Yaaye's Thawts

Books I'm Reading

2011-02-27T18:17:00.000-05:00

I haven't had a lot of time for extra reading over the past year, but I have started reading several books that are fascinating.

I love history, and this book is about the Great Depression. It's called The Forgotten Man: A New History of the Great Depression by Amity Shlaes. It shows how both Hoover and Roosevelt mishandled the economic crises of the 1930s and probably prolonged the depression as a result. The book drops a lot of names that are unfamiliar, but it's a fascinating account of how the government expanded and tried to micromanage the Great Depression. If you don't like history, this probably is not the book for you, but it is an interesting story if you can get by all the people, lingo, and acronyms. I am learning a great deal about cities and towns I have visited or known about, places like Yellow Springs, OH (near Cedarville) and Greenbelt, MD (within walking distance from us), which had various roles to play in the government's schemes to lift the country out of the Depression. I am also learning more about the alphabet soup of government agencies like the WPA, the PWA, the TVA, and the RA, which were set up during the Great Depression.

Another book I've just started is The Lost History of Christianity: The Thousand-Year Golden Age of the Church in the Middle East, Africa, and Asia -- and How It Died by Philip Jenkins. This is historical account of the churches of the east and the south until the time of the Crusades. Jenkins claims that most Christians lived in Africa and Asia (not Europe) until 1200 A.D. This book documents the histories of what is often called the 'Nestorian' Church (which took the gospel all the way to China) and the churches of Nubia and Ethiopia, among other places. Most of us have never heard of these churches (with the possible exception of Ethiopia), and many believe the church was extinguished by the waves of conquering Muslims that swept across North African and Asia in the eighth century. We often assume church history concerns the church in Europe and North America and have forgotten the history of these other churches. This book will provide a corrective to that narrow perspective.

I've read sections of Alan Hirsch's book The Forgotten Ways: Reactivating the Missional Church for my doctoral studies, and it has piqued my interest. I want to read more, so I downloaded it onto my Kindle. As the title suggests, it's about the missional church, a phrase that has been cropping up more and more in discussions about mission in the past decade. I am teaching an introductory course on missions at the moment, and the subject of the missional church keeps arising. I want to know more about what it means.

Another book that fascinates me is Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes: Cultural Studies in the Gospel by Kenneth Bailey. We Westerners often miss so much in the Bible because our culture is so different from the cultures of Bible times. Many cultures of the Middle East, Asia, and Africa are a lot closer to the cultures of Bible times, and these modern cultures can give us beautiful insights into the Bible cultures. That is what this book is about.

A final book I'm working on is Serving with Eyes Wide Open: Doing Short-Term Missions with Cultural Intelligence by David A. Livermore. As a person who wants to encourage intelligent short-term missions and also mentor people in short-term experiences, this seems like a fairly balanced work, neither too preachy nor too negative about short-term missions.

That's what I'm currently reading. A lot of my reading is tied to either my studies or my teaching. I don't have a lot of time to break out of that mold.

The Proposal

2010-12-31T21:17:00.001-05:00

I wanted to get in one last blog post for this year, so here it is. This one concerns my studies.

I'm working toward a deadline next May. At that point I have to submit my doctoral proposal to the University of Wales for approval. Before that, however, my proposal has to be approved by the Oxford Centre for Mission Studies (OCMS). Sound confusing? The UK system is different from the US, and it may be that OCMS is unique in the UK. Here is how I understand the process.

I am not yet admitted to a doctoral program. As I understand it, everyone in the UK has to go through probationary stages in order to get into a doctoral program. My program may be more complicated than most. First, in the UK, there are educational institutions which are not authorized to grant degrees but which are affiliated and accredited by universities which do grant degrees. That is the case for OCMS. While it is a top-notch Christian educational institution, it is not authorized to grant degrees. It isn't even affiliated with Oxford University, although we are allowed to use the Oxford University library. Instead, it is accredited with the University of Wales, and it is that university which grants the final degree.

Now, while I am enrolled in the program at OCMS, I am not yet registered at the University of Wales. To do that I have to submit a 2,500-word research proposal (that's not a lot of words, by the way) accompanied by a 5,000-word essay and an extensive bibliography (That's not long, either when you consider that the final dissertation will be 80,000-100,000 words long). The deadline for submission is in May. Before that, however, OCMS has to also approve the proposal. The OCMS committee will meet in March to approve dissertation proposals. So, I have to have all my work done by the end of February. My OCMS advisor, however, wants to see a workable proposal by the end of January. Yikes, that's one month away.

