Steve Badger's CONGO JOURNAL

This is a journal, not a report or an attempt to give a complete account and description of places, people, or events. Parts of this personal diary may not agree perfectly with your beliefs or concepts and may, to that extent, offend or annoy. But I hope that most will encourage you to recognize God's majesty and providence.

Writers always consider the audience for whom they write. This is written for me and to me. I'm not even sure why I'm writing it, but something brings me to do it almost every day. (I apologize here for the many inconsistencies in style and tense; this was not all written at one setting.)

I think I'm also writing this for Dale—and for my daughters and the rest of my family. But I may find out why later—or perhaps never.

This is also written for any who would like to read it, and especially those who contributed to provide the money for me to make this trip. These people and churches are listed at the end of the journal.

I'll have to be careful not to fill this with too many descriptions of the flora and fauna. A few are noteworthy, but a complete description of the things an American would find unusual would fill a large book.

You may also be annoyed with incomplete accounts or inadequate description, so I will try to fill these in when I transfer this to a computer. If I fail, I'm sorry.

If nothing else, the writing is therapeutic—I hope!

What has it cost me to come to the Congo? Besides separation from my wife and family for weeks that seemed like years, I spent several hundred dollars for clothes, supplies, food stuffs, etc. I went through the minor hassles of raising financial support, getting a passport and visa and all my shots, finding and buying things to take to the Herndons, and planning for what I would do while there. Further, I lost $2,000 I could have earned from teaching second session of summer school.

A question harder to answer is "What have I gained?" God allowed me to be a small part of Challenge '92...Congo, an A/G evangelistic thrust for this African country. I preached the gospel to over 3,200 people in one city and 1,000 to 1,500 in another city. I prayed for and with 400-500 people to receive God's forgiveness and salvation. I have experienced a little of what missionaries go through in order to take the gospel to other nations and cultures. And in that experience, I have a new respect for these missionaries.

Don't expect too much from this diary—it is non-fiction. In order to make it exciting, I'm afraid I would have to resort to fiction. I have not completely re-written this diary, so forgive me my literary trespasses.

(Special thanks to my work-study students: David New for typing and Cheralene Menchaca for typing and proof-reading this manuscript. But I'm responsible for any errors.)

In May of '91 at the Mississippi District Council, I asked Don Tucker if he could use me in any part of the African mission during a summer. During the next several months, he and others found a place of service for me in Congo...Challenge '92 with Missionaries Bob and Linda Herndon.

I suffered a herniated disc in my lower back in August '91. Months of physical therapy gave limited relief, and we began to wonder if I would be able to make the trip. I expected that God would heal my back miraculously, but such did not happen. I took with me a large supply of medications.

God helped me to raise all needed funds from February to May ('92).

But my plans were modified because the Herndons came home for a rather unexpected preventive medical visit. Ironically, they arrived in Texas the evening before the morning I left for Africa. We met at a local bank so he could give me money to take to the workers in Brazzaville.

The Herndons had left Jim and Nancy Ruehmann to oversee the work for what they expected to be an absence of a few weeks. Their medical problems were worse than they had guessed and may keep them from returning for months. (They returned in late November.)

French and Lingala are spoken here in the Congo—I speak only English. So I must always have an interpreter. CAPEC (the equivalent of the A/G in the Congo) provided an English-speaking national pastor to serve in this capacity. Abbas Prosper pastors an independent Pentecostal church in Brazzaville and also teaches English at a local public school (to students 17-24 years old).

Folks at the U.S. Embassy told us that Brazzaville is considered the second most expensive city in the world in which to live. I've included a table of comparative costs at the end of the journal.

My wife and a friend had me at D/FW airport near noon on Friday, June 12, 1992, to fly to St Louis, then Paris, and finally Brazzaville, Congo. I left with absolutely no confidence in my heart or mind that I would ever return. But I left with confidence that I was moving in God's will—and that confidence continues.

Congo Journal

A Short-Term Missionary's Diary

Saturday 13 June 1992

Almost exactly 12 hours after leaving D/FW, I arrive stiff and tired. . .about 7:30 A.M. Paris time. A minor anxiety attack hit me when the lady at the UTA ticket counter told me that my connection to Brazzaville could not be reconfirmed at this late date and time. I just kept on waiting until she finally wrote me out my boarding pass and sent me on my way—all set, but 16 hours to wait.

Now. Where is Doug Jeter? We talked on the phone less than a week ago. I was sure he would meet me here. Here—at the ticket counter. I have no baggage to claim—it was checked through to the Congo. I try to have them page Doug, but never hear it if they do.

I try to use a pay phone to call Doug—no French money! I get a few dollars changed into francs and then try to figure out how to use the pay phone. I have Doug's number, but how many of these 14 digits that I used to call him from my home do I use here? Is six enough? Is eight too many? Oh, no! The coil slot is jammed! I'll try another phone. I call information, but the male operator understands me no better than I comprehend him. Here's a phone that accepts a credit card. I run my Visa through and dial the last eight digits and a French girl answers, "Bonjour." I must have a wrong number. No, it's Nathalie Jeter. She tells me that her Dad and Mom are both at the airport. Good! I hope.

Thinking that perhaps they are expecting to meet me at the baggage claim area, I decide to try to find it. On the way I must go through customs. No problem; I have nothing to declare. But the security guard insists I fill out a form. He does not have a form to give me, but repeatedly points to a small box several feet away. I examine the box three times and each time it is empty. I shrug and look at him. He disgustedly gets up and comes out to show the retarded American how to pick up a card from the box—only then can he tell that the box is empty (I was so glad he didn't take my word for it since it was half the size of a shoebox, I was sure it was full of cards, but I just couldn't find them!).

He gave me a card; I filled it out and scooted through customs and headed toward what I hoped was baggage claim.

Of course, by this time (an hour after leaving the plane), all of the passengers on my flight from St. Louis were long gone. As I was entering the baggage claim area, Doug and I saw each other at the same time and sighed and hugged. He was about to give up on finding me. Of course we all had several chuckles over this.

What a wonderful day with Doug, Raynan, Nathalie, and Nanette! Brunch out on the front porch—croissants, coffee-milk, fruit, juice, French bread, and non-stop talking. I felt a strong, positive sense of kinship with them.

Doug and I did a little computer work, then I lay down and snored for two hours. Then Doug, Raynan, and I took a whirlwind tour of the Paris area. The Chateau of Versailles, the Eiffel Tower, the Sorbonne, Notre Dame, the Seine River, the Arch of Triumph, and the Champs Elysees! We just drove by rubber-necking.

As we were driving under the Eiffel Tower, someone called out to us and ran toward the car. It was Germaine, a high school girl from Beaumont, Texas, who was staying with the Jeters for a few days, but was staying one day and night with a French family from the church. What a coincidence!

