Does God Celebrate Christmas?

I was thinking about something earlier today...

For those who manage to keep their minds and hearts set on Christ in the midst of all the paganism and materialism, Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Christ, the Messiah, our Savior.

The thought crossed my mind earlier today about celebrating this "birthday" from the perspective of God the Father. Does He celebrate the day that His one and only Son gave up His rightful place in Heaven to take on the form of a man? Does He celebrate the day that marked the beginning of Christ's humiliation, suffering, and death? If I was sending my one and only son into battle in the middle east, with the full and sure knowledge that he would be captured, mocked, spat on, tortured, beaten, and illegally murdered, WOULD I CELEBRATE THE DAY HE LEFT FOR HIS SERVICE?

I am confident that God celebrates the results of what Christ accomplished, just as I would be thankful for the accomplishments of a faithful soldier-son, killed in battle. But would I celebrate the day I sent him off to his death?

Just a thought.

I will continue to celebrate the ENORMOUS SACRIFICE that Christ made in the incarnation - not annually, but daily. But I will celebrate it somberly at times, trying to put myself into the mind of God the Father - the One who sent His Son to His Death the very day He was born.

Home for the Holidays

We are currently staying with family in the San Diego area. We just wanted to let everyone know that we are safe and we did get our luggage back eventually. We'll be visiting with family through the end of December. Then, in January, we'll be visiting churches to share about the ministry in Kigoma before getting things together for our return home. I'll post our speaking schedule soon in case you'd like to come and see us. So far we're doing two Sunday mornings, one Sunday night, and two Wednesday nights. May God richly bless you with every spiritual blessing during this season of remembering Christ's birth.

December 2007 Update

A Cow's Feeding Trough...

December is a time when we focus our thoughts on remembering the birth of Jesus, the Messiah. When we lived in America I always struggled with the emphasis on commercialism and obligatory gift giving during this time of the year. I love giving gifts, whether it's December or June, but I think any honest person will admit that 90% or more of Americans are 90% or more focused on the bundles of goods under the tree rather than the bundle of Good in the manger. Now please don't read this as an excuse to be a Grinch and hold back on gifts to those you love, because giving from the heart is a truly beautiful thing. But what I'm really trying to communicate is a word of encouragement and remembrance to everyone who reads our updates regarding the true beauty of Christmas.

The older I get and the more time I spend getting to know the Word of God and the God of the Word, the more I long for humility. I wish that I could humbly say that I had it... but I don't. That's why Christmas is so beautiful; because humility is so beautiful. And the humility of our Saviour is so powerfully evident when we consider His birth.

If you read the Nativity Story from the Gospel of Luke or the other Gospels, and then think through what was really happening, it is truly amazing and humbling. Meditate for a moment with me. Imagine that the Almighty Creator of the heavens and the earth was going to send His One and Only Son to the earth. Why would He choose to do so through a human birth!? That's so messy and complicated compared to other methods available to Him (which are infinite). Why would He choose a poor, young, working-class girl instead of a rich and powerful queen or empress? Why would He choose a girl from Nazareth in Galilee - a very poor village in an ill-regarded region of Israel - instead of a woman from a big city like Jerusalem in Judah? Why wouldn't He send throngs of Angels ahead of Mary to the Inn in Bethlehem to clear the Inn of all sinners and saints alike, making a place for His Son to be born in the best room at the best Inn available? Instead, the Inn was full and God looked on as the poor, young, unwed, working-class girl, from a poor village in an ill-regarded region of Israel, was escorted by her husband-to-be from the entrance of the small Inn to the stable area outside. Instead, the Father looked on as Mary settled into a bed of straw like one of the animals and began to push and cry in the pangs of childbirth until finally the Son of God came forth from her womb, bloody and wet and cold and in need of His mother's breast for warmth and nourishment. Instead, God looked on as His Only Son was wrapped in simple swaddling clothes and laid in the trough from which the cows ate their food. It doesn't get any more humble than that!

There is a beauty here that I fear I cannot express with words in this short letter (or any length of letter for that matter). I could write an entire book trying to accurately express and appreciate the beauty of Christ's humility - from Heaven, to the birth in a cow's feeding trough, through His life and earthly ministry, to His willing submission to the death on the cross, to His heavenly ministry now. But truly, that Book has already been written - the Bible. I've come to understand that a truly humble person is not one whose life is defined as one of humility. Rather, the qualities and characteristics of their life's actions are themselves the very definition of humility. If you read in the Bible about Christ - from His pre-incarnate state to His birth, life, death, and resurrection - you will read the very definition of pure and true humility. And one of the outstanding characteristics of that life was its beginning... "the first Christmas".

The reason for Christ's humility is also evident from reading the Bible. It is as one of my favorite songs phrases it, "the Kingdom in reverse". The King became the servant. The first became the last. "The Shepherd is the Lamb". The reason for Christ's beautiful humility - in His birth and otherwise - is because God loves each and every one of us SO MUCH, that He chose to come and serve us in order to make a way for us to truly know Him. He chose to give up that which was rightfully His in order to give us what we had no rights to. And for those of us who willingly choose to follow Him, He clearly teaches us to do the same because we have chosen to be His servants, making us no greater than Him who became a servant of all.

This is a difficult thing for me; humility. But when I think of Christmas and the awesome beauty of what Christ did in humbling Himself on my behalf, I am encouraged in my inner man and desire to be like Him in his humility. I am reminded of 1st John chapter 3, "Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us." This GREAT LOVE, demonstrated by a life of humility that began with His humble human birth in a cow's feeding trough, inspires and instructs me to follow in His footsteps. I am encouraged to "Have this attitude in [myself] which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be held onto, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross."

For me, this is the true beauty of Christmas: my humble Saviour. May we recognize what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us this Christmas. May we recognize the very definition of humility in the birth, life, and death of Christ. May we have the same "mind" or "attitude" as Christ did.

That's the end of my preaching... for now.

As for the field...

The students finished up there semester at the Bible College. Most of them did very well. It's difficult to adjust to teaching in a culture where most of the students have only completed 3rd or 4th grade. I’m learning to teach "how to be a student" along with the actual teaching of each subject. I guess I can say that we are all learning!

We’re moving towards getting the church here officially registered with the government. This will take some time and money, but we hope to have it accomplished next year. We are also VERY EXCITED about the vision and plans for ministry to the youth and women. We are planning to start a monthly youth concert for the whole Kigoma area next year, and pray the Lord will bless it and provide for a way to eventually have a full-time youth center. We are also working with the women of the church - who are very poor and are often widows or have husbands who do not provide for them and the children - in order to assist them in generating an income for their families to survive. The 15 women in the group worked hard in a small garden last year and were able to sell the fruits of their labors to raise capital to buy materials for making clothes and mats and soap. We hope to assist them in generating income from these items by offering them to our friends, family, and supporters in the States in exchange for donations. We are bringing some dresses, shirts, and mats with us this winter, so if you're interested let us know.

May God richly bless you this Christmas with a closer walk with Him, in all humility and service to Him and those He desires to touch through you.

