than the Super Cub C90s that used to burble around the streets, but little else has changed in the heart of the city. Tired yet mighty worker-women still waddle the sidewalks with heavy bundles of fruit on poles over their shoulders, men still chop glistening piles of grilled meatparts on heavy wooden cutting boards and hungry Hanoians of all ages still slurp steaming bowls of phở from metal folding tables at streetside cafes.

After locating and photographing the Thuy Ta Cafe where Kori and I used to feed baby Chien stacks of Ritz crackers and the Claudia Hotel where we first became a family, I returned to the hotel, gathered the family and headed out for breakfast. We found a tiny family-run restaurant serving the city's famous beef noodle soup, phở, and reminded ourselves once again why we don't bother ordering the stuff very often in Columbus, Ohio. If Hanoi wasn't filled to the brim with other, equally-tasty treats, I could eat a bowl of at salty, spicy and slightly-oily brisket-and-broth for breakfast, lunch and dinner. 


We strolled around the lake, visited the pagoda and grabbed tea and fruit smoothies at the Thuy Ta -- that was about all we had energy for, and we have returend to our hotel for a couple hours of rest before lunch. By tomorrow morning, we should be mostly adjusted to the new schedule, and will be ready for full days of fun.

I love this place. I'm more accustomed to the heat, the pace of city life and the profound Asianness of the place than I was 16 years ago, but I'm not jaded. I've worked hard to maintain my sense of wonder throughout my 20+ trips to this part of the world, and so far, it's paying off with a great visit to Hanoi. 

Pak and Xiu Dan are enjoying themselves. Kori and I are definitely a bit emotional. Chien seems to be quietly taking it all in. "It's kind of strange being here," he said. Yeah. It is. But I'm glad we're all here together.

John McCollumComment