I bought postcards and a couple of small souvenirs with Doug and Raynan's help. We ate supper, and then they took me to de Gaulle Airport. We talked of the possibility of my going to Brussels, Belgium, to visit the Branums on my way home. The Jeters took me to the airport and sent me on my way through security.

I saw one potential problem: I had a computer hard disk in my luggage. It's a sealed metal container. How would they see it? I approached the guard at the last security check with this in mind. He spoke no English, and no one else was nearby—we were alone. I pulled out the hard drive and began to explain, "Computer hard disk...." But he waved it aside and scrutinized everything else. Praise God!

He also measured the length of my barber scissors—they had done this at D/FW, too—and they were the maximum permissible length.

So with this last hurdle behind me, I headed for the waiting area and the plane. I tried to buy a Coke, but the $3.30 price tag (equivalent) prompted me to mutter, "I'm not that thirsty."

I was expecting a 4-5 hour flight almost directly south, a little east from Paris to Brazzaville. I finished The Religion of Power on the flight from the USA. It was good, but convicting. I watched a movie on this flight, and tried to sleep. The seats are not meant for sleeping—they're not even meant for sitting if you're my size. A projected TV map of Europe and Africa kept us posted on our progress, except during the movie.

Sunday 14 June 1992

Our plane landed safely at 5:35 A.M. local Brazzaville time. The flight from Paris took 6 hours 56 minutes—almost 7 hours! The airport and terminal were not very large (like de Gaulle in Paris). I saw two (American?) men watching me as I tried to make it through customs and correctly guessed they were there for me.

I was met at the airport at 5:35 this A.M. by Jim Comer and Jim Ruehmann. The kidding and teasing began immediately, actually before we met! After only 15 minutes for passport and visa and three minutes to inspect carry on luggage, we went to look for the box and two pieces of luggage I last saw at D/FW. Praise God! All OK!

Of course a couple of bags of chips had opened and the box (upside down when I first saw it) had been violently abused—but all else was fine.

In 10-15 minutes we had driven in a pickup to the Herndon's residence—the former residence of the Yugoslav Ambassador—very nice. Bob's office and the Herndon's apartment are on the second floor.

Jim Comer told me of a mango fly that can lay its eggs on your clothing while it is drying outside—the larva enters a skin pore and causes a sore, containing the larva—Ugh! So clothes should always be ironed after washing/drying to kill the eggs.

Another insect (or worm)—jiggers—burrows under toe nails (habitat: dry sandy soil) and grow and are painful to remove. Wear shoes outside(!) even when showering outside. It all sounds like a "Snipe Hunt" prank, but they tell me it's "for real"—all of them.

How self-confidence changes when you are the foreigner! I don't know any of the language or customs. Alone in this large house tonight (all others at church; I await Dale's call). I heard a ring. Is it the phone? a doorbell? neither of these! I went to the door and called "Hello?" But heard no response. Check the phone—"Hello?" No response, and the noise I hear is unlike any dial tone I've heard—maybe I waited too long...

Oh! there's the phone for sure now—it's Dale. I talked with her and Sara for a few minutes...

There's the ring again—I checked the phone—nope. I call toward the front door, "Hello" and I look out the window. A young black lady is there. She speaks English. I understand only English. "Sorry. There's no one here but me. I cannot let you in. Come back after 8 o'clock." She gives no clue she has understood a word I've said. And vice versa. This leaves me feeling uneasy—almost nervous. Home alone.

I've been here about 11 hours and the hard drive is in the computer and most of the software is installed. Praise God the money spent on hardware and software was not wasted. I'll install the rest of it later...when Bob and I are together.

Monday 15 June 1992

We went to the U.S. Embassy and registered me with them. This is in case of any emergency—personal or national. I had to give them two photos—and I had them on me! Thank You, Lord!

We then went to the bank—for the second time—to exchange money for Congo francs (CFA). We went earlier and that department was not open. It was still closed, but before we could leave, the lady offered to help us—and she did.

When we got back home, I wrote 49 Thank You notes to be mailed in the U.S. (too expensive to mail from Congo)...to save money.

Jim Comer bought some salt fish (to go with lunch) and a type of bread (kwanga) that he likes. Jim and Nancy Ruehmann didn't eat it! Anita Story (MAPS worker) and I tried it! Anita ate 2-3 small bites and gave up, I ate half a piece the size of a lemon and gave up—I could only compare it to old semi-dried-out-Play-Dough—but not as nicely or highly flavored.

We went to a few stores—pharmacy (where I got more anti-diarrheal medicine, just as a precaution), a tailor shop—where Jim Comer looked for shirts. People are walking everywhere—the green Toyota taxis are ubiquitous. I've never seen so many pedestrians.

We met a local pastor (Pastor Bouka) who is going to Makoua with us tomorrow. He took us to the home of the interpreter who will interpret for me. Plans seem to change daily.

We drove by the river and looked across the river to see Kinshasa, the capital of Zaire across the river. It is very unstable and dangerous. I won't go. The visa would cost me $100.

So far it has not been hot here! This is the coolest part of their year—and the driest!

I must be very careful with my passport/Visa—it's worth $3,000 cash on the black market. So not only must I guard my money, camera, suitcases, but my passport & visa too!

Tonight I must re-pack to prepare for a full-day's trip on very poor roads. I hope to get good pix!

Wednesday 17 June 1992

Yesterday! What a trip! Jim R. woke me at 3:05 A.M. I had slept an hour (maybe) but had been in bed since 10 or 10:30. Jet-lag. I got up, showered, and finished packing, and we left around 3:30 A.M. We had to go to two places to pick up people.

Jim had a Speed-the-Light '90 Nissan pickup and around 15 people thought they would ride with us. The truck bed was over half full without any people! Somehow we did get 12 of them on (nine in the back and three in the front) and left Brazzaville for Makoua about 4:30 A.M.

The road was OK for an hour to 1 ½ hours, then it worsened—huge gaping potholes—bigger than a bathtub! At first these were every mile or so, then every ¼ mile or so, then every 100 feet or so...then... I hope the photos turn out good because verbal description is inadequate. This road was so bad that trails were on the side where traffic travelled instead! This lasted two hours or more—then the road improved. We had a 2-3 hour stretch of 80-100 km/hr road, then it was as bad as ever.

My lower back hurt as we left Brazzaville so Jim asked all of the brothers to ride in the back—we didn't want to be crowded, too. However, we needed Pastor Bouka to ride with us up front for a few minutes just to direct us to the right highway. He never abandoned the front seat the entire 16½ hour trip! Every time we stopped for gas (diesel fuel) he returned to that seat! We were packed in the front of that truck....

