relatives

The theory of relativity, all things are relative; we throw those terms around, but living here gives them new meaning to me.  I'm constantly comparing the things I'm seeing and doing to how things are 'at home'.  I often compare them to each other here as well.  Homes especially.
We're in peoples' homes on a regular basis now, and as I've described before they are generally simple one or two room places.  Some are of concrete block construction, others are wood.  They are typically very small, what would serve as a regular bedroom in most of our homes may be the entire home, but most do have two rooms.  I base my measurement estimates on the plywood sheets that make up most ceilings, and in many cases the walls.  They are 4'x8' sheets of a very thin plywood, very similar to what is used on cheap hollow core interior doors 'at home'.  Using those it's pretty easy to estimate the size of a space.  Today we were in the largest home we've seen so far, but it was serving a large extended family, so the individual family spaces were still very small.  It was also the dirtiest we've been in.  The most basic home we've seen is that of a new mother whose husband (very few are actually married, but they refer to one another as husband and wife) left her just before the baby was born two weeks ago.  It reminds me of a single stall in a horse barn, and she lives there with the baby and her two other children, and it is probably the neatest and one of the cleanest we've been in.  The large home we were in today also reminded me of a horse barn, both in construction and cleanliness.
Cleanliness is another of those relative terms.  It's difficult in this environment to ever really feel clean, but after a 'shower' it's amazing how clean we actually feel.  Refreshed might be a better word, but I feel cleaner here than when we were in Garoua.  And when people choose to dress up it is amazing how clean they appear.
There's also the bathroom situation.  The room with the four inch hole that serves as a toilet is a nasty place that is never pleasant to visit.  But next door they are are outside, behind a building, in the mud, with no privacy.  I haven't examined it too closely, but I see them bathing there as well, and that can't be too pleasant.
Relativity applies to our food as well.  A banana, the doughnuts (deep fried dough balls) we buy from street vendors, our morning bread, all bring us pleasure, but aren't things we crave 'at home'.  On the other hand, our basic cooking and menu here have us wishing for some of the things Rebecca made, and neither are things we'd choose there.
On Sunday we will leave for our next destination, then there are two more places we will visit before returning to Garoua.  We they be better or worse than what we've become accostomed to, and in many respects comfortable with here?  It's all relative.
Spiritually, our time here has been both rewarding and frustrating.  We have seen many lives changed by Jesus.  We pray those changes will be lasting because one of the frustrations is a lack of followup and discipling.  We've heard many of the 'arguments' against Christianity heard at home; hypocrisy, contradictions in doctrine and theology, etc, which should cause all of us Christians pause, but God is greater.  We've also come up against the very real effects of witchcraft, occultism, and sorcery which are so much a part of African culture, but, we are seeing many breakthroughs.  I have enjoyed the many opportunities we've been given to meet, pray with, and encourage people.  I thank you for your prayers as well, because we know that we could not be doing much of this without the support of those prayers.

The woman behind Beth is the mother of the infant, and that is the door to her 'horse stall' home.

Previous picture is looking just to Beth's left, the courtyard serves six homes.

Walking to the next 'rendezvous'.  Guinea border crossing is straight ahead, the apartments in the background are in Guinea.

Waiting on the next appointment in the home whose door is partially cut off in the photo's right edge

Where our delicious bread comes from every morning.  The loaves in the foreground are waiting their turn to be slid into the oven on the paddle.  The man on the lower left cleans, counts, and sorts them when they come out.  Dirt floor, no lights, I don't know when their day begins, but we're glad they're here.

plans change

Our stay in Kye-ossi has been extended for a week.  The way this outreach works is that when we go somewhere it is usually to work with a church, or at least be hosted by them.  In the next town we will visit, Am Bam, the church Jonas has made arrangements with is not ready for us.  It sounds like they are more committed than the one hosting us here, and they want to have things arranged before we arrive.  I think that means we will be busier there, which certainly isn’t a problem.  Because here there has been a lot of down time, and with the limitations we have it is hard to change that.  But we also believe our work here is not done yet…

rat decoys and ways to kill them

more of the 'delicious' fish they insist on putting in what would otherwise be good food

getting ready to rodeo?

