On the Road Again

A cool evening breeze rustles the eucalyptus leaves on this ridge of
the Rift Valley where we have stopped for the night, at Sunrise Acres
Farms. We have found this cluster of four cabins, cows, wood stoves
and homemade jam, down-to-earth here-for-life missionary managers, the
most peaceful spot in Africa, at least for weary missionaries. It is
more than the homeyness of the quilts and shelves of old books; it is
a spiritual shalom that pervades this place. We are extremely
thankful for the ministry of the Stovers, and AIM, and for the hours
of respite we can spend this afternoon and evening before the long
journey back across the border tomorrow.

Because whenever we land here, it seems our souls need a bit of re-
raveling. Once again we leave Luke in one country as we rattle back
to the next one. He faces major SAT and AP exams in the next two
weeks, and beyond that the intimidating prospect of being a year away
from entering college on another continent. We met with two members
of the RVA admissions committee who were cautiously sober about
Caleb's chances of entering the 10th grade class in the Fall . . .he's
number 2 on the waiting list, but the class is already over-full and
there are no known openings. We're coming out of four days of fairly
intense prayer, discussion, meeting, and relationship, as we met with
the other three Africa teams and leaders (two Nairobi, one Sudan, and
us) and our Director of Ministries and CEO. We return to a three-
month stretch of ministry, visitors, interns, recruitment, fund-
raising, vision-ironing . . .too long for a sprint, but pretty close
to that pace, perhaps something like the 800 meter race. Before we
even get home there are uncertainties and errands and delays in
Kampala and Fort Portal, and we feel like we've already been on the
move for too long. Transition is inevitable, as we work with team
mates to discern their gifts and callings and try to help them be more
effective and resilient, as we respond to the ever-changing needs of
Bundibugyo, and as we pursue that cup of God's will that challenges
our trust.

And so we will hit the road as the sun rises again tomorrow, back to
the mix of comfort and cost that we call home, back to the heart-
stretching call to love.

Nairobi

When we are in Kampala, we sense the culture-shock amazement that our capital city is becoming more and more modern every month, and surely must be fairly equivalent to Nairobi by now. NOT SO. Two nights in Nairobi have left us reeling. It has been a long time (?years) and we'd forgotten how amazing the city is. Traffic, garbage, car- swallowing potholes, hustlers, and slums to be sure. But also schools on every side, gardens, skyscrapers, even malls. We wandered in a daze through a few of the stores, and sat sipping iced cappuccino with a burger and salad. Is this really still Africa?

But friends, not luxuries, drew us to Nairobi. We stayed with Bill and Stephanie, two amazing long-time kindred spirits, original members of our college (and post) "Africa Team", the group of committed colleague couples that kept us moving towards mission. They both have PhD's from Cambridge and after many years in Ethiopia now teach systematic theology and church history and Greek at the continent's premier graduate school of theology in Nairobi. They graciously welcomed us into their on-campus bungalow, to fill their guest room and crash Bill's 50th birthday celebration. With Paul, we reminisced about life at UVA and about our early years as missionaries and parents. It was a reunion in all the best senses, a re-affirmation of our common faith and vision and a safe place and time to reflect and be encouraged.

And between our two evenings with these friends, we spent a great day with team mate Pat. Breakfast at Java House (scrumptious), and a full- day exploration to find the most eccentric and artistic glass- recycling project, a Willy-Wonka-like kiln where artisans form glasses and vases from the remains of bottles, all surrounded by bizarre sculptures and a trailer-park feel in the midst of vast cattle-ranch plains south of the game park. Pat heads to the US for a short HMA, so we needed that day to catch up with her, and to dream together of how our Creator God wants us to reflect His artistic character in our Kingdom-work here. Surely creating beauty from scrap must fit in somewhere.