I feared the long, crowded, indescribably rough, jarring trip—followed by a night of trying to sleep on a hard bed—would give my back a lot of pain. Praise God I was wrong. My back has bothered me very little on the trip or today! I hope God heals it completely! We took 7 hours to cover 210 km, and that was just the first half of the trip (30 km/hr average).

We arrived in Makoua (pronounced Mak´-wah) around 8:30 P.M. (about 600 km from Brazzaville). We stayed in a house which we are trying to rent for around $700-$750 for 30 days. If so, we will be blessed. It has running water, indoor plumbing (read bathroom), and electricity! from 6-11 P.M. most nights. It desperately needs cleaning.

Jim helped me put a mosquito net over my bed, and I went to sleep and slept well, I guess all night. The water isn't turned on yet, but a 30-gallon plastic barrel is in the kitchen and full of water. We added a little Clorox to it and used it and a pail to stand in the shower and wash off this morning. It was great!

Coffee and brownies for breakfast—with a little Coke. I came home in a couple of hours and made a hot soup mix cause I didn't feel too good. I've just finished it and a few pieces of dried fruit with lotsa water, I feel better now.

We went with Pastor Bouka to the local authorities to get a permit to hold public meetings. All went A-OK, but very formal. As we left, the young man told us that he hoped "your Jesus will save many souls here." We may not be able to hold Crusade services on Sunday since it is election day. We'll see. We then went to the "Police Station" to register our presence. All seemed OK.

The others left me here home alone. They went to get lumber to build a platform for the crusade. They hope.

There is a five-and-a-half-foot wall around the house/yard with only one large gate that locks. The yard has dozens of banana trees (some in tight clusters) a papaya tree with a few dozen papaya on it, one ripening.

The house is rather large—one story, and open. Because it is open, you hear the noise of the neighborhood, kids at play, and adults sitting in their yards working, etc. The windows are 6" jalousie and there are no screens. A grill work (burglar bars) cover all windows. A masonry "grill" is above each window. Lizards roam freely—as do olympic class cockroaches. I doubt Dale and a team of workers, new paint, or anything else could raise this house to her standards of acceptability. But... Nothing here is perfectly right; everything here is dirty or dusty, broken or imperfect in some way. Everything.

It is warmer and muggier here than it was in Brazzaville. The sky is overcast but rain does not seem eminent. I'm told it will not rain.

I have a propane burner, some bottled water, and an assortment of foods to help me survive. As Nancy R. was packing the food Dale had sent with me, she repeatedly commented on Dale's excellent choices and assumed she had done this often before. Consider the place names: Gamboma, Makoua, Edou, Djambala (sounds like Jambalaya), the Alima River, Lefini River, Komo River. French and Lingala are spoken here, Bon jour = Mbote = Hello.

Kwanga (spelling?) is a staple made from cassava roots. They also beat, cook, and eat the leaves. There is a single brand of auto fuel: "Hydro Congo," and each village may have a station. Listen to the names of people: Pastor Bouka, Pastor Mokoko Bienvenu, Pastor Abbas Prosper, Blanchard MPassy.

Ice would be nice!! But room temperature Crystal Light tea is OK...

The countryside we passed yesterday—and the people—fascinated me. Jet-lag fatigue had me nodding off for 3-4 minutes, but the jar of potholes brought me back quickly. The people wave with both hands as if to stop you for an important matter. We always ignore them and drive on.

The road is very narrow and in some places partially covered with vegetation (6-7 foot tall grass in 2 feet of the road shoulder) along each side. If you meet a vehicle or one passes you, both must put two wheels on the shoulder. Most yards have a small table offering kwanga (I wonder if it is spelled "kouanga"; probably) or something (corn, peanuts, palm oil) for sale. Some have wicker type chairs and tables for sale, too.

The yards are bare dirt and houses are wood, mud and either a thatched or sheet metal roof. Some houses have thatched walls. I don't know the names of most of the trees but recognize coconut palms, banana, and papaya.

Five-to-seven-foot tall mud termite mounds are seen frequently, too. People use baskets strapped to their backs and often carry baskets, boxes, or basins balanced on their heads.

The first part of the trip the country-side was all savannah; the last part had some forest: further north, taller trees.

I saw a "Don't worry - Be happy" T-shirt in Gambona! Can you believe it? How did it get here?

Last night I had a "fear" grip me. Early Thursday morning Jim R. will leave and I will be the only white person here (to my knowledge). My interpreter, Abbas Prosper, is marginally adequate. I will be a stranger among strangers (and these strangers are my brothers in Christ!). But will I fail them? And my missionary friends? And my financial supporters? And myself? And my God?!

But this morning much of that fear was gone. I can be responsible only for myself and doing my best. The responsibility of "making things happen" is God's. This afternoon several of the men are with Jim R. at the soccer field building a platform for the crusade. I am at home alone again, thinking, praying, reading, studying—and getting over the fatigue of jet-lag and adjusting to a six-hour time zone change.

I close all the windows at dusk to minimize the mosquito invasion. The temperature in the house skyrockets as a result. I'll try opening my bedroom windows as I crawl under the mosquito net tonight.

I am reading a lot, but do not enjoy the isolation (personal, cultural, etc.). As I write I'm eating a small piece of French bread, a few pieces of dried fruit, a granola bar, and some instant coffee for breakfast.

Thursday 18 June 1992

They moved the opening of the crusade up to tonight—it was to begin Saturday night. The drums beat all night last night—no fooling. Someone had died and this is part of the timeless tradition. I awoke 2-3 times and heard the drums. At the time I wondered if I was in any danger....

Jim R. left early this morning. I'm here by myself; is there another Anglo in town? Not to my knowledge. Oh good, here comes my interpreter Abbas Prosper. We have work to do to prepare for tonight's crusade.

9:40 A.M.

I have been visiting/talking/working with Abbas for a couple of hours. I think we will work well together. We went over my sermon notes, read Scripture passages, and discussed terms like "grace," "mercy," and "justify"—doctrinally he is pretty sharp, I think—and hope.

Then Pastor Bouka and others came by. They have no essence (French or Lingala for gasoline) for the generator tonight. They hope to solve the problem today. Others came to transport the amplifier, speakers, microphones, generators, stands, lectern/pulpit, and literature to the stadium. I will go there later this morning.

They told me Makoua is a center of witchcraft and people "disappear," bodies are found floating in the river. Lord, please protect me!

The landlord (Kidissa) came by as prearranged, but he had no receipt (French, facture) so I could not give him the rent (100,000 CFA) for the month. About $400, much better than the $700-$750 originally offered! He should return later.

He left a yard man trimming the yard and a plumber is to return and fix the commode leak. He is also supposed to let me know what hours we have running water (pressure).