In Christ,
Jon and Carrie,
Kevan, Keenan, Caleb, & Jada

Safe and Sound and Naked in Los Angeles

We made it safely to LAX about one hour later than expected on Wednesday, December 5th. Unfortunately British Airways "misplaced" the two pieces of luggage with ALL of the kids' clothes and Carrie's clothes (except for a couple pair of shoes). So we're safe and sound and staying with my grandpa and his wife in Hawthorne. My wife and kids have a choice of wearing my clothes or going naked! Just kidding. As of now we're washing their clothes while we sleep each night and re-wearing the same clothes each day. The British Airways agent at LAX said that they cannot offer any financial help for clothing at the airport, but that we'd have to contact "Customer Relations" in New York and gave me their business card. WHAT A JOKE! Anyhow, I don't want to get fleshy and irritated again. I'm done with that. What's important is that we're here, we're safe, we have at least one set of clothes, and our family is feeding us well! I even convinced them to turn the heater on for us because, believe it or not, Southern California feels VERY COLD to us compared to Kigoma! Bwana asifiwe!

Let's eat tacos!... er... um... I mean burritos!

This past Saturday evening we had a birthday party for Keenan at our house. We invited all of the others missionaries we know as well as several of our Tanzanian friends with children. Carrie decided to make tacos and Mexican rice to serve at the party. Because there was so much to make - in addition to the cakes and cupcakes and cinnamon rolls she made - she enlisted the help of a few mamas to cook the taco meat, make the tortillas, cook and make the Mexican rice, prepare the toppings, etc.

Well, the mamas that were helping us didn't finish until just after the party officially began and people had arrived. Carrie invited them to stay and enjoy the food before they went home - after all, they made half of it. The problem is that Carrie forgot about one little cultural/translation snag when referring to this particular Mexican dish. In fact our friends in Nairobi had just told us about this very thing, but it must have slipped her mind.

So... she invited the mamas to stay and eat "tacos". Well, Swahili is pronounced identical to Spanish. So the Swahili word "tako" sounds identical to the word "taco" that we are accustomed to. Unfortunately, the Swahili word "tako" is the word for the part of your body that you sit on. That's right. Carrie invited the mamas to stay and eat "rear ends" with us!

One of the mamas that speaks a bit of English and is a little more familiar with us Wazungu (Westerners), retranslated what Carrie said to "chakula", which is the Swahili word for "food". But the looks on the faces of the other two mamas were absolutely priceless!

Live and learn.

Giving Thanks

First and always... thank you Jesus. To quote some famous lyrics, "You didn't have to love me like you did, but you did, but you did, and I thank you." You didn't have to leave your throne, set aside your glory, release your grasp on the honor and power of equality with God. BUT YOU DID, and I THANK YOU. You didn't have to come as a helpless baby boy, humbly born in a cow's feeding trough. BUT YOU DID, and I THANK YOU. You didn't have to submit to imperfect parents and humbly learn and grow under their care. BUT YOU DID, and I THANK YOU. You didn't have to humbly submit to the symbol of baptism. BUT YOU DID, and I THANK YOU. You didn't have to raise the dead, heal the sick, give sight to the blind, strength to the lame, speech to the mute, freedom to the demon possessed. BUT YOU DID, and I THANK YOU. You didn't have to patiently explain the truth. BUT YOU DID, and I THANK YOU. You didn't have to humbly demonstrate the truth in your every word and deed. BUT YOU DID, and I THANK YOU. You didn't have to suffer personal persecution and hatred from the very souls you give life to, the very lungs you give breath to, the very hearts you allow to beat. BUT YOU DID, and I THANK YOU. You didn't have to be beaten, mocked, spat upon, abused, and tortured. BUT YOU DID IT FOR ME, and I THANK YOU. You didn't have to WILLINGLY go to the cross and WILLINGLY offer yourself as The Lamb of God, slain for MY SIN. BUT YOU DID IT FOR ME, and I THANK YOU. You didn't have to send Your Spirit to guide me into the Truth of Your Word. BUT YOU DID, and I THANK YOU. You don't have to intercede for me even now. BUT YOU DO, and I THANK YOU. You don't have to love me even now, even when I fail You, argue with Your Word, question Your authority, and run like Jonah from Your instructions and requests. BUT YOU DO, and I THANK YOU. You don't have to finish the work You started in me. BUT YOU WILL, and I THANK YOU. You don't have to snatch me away from the great day of tribulation and judgment to come. BUT YOU WILL, and I THANK YOU. You don't have to reward me for my obedience, seeing that the very will to obey and knowledge of how to do so comes from Your Grace in my life and Your Spirit in my heart. BUT YOU WILL, and I THANK YOU. You don't have to let me live forever with You in glory. BUT YOU WILL, and I THANK YOU. You don't have to CONTINUE TO WAIT FOR THOSE I LOVE SO MUCH WHO HAVE NOT YET CALLED UPON YOUR NAME FOR SALVATION. BUT YOU WILL, and I THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

If you just read that and completely understand my honest and sincere expression of thanks, THANK YOU JESUS! Please post a comment to let me know what you are thankful to Jesus for.

If you read those words and you're not sure what the big deal is or even what some of those items of thankfulness were all about... please post a comment and ask so I can tell you!

Have this mind among yourselves, which was also in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. - Philippians 2:5-11

Kumbi Kumbi

Today (15-NOV-2007), I arrived to teach my Thursday morning class at the Bible College. As I walked across the campus, I noticed thousands of wings lying on the ground, as well as hundreds upon hundreds of bugs. This isn't a new sight for me. There are dozens of species of bugs that I had never seen before in the States that I have now become accustomed to, and I am usually introduced to their existence when they swarm, mate, and then lie dead by the thousands the next morning. So the sight at the Bible College was nothing new, just a new bug to me.

We began the morning as usual with singing and group devotions. During the devotion time I noticed several of these bugs that seemed confused and wandering. They had only shed one of the two wings and were not burrowing with the rest of the group. At one point - I admit my cruelty - I squashed one of them and watched a white, pasty, goo explode from within it's body cavity!

After devotions, the students have a "tea time" (called "chai" here), and then we begin the morning class. After lecturing for a couple of hours I gave them a break to stretch their legs, use the choo (toilet), or whatever. During the break I walked over to the car to check my phone for messages. It was then that I smelled a new smell. It wasn't really a bad smell, but it wasn't good either. I figured it was dagaa (sardines) being dried for lunch later in the day. I even heard one of the students mention something about dagaa, so it strengthened my incorrect assumption about what I was smelling.

After checking my messages, I looked over my shoulder to the right and saw a large pile of something small and dark spread out across a piece of plastic on the ground. This is a typical way to dry dagaa in the sun, and not really focusing in on the small objects, I continued to assume that to be the case. As I walked closer, the students who were standing around the pile of food and taking from it and eating, began to snicker and laugh as they saw me approaching. This piqued my curiosity and I looked closer at the pile of "food".

