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  • Night Call

       It has been a long time since I have had a lot of night call.  Since 2007, I have been blessed with physician assistants (you know who you are!) who have taken most of the night calls.  So now, in Africa, I find that I am on 24 hour call all the time.  The other night, I was awakened by Tening, the nurse from here, whose wife is about to deliver.  Since her last child was born in the field, I thought that he wanted me for that.  But it turned out that the local shopkeeper, Botch, who had been recovering from malaria, thought he was dying.  So I trudged out in the middle of the night, with the African sky looming bright with stars and constellations, in the moonless night.  I didn't have time to enjoy them, as I was wondering what sort of emergency that he was having.  When I got there, Botch was lying down and restless, moaning with left sided back and abdominal pain.  He was acting like someone with a kidney stone back in the states, so I got him to get me a urine, and trudged further in the dark down to the clinic.  But there was not a bit of blood in the urine sample, which makes a kidney stone a bit less likely.  But it still seemed like a kidney stone to me, so I trudged back to my house where I knew there were just a couple of Vicodin that would be good for this pain.  Then I trudged (hey, there is a lot of trudging, but that is what I call it when it is very dark and you are feeling the path with your feet) back to my house and got him 3 of them.  I told him to take 1 now, and 1 every 3 hours through the rest of the night.  Then back to bed, as the moon was just rising in the east.  Beautiful, but it took some time to get back to sleep. 

         The next day, after clinic, I went by his house to check on him, and asked how the pain was doing.  The answer was "i kaba" to my relief, which means it quit.  And he seemed to be very much alive, thank the Lord.  So I don't know if my diagnosis was correct or not, but as long as he was better, that was the most important.  A couple of days later, Botch stopped by the house, and we were just chatting or "jumbai" as they call it.  After a while, he mentioned casually that "the medicine you gave me, it is very good" and that he would like to have some on hand in the future.  I explained that it was something that I had to save for emergency situations, like the middle of the night when someone is dying....perhaps. So I avoided my first long term patient on hydrocodone in Africa...
        Last night, earlier this time, I was called to the house of one of the church members to check a lady who had fallen off a bike.  When I got there, she had superficial facial wounds, and a bunged up knee, but she didn't seem to be very responsive.  She didn't speak Kiriol, but she wasn't responding with any words at all.  Then I got a bit more history that she was driving very wobbly, not very fast when she fell.  There is no CT scanner in Guinea Bissau, so there is no way to check that, plus no way to get her to the hospital anyway.  So I checked her blood pressure, and found it to be 210/124..dangerously high, and a sign to me that perhaps she had a stroke first and then fell off the bicycle.  In America, the treatment would be a CT scan of the head, and if no bleeding, then give aspirin.  I decided with that kind of blood pressure, a bleed was just as likely as anything, so we treated her blood pressure and decided against aspirin.  I was not really hopeful for the patient, but in checking on her today, it seems she is marginally better.  I think she did have a stroke, but at least she is able to swallow okay.....
        There have been other calls in the middle of the night, but I think those were the only true emergencies so far...
    And now for "when the doctor is the patient" section.
        Today, I fried fish, which is abundant here, and very delicious.  And so as I was eating, I swallowed a bone, which lodged in my throat.  Oh, great, I thought, I am going to die of a perforated esophagus here in Africa due to swallowing a fish bone.  (I once had a patient who nearly died from such a scenario, you know.)   Your mind can work overtime when you are far from significant medical help.. So I ate bread, as I was taught.  No luck, still there.  I ate more fish..no luck.  I ate more food today than normal.  Still no luck.  But I am happy to report, sometime this evening, I suddenly realized the fish bone had gone on down to where it should be...and I shouldn't get a perforated esophagus.  So thanks to the Lord for his preservation..you don't know how often that happens...
    When the morning falls on the farthest hill
    I will sing his name, I will praise Him still
    When dark trials come and my heart is filled
    With the weight of doubt, I will praise Him still.
    For the Lord our God, He is strong to save
    From the arms of death, from the deepest cave,
    And He gave us life in His perfect will
    And by his good grace, I will praise Him still.
    Fernando Ortega.
       

  • Almost 3 weeks.   That is how long I have been in Catel, Guinea Bissau.  This past weak I had my first real meat since being here, (that is not counting some canned chicken that is the spam of chicken, but tastes not as good!)  I had told one of the ladies in the church here that I wanted fresh fish, which is available at the curbside impromptu market, so I bought from her 7 fish for 500 cfa, the unit of money, of which 500 is a dollar.  So I bought, cleaned and fried them for lunch.  I had some flour, cornmeal substitute, and pepper and salt, plus Lawrys seasoned salt.  It was not bad, if I may say.  They also sell larger pieces of fish that I want to buy for blackening....  I would say the fish was as good as bream, and my roommate, Beryl, also said they were a real treat.  This week, I expanded the minds of the locals with boiled peanuts, made in the south Alabama tradition, and they all pronounced them very good.  I am enjoying lots of fresh okra, roasted corn on a charcoal stove.  The corn is shucked and laid right on the coals, and sort of is a substitute for my popcorn craving.

        I am surviving well, though I have lost weight of course.  Try no desserts, no fattening stuff, lots of walking and activity, and I suspect anyone would lose weight.  But I feel great.  There is no ice or anything cold for that matter.  The only thing that is cold is the shower out of a can every am.  Why is the same temp water cold in the shower and warm in the mouth?  
        I have treated numerous people by myself without an interpreter.  Those are the after hours consults, and the people on the weekends, but prefer to still have an interpreter.  It is going faster than expected in learning the language, but I am working hard at it.  Of course, when someone comes to the house with a machete wound, there is not a lot of history I have to have, is there.  That is what happened the day before yesterday.  I sowed him up squatting on the cement floor, as that seemed preferable to putting him on the kitchen table.
       Living with the director of the mission feels a bit like grand central station.  There is always someone stopping to borrow something, charge a cell phone, or just to visit.  I think that I donºt really need to go visiting, they come to my door!   Anyway, it is a good way to meet a lot of people, that is for sure.  I am not sure who all to trust yet, although I trust the people who go to church.  But the other Saturday, I think there were 15 people there at one time at our house, and it was quite confusing to keep up with everyone.
         My schedule always has something in it.  Today, I made the trip to Sao Domingos, the town about 10 miles away that actually has electricity, and an internet place.  I hoped to upload some pictures, but donºt have a lot of time for alot.  So I will download a few and see how it goes.....
    My room, )and pharmacy
    Domingus, I mentioned him in one of my blogs
    Terrianne checking a patient in the clinic
    Holding some of the many neighbors close to use
    A neighbor child not so enthralled with all the stickers his brothers and sisters gave him
    Leah, one of the workers here at the mission who is trying to get a school started
    Birthday party for Chad at the mission house
    Chad, with his and my friend Sabino
    Night time comes in G.B.
    It seems like every sunset is beautiful!

