Wednesday

I had thought the layover in Amsterdam would allow me time to get on-line in the cyber café for at least a few minutes, but such was not to be.


The Dutch have been taking airline security quite seriously since long before 9/11. Their approach has generally not been the heavy-handed, one-size-fits-all, reacting-in-embarrassment-to-the last-attempted-breach way of the American TSA. Rather, or so it always seemed to me, the Dutch simply approached airline security in their typical careful, thoughtful, thorough-but-not-unreasonable manner which left room for individuals to be individuals. And one came through their security check with a sense of confidence that one actually was safer because of it.


Today, however, I had the feeling that – perhaps because of demands from the TSA – the Dutch had been forced to add a layer of Americanized bureaucratic “this-looks-like-security” to their already excellent process. The result did not add to one’s sense of security. It added only to one’s sense of frustrating-waste-of-time, especially when one was already exhausted.


We are nearly half-way to Detroit as I write this (to be posted later, of course). The GPS-enabled trip map on the seatback screen in front of me indicates that we will shortly be passing the tip of Greenland. I am ready for this traveling to be over.

Later


As much as I love Africa, there is something very special about being back on US soil. I notice it every time I come back in through US Customs & Immigration. Just knowing that one will be dealt with politely and professionally in accordance with law is a huge blessing that I think we often take for granted.


Yes, I “declared” my bugs. And this time, the Dept. of Agriculture folks took them quite seriously and really looked not only at the bugs (which I had intentionally packed where they would be easy to get at), but also at everything else. This time, they actually had someone on duty who seemed to know what he was looking for and at, but after he looked over my bugs he said they were not a problem and I could keep them. So Bill will again get his bugs – some very interesting ones, I think.


I have tried to make a point of thanking the various Customs and TSA inspectors along the way, because I know they are just doing a job to protect the rest of us. (The problems I think I see with, for example, the TSA, are not with the individual inspectors, but with the jerking knees in DC). It really takes these folks by surprise when someone thanks them for protecting us.


Returning to the US from overseas can make even Detroit look good. Raleigh-Durham Airport looks even better.

Tuesday Night, North Across Africa

It is nighttime over Africa, but the continent is not at its darkest right now. The land below is lit through the scattered clouds by an almost-full moon as KLM carries me north over the forests and valleys and deserts towards Amsterdam. We are cruising at something over seven miles high, so I can see little on the ground but an occasional shining pin-prick of light.


For a while, over Kenya, I watched a glorious lightshow as we passed a series of huge thunderstorms, but then we moved beyond them, and one knows the dry season still has a firm hold on the land below. A little later, I could see, far away, the long, red-orange line of a bushfire.


This flight is almost completely full, but I ended up with two seats to myself, so I can spread out a little. I was at first sitting by a couple from the Africa Inland Mission staff (and she an MK also), but when the stewardess pointed out that I could move to have two seats to myself, it did not take long to make a decision.


I have mixed feelings as I leave Africa. I look forward to home and family, and I have a clear and satisfying awareness that my particular assignment has been completed – at least for now. But I also carry an equally clear awareness that there is so much more to do on this continent I love so.


In many ways, especially after my experience of the previous nineteen days, Kenya has seemed to be a bright spot in this continent of dark challenges. Yet even that country has so many problems, from uncertain weather and overpopulation to uneven economic development and the still-unconquered tropical diseases like malaria. And the list of troubles never seems to end.

But then, I see the bright, Jesus-filled faces of people like Japhet and Japheth, of John and Esther and Deborah, who helped me today – or I remember the light in Abraham’s eyes in Akot, and I know that there can yet be a bright future.

So I have hope for Africa. May “Ethiopia” quickly stretch out her hands to God! [Psalm 68:31]

I am making my way to the United States for now, but I’ll be back.

I try to sleep, but in my exhaustion, sleep is elusive. Eventually, I contort my frame into the two available seats and slide fitfully into that not-so-restful-but-better-than-being-awake form of sleep that leaves one only a little less weary than before.

When I come out from under the anesthetic of total weariness, we are over the Mediterranean. That moon is now a silvery stream glistening back at me from the water.


Soon, we cut the heel coast of Italy, then a little further and we are back over water and are following northward along the eastern coast. Lights are piled together in clusters or strung out in undulating lines like so many tiny yellowed pearls. The sky is remarkably clear as we fly ever northward. We are about an hour short of landing in Holland.

Back to Africa Green

There was something surreal about supper tonight. I sat at a table with a linen table cloth and matching napkins, and with a full complement of cutlery. There was a rich buffet of recognizable food of wide variety from which to choose, and light by which to see it as one ate.