Abbas picked the papaya off the tree out back—I hope I like it.^* Abbas went with them to take everything to the stadium (which is just an empty, grassy field).

The water is ON! It's a few minutes past 10:00 A.M.—so it probably comes on at 10—but for how long? I cleaned several things and filled the 30-gallon drum with water (and added a little Clorox). Maybe I'll bathe again and this time rinse all the shampoo and soap off! Yes—it was great! (Later I learned that the water is always "on," but that so many people are using water in the mornings that the pressure drops to nothing and stops flowing.)

Now, don't think hot water! Or warm! Or even tepid! It is cool—but not ice cold, Thank God! The bathroom is tile (dirty, of course) and dark—you hope no critters are showering with you! I never had the courage to search too close.

Abbas, Pastor Bouka, and I prayed for an hour or so again before we went to the Crusade.

The palms of the hands of many of these people have an unusual yellow/orange cast.

7:45 P.M.

I'm eating peanut butter on stale French bread. The Crusade service was unusual—to me; they guessed 600, I estimated 750, people present (always milling about, talking, etc.) I preached "How can we know Jesus is the Christ?" I'm not sure just how appropriate that was for the first sermon to these people, but about 100 came forward for salvation! After Pastor Bouka led them in repeating "The Sinner's Prayer," I asked how many had asked for forgiveness for the first time ever — at least 100 hands shot up high! Praise God!

A deaf/mute was healed and the Pastors had him demonstrate his new hearing and speech. A little cripple boy walked without his crutch—but still deformed. Another tried to walk but failed. How my heart ached for him(!) as I asked God to instantly make him whole and let him run, leap, and play.

Best I could tell, Abbas was an A-OK interpreter. I think we worked well together, and he said he felt the same.

I always realize how totally I am at the mercy of my hosts in general, and Abbas in particular. I am never in control of any situation. And this is a big part of my stress.

Mr. and Mrs. Kidissa and nephew Gabriel (24-years-old) came and visited for one hour. We testified to them about Jesus and prayed with them for healings. We are to go visit him tomorrow (he comes from a Catholic background). Wonderful! He wants to show us some of his businesses and perhaps a fruit orchard.^* He is a man of some means and has travelled to Europe. Lord, please let them find a right and full relationship with you. Amen.

Friday June 16, 1992

As I finished breakfast, a man brought his son (about 12 years old) who is mute—for healing. We shared the Gospel and prayed. May God save the man and heal the boy! Pastor Bienvenu came by as our meeting ended. Then two young ladies came: one is cleaning, the other is being taught by Abbas Prosper.

We had a young man come from a town about 105 km away. He said these people came from the church there to pray and work in this Crusade. Thank You, Lord.

One of the local intercessors said a magician (witch doctor) came to the meeting "to tempt" us. But something "poured all over him," and he left running. My friends say that was God's Holy Spirit. (We prayed for protection, we prayed for his salvation and the destruction of the enemy's control of these people.)

I believe God is leading me to preach from Matthew 22:34-40 on idolatry. Abbas and I are working and praying to have this sermon prepared for tonight. I try to encourage Abbas to prevent me from making social/cultural gaffes in behavior or speech.

One week ago today I left Texas. I will need another day or two to completely recover from strain of the two-day trip and jet-lag. So far I have had no illness—well, the first morning here I felt weak, but I attribute that to a lack of breakfast. Also, I have had almost no pain in my lower back. Lord, I thank You for Your strength. Please give me Your wisdom to bring these people into Your light. Amen.

Now I must finish preparing to preach. Abbas has gone to exhort the intercessors and will soon return to work with me.

Two sisters arrive with food! Hurry Abbas! Ha.

Everyday, in addition to the Bible, I read some of the seven other books I've brought.

Our conversations are not seasoned with much humor. I miss the humor of home. So when a little appears, I soak it up.

I try to remember each day to pray specifically for friends and situations at home: my wife, of course is always in my mind; Sara as she returns from camp and has a guest from France for a month; Kendall and Hope as they adjust to married life. And too many other friends/situations for me to list...and some too private.

I am staying in one of the nicest houses in Makoua—could this account for the number of people who come to visit? That, plus they all see me as a fascinating oddity worthy of scrutiny... Everywhere I go...they stare at me and get me to say something and shake hands.

8:45 p.m

Many came to the crusade. I estimate 800-1,000; Pastor Bouka estimates 1,000-1,200. 24-25 people came to pray the sinner's prayer. I preached from Mark 12:28 explaining God is not one among many, but one of a kind. Idols are nothing, and God abhors idolatry. You cannot worship any kind of an idol (amulet, fetish) and also follow Jesus...

After prayer with these for salvation, I invited Christians who see idolatry in their lives to come in repentance. None came. We then had prayer for the sick—there are many! One girl testified that God opened her ears and gave her speech—she had been both deaf and dumb. Praise God! Her father then certified her testimony as true. The little cripple boys were back again—still crippled, and other suffering people seek God's healing power. And so few received. Why? I ask almost continually. Why?

I think my stress would be greatly diminished if only one other English-speaking Anglo were here with me. I am so at the mercy of my interpreter.

Mr. and Mrs. Kidissa came by. We prayed with them; testified; exhorted and visited. Their focus shows that they are hungry for the Gospel. We are to go visit his store and orchard tomorrow.

I ate a couple of fruits today I had never even seen before. COROSOLE has a white flesh and green peeling. The fruit was unusual, but it made me think a little of pineapple—-I ate it. But the SAFOU was all seed and skin (worse than a mango) and though I tasted it 2-3 times, I could not appreciate it. Both its taste and color defy description! Sorry...

There is a bird Abbas calls ALOUTTE that strips leaves from a tree and builds a bag nest in trees—to the tree's very destruction—I hope I get good photos. Also the FLAMBOYANT is in bloom—and it is flamboyant.

Saturday 6 June 1992

Rain fell heavily from 2 A.M. until about 6 A.M. This is unusual—I'm told this is the dry season. (Much lightning and thunder! This frightened Abbas! He awakened me to pray.)

Abbas left about 10 last night to exhort the intercessors. He promised to return before the electricity went off at 11 P.M. but did not return until after midnight! I was nervous, of course. The gate was unlocked; should I go lock it? The doors are locked, and I need to go to sleep. How can I get him to understand the position he places me in? This was the second time today that he left and failed to return when he said he would. (The next time he asks me if it is OK with me if he leaves, I will say, "Please...No.")

My instant oatmeal breakfast yesterday was good with dried fruit, but today's with dried trail mix...once will be enough...I still don't care for instant coffee, but it's better than none...barely. (In oatmeal: raisins, good; nuts, OK; banana, very poor).

