Hey Everyone,
Manakambahiny is going great! It's been my favorite area, especially considering I've gotten to see the attitude of the ward towards the missionaries flip upside down. It seemed like they didn't trust the missionaries in the past, especially the bishop, due to previous missionaries showing up to church late and not being too obedient. But, Elder Bingham and I brainstormed on how we could gain back the trust of the ward, and we decided we can take studies away once a week on Fridays to do any service we could for members, even inviting the ward missionaries to participate.
Some of the service projects we were able to accomplish: We visited a member in the hospital, helped with hometeaching, helped a less-active plant some rice; we helped our 1st counselor build bricks from scratch; we helped members move furniture into their new homes, and much more. I've really grown to love doing service. Now, I can see our ward trusts and loves the missionaries. The ward missionaries always want to work with us, and almost all of the families we're teaching now are referrals, and there's a great chance we'll have a lot of baptisms coming up. That's been my favorite thing about Manakambahiny!
Welp, in transfer news, Elder Bingham and his group are now heading home. I received a new, slick bigshot named Elder Stromberg. Everything is going great! Elder Stromberg is very obedient, and it feels great to be what a missionary should exactly be like. It reminds me of the good times with my trainee, Elder Monsen, and my favorite rugby mammoth, Elder Kruger. I've loved the past couple days. We have a wonderful heater in our tundra-cold house. We finally have a great program here in Manakambahiny, which Elder Bingham and I had to whitewash (start from scratch) 3 months ago. We have very diligent missionaries in our zone; the retention for our recent converts is around 95%! We have a lot to be grateful for!
Some pictures from our most recent zone conference:
Getting Stabbed by a Cactus
On the way to a dinner appointment late last night, I, with my lack of direction skills, decided to take a new path, crossing through rice paddies, which turned out to be a horrible mistake. The light on our phone stopped working; so blind and tired, we had no idea what was in front of us. Out of the blue, Elder Stromberg kicked up his knee and pulled off this wild, gorgeous spin--maybe some intense deja vu back to his ballet days. Turns out, he walked straight into a bush of cacti. Falling to the ground, I noticed he was stabbed by a ton of cactus needles. I had to help him carefully lower his pants so I could meticulously search, as he groaned in pain, for each miniscule needle located in his upper thigh area. I felt so bad because I couldn't stop giggling violently--especially when a Malagasy passed by, squinted to see what was going on, then quickly jog-walked in the opposite direction. Eventually, we got all of the 10+ needles out of his legs.
Streetkid Brawl
Waiting for one of our member helps, we were passing a ball with a random drunk guy in a beautiful countryside area, Ankadidratombo. Dozens of Malagasies gathered around the edge of the soccer terrain and laughed as the guy repeatedly whiffed the ball, muttered some swear word, stumbled around and kicked it again. Then, I asked if some of the kids on the side wanted to join in, and what seemed like a hundred Malagasy street kids, the toughest kind of Malagasy of all, flooded in and all raced towards the ball. To give you an idea of what a Malagasy street kid is like, he has a thick protective layer of grime, no shoes and incredible scars all over the body from previous fights, burns and who knows what else. They're tough. But anyways, as a mosh pit around the ball started forming, a couple of the kids dressed in rags started to throw punches--no aimed punches, but the kind where one closes their eyes, swings their arm as hard as they can, and it hits another oblivious, smiling kid just joining the group. Elder Bingham and I just sat there in awe. Within a few seconds, the crowd of kids with a the ball in the center melted into a bloody brawl, half of them bawling, half of them going Super Saiyan as they screamed and punched like one of those characters from Dragon Ball Z. Finally realizing I'm 5 times the size of these little monsters, I quickly ran in and tried to break it up, but with no success. Elder Bingham then yelled to me that our member help finally came. So, I said sorry to the spectating crowd and promptly left.
June 26th
Independence Day in Madagascar. Due to the prospective dangers and possible, odd temptations, our Mission President put a curfew for 6 o' clock in the 4 days surrounding June 26th. At this time, I was still with Elder Bingham. We had just got out of our ward mission leader's house at 5:50. As the time neared 6 o' clock, many vuvuzelas started to go off in the distance, almost like it was announcing a death in Hunger Games. Then, all the chaos let loose, as Elder Bingham and I were running home, kids were lighting off their homemade bombs, and our path home was a gauntlet of drunks yelling at us from bars, kids dashing around under our legs, laser pointers galore. The next morning it felt like some post-apocalyptic scene: streets full of trash and toys, drunks either passed out on the side of the path, or aimlessly walking, trying to remember where their home is. People solemnly sitting in buses regretting the party the night before. Work on that days didn't go very well, haha.
Stories for Next Week
-Didim-potra
-Less-actives
Love you all!
Elder Soper
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