Till Next Time

IMG_5106
Snow catching the first rays of sunrise

The month of May has flown by and winter has claimed New Zealand. A few weeks ago we said a tearful goodbye to the students and sent them off with loads of awesome memories. Though it’s sad to let them go it’s exciting to know they’re equipped to change their corners of the world and continue God’s work of shalom.

The Dolphin Lodge is now eerily quiet (though I’m sure the neighbors are enjoying it). The town of Kaikoura is settling in for a busy winter; it is hosting 300 workers who will repair the roads and open up access to the north again. They are housed in a temporary village and while it might mean less rest for locals it will also mean more business for those in food service who will be providing meals for the workers. On the workers’ end, Kaikoura is not too shabby of a place to be stuck for a few months!

Four of us staff have also finished our time with CCSP. Those staying will be joined by a new Program Administrator and two SLCs in August. Soon enough they’ll be welcoming a new crew of students to make more fun memories at Dolphin Lodge!  

As for me, well, I’ll be passing the administration of this blog on to the next staff member. I have no plans to return to New Zealand… yet. Somehow I think I’ll always find a way back. So rather than say goodbye, I’ll say “till we meet again.” It’s been a fantastic semester and I hope you’ve enjoyed getting a glimpse into it.

This is Essie signing off.

Peace.

IMG_5237
The Kaikoura ranges from the air
Advertisements

Journals from Kiwiland

Hey everyone!  I’m Annika Hindbjorgen, a junior from Sioux Falls, South Dakota studying biology and secondary education at Northwestern College in Orange City, Iowa.   My semester with CCSP has been so amazing and fun filled that I am writing this blog post an entire month late (oops!).   I have been truly blessed to be here.  Originally when thinking about what I would write, I thought that I would write about the culture of New Zealand, or about the things that I’ve learned, or about the community here.  But, upon reflecting upon all the wonderful things happenings that are constantly happening here, I thought I would share thoughts from my journal.  No, no; I will not share all of my deepest and most riveting thoughts that are written in my orange fox-printed diary, but I will share with you a line here and there that will give you an idea about what living here in Kaikoura with CCSP is like: 

January 25:  “Today I stepped my feet into the cold ocean water (kind of symbolic of the ‘cold feet’ I have for this trip).”

January 26:  “The air doesn’t feel like this in South Dakota.  Somehow the salty waves make a different kind of humid.” 

January 27:  “MAN, I AM OUT OF SHAPE!”

January 29:  “Today I got up and went to the beach and watched the sunrise—it was, once again, phenomenal.”

January 31:  “I hope to love.  People. Creatures.  Places.  All of it.”

February 1:  “We say dusky dolphins off the dolphin lodge porch! Now I fully understand its namesake.” 

February 3:  “We went to a playground that had a three story high slide, waterpark, trampolines, zip lines, and so much more.  We were very happy to play—but these would never exist in America—NZ kids must be tougher.”

February 12:  “Our professor Mick Duncan blew my mind and challenged me in a spiritual and moral way.” “I got to ring the bell outside the Anglican Church—made my day!”

February 13:  “I never thought that scooping seaweed filled with maggots from the beach for the garden would be so much fun!”

February 20:  “I feel loved.  It’s a good feeling.  It’s not like the love that I feel at home, but it is love none the less.”

February 21:  “The North Island forests are a lot like Jurassic Park, just instead of dinosaurs, there are tuataras [endemic lizards].” 

February 22:  “At the Ngatiawa River Monastery—this place is kind of magical.  I feel like forest fairies must come here to live.  Yes, this place definitely has a Tinker Bell vibe.”

February 24:  “I feel like I walked across the Bridge to Terabithia.  Looking at the stars—a different night sky than the one at home.  Amazing.”

February 26:  “4 cups of coffee (so far).”

March 2:  “My tan lines and freckles are getting serious.” “I have trained the bottom of my feet to walk on gravel barefoot.” “Ketchup in New Zealand tastes funny.  So does salsa.  Really sweet.”  “I’m feeling fitter—I’m no longer dead when I walk up the steep hill from town to the Dolphin Lodge.”