  • All of my life You have been with me

    All of my life you have been with me,

    My comfort in loneliness,
    My hope in the dark.
    All of my life, Lord, please stay with me;
    Be my sustaining breath, 
    Guardian of my heart.
    As I drifted off to sleep, these words from a Fernando Ortega song kept coming back to me, as I had been listening to them.  And how true.  God leads, we follow, and see where He is at work.  I feel as if I have stepped into such a situation, here in Guinea Bissau.  Catel is a smallish village, of uncertain numbers of people, on the main road from the capital to other parts in the country.  Most of the people have houses made of mud brick, with multifamily dwellings being the rule.  Thin tin roofs dot most of the houses, although back off the road, many more are thatched.  It is primitive, and yet quintessential Africa.  I am staying at the house of Beryl Forrester, the founder of the work here.  The house is attached to the church, and so often it reminds one of Grand Central station.  There is solar power at the house which allows a light at night, and computer, and internet, but no appliances other than a small fan which has been a blessing to me.  No refrigerator, no running water, no hot showers, but we do have a small propane stove and our own well which is handcranked, as opposed to the villagers who get water from a couple of wells around the area.   My room is 12 x 12 but cramped by shelves on two walls, and other things stored there, but adequately screened from mosquitos.  Due to the heat, I check the room for mosquitos at night, kill those, or burn some insect killing incense, and then sleep out of the mosquito net.      Beryl has plenty of chickens, so we have plenty of fresh yard eggs, and today, I bought my first Kanja (okra), so for someone from South Alabama, I have it made.  A typical day in Africa goes like this..for me
    Up at 6, it is still dark.  Time for coffee and a quick breakfast of eggs or French toast, or oatmeal, and devotional time, then for a quick run of 30 minutes or less, due to the dark.  Back by 7:30, I take my shower, and head down the path to the clinic.  I love seeing the people going about the business of life in small village Africa...people heading to get a caro to go to the city, some heading to the rice fields, or their gardens of corn, okra, beans, and all kinds of cucumber.  Some of the men go to work in the cashew orchards that are everywhere in this area, although right this time, there is not a lot of work being done there.  Clinic is held from 8 - 12 everyday, and we see from 12-24 patients, although in the busy season, it is more like 40-50.  Luckily, since I am starting here, I am glad for it to be a bit slower.  There are two nurses in the clinic, Terriann, from EMM, and Tenig, a local church leader who is one of the pastors, and who is planning on going to nursing school this fall.  I follow one of them around, as they both speak Kiriol well, and English too.  So they translate what is going on, although I am able by this time to understand much of what the patient is saying as well.  We are treating a lot intestinal problems, as well as malaria, and body aches and pains, which are common where people work very hard.  The clinic is nicely painted, with a limited medicine supply, but no electricity as of right now.  So we can not give vaccines, although at some point, that may become possible....
          Home by 12, it is time to get a snack of something.  Sometimes that is not as easy as it looks.  It is traditional in Africa to offer anyone at your house something to eat to, and we have a lot of people here it seems like a lot of the time.  There is one fellow, Domingus, who has the ability to show up at whatever place the meal is.  He is an attender of the church, suffers from seizures, and is even looked down on by the people around here.  He certainly is "one of the least of these."  Last night, the whole EMM mission team gathered at the mission house to celebrate the birthday of Chad Kilheffer, one of workers here, and at the time we sat down to eat, there was Domingus.  What to do?  You pull up another chair, offer him food, and celebrate together....It was the first time that I have had dessert in a couple of weeks, chocolate cake that was baked in one of the local bread ovens by the team!  Delicious.   
           Afternoons are spent in visiting, seeing patients who wander up and need some immediate attention, and then my Kiriol lesson at 4 pm.  I joined 2 people who have already been here for a month, so I feel lost a lot of the time, but probably learning faster that way.  It also the end of Futbol season, the local soccer teams vying for the ´campion´ title.   They play on a field with holes so deep, you could break a leg if you landed the wrong way, and ruts that would trip up normal people, but I didn´t see any serious injuries while I watched...3 or so games.
        Evenings it gets dark early, around 7 pm, with gorgeous sunsets to cap off a day of clouds and rain on most days.  It is getting towards the end of the rainy season, and they say it doesn´t rain nearly as much as it did.  However, it mostly rains every day, so I don´t know how they tell that it is slowing down.
         The other night, we had an adventurous couple, Pedro and Flora Neto stop in and spent the night in the church.  They are traveling from Morocco to South Africa by motorcycle.  They spoke English, but he is from Portugal, and she is from Canada.  Their blogspot is whichcountry.blogspot.com Interesting to hear of their adventures...
        Well, one of my new friends, Ebrima, is here.  He is not a Christian, but  seems open to the gospel..  I will stop and visit.....  Na bai.  ( I am going--traditional way to say that you are leaving...)

  • Africa, here I come

    Hi everybody,
    Well, I'm sitting here in the airport at Dulles waiting room awaiting my great adventure!   I'm really looking forward to the responsibility and challenge of ministering in a foreign country.  It will be a stretching experience, that is for sure.
    Orientation was pretty awesome-- I was stretched by the teaching there.  Today was on my need for inner healing.  All of us need some healing, as we have been either traumatized by life's experiences, and have some emotional wounds and scars.  Sometimes, the scars are distorted, or not even an accurate reflection of what happened, but they are scars nevertheless.  But God wants to bring us healing..we were invited to read this letter from Jesus...I was moved to tears as I read it...it goes like this.

