Sunday, October 26
Joan, and her daughter Teka. Teka has five children. Her cousin has a few more. Her other cousin, a few more, including a two month old named VJ. Twelve children, one house. Teka’s brother was killed when he fell from the bucket of a utility truck a couple years ago. Teka’s uncle has had two recent strokes. Teka is the only real income amongst a family of 18 in that house.
She works in a supermarket, in the bakery. There is no water cistern at the house, except two large rain barrels. There is no fresh water cistern. When the nearby spring goes dry, or the pipe of municipal water breaks, theer might not be any water for some time. They didn’t know what they would eat that night. This is Teka’s “blank week”. She gets paid every two weeks with a salary that only lasts one week. Two times a month, there is no food. Teka gets four days off this week, because Friday she collapsed at work and had to be taken to the emergency room. Low blood pressure. They wrote her a prescription for medicine. She must get it in Montego Bay. Getting there takes money. How will you pay for it? Well, I don’t know, she says.
The baby daddy doesn’t come around. He doesn’t pay for any support of the kids. Is that a good thing or a bad thing, that he doesn’t come around? Mostly a good thing, because when he comes around, he demands sex in return for anything he might give. We don’t know for sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Teka wasn’t really wanting 5 children.
Paul, our driver, says he only has 1 boy – a teenager. He says he wanted only 1 so that he could raise them right – so he would be able to afford them. Paul is a rare soul.
I was bothered this morning by our morning meal. There was more food on our table than Teka and Little had in their possession to feed 18 children and 8 adults. I think that sums up the need pretty well.
When you start talking about needs, two subjects quickly emerge. 1) The enormity of the needs, and 2) the limitations in addressing it. A third subject, which may be a subset of limitations, is the issue of socio-economic relativity. How much is enough? Is it ‘enough’ assistance to restore a house to having no leaks? Or is it enough to build a home to North Raleigh standards, or even Mrs. Moore’s standards? These are issues we will need to wrestle with.
Where do we focus our assistance? Here is a common sense hierarchy based upon my observations:
Water – for drinking, bathing, and washing
Food – calories, nutrition, preparation
Clothing – adequate amount, replacement, washing
Shelter – security, elemental protection, social space, cooking space, resting space
Family – Safety, boundaries, sharing, encouragement
Health Care – Medicine, Dr., Diagnosis, Treatment, Prevention
Education – enough said
Income – skills, money, time away from working
Spiritual – church, prayer, learning
Community – support, encouragement, greater resources, laws, protection, sharing
Government – infrastructure (schools, roads), justice, provision
Some High Schools have agriculture teachers who operate farms and gardens as teaching tools.
Mrs. Moore bought 30 eggs for $40 Jamaican, but eggs are not a typical part of the Jamaican diet – they are high in cholesterol and ‘you’ve got to watch the color’. Even so, 30 eggs cost about 60 cents US.
Mr. Hugh Johnson, a member of the church in Hopewell, is a choir man, a Men’s ministry leader – he’s a welder, and he has grown boys. They get together on holidays once a year at a reunion. He used to work at the bauxite mine as an aluminum welder. Now he does ironwork and repairs. Arc and oxycetalene welding. He says a skilled tradesman makes roughly 10K Jamaican per month. Unskilled, maybe 4-5000. Minimum wage is 3000 per month. Hospitality/reception industry – 6000, cleaning – 4000.
Reverend Joseph, the deacon, works primarily in Lethe. She lives at the Bethel parsonage. She worked regularly at the home in Copse – West Haven.
Mrs. Moore knows the tax administrator – he is a circuit steward and goes to Bethel.
She showed Celeste the garden today. She also arranged for the youth to come and speak to us. They want us to make a tape and send it to them of our youth.
She spoke at length with us, talking and laughing. Her husband likes the house, she loves the neighborhood, but would like a smaller place. This is too much to take care of.
Joyce has a friend who told us Joyce is struggling. The husband doesn’t help much. Joyce works hard for little pay.
Mrs. Moore told us that Nicholas came from very poor situation, has a learning disability, struggles in school.