one of the garages, this one covered

We’ve now walked the entire length of the town several times on the main road which is where all the business is done, and it has become very familiar.  We aren’t allowed to go ‘exploring’ on our own, so we’ve only gone into the ‘neighborhoods’ a few times.  Beth and I really enjoy that, but we can’t seem to raise the others’ enthusiasm for it.  We go there for home visits, but there are many more opportunities we’d like to create.  Even on the main road though, Beth and I have been engaging many of the locals in conversation, and because we are there so frequently, we aren’t drawing as much attention.  It still always feels like we’re being talked about, though.  I’m sure there are many people at home who feel the same way when outside of their own familiar surroundings.  It’s still difficult to get pictures of many of the people and things we’d like to, as people don’t always seem comfortable with it.  Also pictures and explanations will never take the place of the experiencing it for one’s self.

We have seen God do some exciting things in the lives of some of the people we’ve been in contact with.  For example Jean-Paul and Blanche together have a zeal and glow which comes with finding a new life in Christ.  The other day, after sharing more with them and a friend who was visiting, Jean-Paul was able to explain about his new life, and lead his friend in a prayer to accept Jesus as his savior as well.  There are other stories of new births as the team meets one on one with some of the people we’ve made contact with.  Please pray for these people, especially for follow up and that they can find places to stay connected and continue to grow in Christ.

The next paragraph is difficult for me because it’s an appeal for money, but it’s something I believe in so I’m going for it.  If you want to stop reading now I won’t be offended.

Since our arrival Jonas has been sharing his dream and vision for Kribi, a growing city on the coast.  He and Rebecca believe that is the next place they are called, and he dreams of starting another YWAM base and training center there.  They haven’t known how it was to happen, but were believing God would make the way.  Now a door is opening.  While we were in Kaeli, Jonas was approached with an offer to set up a Christian radio station there.  That person didn’t know Jonas’ vision for Kribi, or (I don’t think) about his experience in radio, which he has.  Broadcast equipment and programming will be provided by an organization in France, but, if he accepts, Jonas must obtain the necessary license and other government requirements, an antenna and a facility to house it all.  There is already a commitment for the government portion, but more money is needed for the other things, as well as for relocating himself and his family.  (Rebecca has begun the transfer application process.)  They need about $5000 to $10000 to accomplish everything.  Beth and I will be helping, of course, but would love to see others involved as well.  If it’s something you want to be a part of let us know and we will work out the logistics.  

It's the small things...

Like the homes.  We've been in several now, and they're not much different than our space.  (Which probably was built to be someone's home.)  By my estimate a 10'x10' room that serves as living room, kitchen, bedroom, basically almost everything.  They all have a curtain to another space which must serve as closet and store room, and maybe in some cases another bedroom, but it can't be much, as we've seen the mattress on the floor of the main room in nearly every home before it gets put away for the day.  Today, while on a follow up visit, Beth commented about the furniture being rearranged, and how she likes to do that.  The response was something to the effect that it's necessary to keep the rats from getting too comfortable.  It's the small things...

Like all the automotive repair going on here.  The road is lined with 'shops', small lots with cars and trucks in various states of repair and parts scattered all around.  Some how they get it done.  I watched an interesting rebuild of one of our generator engines yesterday.  Today I spoke again with the shop owner/mechanic next to where we are staying as he was polishing ('smoothing') a crankshaft journal on a large six cylinder crankshaft.  Their engine hoist is several guys lifting, and his lathe was a rag around a piece of emery cloth.  I'm sure by the end of the week the Land Cruiser will be back on the road, and shortly thereafter the rod bearing will have spun again.  It's the small things...

Like showing a film as part of our ministry.  Go to a 20'x30' space among some of those homes set up the video projector with power from a two cycle generator set out chairs on the dirt under the clothes lines, and around the open gutter, kerosene stoves, buckets, and lounging dogs and show Facing the Giants to an appreciative crowd.  It's the small things...