    My dear Jon,
       I have called you by name.  My child, you are mine.  Isa 43:1.  From your very beginning I formed you in my own image. Gen. 1.  I molded you together in the depths of the earth, and knitted you together in your mother's womb. Ps. 139:15

        When you came to me in repentance for your sins, I forgave you and delivered you from the power of evil.  Col. 1:13.  I have given you within the Spirit of power, love, and a sound mind. 2 Tim 1:7.  You are free from any condemnation Rom. 8:1-2 as you have been bought with a price and you now belong to Me.  1 Cor 6:19-20.  You are a joint heir of Christ in my kingdom.  Rom. 8:17.  

        I have carved you in the palms of my hands Isa. 49:16 and hidden you in the shadow of my embrace. Ps. 17:8.   I look at you with infinite tenderness, and care for you with a love more intimate than that of a mother for her child.  Is. 49:15.  Wherever you go, I go with you, wherever you are, I will be.  Ps. 139.  

      I call you my friend, for everything that I learned from my Father, I make known to you as you remain in me.  John 15.   I give you a heart to know me, that I am the Lord.  You are my child, and I am your God as you return to me with all your heart. Jer. 24:7

      I love you with an everlasting love, Jer. 31:3
         Jesus

      There was much more that I could go into..some of the stretching that happened..the exercises yesterday run by the camp staff were excellent teaching tools.   One of the exercises involved being led blindfolded into a maze, and told to find our way out.  We were told to raise our hand for help, if we got stuck.  An exercise like that reveals a lot about a person.  Some people are very independent and want to solve things, and really, no one wants to ask for help.  However, the maze was impossible to solve until you asked for help, and the solution was easy then!  So I think I was one of those who persisted the longest without asking for help. How often we do that with God! Other exercises included solving problems as a group, and also doing things together that you can't do separately.   We all had to stand on this log that was about 12 inches in diameter, and then he asked us to rearrange ourselves so that we were in our regular teams.  If someone fell off the log, you had to start all over again.  Plus, in talking together, you had to repeat each word twice.  That made communication difficult, sort of like being in a foreign country.  We eventually got pretty good at it, and finally accomplished it, after several falls into the abyss that we were to imagine was there.  One of the falls was my fault.

       The people that were there in orientation included 3 teams of young people, one to Guinea Bissau, one to Germany, and one to Indonesia.  Then there were 5 GO participants like myself, and they were scattered in different places.  Quite a great group of people, although I was 3 times the age of a lot of them....:). I was impressed with their committment and maturity, and even how God used even the insecure ones to speak into my life, and give admonition.  Every day, 2 people and to share their spiritual journey, so I got to share mine yesterday.

    Well this is now the next day, and after a smooth overnight flight, I am in Dakar, Senegal this am.  I got to the airport at 6 am local time, and then I realized that I did not have a cell phone, and Andrew, the one who was supposed to pick me up wasn't there.   I suddenly obtained many "friends" who wanted to help, and the one thing they did for me that was good was got someone to change money into the local currency.  I changed 100 dollars, but by the end of the morning most of it was gone!!  First I sat there at the entrance to the airport, and I finally found a cell phone number to call Beryl, the leader over here. However, the connection was not good so I could never get a full conversation with him.  So my "friends" decided that it would be better to wait in the restaurant, but that the security guard would need some money to let us in there.  So I gave him a five, but everybody thought it would be better if I gave him a 10, so I complied.  So we went to the restaurant, and so (this is no lie) ordered a cup of coffee for me, a small glass of tea for one of the other men, and a bottle of water which the two other men shared.  By that time I had made contact with Beryl and he thought Andrew would be there anytime.  So I gave one of the guys 10000 CFA, which is about 20 dollars, but again they suggested that that wouldn't be enough, so the only thing I had was another 10000 CFA note.  The change I got back from that was 2000 CFA, so my "breakfast" of coffee, and the tea and water turned out to be a cool $36.00.  By this time, I realized that the sooner I ditched my friends, the better off I might be.  But then came the real reckoning.  They all wanted payment for their cell phone use.  So when I offered the 2000, they thought that wasn't enough, but that 10000 might do.  So I handed it over, and dismissed them, and said I would just wait there myself.  So let's do the math, about 66 dollars spent in getting out of the airport..I guess you could call it an airport tax.

     But I am so glad to be here!  Thank you Lord! Looking forward to what God will do.
    I will be in Guinea Bissau by Saturday sometime. I have to wait in Dakar, Senegal, until the ferry runs tonight. The ferry ride is about 13 hours, and then I have to still drive for some more time, until I am at the town of Catel, Guinea Bissau.  Keep checking for updates here, although I want to send out some as well.

  • In Every Change, He Faithful Will Remain

    Change--that is the buzzword of life here recently.  July 31 marked the last day of working in the office of Atmore Family Medicine.  After 23 years of being a family doctor in the town of Atmore, I sold out the practice to Baptist Hospital of Pensacola, which also runs our hospital.  They are 2 new doctors in my practice, brothers Shane and Sheldon Harigel, and they are doing a great job in taking over the office.  The Hospital had a good-bye celebration, and welcoming of the new doctors 2 weeks ago, and there was an occasion for me to say a few words.  I started bravely, but got choked up as I went along, and that made it difficult to get out what I wanted to say...so here are my exact words that I was trying to read...

    Life is a gift, as we all know, and I have been privileged to live that gift with the knowledge of the One personal God who directs all life's twists and turns.  Without His help and direction, we would not have been here.  I moved to Atmore in 1989 with my young family, and have been blessed abundantly with great friends, good working environment, and a great hospital, but most of all the gift of patients who put their trust with their lives and health in my hands.  To have someone trust you with helping them maintain health is an awesome responsibiltiy, and I want to thank them for that trust.  Without them, I would not have had a practice of medicine, and it is because of them, that I could continue for the past 23 years as a family practice doctor in the town of Atmore.  It is because of them, that I can consider myself, in the words of Lou Gehrig, "the luckiest man alive."  I have been able to do something that I truly enjoy, and one that has rewarded me in uncountable ways.  It has been a joy to watch children grow up and become productive citizens, and for older patients to age gracefully, with dignity and peace.