At church this morning, Rev. Joseph preached about how the church must change to create welcoming environment for the youth, or we will lose a generation. She also said anyone over 70 is on borrowed time – don’t waste it. When we see the destruction, lay it at the feet of the almighty. She asked individuals to quote their favorite Psalms, into a microphone. I did the Youth sermon. I talked about being afraid of the Shark I saw in the ocean last year, I asked them what they are afraid of – insects, snakes, and lizards. I told them about the gunshot last year that we heard during church. I used Psalm 27:1-4, the Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear?
We bought groceries for Mrs. Irving and Teka’s family. Hopefully we can get more “Tings” tomorrow.
Tonight we gathered on the roof for a cool breeze and plenty of stars. What a blessing.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Dominoes and Shadow Walkers
Saturday Night, October 25, 2008 Mrs. Moore’s
“Shadowlands”
Shadowwalkers we are. 2 homes. Combined household income, not very much. Children at home – 17. That in and of itself is remarkable. Considering one house has only 5 people makes it staggering. We walked with Little, who went by “Leeker” or Licka or Leeka depending on how you pronounce it. Mrs. Irving is how we were introduced originally. We met her near the SHOP on the road to Lethe; we tried to drive to her house, but the bus wouldn’t make the climb. We were reduced to walking, which, in truth, we preferred. It was steep and slow. From the road below I heard, “Me like dee back one!” That was me. How flattering. Too bad she wasn’t my type J.
Mrs. Irving is shy. Exccedingly so. Very quiet. At least around us. W e climbed the very steep road to an intersection, bordered on the right by a cinder-block house. Turning right up a two-track “road” that followed the ridgeline, past a rusted out car. Past a muddy low spot. Up an even steeper hill to her house. A one story cinder block tin-roof two room house, with a rough outdoor kitchen and a cement-pad extending out from the house, covered. TO call it a breezeway conjures up a much too polished image, but the functional description would be accurate. Eight children, from about 2 years old up to 13 or so, playing dominoes – gathered around the table on cement stools on the breezeway.
Little doesn’t live there. They are her children, though. Little lives with her parents up the road. Her boyfriend, the baby-father, works during the day tending goats.
She has six children. One has moved away. ONE LOVE on the wall. Crosses painted on the outside. Ussain Bolt, the new national hero, on the wall. Inside there is a small gas range and oven. Little problem – a tank of gas costs about $100 US. No gas. When there’s no gas, you use the outside kitchen and make a little fire out of wood. Occasionally there is nothing to eat. IT’s mostly a safe place, she tells us, but rarely it happens that someone is angry and comes around.
The kids – they want to be a mechanical engineer, a teacher, a doctor, a bat man in the cricket sense, They believe they will be. There is no doubt.
Back at our guest house, we talk with Joyce, Mrs. Moore’s (our guest house owner) assistant. We learn that she also assists the teachers at a local school. She has a house full of children, too. The baby daddy lives in England. Her oldest son is an electric engineer. He studied for three years in England until his visa ran out. Now, he’s home, with no Visa and no work for him here in Jamaica. It’s frustrating. She told us how she met Mrs. Moore. Some 12 years ago, she was having a hard time. She knocked on a door looking for work. Explaining her situation, and desire for work, the teacher coincidentally was teaching all her children. She listened, and introduced her to Mrs. Moore. They’ve been together ever since. It’s frustrating, though, that she needs to be together. She uses that word, “Frustrating”, a lot. It sums up so much.
Mrs. Moore, she is a beautiful soul. She worries about her mother, who is lately not well. That is exhausting for her – helping to take care of her mother and the rest of life. She went to choir practice tonight – We played dominos. “Reverend, you play a wicked game!” she said. We were sworn to secrecy on the final tally of the games. Buck out, means you are lucky. We slammed the dominoes on the table. The hard the knock, the better your chances, after all.
“Shadowlands”
Shadowwalkers we are. 2 homes. Combined household income, not very much. Children at home – 17. That in and of itself is remarkable. Considering one house has only 5 people makes it staggering. We walked with Little, who went by “Leeker” or Licka or Leeka depending on how you pronounce it. Mrs. Irving is how we were introduced originally. We met her near the SHOP on the road to Lethe; we tried to drive to her house, but the bus wouldn’t make the climb. We were reduced to walking, which, in truth, we preferred. It was steep and slow. From the road below I heard, “Me like dee back one!” That was me. How flattering. Too bad she wasn’t my type J.
