In Amoy, another breakthrough: Marilee Pierce Dunker meets a man who remembers her father—and sings a song to prove it.
Mr. Gow (Abby Metty/WV)
The moment Mr. Zhu breathed the words “Youth with Christ” will be burned in my memory forever. For four days, we had knocked on doors, made phone calls, and tracked down leads that often left us with more questions than answers. Then, just as we had been about to give up, God gave us the key that broke the code, and the answers began to be revealed. This must have been what Indiana Jones felt like when he discovered the lost Ark!
As I reveled in that moment, I realized that it really didn’t matter that no one remembered Bob Pierce. After all, in 1947 he was simply an unknown youth evangelist who wore loud ties and wing-tipped shoes. But my dad had been part of a great movement of God that had touched the lives of the youth of Amoy, and the experience had helped mold him into the man of vision he would later become. The important thing was not that the people of Amoy remember him, but that he had remembered them—and been changed by the experience. And so would we.
We stood up to leave, our smiles real this time. Mr. Lin, who was more excited than just about anyone, held up his hand. “I am going to call my good friend Mr. Gow,” he announced, his words almost lost in the flurry of goodbyes. “He was very involved with Youth with Christ. Maybe he will remember something about Bop Pierce.”
A few hours later, we got the call that Mr. Lin and Mr. Gow were coming to our hotel to meet with us. Mr. Gow remembered something! Worn out by the day’s emotional ups and downs, our team gathered in the lobby. Cameras were set up while Michelle and I ordered a couple of double-shot cappuccinos. She still looked fresh, but I felt a bit like wilted lettuce. The coffees had just been served when our guests arrived. Mr. Lin may be 82 years old, but he was as animated as my 10-year-old granddaughter as he walked across the lobby with Mr. Gow hurrying behind.
Mr. Gow, Marilee, and Mr. Lin (Abby Metty/WV)
“I called my friend and told him about ‘Youth with Christ,’ ” he began, his words spilling out in an excited stream. “I asked him if he remembered a teacher named Bop Pierce, and we talked for a while. Finally he says to me, ‘Oh, you mean Beebakshoo.”
The final word sounded to me like “Reebok shoes,” and I looked at Michelle to make sure I had heard him right. “Beebakshoo”? I repeated, looking at Mr. Gow for confirmation. “You’re saying that my father had a Chinese name?”
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Conducting a long-shot search in a foreign land, Marilee Pierce Dunker learns that the smallest details become hugely important.
(Abby Metty/WV)
Shakespeare penned the oft-quoted question “What’s in a name?” in Romeo and Juliet more than 400 years ago. He went on to answer, “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
He was right. A rose would still be a beautiful, fragrant flower if it were called, say, potato. And a potato would still be an ugly, oddly shaped tuber if it were called rose. But when you are asking for information about a little girl who lived on a remote Chinese island more than 60 years ago or for memories of a young, unknown preacher who was only there for four or five days in 1947, you’d better have your names straight!
On our first day on Gulangyu, we met with Mr. Lin Shiyan. As I described in my article, he is the son of Tena Holkeboer’s live-in housekeeper and grew up in her house on Gulangyu. All my life I have envisioned the moment when Tena confronted my father with the beaten body of a little girl (White Jade) as an earthshaking event that would have been talked about by the residents of the house for weeks. It certainly was something that my father never forgot. And Tena herself often recounted the story.
Mr. Lin guides tours of the music school on Gulangyu. (Abby Metty/WV)
But as I sat with Mr. Lin and described the scene, he listened as if he had never heard it before. Apparently he hadn’t been hiding behind the couch on that fateful morning. Nor had his mother shared the morning’s drama with her young son. He also showed no sign of being shocked or surprised. You see, in the world that Mr. Lin grew up in, children were often beaten by angry adults and disgraced daughters were regularly disowned by their families. White Jade’s plight was sad, but not unusual.
“So,” I asked hopefully, “do you remember a little girl that Tena cared for in a special way? She would have fed her and maybe let her sleep on the floor.”
“Oh, the missionary ladies never let the children stay in the house!” Mr. Lin declared, seeming shocked by the suggestion. “She would have stayed in the dormitory with the other girls. And the missionary ladies fed many of the children.” He thought for a moment. “What was her name?”
“White Jade,” I answered a bit nonplussed. How could this man not know who we were looking for? Half the island knew her name!
