'Jongoo'... that’s Kiswahili for ‘Centipede’

Recall the blog entry about "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that someone isn't out to get you." Well, ants were small potatoes compared to what happened to me a couple of nights ago!

I was sleeping very lightly, then, around 1am, my already restless sleep was interrupted by a phone call from the U.S.. I really just wasn't sleeping well at all. It was around 2am that I felt a little tickle on my neck that felt like something fell on it or moved across it. I reacted very fast and brushed my hand on my neck. In the past I've always chalked it up to paranoia because I have very itchy skin and I hate the thought of bugs crawling on me. (Read the blog from August 18th, 2008 for more info). So after brushing my neck with my hand I sat up and grabbed the flashlight and looked by the pillow and saw only a couple of stray hairs and figured the fan had blown them across my neck. As I brushed them away I noticed a little bug part, like a leg or pincher or something. It was about 3/4 of an inch long. My mind was desperately trying to rationalize it away without admitting the possibility of bugs or other creatures being in the bed with me. So I decided to tell myself that a bug died on the ceiling, and this body part fell from the ceiling and somehow fit through the holes in the mosquito net (yeah, right!).

I brushed away the bug part and was about to lay back down when the Lord prompted me to look under my pillow (it's nice to have God himself confirm that I'm not paranoid, but not so nice when it also confirms that I'm actually cursed!). So I lifted up my pillow on the side where my head had left an indentation, and there, coiled up and clinging upside down to the bottom of my pillow, was a centipede! I could see that it was one of his back legs that I had found by the pillow. I must have broken it off when I brushed my neck with my hand, which means that it must have been the centipede that crawled across my neck! I HATE CENTIPEDES! They are the creepiest little wiggly, toxic creatures. If God had not allowed me to be sleeping lightly and interrupted my sleep with a phone call then I probably wouldn't have even noticed the centipede and may have rolled onto it or somehow offended it and been bitten on the neck! Those things hurt when they bite! The toxin is similar to that of a scorpion. It won't kill you, but from what I've read, it feels like someone ripped the flesh off where the bite is and lasts about 24 hours. Being bitten on the neck makes the pain and effect a lot worse.

So, while I'm clearly cursed when it comes to mosquitoes, ants, and centipedes (not to mention the enormous, mouse-sized cockroaches that sometimes chase me), I'm blessed to know that: (a) I'm not actually paranoid, and (b) through it all, curse or not, God protects me and takes care of me.

Lord please continue to protect me from the toxins of centipedes, snakes and scorpions, and please continue to protect me from contracting malaria despite the hundreds of mosquito bites. I trust in You and You alone. Amen.

A warm welcome home (Journal Entry)