Mrs. Irving is shy. Exccedingly so. Very quiet. At least around us. W e climbed the very steep road to an intersection, bordered on the right by a cinder-block house. Turning right up a two-track “road” that followed the ridgeline, past a rusted out car. Past a muddy low spot. Up an even steeper hill to her house. A one story cinder block tin-roof two room house, with a rough outdoor kitchen and a cement-pad extending out from the house, covered. TO call it a breezeway conjures up a much too polished image, but the functional description would be accurate. Eight children, from about 2 years old up to 13 or so, playing dominoes – gathered around the table on cement stools on the breezeway.
Little doesn’t live there. They are her children, though. Little lives with her parents up the road. Her boyfriend, the baby-father, works during the day tending goats.
She has six children. One has moved away. ONE LOVE on the wall. Crosses painted on the outside. Ussain Bolt, the new national hero, on the wall. Inside there is a small gas range and oven. Little problem – a tank of gas costs about $100 US. No gas. When there’s no gas, you use the outside kitchen and make a little fire out of wood. Occasionally there is nothing to eat. IT’s mostly a safe place, she tells us, but rarely it happens that someone is angry and comes around.
The kids – they want to be a mechanical engineer, a teacher, a doctor, a bat man in the cricket sense, They believe they will be. There is no doubt.
Back at our guest house, we talk with Joyce, Mrs. Moore’s (our guest house owner) assistant. We learn that she also assists the teachers at a local school. She has a house full of children, too. The baby daddy lives in England. Her oldest son is an electric engineer. He studied for three years in England until his visa ran out. Now, he’s home, with no Visa and no work for him here in Jamaica. It’s frustrating. She told us how she met Mrs. Moore. Some 12 years ago, she was having a hard time. She knocked on a door looking for work. Explaining her situation, and desire for work, the teacher coincidentally was teaching all her children. She listened, and introduced her to Mrs. Moore. They’ve been together ever since. It’s frustrating, though, that she needs to be together. She uses that word, “Frustrating”, a lot. It sums up so much.
Mrs. Moore, she is a beautiful soul. She worries about her mother, who is lately not well. That is exhausting for her – helping to take care of her mother and the rest of life. She went to choir practice tonight – We played dominos. “Reverend, you play a wicked game!” she said. We were sworn to secrecy on the final tally of the games. Buck out, means you are lucky. We slammed the dominoes on the table. The hard the knock, the better your chances, after all.
Jamaica Journal - October 24 - Airport Musings
Friday, October 24, 2008 – Miami Dade International Airport
Almost there, but not quite.
As they say, it’s all over but the talking. I’ve got Bob Marley in the headphones (Pearl Jam and Cowboy Junkies, too)
We’re eating Pizza Hut, watching CNN. There’s a sign across the way that says some company helped save millions of dollars. The news is continuously playing the stock market losses.
Teka called to say she was going to work, and to say she’ll see us tomorrow.
The Cowboy Junkies song is called, “Cheap is how I feel.” It couldn’t be more opposite. I have so much. We’re going to a place with very little. Besides a little technology and the clothes we’re wearing, we go with ideas and empty hands. And yet we live every day with so much. I, for one, brought four pairs of shoes.
I wonder how much offense we may cause, not bringing much. I guess that’s what we want to do – build trust. Trust comes when what is promised is not yet seen. Trust builds relationships.
Almost there, but not quite.
As they say, it’s all over but the talking. I’ve got Bob Marley in the headphones (Pearl Jam and Cowboy Junkies, too)
We’re eating Pizza Hut, watching CNN. There’s a sign across the way that says some company helped save millions of dollars. The news is continuously playing the stock market losses.
Teka called to say she was going to work, and to say she’ll see us tomorrow.
The Cowboy Junkies song is called, “Cheap is how I feel.” It couldn’t be more opposite. I have so much. We’re going to a place with very little. Besides a little technology and the clothes we’re wearing, we go with ideas and empty hands. And yet we live every day with so much. I, for one, brought four pairs of shoes.
I wonder how much offense we may cause, not bringing much. I guess that’s what we want to do – build trust. Trust comes when what is promised is not yet seen. Trust builds relationships.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Jamaica Journal - 10/24/08 Mrs. Moore's
Mrs. Moore’s – Friday Night –
Crickets and Cicadas, chirps and excited far away yells. Cars and buses on the highway far down the hill.