Then, there was the bathroom, with a working flush toilet, and a light, and no lizards or spiders or ants or other creepy-crawlies with which to contend, and both hot and cold running water! (In South Sudan, we had running hot water. It was cold anything that we generally lacked.)


I am back in Nairobi, at the Methodist Guest House, and I am engaging in a miniature version of culture shock. Perhaps one needs to go to someplace like South Sudan periodically so that one can properly appreciate the creature comforts we take so for granted.


Of course, there is the other side of this culture shock, too. I have actually enjoyed sleeping under the stars almost every night. (The stars are OK. The moon last night was like a spotlight in my eyes!) The sleeping out wouldn’t have lasted anyway, however, because the recent rains, though few and scattered, have been enough to begin the rejuvenation of the mosquito population.


Actually, I have enjoyed living in the simple conditions of Akot – almost “camping out” the entire time. And I really haven’t minded the diet of mostly-beans-and-rice, and I don’t think I have even lost much, if any, weight!


The time in South Sudan has been good. Very good. Very, very hot, but very good.


It has been good because of the fantastic people I was with, and it has been good because of the keen awareness that I was in exactly the right place at exactly the right time to get in on whatever God has been doing in the lives of an entire area of people.


No – I did not end up doing any HIV/AIDS training with the military. The groundwork for that simply was not yet in place before I arrived. But I believe I was able – because of that unlikely combination of white hairs, military background and Africa experience – to open some doors through which others will be able to take the excellent CAP/Sudan HIV/AIDS training program forward.


I think, also, that I was able to do more than merely open some doors (albeit important doors).


I am still “processing” all that has occurred in the last two-and-a-half weeks, but I already know that I was in the right place to minister to a number of people, of several ethnic backgrounds, in a variety of situations – all of which were custom tailored for me for this time. That is an exciting awareness.


It has been a joyful awareness.

When I flew out of Rumbek about 1:30pm today, everything was desperately hot and dusty. As we gained altitude and headed east, we began to encounter increasing cloudiness, as of clouds that want to rain but haven’t quite gotten themselves together enough to accomplish it. Then we began to see scattered thunderstorms. I was sitting at the front of the plane, and I could see into the cockpit and could watch the storms on the radar. We were flying at 21,000 feet – just over most of the clouds – but I watched as the pilots had to dodge around more and more thunderheads that towered several thousand feet above us.


As we neared the White Nile, and even more after we crossed it, I could see through breaks in the clouds as the ground far below began to turn from a consistent dusty brown, to scatterings of green patches, to increasing stretches of bright, rainy-season green.


When we began to drop down to land at the Kenyan border post of Lokichokio (or “Loki”), the dramatically sculpted hills were much more green than brown.


Our flight cleared Kenyan customs and immigration at Loki, then continued (after a break of a couple of hours) toward Nairobi. Through the late-afternoon haze, I could see that the land below – the old “Northwest Frontier District” – was desert. But as we flew on to the southeast, and the thunderheads really began to rally their resources, the land began to turn green. Africa green.


By the time we dropped into the rain below the clouds and flew past the Ngong Hills on our approach to Nairobi Wilson airport, the rolling land below was all green. Green almost like England is green, but darker. Africa green.


I will sleep well tonight, I am sure, but I already miss Akot. I miss the stars, and the night breeze that makes bearable the 90-degrees-plus temperature at bedtime, and the people. Especially the people. Peter and Abraham and Isaac and Shadrak and Jermaine and Andrew and Caroline and Jessie and Kaley and Clarke – the people who made the place so memorable.


More than memorable – meaningful.

Commander and Chiefs

Thursday
Jermaine and Andrew returned from their bush trip, and we drove down the airstrip from the hospital to the army encampment to meet with the commander.


Akot has its own tiny airstrip – just about right for a piper cub, but used occasionally by various mission and relief flights. The airstrip also serves as a roadway, and entering sideroads have stop signs to warn drivers to look for incoming aircraft before driving onto the runway. I have yet to see anyone even slow down for the signs.


The military commander and his staff were ready to see us, and we had a pleasant meeting after we assured him that we were not there to complain of anything – just to present ourselves and show our respects.


The commander is Nuer – as opposed to the local majority Dinka – and had the most amazing markings that completely covered his face. I would have loved to take a photograph, but one does not safely take out a camera around the military here. I was never sure of his actual rank, but I think he is probably a full colonel, or possibly a brigadier. He is said to be in command of all the troops in Lakes State.