Like killing whatever that was crawling on my leg just now.  It's the small things...

Like going to the bakery in the morning to get our breakfast bread.  And seeing the large mud dome that is the oven in the room with a dirt floor, no lights, and a few boards for prep where the two men from Senegal have spent the last several hours making the delicious loaves that quickly sell out.  It's the small things...

Like beautiful children.  Lots of them.

Our blessings aren't small though.  We are amazed at God's provision in an environment that sounds difficult, but really isn't, just takes some getting used to...

International incidents and divine appointments

The border crossing to Equatorial Guinea is just a few hundred yards away and Gabon’s is three kilometers in the opposite direction.  On Monday it was decided that as a team we would go into Guinea and walk to the first city.  Turns out, contrary to supposed intergovernmental agreement, the border is ‘closed’ because of economic tensions.  (I can only relate what I’m told, much of what I think is conjecture.)  ‘However, maybe our host pastor* can use his status to speak with the officials, and for a little money we will be able to cross.’  The border crossing consists of a hut on either side of a small river with one of those barriers in the middle that can be manually raised and lowered to allow vehicles to pass.  Okay, two of those barriers, one for each country.  And it’s not really a river, but since it’s been raining heavy most days, and that is the low spot there is water flowing there – about twenty feet across and nearly a foot deep in the middle.  About 50 yards back on the Cameroonian side are boards stretched across the road with nails driven through which can be pulled out of the way for permitted vehicles (or driven around), but will slow assaulting forces if necessary.  There were a couple of enterprising young men there who for a few francs would give piggyback rides across the water for the rare few who wouldn’t wade themselves.  They were also willing to pass the tires and other car parts, baskets of fruit, speakers, and other items which appeared to have free access, even when their bearers didn’t.  We waited several minutes while the pastor first checked with the Cameroonian officials (no uniforms or obvious identification), then waded to the other side to check with the Guineans (who wore uniforms).  He returned awhile later to say that the rest of the group could pass, but no Americans.  Okay, we’ll walk to Gabon, but not before we create a stir.  While waiting Beth had asked if she could take pictures, to which the obvious answer was ‘no, wait ‘til we are away from the crossing’.  (If it’s worth having, it’s worth asking for…)  So, when we had moved beyond those assault slowing devices, she was told it would be okay to take pictures.  Out came the camera, and out came the police and other ‘officials’, and the crowd of onlookers.  After several apologies, yelling, pleas of discretion and empathy, and proof there were no pictures remaining on the camera, an international incident was avoided.  Our walk to, and border crossing into Gabon was without incident, and really rather boring.  Of course we were much more discreet with the camera.  After several minutes we returned to Cameroon and our home away from home, away from home, away from home, away from home.

*The pastor of the church who is hosting us on church property has run this church into the ground and is hoping that we can influence people to come back or bring new people.  The theology and leadership are big problems, and since we are non-denominational and don’t represent any church, we are put in an odd position.  Beth and I think that a big part of why we are here is that Jonas, through his many discussions with him, may have an influence on the pastor which may bring restoration.  Meanwhile our ministry has begun…

We are going out in teams of two or three and making contact with local residents.  Some of which we are introduced to, and others we’ve met on our own.  Yesterday we were brought to the home of a young couple that another team had met the day before.  The woman had seen us in church and asked that Beth, Rebecca, and I (Rebecca left for Garoua this morning) come to meet with her husband, as she felt that we would better be able to relate.  After several minutes of witnessing, mostly by Rebecca in French, he accepted Jesus as his savior.  Later Beth and I questioned the whole experience, wondering things like; ‘could be that simple, would God work like that in America, or was he just responding to get us out of his home.’  We returned this morning for a follow up and heard a testimony that sounded like a script for an interesting movie:  Gang activity, armed robbery, betrayal, bribery of officials, stowing away on a ship to a foreign country, drug running, arrest and imprisonment, and more.  It ended with “I said if God brings missionaries to me who do not represent a church tomorrow, I will know it is God speaking to me.”  No, he was not trying to get us out of his home (in fact ‘the door is open to us any time’), and it can be that simple, and God can do that anywhere.  He is good, and His plans look a lot better than mine.

in Gabon

overlooking our compound.  Church is on the right, our quarters hehind, and Guinea beyond.

bridge over the river separating Guinea and Gabon

inside of the church...