A single low-energy fluorescent bulb overhead. Ceiling fans spinning. Breat and Celeste silently writing. A strange flying bug lands on my head.
We arrived on time. We breezed through customs. It’s the slow season, we learned, making the invitations and solicitations of the red caps and taxi drivers all the more robust. Paul Campbell, our driver/guide, met us outside. He’s a tall, very gracious man. He was holding a white sign with red letters that read “Priesta”. Our eyes lit up with excitement and relief as through the miracle of the telephone we met the person who was waiting for us, though we had never met. “I knew it was you” he said. “Only if you were told to look for three white people lost in a sea of people.” I replied.
He is here to serve us – to take away that portion of our stress. “Free your mind,” he said a few times. Just relax. Tell me what you want to do, and I will tell you the best way to do it. He has known Mrs. Moore 20 some years. He takes many groups – church groups. “You may be wondering about the half-bottle of whiskey. That was left behind by a friend. It’s not mine.” (It was sitting next to him). “Sure,” we said, laughingly. We believe him. Seriously.
We’re driving to Lethe. T raffic is building – the sights – driving on the left, driver on the right – are both shocking and comforting – rough looking skinny bloodshot eye rastas and school children in uniforms. Near accidents and posters with the fastest humans – titles now held by Jamaicans.
We start to see familiar kids faces, now grown a year older. I recognize the faces mostly because I’ve been looking at a slideshow and picture frames of them for a year now. Funny how when all you’ve got is a picture, your mind doesn’t apply its own aging to the people you’re looking at. The children stand at bus stops. They walk the pot-hole ridden roads.
We arrive at the school. Mrs. Brown, with her many, thin brown braids – isn’t sure she recognizes me, and I’m not sure I recognize her. Her 1st grade teacher, I remember well. There are a couple of older male helpers around. The first grade teacher (Mrs. Needham) and Allison McGee are there. We are introduced awkwardly and straight away to Mrs. Irving – a VERY SHY woman – having a very hard time making ends meet. Six children – all ages – one grown. She lives up from the school on the right. Her smile is precious – her hair braided close on her head. We meet her at 10 at the little shop up the road tomorrow.
Yes, it was awkward. We stood between the buildings of the school. Celeste coached me in the van afterwards that in my discomfort my arms were crossed and I looked stern the whole time. It was my first real venture trying to create something from nothing cross-culturally.
We learned about some needs:
Physically – the building needs repair but is government-owned. Red tape here.
Computers with learning software are desired. On carts?
Perishable supplies such as construction paper, books, lined paper.
Money for the food program.\
Roughly 80 of the kids get fed breakfast – 70-100 more need it.
Path identifies kids in need – for lunches? If kids miss more than 3 times, they are off the roles. Breakfast is based on donations and hasn’t happened this year. Everybody comes when it is offered. Remedial education – reading and math – would be helpful, but there is no money. Possibiliity of funding through the church. Uniforms for schools are not provided.
The gutters leaked – rusted through. Birds fly in and through the classrooms – 7 rooms, divided by chalkboards.
I’m sure they’re talking to their husbands about us. That pastor seemed angry. Why is it all about needs? What if we could feed the kids?
My aunt is a teacher. Her worldview is one of persistent compassion mixed with the apathy and cynicism that comes from years and masses of troubling circumstances.
Striking things:Derelict structure on side of road
Lazy work ethic
Led to introspection.
So many things to do –
They don’t believe we’ll do anything
Decompressing 3 hours – vs. Bret’s experience
Paul – Relax your mind
Jumble of ideas
Uniforms – see it, touch it, feel it
Helps with pride
Appropriateness
Clothing/Shoes
Tutoring program
Crickets and Cicadas, chirps and excited far away yells. Cars and buses on the highway far down the hill.
A single low-energy fluorescent bulb overhead. Ceiling fans spinning. Breat and Celeste silently writing. A strange flying bug lands on my head.
We arrived on time. We breezed through customs. It’s the slow season, we learned, making the invitations and solicitations of the red caps and taxi drivers all the more robust. Paul Campbell, our driver/guide, met us outside. He’s a tall, very gracious man. He was holding a white sign with red letters that read “Priesta”. Our eyes lit up with excitement and relief as through the miracle of the telephone we met the person who was waiting for us, though we had never met. “I knew it was you” he said. “Only if you were told to look for three white people lost in a sea of people.” I replied.