Friday
I spent the time writing and talking with some of the local pastors. I have become especially close to Abraham, Peter and Shadrak. There is in their demeanor a beautiful evidence of the workings of God in their lives. I will miss them. They have taught me a whole fresh chapter on faith.

In the afternoon, Jermaine, Abraham and I went to call on the local chiefs so I could tell them “goodbye.” They were most gracious, and they very much appreciated the respect I paid them by going to greet them. I think the goodwill I earned with them will be payable to Jermaine and Andrew and the local pastors after I leave.



Saturday
Jermaine took me to the Baptist Mission compound in Rumbek. I will try to tell you later about something we saw on the way, but I will need to write it from somewhere else.


Both Mark and Kathy, the resident missionaries, are sick with either flu or malaria, and they have bouts of feeling well enough to carry on conversation. They have been in Africa for a long time, both here and other interesting places. They have been wonderful to look after the Mission “journeymen” and “Fusion” teams that have been in the area. With Mark and Kathy’s support, the young Journeymen and Fusion students have done an amazingly successful and worthwhile work here.


Sunday
It had been arranged for me to preach to two services at a local Pentecostal church. It was a delight to be with them. I tried to record some of the singing on my tiny digital recorder, but I fear the quality will not hold the joyful beauty of the praising voices. I preached from the beginning verses of 3 John, where the Apostle prays that his friend Gaius will, in all things, “prosper and be in health, even as your soul prospers.”


The first service was in English, targeted to the non-local English speaking Christians, mostly from Kenya and Uganda. The second service is partially in English, but it is also translated into Dinka. The two groups make entirely different audiences, and it was fascinating to me to hear myself preaching what amounted to two very different sermons to the two groups.

Observations

I sat today and wondered to myself: What have I seen in my time here in Akot, Southern Sudan?



There have certainly been the obvious things. Weather. Bugs. Birds.


All these are changing as the season shifts slowly from dry season to rainy season. We are in the “in between” right now, and it has been interesting to watch the shift. Each day, the insects, the migrating birds, the winds and clouds – all have indicated an impending transition of the weather, with the resulting transformation of the land.


Some of the insects we were seeing are no longer in evidence. New ones – lots of new ones, including many and varied kinds of moths – have taken their place.

As soon as it rained – perhaps even before the rain started – the dime-sized velvet-red “rain bugs” appeared in their dozens, everywhere, wandering harmlessly and doing nothing in particular except to bumble about, bumping gently into things. No one here seems to know anything about these tiny creatures, nor where they hide in the dry season, but everyone knows that when they appear, the rain is surely coming.

Last night, the flying phases of both the driver ants and the termites were out in great force, fluttering their way from and to who-knows-where. This morning I found piles of once-used wings where last night’s owners discarded them to reenter their subterranean refuges.


The termites will emerge from their tunnels to eat any wood, straw, leaf, cardboard or cloth left in contact with the ground. Any, that is, except the few types of wood that are either too hard or otherwise unpalatable to them. As they sneak from their holes under cover of darkness, they build arched passageways of fast-drying mud to protect them from the coming heat and predators. Then, one finds that those dirt coverings engulf each piece of edible cellulose in turn and reduce it to a hollow shell, or to nothing.


The driver ants do not sneak out of their holes. When they are ready, they emerge with the boldness and ferocity of a barbarian hoard on the attack. They march out in a disciplined stream, perhaps an inch-and-a-half wide. They go where they will. Almost nothing, except piles of wood ash, or certain chemicals, or wide waterways, or fire, will deter them. They move with one identity and purpose, and they overcome most obstacles by a remarkable self-sacrificing teamwork.


Sometimes, if their number is really large – and one may see a column of ants passing by for several days without break, and numbering well into the millions – one will notice that as they pass, they have moved pebbles from their pathway and smoothed the trail for following troops. As they travel the same trail, over time, they slowly excavate the trail into the ground, and the entire way is lined with tiny stones and the bodies of dead ants.


Driver ants may pass in their line-of-march like this, not molesting anything along the way. However, if their scouts , which range ahead of the main body and sometimes out to the flanks, encounter either a potential food source or threat, the message is passed in an instant, and the entire hoard will swarm over the target, whether it is a hapless insect, rodent or snake, or whether it is a cage full of chickens or other animals. Or a human.


Driver ants knows nothing of pity or selectivity. They bury their jaws into their prey and do not let go, even if they die in the act, and even if their bodies are torn from their heads. If one is so bitten, relief only begins when each head is painfully and painstakingly pulled loose.


If one is unable to move away from the swarming jaws, one will die – slowly eaten alive. When the ants finally leave, nothing but starkly cleaned bones will remain. There are stories – probably true – of prisoners so caught by the swarming jaws and unable to escape….