It was then that I realized what they were eating. BUGS! Yes, the very bugs that had swarmed and mated and lost their wings the night before were now burrowing by the thousands into the soft dirt all around the campus. The school cooks and watchman had gathered a couple of thousand of them, washed them (I hope), and then fried them.

The students could tell by the look on my face that eating these grubs was not my custom (and I controlled my expression so as not to offend them). I asked what it tasted like, to which they replied, "try it". NOT! I eventually got them to tell me that it tasted similar to ground nuts. Oily and nutty is what they were trying to tell me. I watched them eat dozens of them and even bring some piles of them back to the class with them for snacking on during the second half of the lecture! When I asked what they were called I was told "Kumbi Kumbi" was the Kiswahili word for them. Westerners would call them HUGE TERMITES.

After I finished up the teaching for the day, I walked towards the car to leave, when suddenly the urge to try one of the bugs struck me! I can't explain it. I just didn't want to be that guy who lived in Africa and never tried different things like this. SO... I asked one of the students to show me how to eat it. I know that sounds funny, but I noticed that they would pick at it first so I figured this might be important. So one of the students grabbed one and picked off any remnants of the wings/legs and then handed it to me. I pretended to put it into my mouth several times as a joke and they all laughed. Then I took the plunge! I popped it into my mouth and ate it. POP! Remember the white, pasty, goo that exploded from the bug I stepped on earlier? Well, now it was in my mouth!

It really didn't taste bad. I can see the similarity with the taste of a nut. That white goo was oily and probably had some nutrients in it. But while it didn't taste horrible, it didn't taste good either. Nuts are definitely much better and I think I'll stick to them from now on.

When in Rome...

A Visual Aide - of course the one I ate was cooked and de-winged!

Adventures in East African Road Travel - Part 4 (The final chapter)

Well, the rest of our time in Nairobi was great. Other than having to spend a lot of time taking care of the car, we were able to eat some food we never get in Kigoma, shop at Nakumatt (Kenya’s version of a super Wal-mart), take the kids to play with their friends, go to a Masai market (basically a Kenyan flea market), and visit with our brothers and sisters there in Nairobi. The best part was definitely the fellowship with our family in Christ in Nairobi, followed by the quasi-western experience of being in Nairobi (which reminded us a bit of the States).

We had originally planned on staying about eight days, but kept putting off our departure because we were waiting to receive our resident permits for Tanzania. We were hoping to have them before going back to Tanzania so that we wouldn’t have to pay an additional $300 for visas when the resident permits that we paid $420 for were supposed to be ready. Anyhow, we waited an extra day, then two, then three. Finally we had waited an extra four days and decided to call it quits and just pay the extra money. We really needed to get back home and Jon needed to get back to teach class on Thursday (and it was now Sunday). So we decided to go to Calvary Chapel Nairobi for a second Sunday, and then leave after service.

Just before service, the team all gathered together to pray and I joined them. Dave was telling everyone some things to pray for and making some quick announcements. He mentioned to me that he would like me to lead the “prayer for the nations” time they have each Sunday morning by sharing what was going on in Kigoma and what they could all pray for us for. Then he mentioned that that Sunday afternoon was the monthly “Freedom in Christ” concert that they did at the church, and that he was expecting me to preach the Gospel at it! I said “wewe” (which is Swahili for “you”) but you say it like you, as in “you dirty dog”. I told him I’d pray about it. Then, during service I shared about Kigoma and we all prayed, and then Dave announced about the FIC concert that night and told the whole congregation to pray that I would stay and speak at it! WEWE!

Well, I knew that we could leave Monday and still make it back to Kigoma before Thursday (God willing), and I couldn’t think of anything else that was pressing for that day. So I explained to Dave that I had a policy of never turning down the opportunity to share the Gospel or otherwise be used for ministry unless God and I had a previous commitment that needed to be kept or He specifically told me not to do it. And since neither of those were the case I agreed to stay and do it and then leave the next morning.

So during lunch Dave told me about the concert. Then we ate and took our families home and then headed over to the church for the concert. There were already a bunch of kids there when we arrived. The church staff that helped to run the concert was already there and had Christian music playing through the speakers – one of them pointed inside the church, and the other pointed towards the street and parking lot. It was really good music that I hadn’t heard before (and I’m relatively aware of the Christian music scene) from the hip-hop and rap genres, and it was all African. I really liked it and hope to get my hands on some of it (Dave – if you’re reading this remember that the DJ was going to hook me up). We went upstairs and joined in the fun.

Basically the concert went like this… There was music playing and people talking and dancing and generally hanging out. This is a “youth concert” that everyone is invited to (here, youth means “old enough to walk” to thirties or so. Basically unmarried is the rule of thumb). They pass out flyers all over and invite other churches as well. Anyhow, at first about two or three hundred kids were milling around talking and listening to the DJ’s music mix. Then they started off with prayer, followed by some Bible trivia questions. One of the leaders at CC Nairobi would ask a Bible Trivia question and choose someone who raised their hand to come up onto the stage to answer it. If they got it correct they would get a prize (usually a soda or a Bible). After a few questions, they would have a performer or performers up to the stage. All of the performers were either singing or dancing or both. THEY WERE QUITE TALENTED. In order to be allowed to perform, the performers had to have been involved in the church services for the past weeks (Sunday mornings, youth services, etc.) These kids were really great. Most of them sang songs to tracks that they created and burned, or they sang over the top of tracks they recorded. In either case, the material was original. Those who got up and danced did so to cool, modern Christian hip-hop songs or the like and the dances were somehow interpretive or representative of the lyrics of the song. Anyhow… they were really good and this big old white boy got his groove on!

About mid-way through the concert I went up on stage to give the gospel. It was a learning experience for me. I’ve given the gospel many times before, and I’ve spoken to youth before. But I had never given the gospel to over five hundred “youth” IN AFRICA. You see the kids here aren’t as disciplined as a westerner is used to. They tend to talk and move about and generally do just about anything they feel like while someone else is talking. So, with the older youth sitting quietly in the back staring me down with icy glares, and the youngsters all moving about and talking and being generally noisy, I began to speak. God gave me the right words, the right mix of English and Swahili, and the right mix of funny and serious, and in the end those who God was speaking to heard what they needed to hear and prayed along with me for the ‘Freedom In Christ’ that comes with a right relationship with Him. It was such a great time. I’m really looking forward to working with some locals here in Kigoma to do something similar for the youth of Kigoma every month.

After the concert we cleaned up and went back to the guest house and packed. The next morning we had one last dose of Java House and then hit the road for home.

Just outside of Nairobi, as we began to head down the escarpment and into the Great Rift Valley, we stopped at a curio shop to have a look. As I walked inside I realized that the pieces of wood I was standing on were suspended over the edge of the escarpment. Yikes!

The Roadside Curio Shop overlooking the Great Rift Valley

The View from the Edge

After the little detour, we retraced our path and made it to Kisii at sunset. We took a few snapshots of the sunset, but they were from the car while driving so they’re not up to par for my taste, but we’ll share a couple of them anyways.