I have completed a first draft of both the proposal and the essay and sent them to my adviser. While the research proposal seems to be mostly okay, I have some extensive revisions to make on the essay. If you want to know more about the proposal or essay, write me. I'm not going to reveal the title on the Internet because I want to be careful what I say and where, but if you want to know more, let me know.

Once OCMS approves the proposal in March it will be sent to the University for approval in May. From that point I will be registered at the University of Wales, but I will only be at a master's level. It's kind of probationary period to see if you can cut it at the doctoral level. After two years of research and writing, I will be reevaluated, and then I will apply for an upgrade to a doctoral level. Up until then I can make adjustments to my proposal and my research. After I get upgraded to the doctoral level, the real fun begins as I work on my dissertation in earnest. I expect it will take about three years to finish my studies after the upgrade to the doctoral level. Remember I'm only working on it 'half-time'. That will make it around 2016 before I finish! 'And miles to go before I sleep....'

Thanksgiving Day Traditions

2010-12-05T21:46:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving has always been the holiday that my family got together, even more so than Christmas. Ever since I went away to college, my parents have lived in Manchester, CT, and we have gathered there for a family reunion and meal on Thanksgiving Day. This was the first Thanksgiving that my dad was not with us, and it hit me harder than I thought it would. But, for the first time, we also had two special guests, Kelly Hammond (Daniel's girlfriend) and Theophilus Hines (Suzanne's boyfriend). It was great to be together as a family and make some memories. Here are photos of Suzanne and Theophilus:

and Daniel and Kelly:

One of the traditions on Thanksgiving Day in Manchester is the Road Race. It has been held on Thanksgiving for the past 74 years (the second oldest race in New England next to the Boston Marathon). It's not a long race (just 4.78 miles), but it's one of the most fun races I've ever run. I didn't run in it this year (although I have run it in the past), but it's always a great community and social event, bringing people closer together. Some of the top runners in the world compete, and there are so many who want to run, they have had to limit the number of runners to 15,000! In past years, my brother twice came in 11th in the race. Here are some of the leaders near the beginning of the race.

Many people run in costumes, and there is a contest to see who is wearing the best costume. This year there were some dazzling costumes. Of course, there were the many who ran in turkey costumes. One person ran as a Christmas tree.

Three young men jogged by dressed only in Speedos painted from head to toe in red, white, and blue and carrying an American flag.

Another family ran by dressed as Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings.

What makes the race great, though, is not just the runners, but the spectators. Rain, sun, or snow, there are at least as many spectators as there are runners, and they line up along the entire route. This year there were around 20,000 spectators, including us. They are there cheering on the runners. I have never been in a race like that where so many people are cheering me on. The following two pictures give you a small glimpse of the thousands of cheering spectators, some on roofs of buildings:

It makes me think of the cloud of witnesses cheering us on as we run our race. Dad is now part of that crowd of spectators. He's run his race and finished the course. Now he's up there cheering us on, cheering me on, as I struggle up 'Heartbreak Hill' and stumble down the other side. He will be there as I approach the finish line waiting to greet me as I finish my race. Most important, Christ will be there to give me my prize.

The Thanksgiving Day Road Race has a special place in my heart. Some of my extended family members ran the race this year. A Moroccan man won it. I can't remember his name. It doesn't really matter. It was enough to be there again and take in the spectacle. Take a look at the runners coming in to the finish down Main Street, though.

Even though I was only a spectator this year, cheering others on, I'm still in the race of life, and I push on toward the goal for the prize. Bravo! Keep up the pace. Let's keep our eyes on the goal and on Jesus.

Libraries

2010-10-31T18:55:00.000-05:00

As part of my research, I'm getting to know two of the world's most famous libraries, the Bodleian in Oxford, England and the Library of Congress in Washington, DC. I have consulted resources in both of these libraries and have reader's cards for both of them. I will continue to get to know both of them better in the weeks and years ahead.