To those who know, usually from painful experience, driver ants have a distinctive smell that can be detected from at least ten feet away. Once learned, that smell is never forgotten, and it instantly engenders a combination of loathing and fear, and even hatred. On the basis of such a smell, I have on occasion announced to the disbelieving that driver ants are about – and I have very shortly been able to point to the horrible seething column that is the source of the smell.


In fairness, it must be added that sometimes, driver ants can actually provide a valuable cleaning service. If they take over a house and drive out its residents for a period, they will also clean it not only of unprotected edibles but also of infestations of other vermin, including termites.


The heavy rain of yesterday morning is already having other observable effects. Immediately after the rain yesterday, everyone who could be was in the fields, turning the softened ground to receive seed. Today, the oxen are out, pulling plows in larger plots. The seed will be planted in hope that more, and predictable, rain is not long off.


Last year, the rains never came properly, and the drought left many hungry people in its wake. There has been fear that this year might be like it. The rain we had yesterday was a good one, but one rain does not make a season. That one should be followed by more rains, at shortening intervals, until by around September there may be several days of hard, constant rain. For right now, one steady, solid rain every five-to-seven days would be considered good.


But if the rains do not come on schedule – if some whim of a current in the Indian or Pacific Ocean should interfere with winds and cloud formations – then another drought will come, and people in South Sudan will die, for there are no more food reserves. The international community will try to send aid, but that aid is never enough, and it is never quick enough.


Even if the rains are good, there will still probably be a “hungry time” in June and July as the farmers wait for the crops now being planted to mature to harvest.


Meanwhile, the rain did drop the temperature a few degrees for awhile, even as it raised the humidity. Still, the ground shows a good penetration of moisture, and farmers always plant in hope.


On Wednesday, we held a gathering of pastors to discuss various issues and to pray together. One of the major prayer requests was for rain, and we prayed so. The people around know that we prayed, and they know that the Lord answered with a good, hard, steady rain that came without damaging winds. We are grateful.


And as we have seen the rain soften the rock-hard dirt of South Sudan, so we are seeing the Holy Spirit soften hearts to receive the Love of God as revealed in Jesus Christ.


The rain, and the transition to the rainy season, are easily observable. The work of God in the lives of the people here that has been going on since long before I arrived and will continue long after I leave – that is harder to see, sometimes, but it is also far more exciting than even the rarest insect or most beautiful bird.

Real Rain

Last evening, we watched spectacular light shows far to the south and far to the north of us, but the sky to the east, from whence comes our rain, was clear, so I went to sleep under a bright, waxing – almost to the half – crescent moon. About 1:00am, the wind began to come up, and I could see lightning not so far off in the east, so I moved my cot to the Training Center (which is closed on east and west sides, but open to the north and the south).


All was quiet until a little after 4:00am, when the sky began to fall. It fell with noisy violence, and then it fell sideways. My thin sheet was soon damp from the blown spray, and the roaring wind kept me cold until well after daylight.


One usually expect these “first rains” to hit hard and pass on, but this morning’s rain just kept on and on. The wind kept up a bit, but the rain slacked off to a strong, steady downpour until well after 8:00. It was a “good rain,” and I knew that everyone who could would be in the fields today, tilling the softened ground for planting.


Although it was personally inconvenient, I was pleased with the rain, because one of the prime targets of the pastoral prayers yesterday had been that it would rain. The word is now out that the pastors met to pray for rain – and they got it.


Jermaine and Andrew got a later-than-intended start to a church they had promised to visit today. I remained behind to begin straightening out my things so I will know what to pack and what I can leave behind. Around 1:45pm, I set off with my GPS to show that walking through the bush straight to the Mustardseed hospital and airstrip is quite do-able. I have been encouraging the guys to establish a track that way for two reasons: it is half the distance of going by the main road, and in the event of some sort of emergency, such a pre-planned trail, free of military or police checkpoints, might be extremely important.


I am at Mustardseed now, waiting for Jermaine and Andrew to return. Times here in Africa are extremely flexible, and one never expects much of a schedule. However, I am sure the guys will be back in time for us to meet with the commander. If they don't come soon, I will just walk down to the encampment area.




Wednesday – Passing on Torches


This morning, a group of pastors from Akot-area churches came to the BTC for a time of sharing and prayer. It has been a particular pleasure and privilege for me to be able to have fellowship with these men. Most of them are very young – all of them are much younger than I – but several of them, in particular, have been through experiences in their Christian lives and ministries that have produced in them a maturity, authority and gentleness that is truly beautiful to see. It is a special delight to me to be allowed to speak some word of encouragement to and pray with such brothers in Christ.