Nairobi must have dozens of interesting and successful art galleries, hundreds of self-help projects, not to mention more hundreds of NGO's and wonderful ideas and school opportunities and training, plus state- of-the art equipment, even in some of the hospitals, all at a pleasant 6000 feet . . . no wonder so many foreigners congregate here. We were glad to join them for a day!

sms from Heidi

Thanks for praying for the renewal of the milk supply. Through a
letter, a visit, some emails from friends who know friends, and
supernatural mercy, the director was able to access a new supply for
out nutrition unit. We feel a little taste of the George Muller last-
minute provision. Heidi sms'd that Friday we had three packets of
milk left (out of about four thousand for the year . . ). But
Saturday morning a truck arrived with 60 crates, enough for several
months. I suppose we are always desperate and dependent, we just
pretend that we don't have to rely on God most of the time. So a
dramatic provision reminds us of reality. We are grateful.

Not My Will

That is our prayer, as we sit in the old colonial gardens of a hotel
in Naivasha, Kenya's Rift Valley, studded with yellow-barked Acacia
trees, and flowing with a palette of bougainvillae. As we face the
cup of this world's sorrow and brokeness, we reflect upon the hours
Jesus spent in a garden, too. God takes the dissolution of His
creation seriously, so seriously that the cup of His wrath spills over
into consequences of disease and hunger and isolation and despair. We
pray to see that removed, but we acknowledge, soberly, that the way of
removal may involve our tasting. Pray with us that we would trust the
love of our Father, and his all-things-are-possible power, so that we
hold with both hands the cup He hands us in this time of planning, and
swallow His will. And that we find the cost of such a draught dwarfed
by hope, for ourselves and for Africa.

Step One

Yesterday we left in a tropical downpour, only to find out that Nathan
and Sarah's hoped for airplane ride would not materialize, so they
needed to pile on our truck, too. We ascended the mountains in an
eerie mist, complete with baboons silhouetted, huddled in the trees.
But once on the other side, the clouds dissipated, though the day was
still quite long with errands in Fort Portal and with us not wanting
to dislodge the loose shock and spring that had torpedoed Scott's day
last week. Step one of our journey was to reach Kampala, which we did
by early evening. I have no great desire to live in the city, but I
do find something about this place vibrant. Cramped one-room shops
lit at night, some with a TV or a pool table, shelves of biscuits or
cooking oil packaged in the tiny daily allotments of the poor, hair
salons with loiterers, used clothes stretched on curvaceous hangers.
Everywhere darting motorcycle bodas, overbearing mini-buses full of
commuters, random pedestrians, blaring horns, all though with a good
humor. It is a city of the scramble for life, of a rising expectation
and eroding culture, a city of filth, and a city of beauty.

And the center of pretty much everything that goes on in Uganda, the
place of multi-story office buildings, grocery stores with
refrigerated meats and bar-code-scanning check-outs. This morning I
headed to the fortress of efficiency that is UNICEF, braving the
intimidating security to talk my way into meeting a very busy and
important executive whose subordinate forgot to tell her I was
coming. I understood her insistence on protocol and order and yet I
think she also heard my plea for the kids in Bundibugyo who were about
to be sold out on a technicality or oversight. All in all as much as
I could hope for, the promise to "look into it". Not a clear "expect
a shipment this week", but far from a "no."

The rest of the day, a little of this and that, some kid time, picking
up a hand-woven kitengi cloth that Luke had requested (we use them for
towels), finding out that Tuesdays are half-price at the movies and so
our whole family could go to the matinee. Dinner by candle light at
our favorite Indian restaurant. Fun. Perhaps the anonymity of being
just one more mujungu among the many, one more person no one knows, is
the best part of Kampala.