Abbas was told that the election has been postponed until Wednesday. No reason given (to me). Is this good or bad? I have no idea.

We plan to go to Mr. Kidissa's store this morning. Also, I am to call Brazzaville to give a report.

Everything takes so long. Cooking, cleaning up, bathing, etc. I had to flush the commode and clean the seat before I used it yesterday. Included were two trips the length of the house to fill a pail with water to flush—before and after. This is like camping out—in a house.

There is too much to write! I went to call Jim R. this morning, but (after a 30 minute wait in an empty-but-open post office) we were told the phones are not working. When will they be fixed? "Later," they said. "Later" means they don't know.

This greatly increased my feeling of stress and isolation. What if we have an emergency? God, protect me. I'll check on the phone every day or two.

We went to Kidissa's hardware store. He had us sit and purchased soft drinks. No Coca Cola in town—so we had Canada Dry Tonic Quinine. Abbas loves it. I don't. So we asked God to let my tongue enjoy it anyway—for my host's sake.

While there we met Alfonse, one of Kidissa's sons—he lives in Brazzaville and plans to return next Thursday, June 25th. He agreed to take a letter to the Herndon's residence, so it looks like God has provided a means of communication.

While in the market, after taking the teacher, his wife, and mute son to Pastor Bouka as we were going to Kidissa's, we met four (then five), of the African men who teach English in a Catholic school 5-6 km from here. They had come just to see me and were disappointed we had prior commitments. They will return Monday morning. Their names: Moussa, Abandya, Abia, and Akouli. They wrote my name down as they all talked at once and pressed us to change our plans....

The water should run from 10 A.M. to 4 P.M. (I've been told), but this is the second day in a row we've had no water. I hope it is on soon so I can wash clothes! And me.

Dale would be disgusted if she knew I put on clean clothes only every second or third day. But I bathe everyday and sometimes twice in a day. Still I am cleaner and have less odor than the local people. Maybe I'll try for 4 or 5 days....

I have been surprised at the small number of mosquitoes and other insects here. No worse than Mississippi or Louisiana. In fact, on our back porch in Waxahachie, TX, mosquitoes often will drive me indoors. I have plenty of insect repellent but want it to last! I hope this rain does not bring an explosion in the insect population!

Abbas often says "Thank you very much" at inappropriate times. At first it was kind of cute; now it can just be irritating. Ha! He also wants to begin and end everything with prayer. If anyone comes over, for instance...or we begin a different conversation.... (note: exaggeration intended as humor).

I'm smiling—French bread, peanut butter, and pineapple jam(!) with Crystal Light Tea (tepid)—after I scraped the mold of the top of the jam, of course.

When Pastor Bouka speaks at the Crusade, he speaks in Lingala and Abbas translates into French. In addition to Lingala (Congo) the local language is called Makoua and is very different from Lingala.

I have difficulty discerning any feedback from the audience while I am preaching. Abbas told me to say "Alleluia" while preaching, and the response (or lack) from the people will give me a clue. Perhaps I will try that tonight.

Abbas Prosper went to pray again. I strongly urged him to return promptly at the time he chose—actually he said 1:00 and I added 30 minutes. "Return before 1:30," I said, "So we can study together." He was only 15 minutes late—a great improvement, but he was supposed to have eaten lunch during that time, and he had not. So, he had to leave again to eat. (I am fully aware that I betray the time consciousness of my culture, and he his. How can we work together if we don't get together? I teased him; "Abbas, you are a very smart man—but you cannot tell time.")

So far the biggest struggle I have is with this need to see miracles and healings as if only this authenticates the Gospel. They seem to push for testimonies of miracles when there are none. When God heals a person, others don't have to tell him/her, he/she's healed. Those who SEE a miracle know it, they don't have to have it "explained" to them!

About 2:30 P.M.

Hey! a light is on (we usually leave a couple on and let them go off with the electricity). Maybe we have water, too. Yes! I spent 30 minutes filling the 30-gallon drum with two 1-quart saucepans. Then I filled three 1½ liter bottles with water and one drop of Clorox and a 2½ gallon jug with water and Clorox. I flushed the commode and refilled its tank. Filled the green pail and took a shower (I had washed earlier out of the pail). I also washed out my towel and two face cloths and hung them on the electric wire clothes line Kidissa and nephew Gabriel put out back for me just a couple of hours ago.

Every time I leave something on the table, Abbas uses it: highlighters, paper clips, computer cards pieces of paper... So if I don't want him to use my tape or camera, I'd better put it in my room. This is where I put all the food and bottled water.

8:00 P.M.

The Crusade crowd was small (200-300 people) compared to last night, but about 60 people came to pray for salvation. The message was God's two claims of ownership: we are created and purchased. Abbas said the story of the twice-owned boat was effective—and he loved it!

I usually preach 30-45 minutes. The altar call lasts another 20-30 minutes. Then Pastor Bouka and Pastor Prosper team-preach (Lingala and French)—I mean exhort—then prayer ministry follows for another hour. Whew!

Pastor Bouka will preach tomorrow morning and I will rest. I believe we will have no Crusade Sunday night, but I often misunderstand and plans always change. So I will see... but I'll get prepared.

Sunday 21 June 1992

Today is Father's Day and my Dad's 80th Birthday. But it is 2:00 A.M. in Texas... And I begin my second week in Africa. We still have running water this morning. I showered and hoped my roommate does, too. But Abbas is washing the floor of the bathroom. It desperately needed it. Abbas just walked by.. he still has not bathed. Well, June isn't over yet.

I must be very careful. An accident that could be minor at home could be major here. Is there a hospital or clinic in Makoua? Yes, a five-room hospital. How comforting. I pray I never need to find out how good this hospital is. (I thank God I didn't. I visited patients in that hospital. I'd rather die out in the open than there. Our horse stables are cleaner.)

I have taken only the anti-malaria medicine and an antibiotic that should help prevent diarrhea. No pain pill. No Advil. Thank You, Lord, for health and strength.

I have had to supply my own provisions and Abbas his. But I've had to be blunt with him to get him to provide his own food and not eat mine. You may see this as selfish, but I cannot eat all of the local foods and he can. If I do not control this, I will be in a bind in just a few days.

Abbas finally spent money on bread, sugar and tea.

Abbas: "Do we have sugar?"
Me: "I have sugar. What do you want sugar for?"
Abbas: "Coffee."
Me: "Abbas, do you have coffee?"

He didn't; so he sent Olga to the marketplace, and she returned with these. They are sopping the bread in the tea and eating the tea with a spoon as we would eat soup. I hope all my pictures turn out good. I'm shooting some prints and some slides because I'll need both.