“That was a pet name,” he said, with a dismissive shake of his head. “What was her family name, her Chinese name?”
“I don’t know,” I said, suddenly feeling a bit foolish. Of course “White Jade” wasn’t her real name. It was the English name the missionaries had given her. It wouldn’t have been the name her family and friends used.
Marilee Pierce Dunker found just the right contact in China—an American Christian with expertise in Amoy’s missionary history.
"Amoy Bill", Marilee, and Michelle (Abby Metty/WV)
The amazing e-mail from the stranger who called himself “Amoy Bill” led to a series of events that seemed to pick us up and carry us toward Amoy, China, at lightning speed. When God finally says “go,” grab your hat. Things happen fast!
Bill Brown’s response to my e-mail came on Oct 6, 2009. On Jan. 20, 2010, my daughter Michelle and I, along with Paul Diederich and our camera crew—Josh Batchelder, Abby Metty, and Eddy Rodriguez—were on our way to Amoy. By the time we arrived, our hotel had been arranged. Bill’s son, Shannon, works at the beautiful Millennium Hotel, and they treated us like royalty. All transportation was provided. Bill used his personal van to chauffeur us wherever we needed to go.
The local authorities had given us permission to film on Gulangyu, the tiny islet off ofAmoy where Tena Holkeboer had lived and taught. This usually entails a nightmarish maze of paperwork and red tape, but Bill vouched for us, and permission was granted. We were given unrestricted access to the gated property where Tena’s house and school still stand—Bill had a friend who knew the overseer of the property.
Chris White makes light of an inevitable translation mistake. (Abby Metty/WV)
No less than five articles appeared in the local newspapers, telling the story of our search for White Jade and asking for information. Bill pitched the stories and wrote the articles. Local churches, pastors, and elderly homes had been contacted, and interviews had been scheduled with a number of people who knew Tena, attended the school, and vividly remembered the summer of 1947. Bill solicited the help of Chris White, a Ph.D candidate at Xiamen University working on a dissertation about the impact of Christian missions on Amoy and Gulangyu, to do research and act as our primary interpreter.
“I was walking down the street today, and someone called out, ‘Have you found White Jade yet?’ ” Bill wrote shortly before we were scheduled to leave for China. “The entire island is buzzing with excitement over your impending visit.” I laughed as I read the e-mail, shaking my head in amazement. I had asked the Lord to connect us with a church or local ministry that would be willing to do some research or connect with locals or host us while we were there. I never expected Him to connect me with the one person who could do it all!
Who is this man? I wondered. Turning to my new best friend, Google, I found the answer.
Marilee Pierce Dunker, daughter of World Vision founder Bob Pierce, shares how the journey chronicled in her magazine article began.
Marilee Pierce Dunker in China (Abby Metty/WV)
Timing, they say, is everything. I have found this particularly true when it comes to God’s plans and purposes for my life. Sometimes, God gives a vision and says, “Go!”—as he did with my dad. Other times He gives a vision and says, “Wait.” “Going” demands faith. But for me, “waiting” is by far the greater challenge.
I first felt called to go to China when I read my father’s early letters to my mother as part of my research for my book Man of Vision. Reading my dad’s vivid descriptions of that faraway land and his amazing stories of how God opened doors, touched hearts, and changed lives during the summers of 1947 and 1948 planted a deep yearning in my heart to see the places where these miracles happened. What a blessing it would be to meet some of the people whose lives had been changed forever by the good news of the gospel! But I was 28, married, and the mother of two young girls. China was closed to the West, and the church of Jesus Christ had gone “underground.” It was not God’s time for me to go to China.
It would take me 32 years to finally get there.
In 2001, I came on staff with World Vision. As a spokesperson for child sponsorship, I was often asked to tell the story of my father’s encounter with missionary Tena Holkeboer and White Jade, who some consider the first sponsored child. Suddenly, my old vision took on a new significance as I dreamed of going to the island of Amoy to see if there was anything left of the girls’ school where that historic meeting took place. I knew that there was little chance of finding White Jade, but maybe someone would remember Tena and the school. But I had no contacts in China. I wasn’t even sure exactly where Amoy was—it turns out that name had been changed to Xiamen.
