Day 4 Story 3

The stories of hippos reminds me of another one of my favorite African wildlife stories.   Several years ago while working on my M.A. I returned to Kenya to visit my parents over Christmas.   We decided to have some fun and go to Lake Nakuru famous for it's migratory million strong flamingo population.  The pink ring reflecting on the waters is something to behold!  So much so that there is a look out point on one of the nearby hills.   We decided this would be the place for us.  We drove up the little dirt trek towards the only place in the entire National Park where people are allowed to get out of their vehicles.  

As we reached the top we quickly jumped out of our vehicle to head over to the edge of the cliff to take in the surrounding beauty.   After several minutes we decided to head back to the car. As we turned around we were surprised to see a troop of baboons in the nearby trees.  Several of them had jumped on our car and were trying to peer through the sunroof to see the snacks we had left sitting on the seats.  Dad decided to chase them away.  So he starts yelling: "Shoo! Shoo!" And makes the corresponding gesture with his arms, somewhat of a flailing and sweeping motion intended to drive home the point, "Get off our car you stupid primates."  

Several of the smaller baboons immediately retreated to the safety of the trees.  One big fellow, probably weighing a good 80 to 100 pounds, remained steadfast.  So dad intensified his advance and increased his volume.  The baboon suddenly snarled and made his own advance on dad acting as if he was going to jump off the vehicle at him.  If you have never heard a baboon bark and snarl, trust me when I say that it will put the fear of God into you quickly.   We all jumped back rather startled at this unexpected behavior.  

Now what would we do?  We were rather stranded.  Several minutes passed before we heard an vehicle meandering up the trek towards the top.  I ran down the path to intercept them. Explaining the situation, we asked the somewhat surprised French tourist if he would be willing to rev his engine as loud as possible, accelerate rapidly, and blow his horn as he reached the top.  He thought this to be a rather strange request, but quickly agreed.  He even included some rather strange French insults yelling at the baboons as his vehicle parked next to ours.  

The big fellow scrambled for dear life.  We thanked our rescuer and entered our vehicle.  The French tourist jumped out of his to take in the breathtaking scenery around him.  As we pulled away I looked back over my shoulder and saw the big fellow sitting on top of the new comer's car.  I don't know if monkeys have a sense of humor, but if they do I think he was saying: "I have regained my terriroty...now what are you going to do Monsieur  Touriste de France?"  Assuming of course that baboons in Africa speak French.

Day 3 Story 2

Before I jump to a different topic, yesterday's story reminded me of another experience.   When Adam and I got older we sold the boat, but our family still loved going to Lake Naivasha for a quiet weekend get away.  Lake Naivasha Country Club was always the place we stayed.  Since mom and dad had been going there for years, the staff and management treated us like family.   

The setting is really one of the most serene in East Africa.  Large lawns irrigated by lake water, gorgeous flower gardens, mesmerizing yellow barked acacia trees, gentle breezes wafting through the air, and an unprecedented sense of tranquility.    No wonder hundreds of species of birds call the Country Club home.   The lush gardens offer a  quiet retreat spot with limited activities:  a swimming pool and bird walks.   At night antelope such as water buck, impala, and grant's gazelle graze the lawns.  What we didn't realize is that many of the lake's hippo population like to do the same thing!  There are signs scattered across the grounds warning guests not to go walking around the property at night.  

On one particular weekend get away, the manager told us the story of a brave guest who decided to go swimming at the crack of the dawn.   It was still dark outside as he approached the pool.  Just moments before diving into the water he realized that someone else or should I say something else was in the pool.  Squinting he realizes that it is something big. Very big.  Poof! Two spouts shoot up chlorinated water as an irate hippo protests the impending intruder into his new found water hole.   

The hotel had to call the Kenya Wildlife Service to come assist in the "extraction of a hippopotamus from the swimming area." Surely, one of the few times this has ever happened.  Apparently, it was an all day ordeal involving sand bags and two by fours followed by a hasty retreat to safety as the occupant of the pool snorted his disgust before traipsing back towards the lake.   

For some reason, the hotel decided to build a fence around the pool after that incident. And my family has never jumped into a swimming pool in Africa since until  we've first  checked out the water.  

Day 2- Story 1

One of my families favorite spots to get away when we lived in Kenya was a place called lake naivasha. Dad bought a small boat so that he could take Adam and I fishing. The lake has large mouth bass and tilapia. One of the best spots  to catch fish was near the Crescent Island, more of a peninsula than an island,  situated on the edge  of the lake. There were several large trees submerged in the water just off the edge of the island.  We frequently got snagged due to the intricate systems of roots, but the fishing was great! 