I was told that I would be preaching in the soccer stadium. I don't know what comes to your mind when you read stadium, but it is nothing but a large (about 80 yards by 200 yards) grassy field that needs mowing. Walking trails lead through the field, and there are several bare-dirt patches. Nothing more.

Communication is so often so difficult I fear for the translation of the message. This makes the time spent in preparation even more important to me!

I am fascinated by "African time" It is 9:18 A.M. Abbas said we were to be at the stadium at 9 A.M. (more than once). I am ready. He is ready. But he whistles as he sweeps the floor. And Olga fills the sink with water (I'm not sure why).

Last night he wanted to leave at 9 P.M. to go to Pastor Bouka's for food (supper), but I knew he would not return before the electricity went off at 11 P.M. So I fixed him coffee and bread.

Ah... he's about ready to go now — 9:22 A.M.

It is overcast, but rain does not seem eminent. Very muggy and when the sun breaks through—hot, too.

1:00 P.M.

Well, as we were arriving, André met us and told us that we should go to Pastor Bouka's house to get him. As we were going we met him and walked to the stadium. About 125 people were there singing with the taped music over the Peavey system. About 10:30 Bouka began preaching; about 11:30 he started prayer/ministry which ended about 12:30. Several testimonies of healing followed...

On the way home I bought two bottles of soft drink—cold! Wow! I am drinking the "Pulp Orange" and it is OK, but it has a strong flavor. The "Tropi Cola" has a flavor like RC Cola. I also ate a fresh orange Kidissa gave me when we stopped by his store on our way home to ask if he had an electric iron we could borrow. He did. It seems we have found favor in Kidissa's eye. Lord, let him see You in us and find your salvation. Amen. (He does claim to be saved, but is unclear on many concepts.)

Along with other books and the Bible and sermon preparation, I am reading (a translation of) Eduard Schweizer's A Theological Introduction to the New Testament. So far I'm not too impressed, but it is stimulating. Not as fulfilling as the other books...

2:20 P.M.

I have been in bed reading and resting for a little over an hour. I think I just had a minor panic attack—it's as if time is standing still and my being here will last forever. Time passes so slowly when I'm not busy. But surely life is much more than activity! How can I learn to just be content? to just be? and not always doing? God help me. (Next door neighbor's radio or TV was on and I heard "To God Be The Glory" in what I guessed was French.)

5:00 P.M.

Two people have come (separately) to counsel with Abbas—he expects a third, too. They talk while I write.

I was disturbed by (Abbas' translation of) Pastor Bouka's sermon this morning. (Abbas and I sat behind the platform, and he translated privately to me.) It sounded like he was saying that if you will trust/obey/follow Jesus you will always be "blessed," never sick, and always increasing in wealth. I don't know if I should pursue this or just dialogue with Bob Herndon about it.

This adds to my discomfort level caused by the prayer ministry. All this is further aggravated by the complete lack of feedback from Bouka during my preaching. I have no idea if he likes my preaching or not...

I wrote out a letter for Alphonse (Kidissa's son) to take to Jim R. in Brazzaville later this week. I hope that is successful, but I also hope the phone is fixed soon. I need a visit with an English-speaking Anglo!

Preaching here has not yet given me the sense of fulfillment it has at home. Why? Even in Mexico and San Francisco I felt fulfilled. What is different here? I don't know yet, but I hope it will change. I wish I had someone here to talk with about all these things.

Abbas is not always good at including me in discussions with others. Unless a question/comment is specifically directed at me or unless I ask, he typically does not translate or tell me what the discussion is about. Hence, I feel even more isolated.

We sat in the house with all the windows closed, but when I turned the fan on Abbas protested it was too cool. So I fixed the fan so that it would blow only on me.

It seems like I spend hours every day reading and writing. I need to get more exercise perhaps.

My back has bothered me a very little bit today for the first time in a week. God, I thank You for health and strength. Please heal my back completely! Amen.

Abbas has been exhorting the young man and a young lady for a couple of hours at least.

I am not feeling well emotionally. (This is an understatement.) Not just depressed—I am stressed, anxious, unhappy. I don't want to admit this to myself let alone record it with ink on paper. I want to leave here—now! And of course, I cannot; I must not. I am in a major emotional flux—upheaval. God, please create peace in my mind! Help me to "deny myself" and find fulfillment in You, in Your will, in serving You.

Could I survive if I were imprisoned because of my faith? (What a thought to come while wrestling with these thoughts/feelings!)

Abbas was going to go exhort the church from 9-10 P.M. I told him I would be unhappy being left alone and he agreed to stay.

I read from the books I brought until about 10:30, then went to bed. (McKnight's Post-Modern Use of the Bible.)

Monday 22 June 92

7:30 a.m

This is the second Monday I have awakened in Africa. Oatmeal will become tiresome—I must find an alternative breakfast. The water is still on, so I'll go shower. It is cool this morning—comfortably cool.

A cool morning, a cold shower—certainly a one-of-a-kind experience! But after it is all over—your hair is washed, your teeth are brushed, and your skin is clean—you feel like a new man! I even put on clean underwear. (Feel better, Dale?)

Abbas has gone to catch the lorry to Owessa so the men can take two letters there. He has several people lined up to come by the house today, and we must work on sermon preparation—so we will be busy (I hope). Also, we must see if the phone is working this morning. (The post office is open only in the morning.)

I can either wash my clothes in the small double stainless steel sink in the kitchen or pay someone to wash it for me. I will delay as long as I can. Kidissa lent us an iron, but it has black stuff stuck to its face that we cannot clean off (yet!)

8:20 A.M.

A young lady came to the house but Abbas had not returned yet. We could not communicate; I tried to tell her that Abbas was not here (I think she understood), and that she should return at 9:00 A.M. (she did not understand). Surely Abbas will be back by 9—he should have returned before 8:00!

Oh—here he is now. I sent him after her; he found her and brought her back. They counsel as I read and write.

Now the Sergeant (Bounda Aimé) has arrived. Abbas and I witness to him. He has lost seven family members in two years, and he has malaria. He prays to become a Christian and we pray for healing, too. He will come to the Crusade and he will come to visit/talk again.

12:00 noon

We went to market—I needed the exercise—and stopped by the post office. The director was on the phone so we correctly guessed it was fixed. We finally got Jim on the phone (that took almost three minutes) and we talked for almost six minutes (total time: 8:45). No solution appears for my problem. Bob H. will not return until I have been here three weeks. I spent 2,590 CFA (about $10) to speak to him 6 minutes—but it was worth it! (Lunch: Lipton Noodles & Sauce: Chicken Flavor and 3-4 rye crisp crackers).

I bought a case of water, but when I brought them home there were only 11 bottles—not 12. If that's the only loss I experience, it will be miraculous. (The merchant gave me the 12th bottle when I told him!)