The Pierce family: Bob and Lorraine, center, and daughters Sharon, left, and Marilee. (World Vision archive)
I began sharing my ideas with other World Vision staff the way anglers cast out a fishing line, hoping to hook a fish. I got so far as to get approval from World Vision to make the trip. Amazingly, we had the money to go, but it did no good without someone in China to do research and open the right doors.
Fast-forward to Oct. 6, 2009. Out of nowhere, an e-mail arrived from a fellow employee, Paul Diederich: “I have been assigned the project of putting together a documentary for the 60th anniversary… One of the things that came up in a meeting was your journey to find White Jade. Still interested?”
Sabrina's first trip to Africa. (Tom Costanza/WV)
After months of anticipation, I made it to Africa—my first time to the continent. I had high expectations. Those who have been here before kept saying, “You’re a first-timer? You’ll love it.” My friends who haven’t been here kept asking, “Where? Zambia? Is that close to where the World Cup is playing?”
On a map, Zambia is close to South Africa, but the world’s biggest sporting event might as well be playing on the other side of the globe. For Africans outside of South Africa, life didn’t change much during the historic sporting event.
You make your way out of the capital, Lusaka, to the “real Africa,” and you soon experience what life is like for most Zambians.
I am a former broadcast journalist who has worked in several different news markets in the U.S. and as an anchor and correspondent in Asia. I know how fortunate I am compared to most people on this planet.
Beatrice shells peanuts for a family meal. (Tom Costanza/WV)
What I came away with from this trip is just how much I relate to many of the Zambians I met. I felt an instant kinship with them. I learned a lot from the women I visited.
Beatrice Chenda is a working mom. She juggles mom duty, farming, and volunteer work. She juggles well, even though she faces huge challenges.
I thought of her this morning when I was battling my two toddlers during the morning rush. I tried channeling her peacefulness as my 2-year-old kept yelling, “no, no, no” over and over. Beatrice volunteers as a World Vision caregiver in her village. She helps take care of people suffering from HIV and AIDS, and she also watches out for the vulnerable neighborhood children.
Beatrice herself has HIV. She is an example for her village. She came out with her status when few people did. She tries to make life better for her family and the neighbors around her. She is an inspiration to me.
My first trip to Africa didn’t include a safari or a visit to the famous Victoria Falls, and I didn’t make it to the World Cup—but I came away with much more.
Tom & Sabrina
Thanks to Tom Costanza and World Vision for showing me the “real Africa.”
The YEP team from Albany, New York. (Laura Reinhardt/WV)
I’m a heat wimp. There’s no ifs, ands, or buts about it. The Pacific Northwest has spoiled me with its relatively cool and humidity-free summers. But for the past four summers, I’ve found myself in our nation’s capital, dealing with heat and humidity that can knock you over. And honestly, there’s no place I’d rather be. I’m here for World Vision’s Youth Empowerment Program Summit. It’s like a family reunion of young people from across the country.
[Ed. note: Here are some of Laura's photos from the summit]
They been through some of the toughest things I’ve ever heard about—certainly things beyond my high school experience. When I was in high school, it was shocking when a classmate got pregnant. I never worried that I might not make it home from school like young people do in some urban areas these days. Smoking cigarettes in the bathroom was about as rough as it got in my rural high school. Now, youth in rural areas face rampant prescription-drug abuse and alcoholism among their peers.
But these teens want to make a difference. They’re dedicated to it. They spent two evenings a week or a Saturday morning for the past 20 weeks meeting with their teammates. They focused on their community’s assets and problems, then picked one problem on which to focus. Now they’re here to meet with their members of Congress. They’ll attend workshops by nationally renowned speakers.
But they’re also here to connect with each other. Some of them have attended for the past three or four years—that’s where the family reunion aspect comes in. Many are eager to see friends they made last year or the year before.
Fundisha (Heidi Lenssen/WV)
I’ve gotten to watch some of these teens grow up, find their voices, and become ready to step up and make a change. In my job, my interviews and stories often capture a moment in time. But with this assignment, I see what happens to these kids year after year. I’ve watched Shelby from Albany, Ga. (pictured above, kneeling, white shirt)—with her quirky, high-pitched voice—blossom into a young woman on her way to college in the fall. I’ve seen Fundisha come back home to Seattle after her first summit and launch a community program to raise awareness about youth violence. This year, she did her senior project on the same topic. She plans to go to Howard University.