He is here to serve us – to take away that portion of our stress. “Free your mind,” he said a few times. Just relax. Tell me what you want to do, and I will tell you the best way to do it. He has known Mrs. Moore 20 some years. He takes many groups – church groups. “You may be wondering about the half-bottle of whiskey. That was left behind by a friend. It’s not mine.” (It was sitting next to him). “Sure,” we said, laughingly. We believe him. Seriously.
We’re driving to Lethe. T raffic is building – the sights – driving on the left, driver on the right – are both shocking and comforting – rough looking skinny bloodshot eye rastas and school children in uniforms. Near accidents and posters with the fastest humans – titles now held by Jamaicans.
We start to see familiar kids faces, now grown a year older. I recognize the faces mostly because I’ve been looking at a slideshow and picture frames of them for a year now. Funny how when all you’ve got is a picture, your mind doesn’t apply its own aging to the people you’re looking at. The children stand at bus stops. They walk the pot-hole ridden roads.
We arrive at the school. Mrs. Brown, with her many, thin brown braids – isn’t sure she recognizes me, and I’m not sure I recognize her. Her 1st grade teacher, I remember well. There are a couple of older male helpers around. The first grade teacher (Mrs. Needham) and Allison McGee are there. We are introduced awkwardly and straight away to Mrs. Irving – a VERY SHY woman – having a very hard time making ends meet. Six children – all ages – one grown. She lives up from the school on the right. Her smile is precious – her hair braided close on her head. We meet her at 10 at the little shop up the road tomorrow.
Yes, it was awkward. We stood between the buildings of the school. Celeste coached me in the van afterwards that in my discomfort my arms were crossed and I looked stern the whole time. It was my first real venture trying to create something from nothing cross-culturally.
We learned about some needs:
Physically – the building needs repair but is government-owned. Red tape here.
Computers with learning software are desired. On carts?
Perishable supplies such as construction paper, books, lined paper.
Money for the food program.\
Roughly 80 of the kids get fed breakfast – 70-100 more need it.
Path identifies kids in need – for lunches? If kids miss more than 3 times, they are off the roles. Breakfast is based on donations and hasn’t happened this year. Everybody comes when it is offered. Remedial education – reading and math – would be helpful, but there is no money. Possibiliity of funding through the church. Uniforms for schools are not provided.
The gutters leaked – rusted through. Birds fly in and through the classrooms – 7 rooms, divided by chalkboards.
I’m sure they’re talking to their husbands about us. That pastor seemed angry. Why is it all about needs? What if we could feed the kids?
My aunt is a teacher. Her worldview is one of persistent compassion mixed with the apathy and cynicism that comes from years and masses of troubling circumstances.
Striking things:Derelict structure on side of road
Lazy work ethic
Led to introspection.
So many things to do –
They don’t believe we’ll do anything
Decompressing 3 hours – vs. Bret’s experience
Paul – Relax your mind
Jumble of ideas
Uniforms – see it, touch it, feel it
Helps with pride
Appropriateness
Clothing/Shoes
Tutoring program
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Jamaica Journal October 19
Sunday, October 19, 2008 10:45PM. 4 ½ days until we arrive in Jamaica
Mission Work, done well, takes a lot of communication. Next week at this time, God willing, I’ll be sitting on a rooftop in Hopewell hearing the sounds of dogs barking and reggae music blaring.
This past month has been filled with the sounds of communication. A phone card from OneSource.com has enabled twenty five cents per minute calls. These calls have been made to renew relationships, to set expectations, to make arrangements. I’ve spoken with Allison McGee and Mrs. Brown at the Lethe school; with Delores Moore who runs the guest house; with Teka and her mother Joan in Copse; with Rev. Llewellyn who is the Methodist District Superintendent (actually the Senior Pastor of the 11 church circuit in Montego Bay / St. James). We have a tentative schedule arranged, and a budget that is as reasonable and definite as we can make it. I write the schedule below for the posterity of historical record and the amusement of seeing how much it will change:
Friday we land in Montego Bay at 1:00 pm
We hope to meet the Lethe staff at about 3:00pm
We are hoping that at that very important meeting we will assess the needs of the children, and begin to formulate a plan for sustained involvement. We also have requested a pairing with one or two families who are in significant need, that perhaps we can visit with them on Saturday and Sunday. Teka’s family is expecting us on Saturday. She has a job now; last year at Christmas her family had nothing to eat.