The sun beginning to go down over the lush grasses, cane fields, and trees near Kisii, Kenya

Sunset over the sugar cane around Kisii, Kenya

The next morning I went to a local “Internet Café” to check the email. I was still hoping to find an email with a PDF of our resident permits for Tanzania. I did not. I called my friend in Kigoma to see if he had the papers and he said he was on the way to pick them up from the Home Affairs office. So we left Kisii and headed for the border crossing at Sirari, planning to stop in Migori to check the email once again. We reached Migori, and still no email, no text message, no phone calls, no nothing. I had had enough of the African waiting game and took off for the border, papers or no papers.

We got to the border and “checked out” of Kenya. It was then that I decided to call our friend in Kigoma one last time to see if he had the papers and could fax them to the border. He told me that he went to the Home Affairs office in Kigoma to pick them up and they told him that the papers “missed the plane”. That meant they wouldn’t arrive in Kigoma until the next day. Oh well!

I got in the car and proceeded through the gate that officially separates the two countries and pulled into the parking area of the Tanzania Immigration office. I told Carrie the situation and asked that they all pray. I was going in to see if God would grant us favor with the officials and let us cross without paying so that we could save the $300.

I was in silent prayer as I entered the air conditioned little border building and greeted the three immigration officers working there with typical Swahili greetings. Then, upon recognizing that they spoke English, I proceeded to tell them my story in my mother tongue. I explained that we had crossed the border several times to renew our visas while awaiting our work permits and that our permits were now finished and being sent to Kigoma, but that they missed the plane. I asked if they could either call the Regional Director of Immigration in Kigoma (because he knew all about it), or if they could stamp us in on visas without charge and just write on them that we have to sort it out at the office in Kigoma. They asked me a few questions and spoke to each other in Swahili a few times, and then one of them told me that we needed to talk to the “big boss”. She took me next door and I began all over again, from the Swahili greetings to the proposed solutions. He looked over our passports and agreed that it shouldn’t be a problem to just go ahead and enter the country and then deal with it at the Kigoma office. Then he told me that I wouldn’t be saving $300 by him allowing us this privilege, but $600!!!! Apparently in September Tanzania raised the price of a visa for U.S. citizens to $100! Bwana asifiwe! (Praise the Lord).

So we crossed the border and headed for Mwanza. Along the way we stopped to take some photos where a stretch of the highway forms the far western border of the Serengeti National Park. We saw some wildebeests, zebras, and baboons (or “bamboos” if you ask Caleb). We included some pictures for your viewing pleasure. I was getting some great shots of a baboon standing up, but then I realized that I wasn’t using a zoom lens and he really was right next to the car and headed for me and the camera. I drove off quickly as baboons aren’t the friendliest of creatures.

The Baboon in the Tree

The Baboon Coming to Get Me

We made it into Mwanza without incident, got a horrible night’s sleep, woke up the next morning to find Jada with a pretty good fever (later we found out it was strep-throat) and then headed for Kigoma. This time, as we headed across the deceptive Tanzanian tarmac, I was prepared for the treacherous obstacles ahead. With the help of my co-pilot, Carrie, and my backseat navigator, Caleb, we managed to detect the stealthy speed bumps, dodge the perilous potholes, and generally make decent time. We even found a roadside “duka la dawa baridi” (a small pharmacy – literllay: cold medicine store) to get Jada some fever reducer. The only thing I didn’t plan very well for was cash and fuel.

You see you can’t just pay with a credit card here, and you can’t just find an ATM machine anywhere. I had filled the tank in Mwanza, remembering that we made it from Kibondo to Mwanza with one full tank. What I had forgotten was that we made it to Mwanza with a totally empty tank! So I told Carrie to help me look for anyplace that might have fuel before Kibondo. We found one place just after Nyakanazi, but they didn’t have any fuel. We did make it to Kibondo with the fuel light on (glaring at me to be more accurate), but I managed to miss the right turn and we just kept driving and telling each other how it didn’t look familiar. Eventually we were driving through fields and homes and I turned around. When we went back a few kilometers I recognized the turn I missed and there was the fuel station. Praise the Lord!

The needle literally could not physically go any lower on the fuel gauge. Then I realized that I only had a few Tanzanian Shillings left. I kept a couple to buy some drinking water and a couple in case of emergency, and then paid the fuel guy with the rest. This gave us less than half a tank. I remembered that it only took a quarter of a tank to get from Kigoma to Kibondo, and I knew that coming was up hill so going back would be down hill, so I figured I was good. Of course I figured wrong… again.

You see the needle on the gauge moves a lot slower for the first half of the tank than the second half. I realized quickly that we were in for an adventure with the fuel yet again. Long before we reached Kigoma the fuel light began to tease me. It would come on for a moment, as if to wink at me, and then turn off again. The light was staying on more consistently by the time we reached Simbo, and I knew that Simbo was about 40 minutes from Kigoma. I remembered that at the far end of the Kigoma area, where the dirt road turned to tarmac, there was a small fuel station. If only I could make it there I could give them the three or four thousand shillings I had left and that would be enough to get us to the ATM in Kigoma to get more money so we could fill the tank. Then I realized it was almost 6pm, the time that almost all of the fuel stations closed in Kigoma (except for one or two down town). Yikes! I once again told Carrie to pray.

Almost Home - The Road to Kigoma (which you can just make out in the distance)

Back Home in Kigoma - The sun sets over the mountains of Congo, fifty miles away across Lake Tanganyika. This photo is from the road nearby our house.

We rolled into the little fuel station just after 6pm, and once again the needle on the gauge could not have gone any lower! Thankfully, the attendant was still there and gave us some fuel… literally. I had enough shillings for two liters and he actually gave us three out of pity. I’ll take it!

And so, that last answer to prayer marked the end of our two week journey from Kigoma, Tanzania to Nairobi, Kenya and back again. It was hard at times, fun at times, but rewarding as a whole - especially the opportunity to fellowship with likeminded family in Christ. We learned a lot about East African road travel and a lot about ourselves. For instance, I can truly say that I have the best kids on the planet when it comes to long road trips. I could not have asked for better behavior and attitudes, especially under the circumstances. The same goes for Carrie, as she supported me and put up with my “road-grumpiness”. She also became an expert at preparing and serving “meals” without me having to pull over (though I think we’re all a bit tired of peanut butter, bread, chips, and cookies for a while). The best was the homemade banana bread she made and brought with us. Yummm!

If you actually took the time to read all four parts to this tale then I guess I should say thank you… or maybe “pole sana” (sorry). Either way, I hope you enjoyed the stories and pictures.

Kwa heri.

Adventures in East African Road Travel - Part 3

We made it to Kisii just after dark, and once again in the rain. The hotel/guest house we planned to stay in was too full, but they directed us to another. When I got out of the car to go to the reception desk I noticed there was no lighting on the path and that it was very muddy and slippery from the rain. I called back to the car to warn Carrie and Aaron and the kids to be careful not to slip. No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I was slipping myself. Thankfully I caught my balance and avoided utter humiliation, but they all still got a good laugh out of it.