After their first Youth Empowerment experiences last year, Giovannie and Kevin from northern Virginia were asked to lead an advocacy workshop for adults. They said they never would’ve had this experience if it hadn’t been for their involvement in this program. They’re back at the summit this year.
So as long as the Youth Empowerment Program Summit continues to convene, I will be here, even if temperatures push 100 degrees (like now). I want these teenagers—who are so committed to positive change—to know that there is an entire network of people around the country committed to helping them.
Laura Reinhardt
Read Laura Reinhardt’s magazine feature about the Youth Empowerment Program. Find it in the On Topic box below.
A hotel courtyard in Lusaka. Real crocodile, unreal experience of Zambia. (Tom Costanza/WV)
The Southern Sun was cold when we got to Zambia. People were walking its hallways in hats, scarves, and down parkas. To a guy from the Northwest, it was just a little chilly.
The Southern Sun is a fairly upscale hotel in Lusaka, Zambia’s capital city. Its restaurant courtyard surrounds a pond filled with crocodiles (really!) and these beautiful yellow birds called weavers that spend all day building elaborate hanging nests. It’s a wonderful place to sit with a cup a coffee and just watch.
Tom films volunteer AIDS caregivers. (WV)
Zambians call their country “the Real Africa.” But if you only saw the Southern Sun, you’d never come close to seeing the real Africa. To see that, you need to head out to where the pavement gives way to red dirt and dust devils and the sky is deep blue and filled with billowing white clouds. It’s the Africa of laughing children and hardworking adults. That’s where you meet people like Richard, a home-based caregiver who walks seven kilometers several days a week to tend to his ailing friend, Nickson (I couldn’t help but chuckle at the name coincidence—Richard and “Nixon”). Or you meet Pastor Crispin Varruth, who, before becoming a pastor, lost three brothers, two sisters, his wife, and four of his five children to AIDS.
Now Pastor Varruth runs a support group in his congregation to help lift up those living with HIV. They call it “living positive.” I love the dual meaning of that phrase. Thanks to anti-retroviral drugs, these days people who are HIV-positive are no longer condemned to a slow but sure death. They see people like Pastor Varruth, who’s HIV-positive himself and living a happy and productive life. He is the embodiment of the term “living positive.” If he can do it, they reason, so can they. Here, community members, churches, and even whole villages reach out and support each other.
That’s the “real Africa” I know.
Gina Jean and her family. (James Addis/WV)
Today, I am working from a comfortable office. Exactly six months ago, I was on a plane to Haiti to report on one of the worst earthquakes in human history—one that killed more than 220,000 people. My work environment there included overcrowded hospitals and hastily set-up displaced people’s camps that lacked water and sanitation.
One question I was sometimes asked after returning home was: “How did if affect you personally?” That’s not easy to say. There was a range of emotions. Some experiences were heartbreaking. I’ll never forget the corpses of children lying in the streets and the people trying to dig relatives out of the rubble using small crowbars and flimsy hacksaws.
One woman I met, Gina Jean, was cradling her 4-month-old daughter and living in a tent made of bed sheets. Losing her home was not so bad. Her real concern was that she had not seen her husband since the quake. Was he alive or dead? “How can I continue living like this?” she asked me. “How am I supposed to take care of my children?”
Nicole Muse cares for a child after surgery. (Jon Warren/WV)
But in the midst of tragedy, I was also inspired. World Vision’s relief manager, who lost her daughter in the quake, carried on working so that the lives of others might be saved. Chicago nurse Nicole Muse hopped on a plane without hesitation as soon as she heard the news of the quake. Within hours she found a field hospital in Haiti and began caring for dozens of horrifically injured children.
Coming home after seeing these kinds of things, it can be a little hard to adapt. Everything seems slightly banal. There’s a discussion with my wife about where we will find the money to fence the yard. At the supermarket checkout, tabloids are trumpeting that Dr. Phil’s marriage is on the rocks, and there are updates on the turbulent love lives of actors called Brad, Jennifer, and Angelina.
It can be easy to feel superior to this trivia. But the truth is, after a few months my memories of Haiti do begin to fade. Immediate “concerns” reassert themselves. Even for World Vision, there are other big issues to think about—devastating floods in China, for example, or a hunger crisis in Niger.
