journal entry #3~into the wild

happy bus people

Okay...time for a little orientation for those of you not familiar with this trip. It's a missions trip from a small Foursquare (Christian) church in California. The team consists of 14 people, plus several Malawian translators. We travel in three vehicles--a small pickup truck that we avoid shutting off because it must be push-started every time; a bus with equipment spiling forth from every available surface and people squeezed in between, and a small converted "Super 16" Toyota van that has a ridiculous number of fold down jump seats added to enable it to carry 16 hot and sweaty passengers. Our purpose is to travel to remote villages in Malawi to share the Gospel by talking with the people and showing The Jesus Film, which tells the story of Jesus's life from the Gospel of Luke. We set up a rickety old screen outside and show the film on 4 reels with a projector that breaks down quite frequently. Between each reel someone gets up and tells about how or why they came to know Jesus. If the reel breaks, that person might have to go on for an indefinate amount of time while it is being repaired. Because our church has raised money to fund several water wells to be drilled for the villagers, we are also holding water well dedication ceremonies in several villages. We sleep outdoors or in huts, under mosquito nets. We eat whatever food the villagers offer to us, occasionally supplemented with our own stash of beef jerky and Balance Bars. We set up portable medical clinics and care for the sick. As the team nurse I'm responsible for this part of the program. I've never done this before, so I'm a little nervous but mostly looking forward to the opportunity.
Today was our first trip to a village. We started from Blantyre and drove through the countryside, taking in the passing scenes outside our windows. Street vendors, grass huts tucked into rolling green hills, men on rusty bicycles, women carrying loads of wood on their heads with babies strapped to their backs...it was such a beautiful portrait of everyday life for many African people. I had requested that everyone interested in being on the medical team ride in the bus. There were 4 American takers--myself, Kelly, Laurie, and Paul. The rest of the bus was filled with translators--an amazing group of young people from the Blantyre Foursquare Church. We introduced ourselves and held a little meeting about what to expect in the medical clinics, how witchcraft played a role in what we would see, and ideas about how to organize the clinic and manage the crowd.




owen, translator extraordinare

After a while people started to warm up to each other and our bus was filled with the happy humming of conversations in both English and Chichewa, along with a few Chichewa lessons being given. One translator, Owen, patiently taught Kelly and I some phrases. Edwin kept us entertained with riddles and jokes. We sang, chatted, and watched out the windows as we drove deeper and deeper into rural Malawi. We crossed the Shire River and got out to take some photos of the river running lazily through endless green. Curious people watched us, waving and smiling.




the river shire

Eventually we turned off onto a rutted dirt road. We passed through the gate of a wildlife reserve and soon after saw several baboons run across the road in front of us. We continued on, the road growing narrower and rougher as we wound our way further into the wilderness. We had been driving for a few hours and were passing through a cotton field at sunset when our bus coasted to a stop and could not be started again. We all piled out and milled around as some of the men tried to fix the bus. The sky was glowing shades of pink and orange. As beautiful as it was, I couldn't help but wonder how we were going to get out of this--broken down on an African wildlife reserve at dusk.

bus and baobab, photo by travis white

We decided to load the Super 16 with as many people as possible and continue on, and then come back as many times as necessary for the rest of the team and supplies. Several of us piled into the van, reluctant to leave our friends and equipment behind. We made our way down the path not much wider than a hiking trail. I was whipped in the ear by a stray branch as they poked into the windows as we passed. Just as the last bit of light was fading, we heard a thud on the side of the van. A man had emerged from the trees, barefoot and wearing tattered clothing, and he was chasing the van. We stopped and he leaned in the window, speaking loudly in a language I couldn't identify. Tracy translated, "He wants to come in to show us the way." We opened the door and he got in, crouching behind the driver's seat because there were no empty seats. We came to several forks in the trail and were very glad to have a guide, nicknaming him Gabriel. It was only a few minutes later that we came to a halting stop; in front of us lay a gully about 30 feet deep and 35 feet wide. Everyone piled out of the van and climbed across to the other side to watch and pray that the van would make it. On the first try, it got stuck in the soft dirt at the bottom leaving us momentarily stranded on the wildlife reserve in darkness with two vehicles incapacitated. However, we had Wilford--the greatest driver of all time--and he was able to back up and get the van across on the second try. We cheered, and it was as our voices died down that I realized I could hear drums beating in the near distance. Listening closely the sound of African singing reached us, and we exchanged amazed glances. I felt like I had stepped into an adventure movie. Our excitment grew when we heard the snapping of trees and saw bouncing lights coming toward us...could it be? We all cheered again as our bus rounded the bend and proceeded to struggle across the gully. We were all together again. I still don't know how they managed to maneuver all the forks in the road to find us.
Children began to emerge from the darkness as we neared the village, running after us and yelling excitedly. I listened to the hypnotic drumming and singing grow louder and louder until it filled the night air all around me. Suddenly the bus was surrounded by people and music, a thousand hands reaching up to grasp my hand through the open window, singing, smiling, and dancing. We got off the bus and joined in the celebration. The guys set up the screen and projector, and soon we were ready to start...Tyson gave a quick sermon about creation, and then we started the film. Watching in amazement I saw crowds of people emerging from the woods, sitting on the dirt or standing in groups as they stared, transfixed, at the screen. The film is in their language, and they were so involved...they clapped and cheered when Jesus did a miracle, and booed at Judas. It was surreal to watch. In the meantime, the girls were working to set up mosquito nets and army cots to sleep on. The villagers had built a structure especially for us to sleep in! It was a long narrow hut, open on one side, with a grass roof that went halfway across the top. The girls were to sleep there and the guys were going to sleep in the mud buliding that was the church, except for one small mishap: Kristina was given the job of spraying the church floor for ants, but no one mentioned that she was supposed to dilute the solution...so she sprayed it full strength and the church was rendered useless for sleeping. The guys ended up sleeping outside under the stars. As the Jesus Film ended, someone did a follow up and asked if there was anyone who wanted to accept Jesus. Through teary eyes I watched as hand after hand shot up in the air. That night I slept through the whole night for the first time since leaving home. Drifting off to sleep gazing at the African night sky through a gauzy mosquito net and listening to the beat of the drumming and singing, I felt an acute happiness at the day's events. Under what other circumstance could a group of "azungus" (white people) be so welcomed into a culture with which we have so little in common, except for the love of God? Nothing else could bridge such a gap so completely...




typical dwelling