March 7:  “Our homestay was fantastic with a wonderful couple right across the street—we helped with a conservation project and saw baby water buffalo!  Not to mention chocolate cake from scratch.” 

March 11:  “I SAW A WHALE.  I smelled whale breath, and then the juvenile humpback, that we named Moana, BREAHED.  It was definitely the highlight of my life.  I was so sea sick, but I didn’t care—I would get sea sick every day of my life to see things like this.” 

March 12:  “Pastor Kevin sheared a sheep during church the old fashioned way.  I went to go pet it afterwards, and found it casually chilling in the trunk of the pastor’s tiny SUV.”

March 23: “Biking Alps2Ocean—The 80 km from Mt. Cook to Twizel was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Ever.” “Gasp! I’m actually reading a book for fun! (The Magician’s Nephew).” “Biking the 900 meter altitude gain was literally the hardest physical thing that I have ever done but when we went down we FLEW and I felt FREE and it was FUN.” “We saw 3 dead wallabies. What the heck.  Do these even exist in NZ?!”  (apparently they are invasive in only one little town) 

April 13:  “Oh my goodness.  I didn’t even finish my sentence from 3 weeks ago.  So much can distract you from journaling:  so much fun and beauty and conversation and frustrations and homework and new experiences and people that need you and times that you need people… and now we have less than a month left and I am so sad to leave and so happy to go home all at once.”  “Extreme levels of trust in Marae bathrooms late at night with friends and first aid scissors lead to short, short haircuts. “

April 16:  “It slept last night from 11:30 to 3:30 to wake up and participate in 24 hours of prayer at the Presbyterian church.  It was amazing to pray so intentionally.” “God painted the sunrise with Easter in mind:  pastels of pink and purple, blue and yellow, danced across the sky, over the ocean, and bounced off the ocean.”

April 18:  “Only 24 days left.  So many feelings of sad and happy.  Happy.  Yup—that’s me. Happy.”

 

All Things New

“Miraculous” is not too strong a word for describing the start of this semester. Several months ago an earthquake rendered our beloved home unlivable thus throwing the future of CCSP NZ into uncertainty. Our campus, The Old Convent, had become synonymous with CCSP and it was hard to imagine the program being located anywhere else. With the next group of students committed to coming, many things had to fall into place before they arrived. In the midst of a plethora of decisions emerged a new home and two new staff members to continue the story of CCSP. We welcomed students to the Dolphin Lodge located a short walk from the beach and complete with stunning views of the mountains.

I enjoy living in this new location close to the ocean and learning its different moods and colors. Sometimes whitecaps whip the ocean surface from shore to horizon. Sometimes nothing more than gentle ripples dance across the sea like blown glass. In the afternoon, the color turns brilliant aquamarine as the sunlight reflects off the trillions of microscopic particles in the nutrient-rich water.  

My role as the cook is now shared with a community member which gives me more time to spend with the amazing new students. You will be hearing more about the new life of CCSP from one of those students very soon. Stay tuned!

“Kekeno”

It’s a golden early September. The cool grey clouds still glaze over our heads, but the sun has been pressing closer day by day. Sunlight flickers off of the sea, just for pinpoints in time. Sara is already snug in her cockpit, her neoprene skirt stretched tight around the kayak seat’s protruding upper lip. I lean forward, knees bent, and push the hefty tandem boat from the stern into the softly crashing waves. My neoprene booties seem impenetrable only for a second. The chilled seawater finds its way through the opening at my ankles and seep around my toes. I jump into my cockpit. Stretch the skirt over the lip. Flatten the lever and lower my rudder. Finally, I pick the paddle up by its shaft and push the blade against sand and frothing surf.