When I checked in I asked what types of beds they had so I could figure out how many rooms we would need for all seven of us. The young man behind the counter told me that they had rooms with two small beds or rooms with one "big" bed. I asked for the rooms with the "big" bed and later found out that what he meant by "big" was 4'x6' as compared to the small bed which is 3'x6'. So we played musical rooms for a while so that we could all have a place to sleep and the kids wouldn't have to sleep alone and far from their parents. Because of the types of rooms/beds, it costs a lot more than just one or two rooms in the States with two queen beds. Kenya is just more expensive that Tanzania to begin with.

So after bringing up our bags and figuring out who would sleep where, we headed down to the dining area for dinner. The food took A VERY LONG TIME (TIA), but while we were waiting I noticed two great things. First, they had 500ml Cokes! YEAH! The second thing I noticed was the food they had just brought to some other guests. It was chicken... but it was huge and cooked in some sort of sauce that smelled really good and reminded me a little bit of BBQ sauce. I was so anxious for the food to come now.

When the food arrived and they put it in front of us, I felt just like my right rear tire... punctured, deflated, broken. The chicken was tiny and rubbery (just like Tanzania), and the sauce was a different one with little to no flavor. I was so bummed, but also so hungry that it ultimately didn't matter. We ate and went to bed. We were very tired.

The next morning we got up and had the complimentary breakfast (undercooked scrambled eggs and bread) before heading to town to try and find a tire (spelled 'tyre' here) to replace the one that disintegrated on the road the day before. I found a shop quickly and purchased a used tire so that we'd have a spare. That cost me 9,000 Kenayn Shillings (about $140). Ouch! I really needed all new tires, but that would have cost me about 100,000 Kenyan Shillings (over $1500). I just couldn't bring my cheap self to do it... yet another bad decision.

By late morning we were off for Nairobi. The area around Kisii is absolutely gorgeous. It reminded us of Kauai, Hawaii. It was lush green and covered with fields of sugar cane, corn, bananas, and trees. We were truly amazed at the beauty of the area. The narrow roads and FAST moving buses and trucks made it difficult to enjoy the scenery from the driver's seat, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

Eventually we dropped down a bit to the east and entered a more arid climate. Then we reached Narok, where the road turned into a system of potholes connected by small scraps of asphalt. Once through the town, the road ceased to exist. There were some signs that said the road was being worked on for the next 10 kilometers... LIES! The road was torn to pieces for about the next 80 kilometers. Some of it was decent dirt, but it appeared the work was being done in random sections: some here, some there, some on the right, some on the left, and some in middle. It was crazy and made for a slow trip, but I was driving slow anyway, because of the terrible wobble in the wheel and the side-to-side instability I was feeling in the car.

It took most of the day, but we made it to Nairobi after 3pm that day. I pulled into the first shopping center that I found on edge of town called 'ABC Place'. I called Dave, the pastor of CC Nairobi, and told him where we were so he could direct me. He decided to meet us there and let us follow him. He said to park and meet him at the Java House there in the center.

Java House... blessed Java House. I don't know if it's actually better than Starbucks or if my judgment is tainted because I've been in Tanzania for some time. I'm leaning towards the former. Great coffee! Great food! Good service. Horrible prices (about the same as California). It was after 3pm and we hadn't had lunch yet, so eating at Java House was doubly pleasing. We stuffed our faces with burgers, roast beef sandwiches, soups, sodas, and ice cream. It was a little piece of heaven on earth. That wouldn't be the last time we ate at Java House.

Dave met us there and we followed him back to the FRM (Far Reaching Ministries) guest house and carried the luggage up. It was good to be "off the road" so to speak. We were greeted by our friends Arie and Nasiema, Dave's wife, Twinkle, and some new friends (Hannah and the Rees family).

We settled in and unpacked and got some rest. At this point I have to clarify something that I was previously confused about. I had thought that because there was no malaria in Nairobi that meant that there were no mosquitoes. WRONG. There are tons of them, they just don't carry malaria. Go figure. So we didn't get the break from the mosquitoes that I thought we would, but we got a break from the threat of malaria.

(Caleb feeding a giraffe at the Giraffe Center - notice he can't help but to stick his tongue out in mimic of the giraffe)

The next day we took the kids and Aaron and drove to an area of Nairobi called "Karen" (named after Karen Blixen of "Out of Africa" fame. There's a place there called the Giraffe Center. We went in and were able to pet and feed the giraffes and take lots of pictures.

(Kevan feeding a giraffe at the Giraffe Center)

(Carrie with Jada feeding a giraffe at the Giraffe Center)

It was fun. Aaron even fed them by putting the food pellet in his lips and letting the giraffe "kiss" him to get the food. It was cool and the kids had a great time.

(Aaron "kissing" a giraffe at the Giraffe Center)

One funny thing that happened while there was when a van full of teenage school girls arrived. They came into the giraffe center and saw me (Jon) with Jada. They asked if they could take a picture with Jada (I thought they were here to take pictures of the giraffes!). I said yes and they took her and walked off to find the best spot for photos. Then they proceeded to take turns taking pictures with Jada. One by one they each got their photo with our daughter like she was a pet monkey. It was hilarious. I should have charged them for it.

While there we met with our friend Jacob for a few minutes. He just moved to Nairobi to teach at a Bible College and minister at a church, so we have a lot in common. It was a nice visit.

Afterwards we headed back to the guest house where the team there was waiting to take us to Ethiopian food. YUMMMMM.

(Our plate of Ethiopian food)

Ethiopian food is awesome. All of us really liked it. The whole group sits around a common table where they place a huge platter in front of you. Dave did all of the ordering and got all the right things. I can’t remember what most of them are called and couldn’t pronounce them if I could remember, so I won’t try. I know several of them were beef-based, some were goat, and some were vegetable and ghee based (ghee is some sort of animal fat… I think. Like an expensive butter and really good). They also bring you a basket of alcoholic bread. NO, NOT REALLY. I just called it that because it’s a sourdough-like concoction and so it has that fermented smell to it. It’s really flat and a bit bubbly and rolled up. Basically, you unroll a bit of the bread, tear it off, and then used it to pick up some of the meat, goo, veggies, or whatever, like you would use a paper towel to pick up some goo you spilled on the floor.

(This pictures shows the "bread" - the white stuff top right, the goat - the meat bottom right, the ghee - the orangish goo top middle, and the platter on the left.)

My favorite was “the spicy one in the middle”. Again, I can’t remember if it was beef or goat, but it was covered in some red sauce that made it a little sweet and spicy and it was good. There was another one I like made from beef and 42 spices (in the first picture above it's the one with the hard-boiled egg in the middle). It was sweet and very tasty! The kids mostly ate the roasted goat with ghee on it. That’s good too. Did I mention that the food was really good? Not only that, but the way you sit around as a group and partake together from the same platter while fellowshipping was awesome. Aaron and Carrie and I all made comments about how this was the best way to have a meal.