My brother Adam was learning how to cast in this area one day. He  successfully casts a couple of times before he announces to dad and I that he was really snagged. No big deal. This happened just about every other cast. Dad gave him the same instructions he had given me just moments previous. "Pull back on the rod really hard and see if you can pop it out." Adam obeyed. Nothing happened. So dad instructed him to pull harder. By now his pole is almost bent in two from the torque. Still nothing is happening.  

What happened next is a bit of a blur.  Suddenly, two spouts of water spray into the air some 80 to 100 feet from our boat. In a split second  everyone realizes what has happened. My brother is a better fisherman than he has ever dreamed possible. He has managed to hook a hippo in the mouth. And our new friend is not happy about it!   Dad yells "throw the pole in the water," as he races to start the engine. Adam throws the pole, dad hits the outboard motor, and I almost pass out from fear all in the same split second.   

Sadly, my  brother lost his shiny fishing pole somewhere in the bottom of lake naivasha to a hippo, but we lived to talk about it.   Now that's a real African fishing story! 

Africa Intro

My wife asked me to participate in the yearly blogrimage Africa style by writing my favorite Africa stories for the next 30 days. Over the past several decades I have lived in four different East African countries: Kenya, Tanzania, Madagascar, & Burundi.  There have been some amazing incidents, hysterical events, and fascinating lessons learned over the years.

My intention is to share a mixture of all of them.  And in the process to give a unique glimpse of what living in Africa has looked like.  The challenge for me is choosing which ones to incorporate into this month long journey.  We will start tomorrow.  

Forest pictures

The pictures from the recent forest trip via helicopter are now uploaded on FB. 

The Rain Forest

Yesterday we flew into the rainforest via helicopter. We left Tana at 8 AM. 

We landed in three small villages northeast of Antanarivo.  By air it only took about 1 hour. 
By road, it would have taken 8 by car followed by another 8 hours  on foot walking along the narrow trails.  

Five of us piled into the helicopter.  A Malagasy pastor, a Malagasy doctor, my missionary doctor colleague, a visiting business man from the US who raises money for missions projects in madagascar, and myself.  To say it was an unforgettable experience would be the understatement of 2012.  This is only the second time in my life I've actually flown in a helicopter.  

From the air the first village looked like a small cluster of huts nestled in the forested valley with several rice fields extending in either direction along the winding river.  Our pilot found the widest rice field available and gently settled the helicopter down. As he did people appeared from everywhere.  Most came running, others pointed curiously,  some stood back reluctantly watching from a safe distance.  Even the mangy dogs of the village barked in trepidation as every hair on their back bristled.  And who can blame them! A helicopter with three white people suddenly appearing in the middle of absolutely nowhere.  

We carried a small self-powered speaker so that we could communicate easily with the growing crowd of people.  Pastor Zaka introduced us, relayed the medical nature of our mission, and shared a brief Gospel presentation.   Then the hard-work began.  The sick were instructed to line up for an opportunity to consult with Dr. Fils and my dear missionary colleague doctor Aaron Santymire.  For nearly 2 hours in the scorching heat we examined some of the most precious Malagasy people I've ever seen.  Some complained of mild headaches and backaches. Others were so weak they could hardly stand. One little boy had a massive infection on the side of his face that caused his face to be completely distorted.  I searched through the medicine bags as the doctors told me what each patient required. Then we would pray for the desperately sick.   

I asked about the church.  "There is no church," came the reply.  "Where is the closest one" I asked?  "At least an 8 hour walk from here."  As far as we could tell this is  the first time the Gospel message has been announced in this village.   

After treating some fifty people we announced that we had to leave to continue to the next village.  Some thirty plus people didn't get the chance to see the doctors.  This was disheartening, but we made every effort to see the critically ill.   

Arriving in the next village we set down in a makeshift soccer field.  Again people came running from everywhere.  This time around Zaka turned to me- "your turn." I stood and shared from John 14.  Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. I talked about the way to heaven.  I talked about the accuracy of following this way.  I finished with the experience of following this way--life and life more abundantly.  Holy Spirit moved in a special way and many raised their hands to receive Christ.  In this village, the church is strong and there is a pastor who has even been to our Bible school in Tana.  

Then came the third village.  This one was the most cut off of them all.  The people here still wear traditional clothing of vests and hats.  As we landed, Zaka asked me to preach again.  So I did. Basically, the same message as before.  However, here the spiritual resistance was very strong.  As far as we can tell this is only the second time that the Gospel has been preached here.  There is no church for this area of some  1,900 people.  