We are like an unobtrusive intruder in this polyethylene, tiny red ship, both shooting through the water and bobbing like a top in this sheltered bay. The sea rolls underneath. I can imagine I’m riding atop a massive blue-backed leviathan. Its diaphragm rising and falling.

jenni-1

Gull cries pierce the soft symphony of wind and waves. They peel off towards the Abel Tasman coast, hills cloaked in green and the dissolving morning haze. I watch them glide in circles, beat their wings, and swing back around. Gwen sits in his single-seat kayak, perks of being a guide. He detracts me from my gaze and tells us that Adele Island is our next stop. Straight ahead, it sits indifferently to our tiny presence, as small as it is itself.

jenni-2

As we paddle closer, my shoulder burns. Gwen tells me to swing more, but I reckon to myself it’s because I have to contend to the waves pushing back. My suspicions are confirmed when we near the sheltered Adele coast. The water calms, but still shatters and foams against the coarse, beaten granite boulders. I navigate the shoreline with forced confidence, emulating Gwen who slips unflinchingly between sharp protruding pillars. Suddenly I realize that the rocks, which once appeared empty, were dotted with New Zealand fur seals. Properly, as Gwen explained, sea lions. Many slumber on, either unaware or indifferent to our minute, quiet presence. However, as we press on, a small dark shape flounces ungainly, enthusiastically off a granite shear into the water. Suddenly transformed into a graceful smooth-spinner, it flows and cuts through the water at the same time towards Gwen’s kayak.

Like a little black Labrador pup, the young seal follows closely at Gwen’s heals. He flicks his tail, nose dives, twists, as though dancing with the kayak’s rudder. Eventually Gwen slides away, and I find myself gingerly pressing my foot against the left pedal towards the shore. Sara is quiet, but I sense her excitement vibrating into the air as much as mine. The seal pup is relatively still now, treading, with its head peering above the shallow, bright turquoise water. I can only identify its feeling as curiosity. Then, it decides. Our kayak teeters lightly above small ripples, waiting. Breath. Held. In.

Kekeno. It is the name the Maori people give the New Zealand fur seal. Gwen told us the name means “large eyes”. Rightly so. Between his jovial swim-dance, he would stop to watch us. Watching us watch him. Gwen watches us watch each other. He has the biggest brown black eyes, the white yellow sun glinting off his wide, curious orbs. His fur is slick, brown black too. A pup’s fur is usually darker. The sunlight defines the smoothed, thick hairs which groove together, linear crevasses and ridgelines, basin and range topography.

The pup dives into the water from its outpost. He twists, spins, flows like a swift river’s current. Straight to us he glides. I think I let out a small squeak – the balloon in my chest was so filled with excitement, I couldn’t help let a small bit escape. I twist my torso, limited to the skirt hugging my waist, to see the pup prance at our stern. He could best an Olympic synchronized swimmer. My fibers wish to transform into this furry, joyful body. Slide ungainly from polyethylene into salty, living, seawater. And be free.

jenni-3

The Gardener

It has become a bit of a tradition to have a “celebration night” to conclude a week of God and Nature classes with Dr. Andrew Shepherd. We clear out the tables and chairs from the dining room, and take time to view or listen to or watch student’s creative responses to questions on humanity’s role in creation and the role of the cross and resurrection. All of the videos and songs and art pieces shared blew everyone away with their level of maturity and thoughtful reflections, so we thought we would include at least one of those pieces to give you a taste of the night. Here is Anne Nusbaum’s poem “The Gardner” accompanied by her art piece “The Garden”:

 

Every story worth hearing begins with

Misadventure,

So let it be known that

Ours

Began with a slip and a

Fall,

With the best of

Intentions

And the worst of

Consequences,

And the shattering of the

Harmony

Of the

World.

Misadventure

Thus setting the scene,

The world spins on.

 

The morning stars continue in their

Chorus

Whilst birds soar and

Rest

And wander near and far.

The sun rises and sets, and

The sparrow finds a

Home

And the swallow a nest for her young.

Flowers blossom and whither as

Forests melt into

Gold

And valleys deck themselves in swaths of grain.

The moon keeps faithful watch as

The rivers harmonize and the hills sing for

Joy.

They gird themselves in

Laughter

As the waterfall roars

And the trees clap their hands

And the mountains skip

And the heavens weep while

Tthe sea crashes—

All in a heavenly

Chorus

For their King.

 

Even the stones of the earth will cry out His

Glory,

And deep will call out to deep

As thunder shakes bones

And wind screams in peals of laughter.