12:11 pm - I haven’t journaled in a while. I’ve been so busy since returning to Kigoma. The house was pretty messy. Even though Nicola had been staying here, after she left it was empty for a couple of months. Then Gabriel stayed for about a month, but he’s not the type to clean very thoroughly. Anyhow, the combination of the dirty house, dirty sheets, dirty clothes, dirty fridge, dirty plates and cups and utensils, and lastly - but most disturbing for me - rooms full of the children's clothes and schoolwork but NO children and a bedroom with Carrie’s clothes and our big bed but NO Carrie, was depressing to say the least. Needless to say, I’ve been praying a lot more, simply to overcome the nagging desire to just leave now and get back to my family. I know God has a purpose for me here right now, and I even know what some of those things are. I can neither ignore nor deny these things, and so I press on, with much prayer. I arrived on a Friday and was greeted at the airport by my good friend Mwenge and another friend who works with him named John. They work for a local christian ministry called “Joy in the Harvest”. Mwenge has been a good friend and a tremendous help to us here. He knows a lot of people and knows how to facilitate getting things done (which is very difficult in this culture and political environment). Anyhow, he’s been administrating things for us while we were gone - paying our watchmen, taxes, checking in on the house, helping me with banking and airplane tickets etc. He does it for no compensation, just as a friend. I have to say that because it’s not very common here. People usually have an underlying motive of receiving a mutual benefit. Anyhow, it was a blessing to have him pick me up. He and John grabbed all my luggage (which was numerous and heavy) and loaded them into their vehicle and then took me straight to town and treated me to lunch. After that they took me on a tour of town to show me some things that have changed and where some mutual friends had moved to, and then they brought me home. Once here they immediately began to look at our vehicle, which had been sitting for several months unstarted and untouched (because I forgot to leave the keys with Mwenge). As the suspected, both batteries were dead. They took them out for me and took them to their office to try and charge them, but they were beyond resurrection. So they took me to town to the ATM and then to buy two new batteries (which are ridiculously expensive here - $120 each for really cheap Chinese ones) and then back to my house to install them. Unfortunately the way the batteries are set up I needed one with posts arranged in the opposite position of the other so that the pre-configured factory cables would fit just right. So, by the end of the day, as darkness was approaching, we couldn’t get them hooked up. I had to tell John to stop and go home and asked if he could help me the next day, Saturday. Saturday morning I overslept. I was awakened by honking. I got up and went out front to find that John was already here, and had already brought the necessary wires to rig up a solution for the batteries. He just needed me to come out with the keys to test it. He did a very good job considering what he had to work with and the solution worked. So I finally had a vehicle to drive. He and Mwenge have been such a blessing to me. I was really excited later that day when I dug out of my luggage the gifts I had brought for them. I gave John (who is the driver and mechanic for Joy in the Harvest) a Gerber Multi-Tool with a pouch. I showed him all of the tools and functions and he thanked me in a very humble, African way, but showed no real excitement. A few minutes later I noticed him from afar showing off his gift to the other workers at the compound. So I know he likes it. A couple of days later I was at the airport with him and Mwenge (another story for another time) and I bought everyone a soda. I watched John very skillfully use his bottle as a means of removing the caps from everyone else's bottles. Then he used his teeth to open his! I asked him if he had his new tool with him and he did. So I showed him where the botle opener was and how to use it! So now every time he or anyone around has a soda, he pulls out his Gerber tool and opens the soda bottle for them. I bought a camera for Mwenge. Originally he asked if I could get one for him in the States and he would pay me back for it, but after all that he’s done for us when we were unexpectedly delayed for so many months, I decided to just give it to him as a gift. He’s been using it every day. Now I need to get a small case for him so the camera doesn’t get ruined by the dirt and dust here.

Sandals, the Vice President of Tanzania, T-Shirts, and Salama brand male Prophylactics

What do “Sandals”, “The Vice President of Tanzania”, “T-Shirts”, and "Salama brand male prophylactics" all have in common? My day, unfortunately! Let me explain... I went to town to meet with a Congolese friend who is the leader of a local ministry here in Tanzania. Shortly after arriving at his office, he told me he had to hurry to the airport and asked if I could give him a ride. He said we could talk while driving. As we were driving, he told me that the Vice President of Tanzania was coming to town and that he was going to join with other local politicians and community leaders to greet him when he got off the airplane. So I planned to drop him off at the airport and then meet with him later regarding the questions I had about ministry. As we were driving he began to explain to me the protocol for meeting the Vice President and what was going to happen at the airport. It was then that I suddenly realized that he intended for me to join him in meeting the Vice President! As soon as I realized what he was saying I exclaimed that I wasn’t properly dressed for the occasion. I was wearing long pants, but only had on a T-Shirt and sandals. His response was a bit derogatory, but comical in it’s honesty. “Oh, he knows that Americans don’t care about the way they dress,” he said. I tried to convince him to let me make the detour to my house to put on a nicer shirt and some shoes, but he insisted that we needed to get there right away so we could get a good spot. To make things worse, I realized when we arrived at the airport that he intended to introduce me to all of the local “bigwigs”. First I met the Regional Traffic Officer (the head guy over the Kigoma Region’s Traffic Police). Then I met the second in command of the Kigoma Region for Immigration. Then I met the Kigoma/Ujiji Mayor, then the District Commissioner of the Kigoma District (like a county in the U.S.). His name is John, and so when he said that I had a good name and asked if it was he who was lucky to be named John or me, I correctly stated that it was I who was lucky to be named like him. I passed the test and we talked for a brief moment. After that I met the Regional Immigration Officer in charge of the immigration department for the whole Kigoma Region (like a state in the U.S.). Then I met the Town Planner for Kigoma/Ujiji. He’s in charge of all land use issues and zoning for the area and he is a Christian and a very amiable man. He’s a good person to know when it comes time to find a plot for the Kigoma/Ujiji Youth Center we’re trying to develop. Then I met a bigwig from the Tanzania Revenue Authority (like the IRS in the U.S.), then the Regional Commissioner of the Kigoma Region (like a governor in the U.S.), and finally, after waiting for almost two hours for his plane to arrive, the Vice President of Tanzania, the Honorable Dr. Ali Mohamed Shein. And even though they all supposedly don’t expect us Americans to dress nice for such an occasion, it was still extremely uncomfortable. After shaking the Vice President's hand while introducing myself, the Vice President finished the last few hand shakes on the line of greeters and then moved on to greet and listen to a couple of different groups of singers and dancers there to welcome him with song. We as a group of greeters began to walk back towards the airport building to get in our cars and wait to follow him in the procession through town. As we began to walk I looked to my left where the Vice President was watching the group of singers and realized that all of the singers were wearing the same red T-Shirts with a huge logo covering the front of them. It was the logo for Salama brand condoms. Now I understand that male prophylactics here in East Africa are a symbol of the fight against AIDS (the finer details of that debate not withstanding), but the idea of greeting the Vice President of ANY country wearing a Condom T-Shirt just made me laugh out loud. Chalk it up to another lesson in culture!