The pastor from village number 2  started a cell group here earlier this year. He has some 6 or 7 believers that gather together on Wednesday afternoons.  He walks four hours to be in attendance.   As I shared one lady, clearly one of the few believers kept shouting: "hallelujah."  Her faith was brilliant.  

Following the message, we lined up the sick and began to treat as best as we knew how and pray for the critically ill.   As we packed up the helicopter to leave the little group of believers began to sing beautiful songs of praise and worship.  Some in the crowd laughed at them.  Others looked on curiously.  To me it was a bold testimony of faith for these new believers.  

I conclude as I started by saying that it was unforgettable.   Would you please pray for this forested region of Madagascar?  Desperately in need of the light of Christ! Desperately in need of laborers.  

I will be posting pics and videos on my FB page in the days to come.  

It's Our Turn Now

Sometimes people ask me what ministry on a Sunday AM looks like in Madagascar. Good question.  Here is a brief summary of the day.

I arrived at Ampititafika at 9:00 AM.  I left my car on the street and descended through the winding neighborhood towards Pastor John's church.  I passed the little bakery cooking mofogasy (rice bread) over a fire, a charcoal depot, several open sewers, piles of garbage, several mangy dogs, and some of the most beautiful kids I've ever seen dressed mostly in rags.

Arriving at the church building, the congregation of several hundred had already assembled and the service started right away.  We sang several  choruses as the team of musicians lead us in praise.  Every window and door in the building was open and the wind whipped through the concrete building. It was so cold my body was shaking. Fortunately, I had my NorthFace jacket thanks to Matt & Grace Johnson that kept me from hypothermia.

Soon the songs transitioned to a quieter more reverent feel.  Many lifted their hands as we continued singing. There was a beautiful sense of Christ's presence.  Pastor took charge of the service after some 45 minutes and called the congregation to pray.  We lifted our voices to the Lord.  He then asked me to come forward and share the Word of God.

The message's title today was "It's Our Turn Now."   I preached on the race of faith and the upward call.  I looked at  Hebrews 11:39-12:3.  It's a beautiful passage talking about the great exploits of faith performed in the past by the heroes of the faith of the Old Testament.  They now form  a cloud of witnesses waiting to see our race of faith. They are heaven's spectators cheering us home.  Why are they so intent on our race?  God has prepared something good for those mentioned in chapter 11 only together with us!

Our race of faith has more significance than the Olympics or any race run in London the past 3 weeks.  Our race is one that will build off of the efforts of previous generations.  Likewise previous generations are depending on our race.  Together we are called to inherit the promises of God.

Thus, we are the heroes of faith in this generation.  It is our turn now.

Three verbs are given to us to help us in this race:  "throw off", "run", "fix our eyes".   I won't take time to develop the points.  However, here  they are:  We must cast off everything that hinders and the sin that entangles because it is our turn now.  We must run our race! It is our turn now.  We must look unto Jesus staying away from the distractions that pull us from Him.  It is our turn now.

Several illustrations conveyed the message:  I took off my dress shoes and put on my running shoes reiterating the importance of being ready.  I had several back-packs that I loaded myself up with to demonstrate the futility of trying to run when we are carrying sin and different hindrances.  I had a stick that I hobbled with representing the futility of trying to run when you are carrying wounds and offenses.

I concluded by challenging people to make a fresh commitment to their race of faith. No two are the same. Your race of faith is not mine; and mine is not yours.  Instead of comparing each other and being jealous or criticizing, we must actually get in the race and RUN! It's our turn now.

Many came forward to seek God at the close of the service. There was a brokenness in the room.  People wept as the forgave each other and let God heal the wounds of the past.  It was beautiful.

Somewhere near 12.00 service dismissed.  A group lingered in the back corner praying for a young lady possessed by evil spirits.  She shrieked and cried as the demons were cast out.

Pastor invited me upstairs to a hall where the church had prepared lunch.  We ate mountains of rice with some kind of a chicken veggie stir-fry and pork chops cooked with peas.  Pastor's wife knows I love squash so she had prepared a special dish just for me.   I felt so honored! Several visiting pastors sat around the table.  They were in town for the just concluded national conference for the AG.  We had a great time talking and telling stories.    

Somewhere around 2:15 I headed back towards my car.  A self-appointed watchman hit me up for money as I approached the car. I had no problem helping him out.

There you have it.

I close with this simple challenge: It's YOUR TURN NOW.