A very interesting things about the assembled group was that I have no idea at all which of them were Baptists. Christians in South Sudan seem to have realized that our denominational differences, while, perhaps, important, are not usually essential, and they understand that our brotherhood in Christ far outweighs the causes of division that have so crippled the Church in the West.


By very intentional purpose, the Baptist missionaries here do their work in such a way so as not to create a dependency by indigenous Christians on foreign leadership or resources. It is wonderful to see that policy taking shape in the lives and ministries of men like the ones who were here this morning.


One way this counter-dependency policy is working here is that when one pastor has been taught some information or technique, he is expected to “pass the torch” to someone else, who will in turn pass it on. The missionaries, whether long- or short-term, intentionally do not do all the teaching. They enable and encourage, to a degree, but they know that for the Church truly to prosper, it must do so without continuous infusions of foreign resources.


The rain of last night sounded wonderful on the tin roof at Mustardseed Hospital, but when we came outside, we found that it had actually amounted to very little. I was able to sleep outside anyway.


Even that tiny amount of rain has greatly intensified the transition of the seasons here. Last night, for example, when I had to be up, my flashlight revealed two separate columns of driver ants. One column was passing right through where I usually place my cot, but for some unknown reason, I had moved last night. Driver ants would be a rude way to be awakened!


A second member of the Akot team has come down with giardia, an unpleasant water-borne intestinal illness with potentially serious consequences if untreated. Fortunately, both have been able to start treatment immediately, so they should be fine. Giardia is just one of the reasons I have tried especially hard to be careful about what I eat and drink here.


We found out this morning that the military commander we had become friends with is not really the top local commander. In the late afternoon we went to meet with the real commanding officer. We met with his deputy, but the Commander himself was indisposed, and we are to come back late tomorrow afternoon.

Rumbek and Rain

Yesterday morning, I "slept in" until 8:00, then headed for breakfast. I had been told that it would be good. It was. In fact, all the food at Safari Style Hotel has been excellent. The only problem has been that there has been too much of it, and compared with what I have been eating, it is pretty rich. But I have managed to adapt to the changed circumstances. We hung out around the pool until after lunch. It was a nice break.

In the afternoon, when we ended our interlude at Safari Style Hotel, with its swimming pool and enticing food, we headed for the Rumbek market to get some necessaries. The temperature was probably pushing 120, but the market was full. I have been interested to notice the brilliant colors worn by many of the people here. It is common to see women wearing blazing reds, yellows and oranges, and the contrast of these colors with the very dark skins can be strikingly beautiful.

As Jermaine, Andrew and I were just about finished with our shopping, a huge thunderstorm rolled in from the east. It was amazing to see how quickly the streets cleared, shopkeepers pulled down the wares they had hanging on display, and everyone found a roof under which to take cover.

The rain came down in fat, hard-hitting drops at first. Then the drops came faster, and as the wind picked up, they began flying sideways. Then the drops turned to sheets and buckets – still flying sideways. The deluge slacked off for a little, and we ran for the car – just in time for the whole sky to fall again. The rain eased off, but it kept on for perhaps an hour. As we drove through town, we saw at least a couple of roofs blown completely off buildings.

We met the rest of the Akot team at a restaurant – acclaimed as “the best non-western restaurant in Rumbek” – and ate a supper of bread, goat meat, and lintels-with-goat-cheese. The lintels & cheese, scooped up with torn pieces of bread, were OK, but one got quite a workout chewing the goat. I made sure to have some acidophilus pills afterward.


Then it was back to the mission compound just outside of town for the night. Because of the rain, I slept inside. That was probably a mistake, as I sweated all night. It didn’t rain anymore, and I should have taken my cot outside.


This morning, after the rain, the whole world seemed to be coming back to life. The fuzzy little red “rain bugs” were out in force, and I collected two for my friend Bill. There were puddles of muddy red water everywhere, although in many places, the sandy soil had seemed to swallow the water as fast as it fell.


We made an early start – with a couple of stops to pick up people who had been promised rides – and were back at the Akot Baptist Training Center by about 9:30. We saw evidence of last night’s rain all the way back until just a few miles before Akot. The BTC had received a few drops but not even enough to settle the dust.


Safari Style made a delightful break, but I was actually glad to get back to our simple accommodations in Akot.

As I post this, there is the wonderful sound of a gentle rain on the tin roof of Mustardseed Hospital where we use the Internet. I suppose I won't sleep outside tonight....

Tomorrow, we are to meet with local pastors to pray and encourage them.