    Circumstances do change, and I now embark on a new phase.  Although Atmore will remain home base, I plan to be involved in more medical missions, and that will start sooner rather than later.  If current plans hold, I will be leaving for a 4 month stint in the country of Guinea Bissau, in West Africa, in September, 2012.  So although, in a sense, I am saying good-bye, it is not goodbye forever.  I hope to see you all again, and if not here, then in that glorious place called heaven, where reunions are constant, and health issues have faded away....So God bless, and once again, I want to thank you...

    That song , Be Still, My Soul has been running through my mind recently, as I have played it frequently on a mens quartet CD that I obtained a couple of weeks ago.

    Leave to thy God to order and provide,
    In every change, he faithful will remain..

    So I know that my God will guide the future as He has the past, and that nothing will surprise God.  So I ask for your prayers as I leave, and prayers for my family back home...God is faithful, and will do abundantly more than we ask or think....

  • Flowers Of the Week

    x In South Alabama, we are blessed with beautiful flowers almost year round.  In fact, I made the statement that I think that I could take a beautiful flower picture almost any day of the year around our "plantation".  And so to prove the fact, I am going to find the most beautiful flower of the week for the next while, until I get tired of that...So here goes..

    The first one was taken 4 weeks ago--a day lily given to us by the Jerry Stahly family, and I am sorry to say that I don't know the type...

    The next week, it was our knockout roses that got the prize, right by our back patio.  I am sorry this does not quite do it justice...

    This is not really a flower, but it is our sago palms that are putting out it's branches after being cut back for the winter...so I gave them the prize for the week

    And this last week, it is a lone flower blooming in our weedy flower bed, and I am not sure what type it is either, but here it is

     

    All these flowers which grow around here with so little effort remind me of the scripture which says, "Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; but I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.  I am reminded of God's care for us, as I observe these blooming plants.   And I am so sorry that I didn't start this in January with gorgeous camellias, February with Japanese magnolias, March with beautiful azaleas...but I did start it now...so we shall see.

  • To Africa and Back

    Back in January, I was asked to consider going with a team from Grace Fellowship Church here in town to visit Terrill and Amber Schrock in Uganda.  They are Wycliffe translators to the Ik tribe in Northeast Uganda, right on the Kenya border.  Since I was already signed up to go to Peru in a couple of weeks, I initially thought--I can't miss any more work.  But part of my life lately has been saying yes to God, rather than arguing about the details, and so before long, I found myself on a plane to Uganda, via Atlanta and Amsterdam to Entebbe, Uganda.  Our team consisted of a husband and wife (Keith and Doreen Hess), Don Metzler, Jake Penner, and myself.

    In spite of a hectic week, in fact one of my most hectic patient wise in the hospital with a patient load of 15+ most of the week, preparation for the trip was relatively painless. So it was with a sigh of relief that I plopped into the van and grabbed my two carry on bags and the large suitcase filled with medication for the clinic in Uganda we were going to renovate.  It felt like I had been running150 mph, so it was a bit of a relief to get away. The undone stuff, like planting the garden, or tending the bees that were wanting to swarm would have to wait for 2 more weeks at least, and maybe more. And the office would be fine with a substitute doctor, Dr. Adkisson,and the 2 PAs able to handle anything that came up while I was gone.

    God seemed to have provided me with different seatmates in the 4 legs of the journey, that I was able to talk to and share with. All of them were talkative, which is fine with me. The first lady was with her son, flying to Baltimore eventually, and she was living in Japan at the time of the tsunami,about 50 miles from the epicenter, and she was only too glad to share the version of events from an American who went through that tragedy. On the flight from Atlanta to Amsterdam, I was seated by a young lady from the CDC in Atlanta, Naomi, who was going all the way to Uganda too. She was actually paid by a grant from Bill Gates (see, I knew there was a reason that I have not completely trashed Microsoft), and supervised by the CDC to see how effective a campaign to treat parasites in Uganda had been. So she would be traveling to all parts of Uganda to check on the whereabouts of medication, and to see if it was used properly. She was very knowledgeable on tropical parasites particularly, and she warned me not to go swimming in Lake Victoria, or any of the Ugandan lakes for fear of Schistosomiasis, a parasitic disease that is carried by the snails in the water. She was traveling with a team of other mostly ladies as well, headed for the same job. On the flight from Amsterdam to Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, I was beside a doctor from Amsterdam. She teaches doctors in a hospital in Rwanda, and has been doing that for many years. She was quite concerned with end of life issues, and so we spent a great deal of time comparing how our system works with the system in the Netherlands. She recently had a friend die who spent 4 months in ICU, and she wondered whether our system would do the same.  Apparently in the Netherlands, doctors make most of the decisions with minimal input from the family, and she was not in favor of that.  When she found that I did not plan to take malaria prophylaxis, she scared me into starting it, saying that if I got malaria, I could be dead!  So I started my prophylaxis that very day.  She was a member of the Anglican church, which is quite strong in Uganda, actually.  The final seatmate from Kigali to Entebbe, Uganda, I was seated beside an air force fellow from Montgomery, Alabama, of all places.  He teaches in a war college there, and was coming to check on the status of some of his students.  I guess to see if they had learned their craft well?  (Now what about, "Ain't gonna study war no more, ain't gonna study war no more?)

