Irony

Here's some irony:  Since our arrival we have never really felt clean,  clean is another of those relative things I previously wrote about.  To us, clean here really means less sweaty, less gritty, less dirty, but not really clean.  We've also found ourselves in some very unsanitary environments, especially while on outreach.  It's nothing to slosh through nasty water, use gross showers and toilets, touch and hold soiled children, and who knows how many opportunities for germ exposure.  But it comes with the territory and it hasn't really bothered us.  We've trusted in God's protection that so many are praying for, and we've had it.  Save for the expected occasional stomach disorder and the colds we each had in Yaounde, we've remained healthy.  Last week after the swim in the ocean, I told Beth it was as clean as I've felt in four months.  I may have felt clean, but because of it I've got ear infections in both ears.

(At least that's what I suspected when finally going to the hospital today to have it checked out.  That's what the doctor there diagnosed as well, after asking a few questions about the pain, and pulling on the earlobe of the ear which I can still hear out of, barely.  A nurse checked my blood pressure, too, which is good I'm happy to say.  I now may have an idea about Obamacare, or nationalized medicine.  There seemed to be a lot of people waiting to be seen, so we went to where we were directed to check in, I think.  Since the people at that desk didn't speak english, they called someone who did.  I was directed to go buy my medical record booklet, then followed the english speaking man to his office.  Turns out he was the doctor who made the diagnosis and wrote the prescription for the meds I'm to take.  I'm pretty sure I was placed ahead of every one else who was waiting (white, english speaking, probably?),  but it was pretty quick if that's any consolation.  Record book; 500f,  consultation; 2000f, medicine at the pharmacy: 6500f.  I'm into this medical program for about $18.50.  What's not to like about nationalized medicine?)
Beth and I will celebrate our 30th anniversary this month, so we've decided to treat ourselves to a few nights in one of the local hotels next weekend.  We've walked to a few (we do a lot of walking), and today we rode a motorbike to a few others outside of town (One of the few times we've felt ripped off, the moto driver charged too much.  One of those keep it in perspective things, though.).  During our walk on Saturday I had seen a bus go by with 'westerners'.  When we later saw it parked at a hotel we went in and checked it out.  Turns out it was a group of students from a college in Pennsylvania in Cameroon for summer studies.  Our ten minute conversation was the first we've had with native English speakers since arriving, and it was very refreshing.  The first time carrying on a conversation that didn't feel like things were lost in translation, or misunderstanding.  Another thing we've seen for the first time in four months in those hotels is toilet seats, those might take some getting used to again.

100 year old barn?  Nah, four year old church.  The main one...

Where the fishermen come in with their catch everyday.

Then the fish are put in piles by type on these slabs and sold.  Some auctioned, some sold by the fish or weight.

Joel Osteen look out...

Cause I've got them hooked.

Our program here hasn't been much of a program at all.  Jonas has been preoccupied with the radio project and family matters, so hasn't been here much of the time, or dealing with those things when he has been.  The church is supposedly arranging appointments for us to meet with individuals and families, but we've yet to have one.  We've been told several times to wait at the house where we're staying, someone will come to get us.  We've waited, no one's come.  This morning we were told we need to ask the woman of the house, she has several lined up.  Africa time, I'm not sure, but communication breakdown for sure.
Another example of how communication is working for us:  Our last week here is to participate in a conference put on by the man from France who is donating the radio equipment and programming.  So part of what we're supposed to do is look for opportunity to promote the conference, including in churches.  Last week Beth and I were told we would visit several churches on Sunday (yesterday) to speak about it.  By the end of the week that had changed several times, but that was still plan A.  Plan B was that I would be preaching in the church which is hosting us.  Plan C was we'd still visit other churches, but I might be preaching in one of them, if not I would still preach in this church.  Plan D was that there was already a speaker with a program concluding in this church, but 'the apostle' would still bring us to the other churches, or I would preach in one of his other (small) churches.  That was how it was on Friday afternoon when Jonas left for Yaounde to take care of more radio business, with the promise of returning Saturday to finalize the plan.  On Saturday night we asked Sampson (our staff member in training who is having to carry too much responsibility) when Jonas would return to which the response was "Monday night, or Tuesday".  When I asked if I was still to preach on Sunday, he knew nothing about it, so he called Jonas.  Yes, I was still to preach, "'the apostle' will take you in the morning".  I said:  "Okay, we'll be ready at 8:30, but now Stephan will have to go with us to translate".
Sunday morning we had finished breakfast a little after eight and were headed back to 'the apostle's' house to get ready.  As we were leaving his 11 year old son arrived and said something which was translated to us as something like 'they are wondering where you are'.  We told Stephan we would be ready at 8:30, meet us at the house.  We got ready, Stephan showed up at 8:45 and asked 'what is the program?'  We told him we'd been ready, but hadn't seen 'the apostle', but had heard him coughing.  Stephan asked his wife where 'the apostle' was, but was told he was very sick, and  wouldn't be going anywhere.  So we returned to the church thinking that plan E, no plan, was in place and we would attend church there.  No, 'the apostle's' son was waiting to walk with us to the other church, and we were late, so off we went.  Me, Beth, Stephan, 'the apostle's' son, one of his friends, and then a 15 year girl we met on the way.
After a brisk 20 minute walk we arrived to find the church, a small house in muddy compound of several others, locked.  A neighbor let us in, and after a few minutes the six of us started 'church'.  I decided I wouldn't 'preach' the message I'd prepared (my idea of preaching and theirs are not the same), but rather we'd just have a discussion group.  A few minutes before ten, just after we'd arranged ourselves into the discussion group another man showed up and explained that church there didn't start until ten, Sunday school started at nine.  Soon another man showed up, so we started 'church' again.  I still didn't 'preach', but I stood at the podium and gave my take on a passage of scripture.  We were hardly distracted by the people using the compound pit toilet just outside the door, or the curious naked children who would come to the door, or the rain, or the conversations being held outside, either.  I'm sure all the big time preachers (which I aspire to be one day) got their start like this...