Heaven and earth praise Him—

Seas and lands and all that moves within.

All Creation echoes His

Glory,

In whisper

And bellow

And movement

And rest.

Every moment therein is

Saturated with

Song

For Him.

This, I tell you, is

Good.

 

Now add to this

Chorus

The faltering and broken voice of

Man.

At its best, his voice is

Small;

When he tries to sing louder, the

Harmony

Is fractured.

For his voice is the scrape of

Trowel into earth.

It is the near silent drop of

Seed into earth.

It is the gargle and spit of water carried from

Home to home in the earth,

And the quiet ‘pit-pat’ of a

Slow step on the earth.

It is the gentle touch of cool soil on

Hands

And the humble attention of

“Watch as it grows.”

It is companionship and faithfulness and

Hands

Of grace and strength.

Just as garden is not

Garden

Without its roots and bees,

The chorus

Is not whole without the voice of

Man.

Gardener tending the

Garden—

It is very Good.

 

-Anne Nusbaum

Class ’17 Eastern University

West Coast Walking

Stories.

They make up the majority of communication among people. They have the power to make us laugh, cry, or grow silent in awe. I love hearing stories and if you spend a few hours with me you will quickly find out I love telling stories just as much (if not more). As an ecology major, I love learning the stories of interconnectedness of all living and nonliving things. And yet, time and time again I find myself paying no attention to the stories this earth before me is screaming at me. So, naturally, allow me to share some stories preserved in the West Coast

The week of March 21 was one of my favorite weeks here in New Zealand because

  • A. We were going to the West Coast, which has a completely different landscape than Kaikoura.
  • B. I love roadtrips
  • C. WE FINALLY WERE HAVING OUR FIRST SCIENCE CLASS OF THE SEMESTER.

The first day started off with a bang: one of the three vans broke down a few hours into our trip, testing our fearless staff on their ability to think on their toes (they proved worthy, as always). This unfortunate event did allow the other two vans to spend lots of time at Castle Hill, the famous landscape of the battle scene in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. The phrase, “FOR NARNIAAAAA” was constantly being carried through the wind while we ran around. I think the staff were hoping we would get all our energy out during this time. Jokes on them, I don’t think that’s ever possible with our group. 🙂

castlehill

Fun fact: Castle Hill is a farmer’s backyard…. WHAT?

Our professor, Dr. Port, from Bethel University, used this as an educational opportunity. He explained that these rock formations aren’t only interesting because of their role in Narnia, but more importantly they tell us a story of New Zealand’s past. These limestone rocks are made from sediments being under immense amount of pressure- that which comes from being submerged under water. The information from these rock formations brought up the questions we asked throughout the week:

Is New Zealand really “Moa’s Ark” and how does that affect what we consider a “native” of New Zealand? Should we really be concerned about native species? Are all invasive species harmful? Is conservation protecting the native ecosystems that would have been around before humans came into the picture? Or has human presence completely altered them?

I’m not going to attempt to answer these questions right now. However, I do encourage you to ask your loved one(s) here at CCSP these questions to see what they think!

After a stop in Castle Hill we continued onto Arthur’s Pass to wait for our broken-down-van friends joined us. Our first night and day in Arthur’s Pass included:

  • Being attacked by sandflies (blackflies) every time we stepped outside
  • Curious keas (a NZ parrot) trying to get into garbage cans on the street
  • Fish and chips for supper
  • Glow worms by the river
  • A walk in a mountain beech forest
  • An intro to the native plants of New Zealand
  • Lovely cushion plants in the alpine zones
  • Typical west coast weather (drizzling, cold, windy)
  • Noting the stories of alpine plants: highly adapted to these elements and poor soils

arthur's pass

First class session in the alpine environment at Arthur’s Pass.