The Bodleian is the main library for the University of Oxford. It was founded in 1602 and today holds over 9 million items in its collection. There are three main buildings for the Central Bodleian, but there are lots of smaller libraries associated with the different colleges of the University of Oxford, and they all cooperate with the Bodleian. Here is a photo of the most interesting architectural building of the Bodleian, the Radcliffe Camera:

The Library of Congress was founded in 1800, nearly 200 years after the Bodleian, but it contains the largest collection of any library in the world: over 144 million items, including 32+ million books and 62+ million manuscripts. There are three massive buildings located right across the street from the Capitol Building in Washington, DC. Each building is named after one of the three US presidents that followed George Washington: Adams, Jefferson, and Madison. On display in the Jefferson building is one of only three extent original copies of the Gutenburg Bible, one of the first books ever printed (in the 1400s). Here is a picture of the Jefferson Building with me in front of it:

Both the Bodleian and the LOC are copyright depository libraries. That means that they have a copy of every item published in the country in which they were established. So the Bodleian has a copy of every item published in the UK and the LOC has a copy of everything published in the US.

Mr Jones, Tear Up Your Plans

2010-09-09T09:45:00.003-05:00

The planned Qur'an burning on the 9th anniversary of 9/11 by the Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville, Florida is making headlines this morning. While I don't understand the motives and plans of this church, and I am concerned about the threat of government interference in free speech issues, I want to voice my firm opposition to the plan.

I am a conservative evangelical Christian who has worked amongst Muslims and has lived in Muslim countries for many years. I have read a translation of the Qur'an (in English and French) and respect the many people who sincerely and faithfully follow a faith that has many parallels to my own. I have many Muslim friends, and even though I don't share their faith, I have learned a lot from them. I disagree with many aspects of Islam, but I see many who live with integrity.

In any case, this is not a way to go about winning an argument with Islam. It is, instead, pouring fuel on an already hot fire. It is inflaming passions in a world that is already a tinderbox. Mr. Jones says he and his church are trying to highlight the evils of Islam and stand up for something. I do not believe that this will help anyone. I do believe it will cause harm and damage to the cause of Christ. I believe these kinds of actions are motivated more by fear and ignorance than by love and knowledge.

One unintended byproduct of this book burning will be the blackening of the reputation of Christians all over the world. Whether you like it or not, many Muslims paint Christians with one brush, and even though many know that you are just one individual, one church, they will inevitably associate all Christians with you and your actions. This will bring disdain on Christians and on the church around the world.

The leaders of the US are expressing their concern for US troops if this burning goes ahead. While it is impossible to say what could happen, and I am concerned for the troops, I am more concerned about Christians around the world living in Muslim-majority areas. What is going to happen to believers in places like Iran, Nigerian, and Indonesia on Sept 11 and the days following? Will believers be killed and more churches burned? Tensions are already high in some of these countries. If any are martyred for their faith, their blood will be on your head, Mr. Jones. And do you realize that this burning comes on the heels of the great religious festival of Ramadan? Muslims are often more spiritually aware and sensitive during this time.

No matter how you look at it, burning anything these days, whether flags, books, or buildings, is seen as an act of violence, of hate, of anger, even of racism and prejudice. Now that this has gone public with all the world watching, that is how it will inevitably be seen. You say you love Muslims, Mr. Jones. Prove it. How do you love them? How will you show that love? This act will be interpreted no other way than as hate. Where is the love your faith requires?

Even worse, I am concerned that the name of our God will be profaned amongst the nations as the result of the actions of the Dove World Outreach. You do not need to defend God's honor, Mr. Jones. He is fully capable of doing that Himself. And if you read your Bible, you will know that He is fully aware of the world situation and is Himself in control of it. He will have His way in this world.

While Jesus vigorously challenged the religious authorities of his day and was very angry with them, he was an insider to the culture. He knew their thinking in and out. He was one of them. Mr Jones, you know nothing about Islam. How can you challenge what you do not know or understand?

For the sake of His name, I plead with you, Mr. Jones, tear up your plans.

The Lake

2010-08-15T15:43:00.000-05:00

There was a place in my childhood my family often visited and which sticks in my memory as one of those timeless places, a place where I loved to go and relax in my busy life. I have been there only four times in my adult life, but the place always communicates to me serenity and peace, one of God's special places where I could lay down my burdens and the cares of the world for a while. We affectionately referred to that place as 'the Lake' with no qualifier needed to further identify it.