    Our flights were seamless, and we had a motel arranged for the night, as we got there about 10:30.  We immediately noticed the huge amount of what we thought were mosquitoes clustered around every light.  We found out later that they were lake flies from Lake Victoria, and they do not bite, but it was enough to put the fear of God in me in taking my anti-malarial drugs.  Jet lag was a problem, as we wanted to be sleepy around lunch time, and at midnight then were wide awake.  When we got to our motel, they were out of current, and so were running on generator.  But we went to bed under our mosquito nets, and tried to sleep.  About 2 pm, we heard some kind of noise, and the electricity went out completely.  We were in a strange country, in a motel, and couldn't see as much as the hand in front of my face.  I immediately thought that "if there is a fire, there is no way I can get out of this motel.'  So I struggled out of bed and went to my bag, where I tried to find my headlamp.  I was totally unsuccessful in that endeavor.  (As an aside, on our team, we had a good mixture of gifts.  We ran the gamut in the gift of organization from Don --who was so organized that he could tell you what was in any of the 15 compartments of his backpack, to me, who only knew that it was in there somewhere.  And I only had like 5 compartments in my backpack.)  So when my roommates Jake and Don heard me fumbling in the dark, Don immediately reached to the end table, grabbed his headlamp and turned it on so I could find mine.)  A nearby dog decided to bark for a long time, and it was a bit of a sleepless rest of the night...

    The next day was spent in exploring Entebbe, visiting a Botanical gardens along the north shore of Lake Victoria.  We had a very good supper of goat meat served at a local restaurant.  Jake's luggage did not come in so he and I took the hotel van back to the airport to get his bag.  That was an exercise in running all over the airport, as each person sent us somewhere else, and several times we went through the security.  Finally we got to the person who was supposed to give us our pass to get back to get the bag.  He stated that they don't do that anymore??!  I had to argue with him, telling him that a number of people had told me that we had to come to him to get that pass.  After some reluctance, and a weighty pause, he took out his book and began recording much information before he gave us the desired pass.  We had a phrase TIA (this is Africa) which sort of explains those kind of things.  Then when we got the bag, and got out to get the taxi, we were told he had just left!  Now what?  We had negotiated a price that included both ways, and we didn't know what to do at that point.  So I said, if he doesn't come back in 15 minutes to pick us up, we will get another taxi.  In fact, I was negotiating with another taxi driver who was trying to charge more for the 1 way trip home than the round trip.  So we refused, and luckily, our ride came back in time.  We also took a taxi the next morning to the Airfield Kajjansi that MAF uses.  A small plane was loaded with our things, and we had only 7 passengers on the flight.  It was a good bit bumpier than the larger plane, especially with the wind in the north part of Uganda.  We landed at the town of Kaabong, at an airstrip affectionately called Kaabong kabong, because that is the noise the plane makes when you land.  Sure enough, we did that...Amber and Terrill were waiting for us, which is good, since it is an isolated airstrip with no buildings and no people...They took us into the town to eat some lunch at a local restaurant. We were served the staple there, posho, which is basically ugali if you are familiar with that.  Thickened corn meal, which reminded me of uncooked mush--not that I have ever eaten that before.  But quite filling, and along with the beans as well, we felt like we were well fed for less than a dollar.  I think it was around 30 cents total for the meal.   We also went to the police station to register as visitors in the area.  We were probably the only white people in northeast Uganda at that point.  We had to copy our passports, and visas, and then they wanted to "get to know us better".  So we went around the room twice introducing ourselves and saying something about each one.  The police complimented us on our "strong team" and satisfied, let us go.

    The trip to Timu was only 25 miles, but took about 1 1/2 hours.  On the way, we saw this bicyclist suddenly go down up ahead of us.  We went by him and saw him under a tree holding the back of his head.  That is when we noticed the truck up ahead a long board that was sticking out to the left about 6 feet.   He had been clobbered by the board as the truck passed him, poor fellow.  The men on the truck knew it too, as we saw them rapidly adjusting the board back to the center of the truck.  It was not a good area for us to stop, as it is a place where robberies and holdups occur. 

    Timu is at 6500 feet altitude, and is quite windy.  Terrill and Amber have a round house built on the top of a ridge in the manner of the Ik, but theirs has cement sides instead of mud.  They also had a guest house, and then a guest hut, a building with a thatched roof and open sides.  This was to be the singles abode, at least on this trip.  The wind blew fiercely for most of the first couple of days, and never really went away the whole time we were there.  Sometimes it was just blowing harder than others...it would be a good place for a windmill.  Luckily, the Ik people burn the whole countryside in small pieces, because if there had been no burning, a match in that dry underbrush would destroy everything in its path..