Step two begins tomorrow at 6, the drive across eastern Uganda to the
border and into the central Kenyan highlands. We will traverse one of
the major east African trade routes, the two-lane paved corridor of
goods that flow from the port at Mombasa throughout Kenya, Uganda,
Rwanda, Sudan, into even Congo. And so I end with some news from
today's East African Newspaper, detailing a special field
investigative report that collected data on trucking: "Bribery
expenses total about $891 per truck, accounting for over 21% of the
total export costs." There are 36 road blocks along the way, from
borders to police checks to weigh stations. Drivers face the subtle,
indirect request for a bribe at 78% of these stops. It takes 5 times
longer to move cargo from the Kenyan port to Kigali (Rwanda) than it
took to get the ship from Japan to Africa. Over 57% of the journey
time is spent, stationary, at the road blocks. . . . I will remember
all of this tomorrow when we see the endless lines of trucks backed up
at the border, or when the police wave us through their nail-studded
barriers looking for more lucrative vehicles to question. And I will
ponder the connection between the trade routes and the AIDS routes,
wondering whether the harshness and futility of the African trucker's
life makes him more vulnerable to high-risk HIV-transmitting
behaviour. And I will be thankful that we brave the potholes only a
few times a year, and do not live on the roads every day.

traveling mercies

In a few minutes we begin our trek to Kenya, for meetings with WHM
leadership focused on East Africa, and to take Luke back to school.
Right now thunder rumbles and thick clouds dim the early morning,
which is ominous when we are trying to pack everything under tarps in
an open pick-up bed and have to drive on muddy roads. En route
tomorrow, in Kampala, Scott will be trying to get some work done on
the vehicle to help us survive the approximately 48 round-trip on-the-
road hours (and much of it is NOT nice road). I will be trying to
strike the right balance between outrage and diplomacy as I visit
UNICEF offices and plead for another year of milk formula . . . the
supply we've been waiting for for two months as our last packets have
dwindled to nothing seems to be inexplicably unavailable. So over the
next week we face many hours of jostle and heat and car-boredom,
passive-aggressive officials, challenging accommodations, and
dangerous drivers. The inevitable good-bye to Luke will hang over us,
and be another death to pass through. We also look forward to sweet
fellowship with other WHM missionaries and old friends in Nairobi,
rest for weariness, renewal of vision. To a bit of protected family
time, and a relief from the relentlessness of Bundibugyo. Please pray
for a UNICEF change of heart, for safety on the road, for intra-
familial kindness over the journey. In short, for the mercies of God,
which sustain us here, to travel behind and before.

Mt. Zion Primary School

This morning a new primary school was dedicated on the Uganda/Congo border, perched on a small hill next to the soldiers who use this vantage point to protect the border. We could see the tailing end of the Rwenzoris and the Semiliki River basin all the way across to the Blue Mountains of Congo. A spectacular spot, which we pray will also become like the real Mt. Zion, a dwelling place of God. Bishop Hannington Bahemuka, the Charismatic Episcopal church leader who also translates the Bible into Lubwisi (see two posts below), organized the effort to build a higher quality Christian primary school for orphans and other children in this remote place. He was joined by a team from International Stewards in the US, who funded the land and construction costs, but also spent the last several days running a seminar in our Community Center to train pastors in the Biblical principles of giving and stewardship. As long time friends of Hannington and partners in mission, we were invited to witness the dedication and pray for the school. About two dozen of the first pupils, in neon green school shirts and black jumpers and shorts, and led by their teacher a former Christ School student, lined up to thank and welcome the visitors/ Several hundred parents and community members clapped and worshiped on the hill top. Hannington acknowledged that this is a small and fragile project with uncertain funding, but we serve a God who surprises us with unlimited possibilities. . . . so that these children may someday be our doctors and bishops, and this hill may be the center of a university.

We have prayed for primary school education in Bundibugyo, and this may be one of our "by prayer and partnership" steps towards investing in emerging leaders.

Hat trick

Rose, our resident midwife, called at 5pm to say that Nora, the mother carrying triplets was fully dilated and could we come and help. Scott and Heidi hopped in the truck and sped down to the health center to find Girl#1 swaddled and safe. Girl#2 promptly emerged without even a peep from the mother. Another 15 minutes and Girl#3 emerged. All were born head first, a blessing from above. The whole event proceeded quietly, efficiently almost effortlessly (easy for us to say). A medical privilege to witness a vaginal birth of triplets...not likely to happen in the litigious setting of the USA. We chanted "Webale Kwejuna....Webale Kwejuna...Webale Kwejuna"(thank you for surviving)... a sort of thrice "Hip, Hip, Hooray". Nora was too tired to respond with the usual "Webale Kusabe"(thank you for praying).