Our next stop was Bruce Bay on the west coast. I was questioning the weather because when we arrived it was sunny and warm- not what we had been told to prepare for. The Makaawhio Marae was definitely a welcoming and refreshing place to stay for the first part of our trip. Our hosts, Jeff and Marie, told us stories of their people and their land. These stories are preserved with every detail on the walls and ceiling of the wharenui (Maori meeting house).

blog 3

One story the west coast is known for revolves around a type of stone. Special stones, pounamu, as Maori call it. This stone is “grown” in the mountains of the west coast: “Te Wahipounamu” the place of greenstone. Jeff is involved in this story. He’s a famous pounamu carver, which involves him getting the stones from the mountains and rivers. However, in Maori tradition, they believe the pounamu reveals itself to the seeker: a reminder of our connection with the land. There’s so much more to this story, and I encourage you to look into the traditions deeply rooted in this beautiful stone.

blog 4

Our trip to Fox Glacier was unexpectedly moving for me. Dr. Port had told us in advance to make note of the changes in landscape as we drove from the marae to the carpark. In my head I was naming the different trees we had been learning and little background stories of them.

  • Tree ferns: r-selected species. found in recently or commonly disturbed areas. aka: EVERYWHERE along the roadsides.
  • Juvenile lancewoods: have different juvenile and adult forms. juveniles look dead.
  • Kahikatea:  the New Zealand white pine. Tallest tree in the forest. Found in swampy lowlands. My favorite native.

Trust me, the list could go on, but I will get back to the glacier. Signs along the road marked where Fox Glacier reached in certain years. In the 1950’s the carpark was well under the glacier and the trail that lead us to the face of the glacier is always changing due to the receding ice.  As we started our walk to the glacier, I observed my surroundings: steep cliffs called glacial schists, beech forest, small shrubs along the trail, algae on rocks, and grey, murky water rushing from the glacier.

blog 5

Class by Fox Glacier.

Soon I found myself standing in front of the story teller itself, and I was brought to tears. I had only seen pictures and documentaries involving glaciers and the stories they hold, so this was an overwhelming experience. I couldn’t help but think about my time on earth compared to the glacier’s time on earth. Obviously, the glacier has and it will remain here longer than I. The very ground I was standing on once was under hundreds of tons of ice. Funny then, that my actions and my lifestyle in the States can affect something so massive and powerful halfway around the world. If I ever return to Fox Glacier, the reality is that the carpark will be moved closer, the trail will continue farther back into the valley, and this glacier will be hardly recognizable from my memory. I was reminded of why my passions lie within science as I stood in awe of our powerful God who is reflected in nature.

blog6

The face of Fox Glacier.

The rest of the week was filled with walking on trails while Dr. Port and our knower-of-plants-TA Lauren pointed out native plants and birds we would need to know for our field exam. All of the non-science majors were gently introduced to the world of ecology: made up of little riddles to remember the differences between tree ferns, hand gestures to distinguish needle types, and lots of frustration along the way.

However, I also noticed how much everyone enjoyed learning the names and features of each plant and bird we came across. Many times I heard phrases along the lines of, “Wait, science is actually fun!” or “I want to be able to do this back home!” I cannot express how much joy it brought me to know the rest of my CCSP family was seeing the world through my eyes: to see God’s creation as complex and beautiful, and to have the desire to take the time to learn details and be able to call a plant by name. Basically, I was pumped because I wasn’t the only one geeking out over plants anymore. I have a hunch that God was doing a little boogie dance too, seeing his children taking delight in his creation.

 

blog 9 blog8 blog7

Each place we visited told a different story of the past. This includes Pancake Rocks, Monroe Beach, Lake Mattheson, the West Coast Wildlife Centre to see Rowi kiwis, Rotariti Gorge, Lewis Pass, and many in between. During this week I realized how much I don’t pay as much attention to these stories as I should. Just like in Christian circles we like to say every person has a story worth telling, I believe that can go beyond humanity and apply to all of creation. Every stone, every bird, every fern, every glacier, and every human has the ability to tell of a great story. One that has been told throughout time. One that brings people to tears. One that celebrates the gift of life. One that shouts praise to the Creator.

I pray that I may have the ears to hear this beautiful story being told all around me.

Will you join?

Blogggg

Check out the video I made to see more of the beauty found on the West Coast.

— Ashley Maloney

NorthWestern College, Class of 2017

 

 

 

Venturing North: Wellington (and beyond!)