... what the pastor thinks of himself

Our home away from home

So far not a lot of outreach ministry going on.  Many of the plans have fallen through and expectations on many levels have not been met, but it seems we'll take a little different direction beginning tomorrow.  It's still difficult for us culturally because we are much more task and outcome oriented, so for us it feels like a lot of sitting and doing nothing.  I'm sure we're learning things from that as well, though.
Thought I'd upload a few pics of our living arrangements though...

Adding a string and a wall hook to minimize contact w/the board that covers the 'hole'.

Rebecca buying some delicious dried fish at the local market.  (She had a two week holiday so is here w/us for the first part of  outreach.)

Keeping toilet paper at the ready, not enhancing her bust.  Our room is the door that Samson is in front of.  The one over Beth's right shoulder is used by a couple w/a 2 week old sick baby.  To the left of that is the room J and R started in, but couldn't stand the 'bathroom' smell any longer...

The room where the boys were sleeping until Jonas and Rebecca took over.

The shower.  Bring your bucket...

The door on the left was previously our meeting room/kitchen, but is now where the boys our staying.  We've cleaned up what was previously a church and it now serves as our kitchen/meeting area

the market

Sampson in front of the 'new kitchen/meeting room.  The addition to his left is the shower, the 'WC' is behind it.

Ici 3 morts

So we’ve spent most of the day cleaning, after getting supplies from town.  Some of which were a couple of outlets, lights, and switches which Jonas installed this afternoon.  This compound, and several others, apparently, are served by a generator for several hours a day, and we’re hoping it’s enough to charge things when needed.

As previously stated we are in Kye ossi, which is on the southern border where Gabon and Guinea meet Cameroon.  We could walk into Guinea w/in a few minutes (to the border crossing anyway, it’s to be seen what the actual process is), and Gabon is also just a few kilometers away.  We are on the rough side of town; high unemployment, alcohol and drug addiction, prostitution, and other crimes.  We are staying in a compound owned by a church, and I’m not sure what the surrounding resident’s situation is.  There are ten of us plus a couple in one of the rooms sharing a well, a 4” hole in the floor for a toilet, and the shower; a small space with a 2” hole to the same pit where we take our buckets to splash clean.  There is no kitchen, so meals will be prepped and eaten in a room which serves as a classroom.  The place has been mostly unused for the last several years and wasn’t much to begin with.  Like most African’s live, probably. 

Yes, getting here was a 36 hour process:  Up early in Garoua then a 4-1/2 bus ride on a 70 passenger bus.  There were actually 70 seats and that’s what they sell tickets for, so except for the unpaid children, everyone had a seat.  Everyone’s luggage also fits in the designated compartments or overhead racks, no rooftop luggage racks on the big bus.  (Once again, Beth and I are over packed, but we didn’t carry near as much as most people.  But, we’re not moving like most of them probably are, and we don’t need to carry all our worldly possessions.)  The bus was not in great condition, and the road was a variety of potholed pavement, new construction, or a combination, but it was generally uneventful.  There was quite a climb to Ngaoundere, and from there the climate and scenery has been significantly different.

After arriving N’ere, we had a six hour wait for the train’s departure.  Rebecca and the rest of the team visited her father who suffered a heart attack and stroke two years ago, while Jonas and I waited for the train terminal to open so we could move the luggage inside.  The train ride was 16 hours over night arriving Yaounde around 10:30 am.  Beth and I rode a sleeper car, Jonas and Rebecca were in first class, and the boys rode in second class.  We are the privileged, after all.  Like the bus before it, the train was dirty and in rough condition, but it was interesting.  Since there were only berths in our compartment we decided to sit in the ‘restaurant’ car for the first few hours.  Problem here is most of the seats at the tables are sold as regular seats, and only a few were for the dining customers of the first class and sleeping car customers.  Some interesting exchanges taking place there.  Of course when we returned in the morning, all of those had sleeping passengers as well.  Yaounde could be Douala, could be Kampala, could be Nairobe, could be any large African city that I can tell.  Chaos.