(Aaron and his Red Bull in a glass)

After the meal they brought Ethiopian coffee which was also VERY GOOD – not to mention strong – which is just the way I like it. They bring it along with a bowl of burning frankincense to add to the atmosphere and mood.

(Jon, Dave, Aaron and Arie having Ethiopian coffee amidst the smoke of the incense)

It was a great time of food, fellowship, and fun for the kids, who ran around the restaurant property burning off the goat and ghee they just ate.

After dinner we hurried back to the guest house to get Aaron’s bags. Carrie and the kids said their tearful goodbyes as Aaron did his best to appear unaffected. Then Dave, Arie, and I took Aaron to the Nairobi airport for his flight back to the U.S. On our way there we were stopped at the typical police checkpoints (here it’s the opposite of the stereotype in the U.S. of DWB… instead it’s DWM – Driving While Mzungu. If you don’t know what any of that meant then just move on, it’s not important). Eventually we made it to the airport and got Aaron and his bags out of the car and loaded onto a cart. We all prayed with him and for him and said a final goodbye. After we got back in the car and began to drive away from the terminal it suddenly hit me (not that I hadn’t thought about it before, but never deeply) that I was losing the only likeminded brother I had in Kigoma. I commented out loud to Dave and Arie that I didn’t really have any problem or emotions about the idea of Aaron leaving until that very moment. I said that it must be a guy thing. They both laughed in sympathy and understanding and responded that they could imagine how I was feeling under the circumstances. Anyhow, Aaron eventually made it home safely.

Stay tuned for Part 4…

Adventures in East African Road Travel - Part 2

We did make it to Mwanza that day, but almost an hour after dark, and in the rain. It’s quite an experience rolling into a fairly large African town in the dark and rain having never been there before. We were planning to stay at a Catholic guest house, but I had left the name of it at home in Kigoma and didn’t know where it was. I called Nathan, another missionary from Kigoma whom I knew was travelling in or near Mwanza, to ask him for directions. He gave me the number of his brother Steve, who lives in Mwanza, and It turned out I had just passed the place! By God’s grace we finally found the correct entrance and got checked in around 8pm that night. They even had their own kitchen where we bought our dinner of cold fish and rice. That was our first real “meal” of the day (all of the others being PBJ sandwiches, banana bread, and potato crisps that we brought with us).

My plan was to get the car checked out and repaired the next day so that we could leave Mwanza early Monday morning and be into Nairobi before dark on Monday night. Remember what I said before about our plans and God laughing? Yeah… round two.

(Part of Mwanza as seen from a point accross the water)

Because Kigoma has a very high percentage of Muslims, I’m accustomed to many places being opened on Sundays and thought it would be no problem to get the car taken care of. Well, not only does Mwanza have a lot less Muslims than Kigoma, but I hit a triple whammy as far as timing goes. Being Sunday, all of the businesses that were Christian owned were closed. Being the second day of the end of Ramadan, most of the Muslim-owned businesses were closed for celebration. And to top it all off, that Sunday just happened to be the anniversary of the death of President Nyerere, the father of the nation, which is a national holiday! So… there was no getting the car fixed that day!

We decided to drive around and see a bit of Mwanza to get our bearings. We also tried to scout out a place to get the car worked on first thing Monday morning. We even took the kids swimming for a couple of hours in a pool at a local hotel. Later in the afternoon I sent a text to Nathan to see when he would be back into Mwanza. He said that he and his family were already there and they invited us over to Steve’s house for fellowship and popcorn that evening. Not only did we have a nice time meeting his brother’s family and fellowshipping, but Steve and Nathan helped me look at the car and we discovered some of the damage that would need to be repaired the next morning. They also told me of the best garage in town to get the work done at. So the day turned out to be fruitful and quite relaxing, and we all really needed it after our (mis)adventures the preceding day.

(Jon and Jada in the pool in Mwanza)

Monday morning I dropped off the family somewhere where they could eat breakfast while I dealt with the car. It turns out that I had blown a couple of shocks, and the two shocks that weren’t blown were actually the wrong ones for my car anyway (too weak). So I had the garage put on all new heavy duty shocks, balance the tires, and do an alignment. I was hoping that would fix all my problems, especially the wobbling wheel, but it didn’t. The previous night Nathan guessed that the wobbling was due to radial ply separation and suggested that I buy new tires because they were typically cheaper in Mwanza than in Nairobi. But I was hoping not to have to spend the money (that’s my Scottish blood speaking), so I decided to leave them be and see what would happen. Bad decision.

(Lake Victoria in Mwanza, Tanzania)

The road from Mwanza up to the border with Kenya was decent. There were some potholes to avoid for the first hour, but then it got better. We were driving with the windows down to stay cool and save fuel by not using the a/c. Every time we hit a small bump or went over one of the MANY speed bumps along the highway, I would here a hiss. I figured it was either an innate feature of the type of shock they used, or the shocks that I just paid nearly $400 for were no good. As I found out about 20 minutes later IT WAS NEITHER. What I was hearing was the sound of the sidewall slowly failing on the best of the five tires. Eventually it completely disintegrated and I was back into Dukes of Hazard mode. Oh… and you’ll never guess which tire it was! That’s right… the right rear.

There was no real shoulder to pull over onto and the best and most flat spot I could find within the 5 seconds that I had to decide was once again on the wrong side of the road (which is actually the right side here). On top of that it was on a blind corner! The fun just never ends. I had the family evacuate the vehicle for safety’s sake, then I got busy with the tire changing routine. We were honked at a few times by bus and taxi drivers who didn’t agree with our choice of real estate for changing the tire. At one point there was a pack of bicyclists coming around the corner towards us that needed to swerve out into the road around us but were blind to the bus coming the other way. That was a lot of fun… NOT! Thankfully they’re accustomed to the most insane of roadside situations on this continent and everybody made it by safely. Within 10 minutes we were done and one the road again headed for Kenya – only now without a spare tire.

Eventually we actually made it to the rainy border with Kenya, and began the tedious process of leaving Tanzania and entering Kenya. Whenever leaving or entering an East African country, it’s best to stop and check in with every single office and every single official in that office just to make them feel like they have a purpose for being there. There are really only two people that need to see, say, or do anything in regards to our crossing, but “when in Rome…”.
First stop was the police station. “Habari za leo?” I said. Blah blah blah… and then on to the next office. Second was the actual immigration office. First you stand in line and wait. Then you get to the counter and they tell you what form to fill out before getting back into the same line again to stand and wait. Filling out the same form six times for my family is always a blast too. So after making small talk in my limited Swahili, the officer stamped us all out and we were finished. Kind of.