     
    Unfortunately, I haven't finished, with this blog and I can't seem to get any pictures on the site.  So in the meantime, I guess I could give a bit quicker synopsis.  This trip was definitely more primitive than any I have been on in the past.  Northern Uganda is essentially off the grid, as far as electricity goes.  There is cell phone service, but no paved road within 280 miles of the area I was in.  The missionary couple  live with a small solar powered electric system which powers a few lights, and can charge computers, etc.  They have no refrigerator, and cook with a gas stove which has a small cannister attached.  This is much more advanced than any of the tribespeople they work, however.  Most of them live in small family compounds they call villages, which are individual dwellings surrounded by fences made of logs and sticks, and then the whole compound has a wall around it as well.  Their compounds and their house fences have a very small entrance that requires you to either crawl through on your hands and knees, or if you are good at doing the rumba or some other contortionist dance, you might be able to slither under.  The advantage of that is that an enemy has to sort of come through head first at a slow pace, and that gives the dwellers time to attack.  The Ik tribe have a lot of trouble with the Kenyan tribe called the Turkana, who frequently come over and raid their villages.  Sometimes people are killed, but mostly they just steal livestock.  There was a raid on a village while we were there that took place a mile from where we stayed, that resulted in all the livestock of the village being gone.   The upshot is that the Ik tribe no longer raises cattle, because they just get stolen.  They do have chickens, and a few goats.  They also get attacked by the Karamajong, the main people group in northern Uganda, although probably not as frequently.  In the past, the Ik people used to migrate from place to place to take advantage of the different resources of an area.  That stopped when Uganda opened a game park, and they no longer have access to those lands.  Of course, as long as they were left to their own devices, they did not overgraze the land or overuse its resources--now however, they tend to cut down too many trees, and because of that overuse, have increasingly more erosion, and poorer crops.  The Ik are hunter/gatherer/farmers, farming during the rainy season, and hunting during the dry, and living off the land.  However, this time is their dry season, so food is a bit sparse.  Many of the Ik at this time of year live on one small meal a day, and hope that the rains come soon. 
        I was privileged along with the other male members of our team to accompany the men and boys of the tribe on one of their hunts.  (No, I did not have a weapon at all)  They have to walk 2-3 miles to get to where they can start hunting, and they drive up through ravines with the help of dogs to flush the animals out.  They are taken primarily with spear, as they surround the ravine with men strategically placed.  They killed about 30-40 percent of the jumped animals on the hunt we were on.  The very first animal they jumped (a bush buck about the size of our whitetail deer) came right up towards me.  Had I had a spear, and could have thrown it properly, I would have been the killer.  But that one got away when the slightly intoxicated guy hunting next to me hit a tree with his spear.When they kill an animal, there is always much animated conversation, particularly if there is some question of whose spear actually did the killing.  The spearer gets a special portion of the meat, after they give to the elders of the tribe.  Sometimes they have to call in witnesses from the fringes to give an opinion.  On one occasion that Terrill had filmed, they argued for 10 or 15 minutes before they came to the proper decision.  Whenever they kill an animal, they stop right there and cut it up.  There is nothing that is not packed away, other than the contents of the entrails.  The organ meats are special delicacies, including kidneys, brain, and testes.  But they eat everything including the intestines and stomach, etc.  They make carrying handles of bark, and someone packs the meat on their back until they get home.   We trailed with them until noon, at which point, we decided to head on back.  That was a good move because what looked like a short distance home was more like 6 miles, and we estimated that we walked 12 miles or more during our "little hunt".  The tribespeople didn't get back til late at night, and it seemed like not many of them were carrying water.  I don't know how they made it, because I think I drank a gallon or so in my journey.
        I saw a couple of interesting cases, medically speaking.  There was one little 10 year old boy that had developed paralysis of his legs, along with difficulty controlling his bladder and turned out to have TB of the spine.  I have never seen an active case of that.  Also a case of Schistosomiasis, which is a parasite transmitted from the snails that live in Lake Victoria, or some of the other big lakes around there.
        The renovation of the medical clinic and translation center was pretty much completed by our team.  That involved a lot of pain, hard work and elbow grease, and that was the main purpose of our trip.  Some of the pain was self-inflicted.  We had to descend from a ridge about 350 in elevation every day to go to the clinic, and thus had to return up the same path when we went home.  To try to prove my manhood, I decided to run up the hill all the way and time myself.  Unfortunately I had worn my flip flops that day to the clinic, so decided to run barefoot up the mountain.  The Ik onlookers said I would burn my feet, but I can't understand their language, so I took off anyway.  After less than a third of the way, I realized my feet were really burning badly.  So I started walking, trying to hit the few and far between patches of parched grass in an effort to cool my feet.  I should have turned around, but I forged ahead, due to being a man, and a Yoder! (Wait, that is not a nice thing to say)  Needless to say, when I reached the top of the hill, the balls of both feet were one huge blister.  For two days, I kind of hobbled around, but by 3 days later, I was able to walk without pain.  But I never did get to time myself up the hill.
        The last 2 weeks of March were an astronomical smorgasbord.  I fancy myself an amateur astronomer, and for 2 weeks, I had mostly moonless nights, with no interference from surrounding lights.  The stars and planets were magnificent, and we always had crystal clear skies.  It was amazing to see the summer cross every night, all night long hovering in the southern sky.  Of course, at the equator, you can't see the North pole, as it is down below the horizon or very close to that, but the big dipper is clearly seen.  And the milky way!  Who knew that you could see 2 of them.  In the evening, the milky way was in the west, and in the morning, it was in the east, except they were different stars then the evening.  I never knew that before, so I guess one way I was looking one way at our galaxy, and the other way showed the other side..Many magnificent constellations in the south which I did not know, as I did not have a star chart...
        On the last day before returning to civilization, we left early in the am to go to a park--the one that displaced the Ik tribe.  On the way, we were stopped by some soldiers, dressed in strange uniforms, and I was thinking, great, they are just dressed as soldiers, but they are going to rob us of all our money, but it turned out they let us go on our way with no interruption.  At 5 o'clock in the am, in a robbery prone area, it was good to go on our way
        In the park, the first thing we came upon was a small herd of buffalo.  We watched them briefly, then went down the road, where we saw a lion pride coming off their evening roost.  They seemed to be sneaking down towards the buffalo, so we backed up the road to see what might take place.  I think the fact that we were there may have concerned the buffalo, as they were watching us.  They charged the buffalo and cut out the half-grown calf, and wrestled him to the ground right there in front of us.  In fact, it was documented on video by one of our group,....survival of the fittest right there in front of your eyes.  The rest of the day, we saw zebras, elephants, girraffes, hundreds of buffalo and hartebeest, along with other antelopes, and many wonderful birds.  The danger point of the day was when our vehicle with 3 people perched on top was charged by a mother elephant who felt we were too close.  Talk about reverse at 30 mph--it is a wonder everyone stayed on the roof.  Luckily, she gave up the chase before too long and preserved our hearts from an attack..
       
        God led in a miraculous way.  I remember:
            --Getting choked up as I watched the Ik sing with abandon, without accompaniment to the beat of percussion on the side of a plastic water can, as they praised the Lord
            -- Watching Terrill translate the Bible with the help of the translators, and thinking, "Hey, this is why I am here--to assist that process in any way possible"
            --A team that used everyone's gifts, from masonry, to construction, to organization, and that got along very well with one another.  I detected no tension on the trip, despite some                     discomfort at times in crowded conditions
            -- Reading through Genesis and Exodus and realizing that I am in a society like the early Egyptian.  The women still draw the water from the well in the Ik tribe, just like in the Bible.  Also, it is an arid or semi-arid land, and the keeping of sheep, goats, and cows, still continues like before
            --Great seatmates to share with on the way over and back in the airplane..

    So, would I go back to Africa--in a word, Yes!