Abbas has gone to exhort the intercessors. We were told that they prayed through the night. I hope they are present and awake for Abbas' exhortation—which tend to be long and dramatic.

Natondi yo mingi (pronounced: NA TUN DE YO MEAN GE)—Lingala: "Thank You." Odi (pronounced: O.D.)—"Hi."

I show a picture of my family to many new friends. They make appropriate comments, but Abbas never translates them. So I imagine: "My, aren't they pale!" "Are they sick?" "What is wrong with her hair?" "Is no one there able to braid?" "How would you like to wake up every morning and see that?"

I am so thankful I have this picture of Dale and Hope and Sara and me—but I wish I also had a picture of Dad & Mom and maybe even Kendall. Probably a picture of Mark would only add to my emotional stress.

I am writing out a prayer list to remind me to pray and to thank God for answered prayers. So I am thankful for all the writing materials I brought.

I am also grateful for the Bible I chose to bring (NIV Study Bible) and the assortment of seven other books. I would like to have my laptop, but I would constantly fear it would be stolen or broken AND the electricity is on only from 6-11 P.M. Those 5 hours per night probably would not full charge the battery, and I would be able to use it only for an hour or two each evening. So . . .it's best. It's the wrong voltage anyway...

I am grateful, too, for the food Dale sent with me and that Nancy added to it! Monica brings food almost every afternoon, but much of it is not to my taste. The antelope was stringy and as tough as tripe. Many foods are cooked in palm oil that solidifies quickly at room temperature and becomes waxy. And I have yet to develop a taste for kwanga.

Abia, the English teacher, and I visited for an hour or more. Good. Again! I wish I had more time to talk with him.

Monday 6 June 1992

5-7 P.M.

Eighty people grew to 150 plus another 30-40 onlookers. I saw six come for salvation—Abbas said 50! But 40-50 raised a hand saying they knew they needed salvation (they did not come forward in the first invitation, though). (4:30-7:30)

8:30 P.M.

Pastor Bouka felt good about tonight's sermon and service and wants me to begin teaching new converts tomorrow 9-10 A.M. So Abbas and I are now preparing.

9:30 P.M.

I have the lesson for tomorrow finished.

I ate suka-suka today. Cassava leaves are beat to a pulp and boiled to shreds. (It looks similar to overcooked turnip greens, but it tastes like nothing else.) It's OK, I guess, but I don't need to eat it again.

At the Crusade, 8-10 church-folks stand at the perimeter of the part of the field we are using. Children play on the other parts. The amps are turned up so high that the music or speech is distorted and feedback squeals are frequent. They must like it, they will not adjust it so it won't squeal...(If I adjust, they readjust).

I had asked God (over the month before coming to the Congo) to use this time and experiences to do a great work in my life. I believe He is answering that prayer—but I'm not enjoying the process.

Tuesday 23 June 1992

7:15 A.M.

I slept well. It was comfortably cool last night and so far this morning. I am feeling a little better emotionally. Am I suffering from "cultural withdrawal" as well as "culture shock"? Perhaps the visit with Abia yesterday of the promise of a visit to the school with seven English teachers (all African) or perhaps the positive (indirect) response by Pastor Bouka toward my preaching—or all of these—have helped to lift me up.

We held teaching at the church at 9 A.M. There were three people there at 9:20. We sang until 10:05—by that time there were 19. I taught for 35-40 minutes to 22 people. Then André and Abbas shouted at them (exhorted) for 30 minutes (he said 10).

I spent some time thinking about what my family back home was doing while I was here. Turn the page and you can see how I figured it....

We are six hours later than Texas, so . . .

7:40 P.M.

Praise God!  People are still receiving Jesus!

I preached from Galatians 5—contrasted works of the flesh with the fruit of the Spirit. My counts/estimates are at odds with Abbas'.

Crusade, 23 June. statistics:

150 present (Abbas: 350-400) grew to 225-250; 30 prayed for salvation (Abbas: 150 saved)—50 Christians repented of sin and want to walk in the Spirit.

Election Day is tomorrow and we will have no Crusade (no travel, no phone calls). Every student studying English comes by or stops me in the street. One evening: "Good morning, sir." Ha!

I think I am gaining peace about being here and a contentment in serving God for these few weeks here. But much here makes me uncomfortable or nervous or anxious. I will be glad to be home in the culture I know—even if I don't always like it!

The water has been on (with a little more pressure, too) since Sunday. I hope it stays that way. The electricity came on early today—I don't know why, but I enjoyed the fan all afternoon.

Abbas is eating MOSSOMBO and MOSSAKA. Mossombo is a variation of kwanga and mossaka is made with leaves of a plant (OSEILLE) and palm oil. (Palm oil makes utensils hard to clean.)

Abbas and I shared a Tropi Cola and ate a bag of potato chips (still crisp!). At first he said he had never heard of potato chips, but when he saw them, he recalled he had eaten some once at an American social function. Next week—Doritos!

Wednesday 24 June 1992

Mr. Kidissa came last night and had us pray with him for his family. He and his wife had fought because of a disobedient daughter. He told us that he heard on a (the?) Brazzaville radio station (probably a paid advertisement) that CAPEC has a Crusade in Makou and there were miracles—blind receive sight, deaf hear, mute talk—I hope and pray the poor are hearing the Gospel, too!

One week ago last night we arrived in Makoua. One week ago tomorrow night we began the Crusade and I estimate over 220 people have prayed for salvation. At least that many Christians have experienced renewal in their faith—probably twice as many! I may be a little better at getting/seeing feedback from the audience—but not much. And no one here is saying anything directly about my preaching—good, bad, or indifferent.

As Abbas and I get to know each other better, our attempts to communicate move from the simple (how many children do you have? how old are you?) to the more complex. ("Travel" is not permitted on election day. What constitutes "travel"? Yes, we can walk around town.) In this move, the chance for miscommunication increases. So sometimes it seems to me we are communicating poorer now than we were at first. I hope not.

This frustrates both of us.

noon hour

Bouka, Abbas, and I walked to the river: Likoula Moussaka (lik-wal-la musoka) . (Kidissa was to take us on a tour in his Land Rover, but the police saw him and warned him that would confiscate his vehicle and sell it and take away his drivers license. So his promised tour will come later.) (Note: It never came.)

We toured the plant that purifies river water (Likoula Moussaka) and pumps it to the homes. I saw people bathing and washing clothes in the river. I washed socks and underwear today—what a job. They'll be dry tomorrow I'd guess.

Bouka and Abbas did not include me in any of their conversation for one and a half to two hours this morning. I could insist, but perhaps it's private. Oh, well. It adds to my feeling of isolation.

Alphonse came by and picked up our letters to Brazzaville. I hope he delivers them—I gave him 1,000 CFA as a "Thank You." He had brought the electric iron cleaned—but I'm so inept with it ....