I knew I was supposed to go to the TRA office (Tanzania Revenue Authority) to get my “Temporary Export of Vehicle” form stamped. This is a form I filled out and had signed at the TRA office in Kigoma where I left my Registration Card. When I return to Kigoma I give them the form back with all of the correct signatures and they give me back my registration card – in theory. Anyhow, I didn’t see the office and so I almost proceeding without visiting. A short, crippled man came to my open window and started telling me in broken English that I needed to visit such and such a place to get my car papers signed. Of course I thought that he must work for them and was doing me a kind favor so I thanked him and told him how I almost forgot. He took the paper from my hand and walked me over to the official who signs such forms. I sat down and the official started looking for the right log book (about 5 minutes or so) and then filled out the two lines and signed it (another 5 minutes). I noticed that he treated the man who had “helped” me to find the office with a bit of disdain. That’s when it hit me… this guy doesn’t work for the TRA office but “works” the border helping people for money or something similar. When I was done he once again grabbed the paper from me and said I had to show it to someone else when I officially crossed the border. I snatched it back and told him politely that I could handle it myself. I got in the car, backed out of the parking space, and proceeded towards the official border gate.

A couple of feet before I crossed, the crippled man reappeared in my window unnoticed, giving me quite a start. He said I needed to show the paper to another official and tried to take it from me. I refused until I saw the official sitting there under the shade of a tree by the gate. When I saw him I started to put the car in park so I could walk it over to him myself but the “worker” grabbed it and started to take it for me. The official just nodded and waved his hand at the guy so he’d give me the paper back. I was clear to cross.

I crossed quickly and began looking for the Kenyan version of everything I had just gone through so that I could reverse the whole process. You’ll never guess who popped up out of thin air next to my car with his face practically in my window! That’s right. Same guy, different country! This time when I was very adamant that I could handle it myself he finally “showed his hand” and asked if I wanted to buy Kenyan Auto Insurance for my visit. Aha! I finally figured out who this “helpful” guy was. He’s the reason I bought insurance in Kigoma for our trip. They charge triple or more at the border.

Between the car and the immigration office there must have been a half a dozen salespeople trying to “help” me and then asking if I needed insurance or to exchange for Kenyan Shillings. I managed to work my way through them and get into the immigration office so I could pay the exorbitant visa fees for my family to visit Kenya for a week or so. After that, I went next door to the KRA (you guessed it… the Kenyan Revenue Authority) so I could “temporarily import” my vehicle from Tanzania. The official there gave me the form and watched me fill it out, and then he told me I had to go to a different office to get it signed. This office was, of course, a hundred and fifty meters away, around a corner, and behind another building that is itself being hidden by the large trucks they are weighing. So another salesperson helped me find it while trying to sell me auto insurance for the twenty-seventh time.

I found the office, showed the official there the form I had filled out at the first office, and was told the exorbitant fee to “temporarily import” my vehicle for a week or so. He wrote down the price on my form, signed it, and gave me a copy. Then he told me to go back to the first office I was in where I had filled out the form (T.I.A. – this is Africa). I found my way back just before they closed the office for the day (thank you Lord) and showed him my form. He commented on the fact that I could have paid nothing if I was staying only a week, a fact that the other man failed to mention, and that this man attributed to the other man’s greed (TIA). I paid and got the change and a receipt (a speedy 15 minutes) and we were FINALLY on our way to Kisii, Kenya, our stop for the night. Part 3 to follow...

Adventures in East African Road Travel - Part 1

We left our home in Kigoma, Tanzania on Saturday, October 13th, at 6:30 am. Our plan was to drive about 12 hours to Mwanza, Tanzania, stay the night there, and then drive another 12 hours from Mwanza to Nairobi, Kenya the next day. We were taking Aaron, our friend and fellow-missionary, with us to Nairobi so he could catch his plane back to the States from there. We figured we could make it to Nairobi by Sunday night, and that way Aaron could spend a couple of days in Nairobi with us seeing some sights and having some last minute fellowship with us. Then we would have some meetings with some missionaries from Calvary Chapel Nairobi to glean some information and wisdom to apply to our efforts in Kigoma, before returning home. Well... that was the plan. At this point I have to mention a little refrigerator plaque that some friends of our in the States have. It says, "We plan, God laughs". That pretty much sums up our plans for our trip to Nairobi.

The same week we were supposed to leave I kept getting flat tires. I think I had two that week, plus the one the month before. For those of you who grew up watching "Dukes of Hazard" like I did, then you might remember how Bo and Luke were superfast at changing a flat tire. They prided themselves in it and even timed themselves. So by the time that we left for Nairobi, I felt like one of the Duke boys - a speedy, tire-changing machine.

So, back to the trip.

We left a half-hour later than planned (not bad considering the four kids from 9 years to 18 months), and started off for Nairobi. The first six hours is all unpaved. It's a combination of decently smooth dirt, small to medium washboard dirt, horrendously large washboard dirt that shakes the parts on your car loose, rocks, ruts, mud, holes, and blind corners. Are we there yet?! After only an hour on the road we got a flat on the right rear tire. I'll let you guess which tire had gone flat and required changing two times already that same week... that's right: the right rear! So I pulled over to the right (the wrong side of the road of course) and switched mental gears into "Duke" mode, and swapped out the flat tire for the spare. My family clearly didn't realize my new-found skill as a flat-tire-swapper because they all got out and began having a roadside picnic for breakfast! Within 15 minutes we were ready to go and I was hearding them all back into the vehicle. (The picture below is of Aaron and Jada watching me change the tire. I'm the white leg sticking our from underneadth the car.)

About a half hour later we reached Kasulu, where I pulled over at the first "tire fundi" that I saw ('fundi' is Swahili for expert or technician). If you've never lived in rural East Africa then you don't know what I mean by "tire fundi" and unfortunately I don't have a picture. So let me try to paint one. Imagine a couple or three guys covered in dirt and grease, standing by the side of the road with metallic implements that look like they were carved from the scrap metal left over from the car of the last fool who stopped to get help there. Oh yeah, and of course there's always the air hoses with various forms of electircal and duct tape covering the many holes so that the air can make it to the end, which of course has absolutely no fitting on it so that the guts of the tire's air valve must be "delicately" removed before shoving the end of the hose on for filling. The hose is attached to a 40-something-year old air compressor that barely works being run by a 50-something-year old hand-crank-started generator that coughs and chokes and vomits out great clouds of black smoke so that you have an aromatic ambiance by which to enjoy watching the fundi destroy... I mean work on your tire. So anyhow... ONE HOUR LATER the tire man is finished "fixing" the tire. What this really means is that he spent 30 minutes patching the hole in the existing tube before he looked closer and found a couple of others. And rather than watch him repeat the same painfully slow process multiple times, I avoided the cost of having to sleep in the car in Kasulu that night by providing him with a brand new tube that I had brought as a spare! So 6,000 Tanzanian Shillings later we were off (1,000 for the repair and 5,000 for a lug nut to replace the special locking one for the spare that Aaron torqued so hard it twisted in half).