Last day in Nimule, Sudan

Today is my last day here in Nimule, Sudan. I'm sure I'll be back in the future to teach again. I wanted to include a picture of the class and I together on this last day, standing in front of the large tukul we use for the classroom.

Class 7 of the Chaplains and Pastors Training Center in Nimule, Southern Sudan Far left in the green/tan shirt is Martin, a staff member. Far right is me, and just to the left of me is Lino, another staff member. The other 38 are students.

Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that someone isn't out to get you!

You know that saying that goes, “Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean that some isn’t out to get you.” The idea of course being that the irrational fear of someone being out to get you does not necessarily mean that someone is not actually out to get you. I found that this applies to ants as well! I was laying in bed one night (and this is a general representation of each and every night) and I kept feeling as though an ant was crawling on me or nibbling on me or something. I would scratch the affected area and then try to sleep. This continued off and on before I fell asleep and even during the night while sleeping. I would tell myself that it was nothing but my regular itchiness heightened by the effect of the heat and humidity on my sensitive skin. This helped me to eventually sleep through the night ignoring the thoughts of the ithces being caused by ants crawling on me. I actually awoke the next morning with the thought still swirling around in my head as I felt an itch on my right forearm. I groggily opened my eyes - which, by chance, were pointed directly at my right forearm - an lo and behold there was an ant crawling on me! So... the moral of the story is the same as the one about being paranoid. “Just because you have an irrational fear that ants are crawling on you in your sleep, doesn’t mean that they’re not!

Visiting Martin's Family at their tukul

Martin invited me to visit him and his family at their tukul, about a five minute walk from the compound. Martin is one of the Far Reaching Ministries (FRM) local staff members. His first contact with FRM was when he attended Bible School in the refugee camp in Uganda many years ago. After graduating from that, he returned to his native Sudan and joined the Chaplain Corps of the SPLA, started by FRM in 1999. He was one of the students in the very first class of Chaplains. After serving as a chaplain in the SPLA for a few years, he went into full time ministry with FRM and has served in a few different places, including Nimule, Sudan and Kitgum, Uganda. He speaks his two native languages, as well as the lingua franca of Southern Sudan (Juba Arabic), the "official" language of Southern Sudan (English), and also Ugandan Kiswahili (or Swahili). Martin's wife is Susan, and his children are Joyce, Jacob and Esau (twins), and Missy. Only Jacob, Esau, and Missy are biologically their children. Martin and Susan took in Joyce nine years ago (the same year they were married) to remove her from a very bad situation with her mother (Martin's unsaved sister). They have raised her as their own ever since.

It was a blessing to meet them and visit with them. We sat and talked while having warm sodas. The kids were VERY shy, but cute.

Joyce, their oldest daughter

Martin, with his twin sons, Jacob and Esau

Standing outside Martin's and Susan's tukul. Susan is holding Missy, the baby

Gunshots are as common as whistling

I was in my room studying today when I heard a loud noise. I immediately recognized it as gunfire. It was followed by a second, and then a third. While I wasn't frightened, I was definitely curious to know what was going on. I got up and opened the door to my room and stepped out a few feet towards the office area. I saw James standing there with a couple of other Sudanese staff members. Before I could even ask he was telling me that he knew what I was going to ask. I asked anyway. "I heard three gunshots. What's that all about?" As one of the other guys was saying something about a military funeral nearby, James said the funniest thing. "Jon, in Nimule gunshots are like... like whistling." I laughed... kind of.