So the six-month anniversary of the quake is a good reminder for me and an opportunity to check on progress. A World Vision report on the last 180 days is encouraging in that it shows how much help is getting through: the distribution of food to 1.8 million people; the delivery of 2 million liters of clean water every week; the construction of hundreds of toilets and showers; the continuing work of 10 health clinics; and the ongoing distribution of tarpaulins, tents, and cooking utensils to assist some 120,000 people.
James interviews a quake-affected family. (Jon Warren/WV)
And yet, as the report notes, the needs remain great. About 1.5 million people still live in emergency shelters. Difficulties in securing construction materials and establishing land ownership rights and the logistical challenge of removing tons and tons of rubble are proving to be major obstacles.
I confess it’s been a while since I prayed for Gina Jean and the thousands in her predicament. I’ll do so tonight. Perhaps you could join me?
Carl Harris, former World Vision Cambodia director. (Paul Diederich/WV)
World Vision’s 60th anniversary has provided an opportunity to look back and take stock. For history-lovers like me, it’s deeply satisfying to retell the old stories and connect with people who helped shape the ministry through the years.
I want to tell you about one of those people. Carl Harris served with World Vision in Cambodia in 1973-75, as the country descended into chaos. Unbeknownst to many of us at headquarters, Carl lives right here in Seattle, on a boat on Lake Union. A few weeks ago, he and my boss, Milana McLead, crossed paths at a church neither of them usually attended. They struck up a conversation and quickly discovered their mutual connection to World Vision.
The timing was serendipitous. My colleague, Paul Diederich, was working on the 1970s chapter of the “60 Years of Vision” documentary. There was just enough time to get Carl’s story on tape.
Minh Tien Voan, deputy director for World Vision Cambodia in the 1970s. (Eric Mooneyham/WV)
An Episcopalian priest and former Marine, Carl was working for the U.S. State Department in Vietnam in the early 1970s when World Vision’s president at the time, Stan Mooneyham, pegged him to fill one of several open positions in Southeast Asia. Carl became the director of a brand-new office in Cambodia. Calling himself “more of an Indian than a chief,” Carl relied greatly on his second-in-command, Minh Tien Voan, a U.S.-educated former executive of Shell Oil, to oversee relief operations for the refugees flooding into Phnom Penh and the construction of the first-ever pediatric hospital in Cambodia.
A photo Carl treasures of the Khmer staff at World Vision's nutrition centers in Cambodia. Many of them died during Pol Pot's reign.
In January 1975, the Khmer Rouge’s offensive on Phnom Penh began. Carl and his team endured three months of constant shelling and rocket attacks. In April, just ahead of the city falling to Pol Pot, expatriates were evacuated, with Carl among the last to go. Voan sent his wife and children out, but he stayed behind, believing that his country needed Christians. Soon after, Voan was killed as he attempted to distribute Scriptures to terrified refugees.
All these years later, Voan’s loss is still a bruise on Carl’s heart. Recently he came to headquarters to attend chapel, arriving early to tour the Visitors Center. I found him rooted in front of the memorial fountain honoring World Vision’s fallen employees. He gazed at Minh Tien Voan’s name, right the top of the list. “Murdered by the Khmer Rouge, that’s true,” he murmured, blinking back tears. “I’ve never seen it in black and white.”
Carl made this particular piece of history real for me. He put flesh on a man who was once a name on a plaque, a figure in an old photo. His still-fresh grief gives necessary gravity to the fact that some who walked before us sacrificed everything for God.
See Carl Harris in “60 Years of Vision: Part Three.”
Here’s a great way to walk through World Vision’s 60-year history (a good prep for the next anniversary-themed magazine). It’s the first of six documentaries available on worldvisiontv.org.
60 Years Of Vision: Part One The Beginning, posted with vodpod
Like it? Watch the next two chapters on the site; three more are in production. See clips of the Korean Orphans Choir singing and dancing with the Muppets and Julie Andrews. Watch heart-tugging footage of Operation Seasweep, World Vision’s rescue ship that plucked “boat people” refugees from the South China Sea in the 1970s. Hear from the people who witnessed pivotal events (and me, although I wasn’t there—I just love our history).
Also on worldvisiontv.org, don’t miss “Back to Amoy,” a documentary of Marilee Pierce Dunker’s visit to China. This is a great preview for the article Marilee wrote for our upcoming Autumn issue, mailing in just a few weeks.