On Sunday we will worship with Mrs. Moore. Hopefully we will also meet with the St. James Poor Relief agent. Monday morning we are scheduled to meet with Rev. Llewellyn at his office in Montego Bay.
I am very excited to see again the children from last year, and to renew those very early friendships.
In my most sincere dreams, I hope to somehow connect in a meaningful way with an urban center for street kids, or perhaps plant the seeds of creating one and getting in at Blossom Gardens. Perhaps, if that home for infants is hurting as much as it appears, we can make a real difference there. We also hope to explore the possibility of feeding the children in Lethe, either the forgotten children on weekends, or the children that don’t qualify for government food during the week.
This week, I must buy gifts for Daniel (backpack, shoes), Teka and her family, Mrs. Moore, the Lethe school, and Rev. Llewellyn. I also would like to see if my friend wants me to take Sasha anything.
I pray that our team will be bold in faith, yet secure in God’s protection. I pray that we will be at the same time humble and effective in accomplishing God’s purpose, not ours. I pray that we would see our Jamaican friends as God sees them, and that our hosts would see Christ in and instead of us.
This morning, the congregation prayed for us at 8:45. It was a very sacred and humbling and powerful experience. We do not really take anything but openness, and some long-sought direction. We trust totally in God’s love and the Truth that God’s word does not return without accomplishing its purpose.
Mission Work, done well, takes a lot of communication. Next week at this time, God willing, I’ll be sitting on a rooftop in Hopewell hearing the sounds of dogs barking and reggae music blaring.
This past month has been filled with the sounds of communication. A phone card from OneSource.com has enabled twenty five cents per minute calls. These calls have been made to renew relationships, to set expectations, to make arrangements. I’ve spoken with Allison McGee and Mrs. Brown at the Lethe school; with Delores Moore who runs the guest house; with Teka and her mother Joan in Copse; with Rev. Llewellyn who is the Methodist District Superintendent (actually the Senior Pastor of the 11 church circuit in Montego Bay / St. James). We have a tentative schedule arranged, and a budget that is as reasonable and definite as we can make it. I write the schedule below for the posterity of historical record and the amusement of seeing how much it will change:
Friday we land in Montego Bay at 1:00 pm
We hope to meet the Lethe staff at about 3:00pm
We are hoping that at that very important meeting we will assess the needs of the children, and begin to formulate a plan for sustained involvement. We also have requested a pairing with one or two families who are in significant need, that perhaps we can visit with them on Saturday and Sunday. Teka’s family is expecting us on Saturday. She has a job now; last year at Christmas her family had nothing to eat.
On Sunday we will worship with Mrs. Moore. Hopefully we will also meet with the St. James Poor Relief agent. Monday morning we are scheduled to meet with Rev. Llewellyn at his office in Montego Bay.
I am very excited to see again the children from last year, and to renew those very early friendships.
In my most sincere dreams, I hope to somehow connect in a meaningful way with an urban center for street kids, or perhaps plant the seeds of creating one and getting in at Blossom Gardens. Perhaps, if that home for infants is hurting as much as it appears, we can make a real difference there. We also hope to explore the possibility of feeding the children in Lethe, either the forgotten children on weekends, or the children that don’t qualify for government food during the week.
This week, I must buy gifts for Daniel (backpack, shoes), Teka and her family, Mrs. Moore, the Lethe school, and Rev. Llewellyn. I also would like to see if my friend wants me to take Sasha anything.
I pray that our team will be bold in faith, yet secure in God’s protection. I pray that we will be at the same time humble and effective in accomplishing God’s purpose, not ours. I pray that we would see our Jamaican friends as God sees them, and that our hosts would see Christ in and instead of us.
This morning, the congregation prayed for us at 8:45. It was a very sacred and humbling and powerful experience. We do not really take anything but openness, and some long-sought direction. We trust totally in God’s love and the Truth that God’s word does not return without accomplishing its purpose.
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