I know it’s been awhile since our last update, but this student blog post is well worth the wait! Current CCSP student Judith Marklin (Houghton ’17) reflects on her experiences during the field trip to Wellington for the Sustainable Community Development class last month. Enjoy!

We took the ferry from Picton to Wellington, weaving through the rugged islands of Marlborough Sounds, spotting gannets and terns, and enjoying the beginnings of a new adventure. Upon arrival, it felt strange to be in a city after a month surrounded by cows and sheep. (Oh right, traffic lights do still exist.) Yet it also felt good to be reminded of the reality that is for so many in today’s world. Namely, that of the concrete jungle. It was also nice to people-watch again and try to spot the fingerprints of the Maker on these strangers. To be reminded that I am not alone and that most of us don’t have it all figured out. We just get really good at pretending sometimes.

The first couple nights we stayed at the Te Kakano marae, or Maori meeting house. This one was unique, however, as it was Christian. We began with a powhiri (or welcoming ceremony), listened to speeches, sang a waiata (or song), and then gave our mihimihis (or introductions in Maori – which we learned during Te Reo Maori class). After breaking bread (eating a meal) with them, we were considered family, and the marae graciously welcomed us in. It became our homebase and place of retreat. But for me, it is unique because of Pae. Her full name is Paerangimarie, which means beautiful day. She is mature for an eleven year old: she introduced herself to me, plopping her small body across my mattress. And there is a warmth about her – not just emanating from her beautiful smile, but from her entire being. She took us on a river walk, and we played the games of our childhood: throwing rocks, Pooh sticks, and listening for trains. The next morning we walked her to school in her burgundy uniform and got lost on the way back. And in the evenings she would wait for us to play hide-and-seek or dodgeball or simply talk. Goodbyes were hard, and I wonder about her future. She was my joy.

IMG_1487
Pitting plums with Common Unity!

Our trip was jam-packed with a variety of talks, visits, and experiences. We spent some time in Wellington exploring the city and visiting the Beehive (parliament), as well as learning more about restorative justice and empowerment of local teenage boys through a boxing gym. We got to spend time gardening at an elementary school with Common Unity project. It was so encouraging seeing young children planting sunflowers, learning how to knit their own blankets, and cooking meals with their own food. The parents and the rest of the community was also involved in this vision.

We then went a bit outside the city to Ngatiawa, a River Monastery, that is part of the New Monastic movement. It was such a place of peace and belonging. Everyone lived in close community together, and the day was punctuated with times of prayer. My favorite was evening prayer. We entered the chapel slowly and silently, slipping off our shoes at the door. Taize songs greeted us and the entire service was by candlelight (we each had our own candle to hold). It reinforced the importance of rhythm, of spiritual disciplines, of liturgy in my own life. Three times a day we met for prayer, for a re-centering of our lives around Christ. And it was beautiful and good.

Visit to the Leason's Catholic Worker Farm, Otaki
Visit to the Leason’s Catholic Worker Farm, Otaki

On Friday we visited the L’Arche community in Kapiti, a Christian intentional community where people with intellectual communities (“core members”) and those without live side by side. It was such a refreshing and uplifting experience. Here I learned about the importance of presence and being present to those we are with. As we met with the core members and the others, I was struck by the incredible sense of community and mutuality. Often we tend to approach others with the idea of “helping” them or “saving” them, yet they are often doing just that for us. As we spoke to those from L’Arche, Julie, a core member, introduced herself and then excitedly introduced Sue, her ‘caretaker.’ Julie raved about Sue and how much she helped her, but Sue smiled bashfully, yet with a deep joy, simply answering, “we care for each other.”

Our trip to Wellington was deeply enriching and inspiring. It is incredible to meet so many people making a difference in their neighborhoods. And to think this is just in a part of one city, on one island in the world. When I find myself cynical with the headlines, I have to remind myself of all the good that surrounds us. It can be hard to notice, but it is there, in the small, in the mundane, in the ordinary. I pray that I may learn to live out my faith without words; that my actions and my life be an act of worship and a prayer to God. For as Chris, a volunteer at L’Arche, said, “you become more human, because you do little things with great love.”

 

-Judith

Houghton College

Class of 2017