The girls weighed in at 1600g, 1500g, and 1650g and all cried briefly. They were early - probably about 34 weeks gestation. Please pray for their survival. The chances that they all survive, despite their apparent health at birth, is slim.

Thank you for praying.

abundance/want

Tomorrow we will celebrate Heidi's birthday, with mangos. She requested a mango dessert, so today I made two lovely pies. A heap of fruit that a few hours ago was growing on a tree a few yards from my kitchen door now cools under the criss-cross lattice of crust. Tomorrow morning's milk, minutes from being inside the cow, will be mixed with a few eggs sold off the excess from the chicken project across the street and flavored with vanilla grown on a local farm. Then we will churn it in a hand-cranked freezer surrounded by ice we've been stockpiling in our emptying fridge. The pie and ice cream dessert will follow a dinner that includes avocados from another tree in the yard, and lemons from a third, on tortillas made from scratch and sprinkled with cilantro from our garden and lettuce from Nathan's. The beauty of accumulating a meal from resources which are largely within a stone's throw is one of the aspects of missionary life I love, both for the challenge of combining limited ingredients and for the freshness of being forced to use locally grown ones.

This is a hungry time of year in Africa, the rains have begun but the fruit of last season's harvest has dwindled. Our elderly neighbor came asking for food this morning. A group of our boys spent a post- soccer hour shaking down the mango tree mid-day for ripe fruit, then Julia's friends showed up in the late afternoon to collect even more. I'm thankful the tree is having a bumper year to bless our friends, for these kids is it not an expendable pie to celebrate a birthday but perhaps the only food until dinner they can get their hands on. It is hard to imagine surviving here without our cow and her milk, and as thankful as I am for our small garden and few fruit trees we lean heavily on our cash to purchase food that others can not. Last night I was called by a doctor from UNICEF, who slowly and indirectly and politely made it clear that the organization is hesitating to re- supply our nutrition unit. The indirect and Africa-correct reason: all their stocks are designated by donors for the LRA-affected areas in the north. The real reason: I don't know, but I'm hoping to make a personal visit on the way to Kenya, to stop in their office and beg.

And so the classic and constant tension of savoring the richness of a golden mango and a creamy flow of milk, while strenuously advocating for the listless and scabby kids whose mothers drag them into the hospital as a place of last resort. East African population growth leads the world, and Uganda leads East Africa, so that today's paper reported that 8.8 million more people were hungry in this region than when we arrived about sixteen years ago. This place can produce both a fruitful tree, and yet the even more fruitful population means that hunger continues to rise, that abundance slips behind want.

Pray that we would enjoy the bounty of God's good earth with grateful hearts, and that we would use the ensuing energy to strive for justice.

Lubwisi Bible Translation-where we stand

The WHM-Bundibugyo Team has been supporting the translation of the bible into the local language of Lubwisi since 1991 when Rich and Alie Benson pioneered that work. Our partnership continued when Waller and Mary Tabb of SIL took over in the mid-90s. The work has since been fully handed over to two Ugandan translators, Charles Musinguzi and Hannington Bahemuka who continue to faithfully toil day-by-day chipping away at the thousands of chapters in need of translation. SIL continues to support these guys logistically and technically, but the work is primarily now in Ugandan hands.

We received a report from Waller Tabb yesterday that the New Testament translation is now 59% complete. Please continue to pray for these faithful laborers who grind away at a task which is measured in years rather than weeks or months. Sort of like building the pyramids in my mind.

Waller's closing words in his update came from 2 Thessalonians 3:1

Finally brethren, pray for us, that the word of the LORD may speed on and triumph , as it did among you.