The last leg was really the most interesting.  First a taxi from the train station to a section of the city where all the bus operators are.  Five of us, our luggage, and the driver in an old Toyota hatchback sedan.  Five is okay most of the time, but for the last 100 yards Rebecca got to walk after paying the ‘surcharge’ for an overloaded vehicle.  Then it was buy tickets and get loaded into the ’19 place’ van.  Get in your seat early so you can have it when they actually depart.  Which in this case was about 45 minutes later, because there were only 18 of us beside the driver, and they desperately wanted to sell that last ‘place’.  (Though I still don’t know where it is.)  Then to the gas station for just enough fuel to get to Kye ossi (never fill the tank), then back to the operation base because the driver realized he didn’t have money for tolls.  Then get out of traffic and onto the highway south.  Luckily we got around the accident between the full size bus and taxi before the traffic jam really got bad.

It wasn’t long before we hit the open road which was generally in pretty good shape and uncrowded.  The driver seemed to want to make good time and the van had the power to do it because we passed several vehicles along the way and quite frequently exceeded 120 km/h.  (That 60 km/h that’s painted on the back of all the taxi vans apparently is some sort of guideline, or is there to impress potential customers.)  We probably would have made it in record time except those darn police check points along the way.  Ten of them.  They check everyone’s government issued ID card, or passport and there seems to be no logic to their location.  Jonas had a document listing all of us, and our reason for travelling, but he had to explain himself and provide all of the ID’s each time, often having to “go inside’ for further explanation.  There was also a DRC refugee on board who was questioned at each checkpoint except for the last one.  That’s because he was detained at the one before, and by this time the driver was so frustrated he wouldn’t wait any more.  Somehow the guy beat us to our final destination and was waiting to get his stuff off the top of the van when we arrived.  It was hot and crowded and what was supposed to be a four hour ride turned into six.  But we made it.  These can be frustrating experiences, but as I sit there cramped and sweaty I remind myself that this is the way of life here.  They put up with it every day, and I try to remind myself of it.

I made some vehicular observations that we selfish Americans should learn from:

Full sets of lugnuts are for aesthetic purposes only.  If you should happen to have a full set, that means you’ve got at least one spare.

Matching tires are also just an aesthetic thing.

We replace our tires much too soon.  Treads really aren’t important.  I’ve seen racecars and they don’t run with them.  In these hot temperatures, and under the loads they operate there’s plenty of traction.

Starters aren’t really necessary.  There’s always enough manpower for a pushstart.

Seat belts should only be available to drivers.  Because when a vehicle is correctly loaded people will act as human air bags or roll cages in an accident.  

We’re so snotty.

(The title of this post translates as 'here 3 deaths'.  Common roadside signs posted by the government to remind people to drive carefully.)

on the bus.  leather seats... 

our berth on the train

that's a goat on the top of this taxi.  seems cruel, but probably the best spot to be...

stop along the way to pick up another

We've moved

Sorry about not updating lately.  We are in Kye ossi (kee-oh-see) for the first part of our outreach phase.  We have no power or plumbing, very different than what we've been accustomed to.  Not a mud hut, but much more typical of African living arrangements.  There will be many stories and pictures to follow, I hope, but until we have opportunities to charge all the devices it will have to wait.  The journey here itself could take several blogs:  Bus from Garoua to Ngaoundere, train from Ngaoundere to Yaounde, '19 place' taxi van from Yaounde to here.  Thirty six hours total.  Climate is more comfortable, similar to american south, and much greener.   God is with us, and we are praying for continued grace...