  • They have done what they could

                  Yesterday was a day of remembrance, a day of celebration, and a day of thankfulness. No, it was not a funeral, but a celebration while the celebrants were still living. (We need to have more days like that.)

                  The story starts way back in 1964. It was the height of the civil rights movement and there was not any place in ferment like the state of Mississippi. My parents-in-law (Ethan and Shirley Good) felt called by God to move to Mississippi to help with the work among the Choctaw Indians there. I don’t know if they worried about moving there with their precious 3 little daughters, but when you are called by God, you respond. They moved in July, 1964, less than a month after the 3 Freedom Riders had disappeared from nearby Philadelphia,MS, but before their dead bodies were found buried in an earthen dam. In the middle of this societal, political, and religious upheaval, they went to work. Over the years, their compassion for the Choctaws took on many forms. The first winter, a set of newborn twins that were born to a Choctaw lady with one child under 1 year of age came to live with them “for the winter.” Their house was warm compared to the cold, drafty house with bare earth showing through some of the floor boards in the house. Rosie and Carolee never left--until their respective marriages much later. They were accepted as wholeheartedly as the rest of the Choctaw people. That is just one illustration of their love and dedication.

                  Their lives were a whirlwind of work, and after a long day of work, to go visiting,or take someone to the hospital, or to conduct funerals. Dad became pastor of Nanih Waiya Indian Mennonite Church in the late 70s, and has been there ever since. They have labored on during tough times and good times.  The church has grown and shrunk in cycles, and yet they continued to work. Faithfulness is the word that comes to mind. It didn’t matter that there were often disappointments, and heartaches; God had called and they answered.

                  (As an aside, it was my connection with Nevin Bender, my great-uncle, which allowed my first conversation with my future wife Dawn to go well. You see, Uncle Nevin and Aunt Esther had come to Mississippi in the early 60s and had started the church that Dad now pastors among the Choctaws at Nanih Waiya. The upheaval of the 60s had resulted in that church being bombed 3 times. The first bombing was in September, 1964, only 2 months after 5 year old Dawn had moved to Mississippi. The next 2 bombings were in 1966. Each time the church was built back without complaint, thankful that in each case, no one was present at the church. For further reading you might check this out. http://www.themennonite.org/issues/12-20/articles/Church_remembers_bombing_anniversary   Anyway, I do remember that Uncle Nevin was part of our first conversation, and something must have clicked, as we got married 3 1/2 years later. But I digress)

                  Anyway, over the years, they have mentored, encouraged, counseled, and trained so many people, and it was a day of giving back. As Ardis, the one daughter who could not make it says in her letter, read at the service--

    “As we reflect on your life of ministry it is a recognition that ministry began before you were ordained. Thank you for giving your time to the church in many ways before you were called to serve in a pastoral way. We saw you make many visits to hospitals after a long day at work and many early morning hours crafting a sermon before you tilled the garden.

    You have mentored us in many ways. The many dinner table discussions about eschatology, Calvinism vs. Armenianism, or exegeses of a certain passage are pleasant memories. You were able to debate the points with us but never put the other person down. You modeled faithfulness and commitment.

    Thanks for serving from the best of your ability and be assured that God, who gifts His people, has used you in Kingdom work.” --from Ardis

                       So, with all of this in mind, and knowing their penchant for not having the limelight, it was decided to have a surprise celebration honoring Dad and Mom for their work over the past 40+ years. We as children and in-laws gathered from Alabama, McComb, Macon, and Clinton, MS to surprise and honor them. Mark and Caralee and I got there before the service, and that was the first inkling they had that something was going to happen different that morning. Then when Tim and Rosie, and Dan and Phyllis showed up, it was a bit overwhelming. The service was led by Glenn Myers, which was fitting as he would have been one of the original people in the church back when Uncle Nevin was there.

                    The most touching part of the ceremony was when the congregation was given an opportunity to express themselves and their appreciation. Often, in ministry, appreciation is not always given, or perhaps more implied than said. And so it was very moving to see the stoic Choctaw church members, who normally don’t express a lot of emotion, pour out their gratitude and thanks for the love they had experienced from this extraordinary couple over the years. Some of them actually knelt in front of them so they could have direct eye to eye contact, and told them how they would not be here today without their bringing the good news of God to them. It doesn’t take much to get me to cry these days, and I was a basket case as I witnessed in amazement what was happening. And even Daddy and Mom were glad to have a handkerchief along with them.

                    I try and visualize the time when they get to heaven. I know that there will be a joyous reunion, but I would love to see when they meet the Savior, and He says to both of them, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of thy Lord”. I don’t think there will be one word about numbers of souls saved, or the size of the church, or their world-wide work, but only that they were faithful. Like the widow, “They have done what they could.” And I am honored to be their son-in-law.

      Dad and Mom          


    Here is the cake
     

    And here are the present daughters and son-in-laws--this excludes Ardis and Lester
    From L to R  Tim Kanagy, with wife Rosie, Jon Yoder, Caralee and husband Mark Roth, Dan Miller, and Phyllis

  • More Peru

         Here are some more pictures of the time in Peru...
    The Mountain called Misti--gorgeous volcano

    Megan and Jen style for the camera, but they haven't done any work yet...
     

    Here is the view from the inside of the convent we visited.  The nuns keep it immaculately decorated, and it is beautiful on the street with the geraniums.

     Some of our group--don't have one with everyone on at the same time.