Back on the road we made our way towards the next landmark/milepost: Kibondo. I was curious to see this place because I had heard such interesting things about it. Namely, that it was located in a physically beautiful location, but that you didn't want to be there past dark, or even to stray too far from the main road during the day. Apparently even the UN workers who are based there have a dusk curfew so they don't get into any trouble with the local thieves, robbers, murderers and other unfriendly elements. Sure enough... it really is set in a beautiful location and seems like a wonderful little town during the day. We paused only long enough to top off the tank for the long haul to Mwanza. So after pouring another bundle of cash down the fuel tank filling pipe, we were off again. (Fuel is about 1,600 Tshs per litre. That currently equates to about $5.30 per gallon or $112 for just over 20 gallons for those of you in the U.S.)

From Kibondo we continued on another hour and half or so until we FINALLY came to the tarmac at a town called Nyakanazi. This is where the tarmac (pavement or asphalt to those in the U.S.) begins and continues on east all the way to the capital of Dar es Salaam on the coast. There is also one leg up to Mwanza and on to the Kenyan border and later one leg up to Arusha and on to the Kenyan border. The route to and through Mwanza is the best and fastest and the one that we took. (By the way, any decent map of Tanzania or even East Africa will show most, if not all, of the names of towns I've mentioned so far. I bought one at Barnes and Noble for $10 or $12 last year).

In Nyakanazi we passed through or fourth or fifth "police check". By this time I've learned to just pull up and start greeting them in Swahili and telling them where you're from (Kigoma) and where you're headed (Mwanza) and ask them something like "how much further?" or "what's the road like ahead?" Using this method we have never been detained or delayed more than 20 seconds or so – though I’m regularly mistaken for some Afrikaans guy from South Africa that apparently knows every single policeman in Northwestern Tanzania! Once we got onto the tarmac I was finally able to speed up. I was actually going over 70 kilometers per hour (that's around 44 MPH!). It sounds funny, but it felt really fast to me at first. Slowly my confidence in the car and the road began to grow and our speed grew in concert with it. Other than the ridiculous amount of police stops along the way, we were able to maintain over 100 kph for quite some time.

That's when it happened. That's when the beautiful sound of BFGoodrich All-Terrain Tires singing for joy on the tarmac suddenly produced a sour note! I had been warned that the tarmac near the town of Kahama was bad, but because I've never driven across Tanzania I didn't really have a point of reference for what “bad” means. NOW I KNOW. Several kilometers before Kahama the tarmac began to get rough and broken up in places. It appeared somewhat patched, but by no means was it truly repaired. I tried my best to pay attention and swerve around potholes and large cracks and bad patches without losing too much time (since we had already gotten behind schedule by almost two hours). I was doing pretty well for a while, but then the fatigue of getting up early and doing so much driving got the best of me and my mind began to wander. I know you know what I mean. When your eyes are wide open and you don't really feel tired, but your mind has simply left the confines of your physical head and travelled half-way around the world thinking about things you can't even remember later. So my eyes were open and reporting danger ahead, but my mind wasn't open for receiving instructions. When it finally came around my conscious mind realized that just ahead was an enormous pothole that couldn't be swerved around and avoided. In shock and horror I immediately applied the brakes and told everyone to hold on. Keeping the brakes on through the pothole would destroy many parts on the car, so just before the hole I let off. I was also able to swerve a little bit so that only the right side (driver's side here) would go through it. And go through it we did. Unfortunately, this 8 foot wide, 3 foot across, 6 inch deep "pothole" wasn't really something you are supposed to go "through" at almost 90 kph (around 55 mph). The right side of the car took an enormous impact in both front and back, and my countenance turned from tired-but-content to adrenaline-filled-but-angry-and-depressed. I immediately sensed that something just wasn't right with the car now... go figure!

After that incident, the road actually got much better. It was practically brand new and well done. Unfortunately, the Tanzanian government decided to put a speed bump at the beginning and end (and sometimes in the middle) of any stretch of roadside land that has even a single building near it. So even though the roads were great, we had to watch for speed bumps EVERY FEW KILOMETERS. It really was ridiculous and ate up a lot of time. And often the sign to warn you about the bump was missing or misplaced, so the same car and suspension that had already impacted a huge crater in the ground earlier, was now being confronted with "out-of-the-blue" speed bumps the size of curbs. Let’s just say that the suspension didn't like that any better that the potholes.

After a few of these curb-sized speed bumps I noticed that the indicator light was on that represented the spare tire door was open. I pulled over to open and reclose it, figuring that it had been jarred loose by the impact. When I opened the door, the latch that held it shut fell to the ground. It was broken in half. So I drove slowly for several kilometers until we came to an area with a few shops along the side of the road and I bought some red string. Using the string I secured the spare tire to the car by tying it to the roof rack and we were off again, now over two hours behind schedule.

The rest of the drive to Mwanza was relatively uneventful. I drove very cautiously, yet trying to hurry as much as I could so we could make it there by dark. It was a balancing act between speed and sensibility because the car was now making noises and the steering wheel was wobbling side to side so much that I had to consciously focus to keep it straight.

Stay tuned for Part 2, coming soon.

The Kingdom in Reverse

I (Jon) was teaching today on Genesis chapters 2 and 3. I live in a culture that is often unbiblical in it's thoughts, ideas, and actions towards women. So I seized the opportunity to switch from teaching mode to preaching mode to encourage these 35 students (31 of which are male) to clearly understand what God's Word says about the male and female genders, their roles and responsibilities, and the practical application according to Christ and His Apostles. I asked them to list for me the Biblical order of authority and/or roles. They rightly listed God the Father, Jesus (God the Son), Males, and then Females. It was interesting to see their reactions, when I then took this list (based on God's Word in 1 Cor. 11) and turned it upside down. I put God and Jesus on the bottom, then man just above them, and then woman just above man. I then went on to explain how God, from the beginning, has used His authority to bless and have grace and mercy. From the very beginning of creation to this very day. I showed them the humility of Christ and His servant's attitude - from the incarnation, to His birth in a cow's feeding trough, His life in a poor village from a region that was looked down upon, and ultimately His willingness to die on a cross for our sin. I then explained that the Bible teaches that we (men, that is) are to have the same attitude towards women that Christ had - giving of Himself to the point of death to humbly serve! I could tell that they understood it, but that it offended their cultural senses. It went against the unspoken norms that they have always known and lived by, even if not consciously. What a challenge this truth is to all men everywhere. But even more so for these men who are learning to truly love and honor God's Word and to have their traditions and ideas changed by it's truths rather than trying to change the truth of God's Word with their own ideas and traditions.

Our Family Photo (from Feb 2007)

I just wanted to post our family photo so those of you who don't know us personally can see what we look like. This photo is from February 2007 before we moved to Africa.

Isn't technology crazy?!

I saw a blog that some other missionaries were doing and I thought it was a good idea. So... I used my Nokia E61 mobile phone with the Opera Mini web browser installed, and surfed out over Vodacom Tanzania's very slow GPRS Internet connection to www.blogger.com. There I used my free Gmail account to sign up for a free blog account! All of this and I never even left the choo! Isn't technology amazing?!?!! By the way... For those of you wondering, "choo" is Kiswahili for toilet.

More blogs to come soon. Mungu akubariki!