I asked Abbas if he knew any English songs—"Yes," he said. So I asked him to sing one. I didn't recognize the tune or any words. I thought he was teasing me but finally recognized his rendition of "Slip-slidin' Away." He'll probably never sing for me again.

6:00 P.M.

Bienvenu, André, and Frank took me on a two hour walking tour of part of Makoua—all residential. They spoke almost no English, so we had fun with nouns: English, French, and Lingala. Also the way we imitate a rooster's crow and a dog's bark in different languages. As we walk, young people studying English call to me with greetings—often betraying their lack of understanding of the words they say.

These two walking tours helped give me exercise, but I expect they have done much toward giving me a relief from some of my anxiety. We identified tomato, corn, and eggplant, lemons, oranges, coconuts, and countless fruits that I had never seen (before Africa) like corosole and safou.

Abbas stayed here and had a meeting with their "WM" ladies. I think they're having some problems. They're closing in prayer now—the last two ladies, that is, the rest left 15 minutes ago.

Abbas said he would walk the ladies to the gate, so went with him. Then he said he would walk them to the corner and indicated I should wait at the house. I asked if I should warm supper and put it on the table. "Yes." He would only be a minute. So I timed him—45 minutes later he returned. I started to discuss this with him—I was left here after dark alone again—but think I will just make sure be cannot/does not do it again.

Na tondi yo mingi—"Thank you very much."

9:50 P.M.

What an unusual prayer request from Kidissa tonight. He wants us to pray that God will bless his business—that OK. But he wants to find a second wife so that he can live with her if he fights with this one! Now how do you pray?! God, Your will be done. Amen.

Thursday 25 June 1992

8:20 A.M.

I slept well. It was cool—Dale would have put on a heavy sweater, but I wore no shirt! Ah. An English student came by: Mokoko Marin. He asked 3-4 questions about correct English usage—those nasty irregular verbs. Marin had come by yesterday or the day before with Eyia Martin, a schoolmate.

Abbas exhorts two young men while Olga sweeps. I hope my washed clothes will be dry by noon. Abia did not come by 9 A.M. to take us to the school, so I hope he will tomorrow. Since we aren't going to the school, I am supposed to go teach at the church.

Abbas does not notice it is past 9, and he said we would go to the church at 9. He isn't even dressed to go yet.

I washed my second bath towel—rinsing all of the soap out is time consuming! I rinsed this one with a little Clorox as a final rinse.

A typical day is cool and overcast much of the morning—sometimes I even think it may rain—then it slowly clears and warms up until almost sundown. Insects have not been as numerous as they are in MS, LA, or TX. This has been the coolest day yet here.

2:50 P.M.

Take Malaria Medicine Thursday! TODAY (I did, at noon.)

The church people were expecting us to go visit the school, so they did not come for teaching at 9 (read 9 as 10). But, two men came, non-Christians, each with a mute child (one boy, one girl). We talked and prayed with them, but they are to come after the Crusade tonight for in-depth teaching and witnessing.

I bumped into two white men in the marketplace: Benoit Ballard and Marc Fromager (both French, but Marc has lived in Australia for ten years). Both speak English. They live at the local Catholic monastery (adjacent to the school I mentioned earlier): "Seminaire Saint—Pie X, Communarite' des Beatitudes." They promised to have me over for dinner some day (is that noon or evening?) (Note: I never made it.)

7:50 P.M.

The service went well tonight. We started with 100 or so but it grew to 200-250 by the end. Fifty came to pray for salvation. I suspected that the same people are coming every night, so I asked them how many had just prayed for forgiveness for the first time—all raised their hands! Praise God!

Basically I preach and pray with those wanting to accept Jesus from 5 to 6, and Abbas and André hold a pep rally/prayer meeting/testimony service from 6 to 7.

Two men with mute children came, and we shared the Gospel with them. They are not ready yet, but we will plan to talk more later. God, help them to see themselves as sinners needing Your forgiveness.

Friday 26 June 1992

A young single mother and her baby came at 7:30 A.M. for prayer and counseling with Abbas. Then at 8:25 a father with his mute/deaf daughter. We told them the Gospel and prayed.

I talked with Abbas about thinking wind/breath is God. He seemed to receive what I told him, but he also said we will talk more on this later. (Also, I want to talk with him about the drawings of demons he had photocopied and showed to our visitors.)

Twenty-nine people came to teaching this morning. I taught on the Christian life and the importance of growing. Abbas told me that Pastor Bouka expects us to fast until Sunday's service.

I saw Abia and he tried to explain why he did not come take us to the school. Best I can understand it, some of their leaders feared I might argue doctrines or practices. (They probably did not want to seem to put a stamp of approval on the Crusade.) Perhaps they will come take us Sunday. I assured him I would do my best to not offend . . .

We ran out of running water by 9 A.M., but at noon the pressure is strong. Perhaps I'll take another shower—it is much warmer today.

I do not recall ever being anyplace where I have seen so many people afflicted. It is so widespread, I expect there is a genetic connection. But all is aggravated by a very low standard of living, poor diet, poor medical facilities, and widespread ignorance. What afflictions? Blind, deaf, mute, cripple, atrophied limbs, malaria, internal parasites—and I bet I only know a little of the whole problem. Also, young girls seem to have babies (plural) first and get married later (if at all). In fact, what does it mean for a man to come here and introduce a girl as his wife? I don't know. Perhaps very little.

Two weeks ago at this very moment I was at D/FW Airport preparing to leave. I miss my wife! my family! my friends! God, please make me see what I am doing here for these few weeks as eternally significant! Amen.

7:30 P.M.

I guess we have a different group every night. Probably 50-75 are local church members. But every night when I ask people to come pray for salvation, many come. Then—after all is over—I ask how many asked Jesus to forgive them for the first time, and almost all of them raise their hands. (I hope Abbas translates accurately.)

From my attempts at deeper dialogue with him, I question how well he understands the subtleties of English. I'm sure that if we did not work at preparation before the Crusades, the translation of the sermons would fare badly. (Another English teacher, Abia, thought Abbas' translations mediocre.)

Abia did not come to take me to the school. Oh, well. I'll probably get there sooner or later—probably later. (Note: I never visited the school.)

There were a few over a hundred at the Crusade, and Abbas said there were five new converts. He also estimated the 100-125 people present at 350. (I didn't just estimate; I counted and estimated.)

Then we found out it would not be here until Saturday—and head south Monday. (Note: No one in Africa knows anything, but that doesn't keep him from giving an answer. It doesn't seem to matter that the answer may have no connection to reality.)

I sent a FAX to the College—I hope it went through OK. (Note: It did.)