    The Plaza de Armas at night--The central square of Arequipa

    Here is the cathedral of the Plaza de Armas--one of the disappointments of the trip was that I never got to see the inside of this magnificent structure--originally built in the 1500s

     

     

    Here is another view from the convent

    Meal of trout at a local restaurant


     

    Jim W and Mariese Davis share a story over lunch

    This is the mountain Chachani--almost 20,000 feet high

    Translator Kique with one of our beautiful little patients

    Fearless leader Cathryn on left, with Jen and Tory during worship time

  • Peru 2012

    Home again after a week of many experiences in the plateau and mountain region of southern Peru in a town called Arequipa.  It is the 2nd largest city in Peru, working with medical missions with Medical Ministry International. The city is called the "White City", or Ciudad Blanca.  This is because of the many buildings built with a white volcanic rock that is plentiful around here.  We had a combination team of dentists, optometry, and medicine and usually saw from 150 plus patients a day.  I liked this trip a lot, because we had 2 doctors and a PA, and between all of us, we only needed to see 35 a piece, which is really like a normal day back home.  So it wasn't that hectic and we could take some time with the patients, and see what was really bothering them.  Many complaints of musculoskeletal problems, which is easy to figure, since many of the ones we were ministering to spend long hours in the fields or other manual labor.  A good number of the people were Quechua Indian, and came dressed in their highland attire--wide brimmed hats for the ladies, with multiple colorful dresses in layers, as well as several sets of leggings to keep the legs warm.  I think staying warm is a priority for them, even though in general, it doesn't freeze in Arequipa.  Probably if you get a bit higher in altitude.  Arequipa is at 8200 feet, so it is somewhere in the middle.  The older ladies spoke only Quechua, and so needed a translator into Spanish and then into English.  So that made it interesting in general.  I enjoyed getting back into a spanish culture again, that is for sure.

    Some memories--
       A 101 year old lady coming to the clinic with a painful neck..She wanted to see the eye doctor too, so she was carried upstairs to the eye doctors with a chair.  I helped out with that project..She was later ministered to by one of the team, who recognized her as the lady that had been her source of "breast feeding" when her own mother did not have enough milk.  She was able to get this lady of 101 (who was sharp as a tack) to accept Christ before she left the clinic..How appropriate that the lady who gave her "physical life" became the recipient of "eternal life".

        Seeing the largest fig I have ever seen in the market on Friday, and buying it.  It was big as a peach or an apple and dark...I ate it on the spot, despite dire warnings.  Of course, I got the obligatory travelers diarrhea the following day, but I am going to say it was worth it!  It was the best fig I have ever had!  Did have a slight accident that necessitated changing pants on the way home, but that is another story!

         Waiting in airports!  On the way down, had a 6 hour layover in Miami, a 12 hour layover in Lima due to a canceled flight, and then on the way back, a 5 hour layover in Lima, and another 6 hour layover in Miami.  I feel like I spent a lot of time in airports! And Miami has seats that are impossible to lie in, and keeps the airport at close to 60 degrees, so that was interesting trying to get some sleep and keep warm at the same time.

        The Beauty of Peru!  We flew into Arequipa after dark, and the following day was Sunday, which was a bit cloudy.  I saw the mountains around the city, which is at 8200 feet, and they were certainly beautiful, and higher than any mountains in the Eastern United States.  But the next day dawned nice and clear, and just behind those mountains, soaring to the heavens were the snow-capped volcanoes.   I have never seen mountains that high--the highest peaks at about 19,872 that we were seeing.  I was in awe, and I think every day after that we could see them in the morning, usually gone by the afternoon...

        Many God moments!  We actually joined with another team in Peru called Heaven Sent Ministry, led by a 25 year old girl, and her co-leader was 24 years old...And yet, I learned so much from them...Good times of worship and devotional Bible Study each day, usually in am, and pm.  The team had someone designated full time to play with the children who came to the clinic, and they had Bible lessons, and games, and crafts every day.  It was such a joy to see the children playing and singing.  According to the pastor working with us, over 100 people came to know the Lord in the week we were there...
     
        Living in the house where we stayed was a lady named Juliana.  She has had a rough life, but has established a ministry to the poor and underprivileged, with a feeding program at her church for the poor.  On the way to the clinic in Pedrogal on Wednesday--a distance of some 3 hours away..we came across an accident where there had been a fatality.  A small child covered in a blanket was dead on the street..A bus had hit a small taxi.  We found out later that the child and his family were one of the families in Juliana's church.  A sister was also critically injured, and was not expected to make it.   So we were able to minister to her during a very difficult time...Continue to pray for this situation

        The gratefulness of the people...many Gracias were heard during the week.  Everybody was so grateful -- even if at times you had nothing to offer...

        Luggage denied entrance to the country by the Peruvians..  We brought 2 suitcases of ministry stuff, one full of eyeglasses and the other full of medicines.  The customs people wanted to charge us duty on them, even though they were donated items.  I was there at the counter, and he quoted the price "cuarenta dolares", which is 40 dollars.  And I thought, well, that isn't too bad, I will just pay it, but then when I handed the 40 dollars, he said, no cien cuarenta, which means 140 dollars.  Well that seemed excessive, so I refused.  At the time, I had no translator, as Jim had gone to get some help getting this through customs.  So we left the bags in customs, fully expecting the matter to be resolved when they had the non weekend staff working.   It never was.  We picked up those same bags in Lima, and under the watchful eye of the customs official, who made sure we checked them back on the plane, and brought them back with us.  Anyone need a lot of medicine???

         Diseases I didn't see--civilized diseases....  Nobody smokes, everybody gets a good bit of exercise in walking, and they don't have modern medicine.  So I saw no scars on the back from back surgery, no scars on the chest from heart surgery, not many with diabetes or high blood pressure, no ear infections, no clogged up ears with wax--they don't have q-tips, the source of that; No requests for Viagra (thank the Lord, since we did not have any).  We did see a lot of parasite infections, and diarrhea, as the water is not pure, and many children that 'No quiere comer'. (They don't want to eat).  They do have some access to sweets and cokes, and like children anywhere, that depresses the appetite.  It is hard to get them to see that, but I think I succeeded in a small way.

        I could go on and on, but those are some of the memories that I have of the time together...I am thankful for safe travel, and the way that God directed our paths.  I went with a friend from Atmore, Jim Weber, who was very necessary as a translator, as we were short of translators, but other than that, I knew no one on the teams we worked with.  But after a week, it seemed like everyone had been together forever, and I have to say that we functioned very well together as a team....
      Here are some pictures of our time down there

    Jim Weber strikes an unusual pose


    Back Yard of the Davis' household, beautiful bouganvillea


    MORE BOUGANVILLEA


    Church service Sunday am at Cafe Berea


    Terraced fields behind our house, irrigated by ditches built by the INCA Indians