Actually, it is a piece of property on Summit Lake, about eight miles west of Olympia, WA. My grandparents (on my mom's side) bought the property shortly after I was born. It was a place where the family (my mom and her four sisters and all their families) often gathered for picnics, a swim, a day of rest, or just to hang out together. Here I am on the dock at the lake when I was two.

Over the years the place has changed, and the other properties on the lake have become more built up, but it remains a place of serenity and peace. Here's a photo of my family in 1968 at the back of the cabin. I'm the oldest boy in the picture. You can see the lake through the window in the background.

Here's another photo from when I visited as an adult, in 1984, just before I went to Niger. This was a morning shot, and you can see how calm the water is.

When my grandparents died, my aunt and uncle bought the place and built onto the back of the old red cabin, putting a second story on the addition. They added heat and a few other amenities that we didn't have in the old days, and now live there permanently. Today the lake looks like this from the renovated cabin. Note the houses on the other side of the lake.

And here is what the cabin looks like today from the dock.

Just over a week ago, I had another chance to visit 'the Lake.' We went to Washington state to visit family, friends, and supporters, and speak at a church (Lake City Community Church). Since my mom was born and raised there, we took her along, since she can no longer travel by herself. We had the chance to spend six days at the lake with my aunt and uncle and enjoy the peace and quiet. We also attended a family reunion at the Lake on Sat, Aug 7. It was the annual Keller family picnic at the lake. About 50 relatives showed up from all different branches of the family, and though it was cloudy, cool, and showery, we all had a great time catching up on each other's lives.

Sadly, this may be the last time I will see the lake. My aunt and uncle aren't sure they can live there much longer. They themselves may not live much longer, and since it could be a while before we get out there, I may not see them again this side of heaven. That goes for the other aunts and uncles. And it may be the last time this side of heaven that my mom will get to see the lake and her earthly home.

When I think of my mansion in heaven, I want it to be the lake. I'm looking forward to seeing all my family there one day.

A Memorial to My Dad

2010-07-18T14:34:00.000-05:00

Today I'm posting on my blog twice. This one is a memorial to my dad.

You are probably aware that my dad was cremated after his death in January of this year. This is not something most Latinos, Catholics, or Muslims do very much, but it is very common in Europe where land is at a premium and many cemeteries are full. It is becoming more common in the US although I'm not sure it is the most common form of burial yet.

Anyway, it was dad's wish to be cremated. He was more concerned about cost and not burdening his family with the excessive funeral expenses that our government requires than anything else. But he may well have had environmental and space concerns on his mind. There is no plot in a cemetery and no stone to remember him by. These aren't important. His body will one day rise again, anyway, whatever form of decay or deterioration it is in.

Dad's ashes were buried behind the church in Manchester, CT, where he had long served as pastor of missions and mentoring and as part of the care team. There is a playground back there and a nice little tree. The day after the memorial service we put his ashes in a hole next to the tree. It was a windy, cold, bright day, but it wasn't very pretty in the middle of winter.

Mom had the bright idea of erecting a memorial to dad over the site of his burial. But this is no gravestone. It is a bench. And it is really comfortable. Inscribed on the bacak of the bench is Psalm 23.6:
'Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.'

There is no inscription on the bench marking it as the place of dad's burial. We want people to move beyond dad and remember the God he served. We want this to be a place of rest and reflection, a place where people can stop for a minute and think about God's goodness and mercy. Here are some of the family members around the bench.

We dedicated the bench with a few friends, family, and church staff on Thursday evening, July 8, on a beautiful, sunny day. The trees spread their branches over the bench and gave it shade. The scenery is lush and beautiful. May all who pass this way find God and find rest in Him.

A Day Off

2010-07-18T14:13:00.000-05:00

In our busy lives, it's often hard to squeeze in a vacation or even find a day off. That's why it's nice when our friend Mark offers to take us sailing on Long Island Sound, off the coast of Connecticut. We get a real day off. Last week we managed to squeeze a day in between a dedication of a memorial bench for my dad (July 8) and a family wedding (July 10) to get down to the sound to catch some wind and some waves.

Mark's boat isn't large like some huge yachts we saw, but it was so nice to get away from the pressure and difficulties of life and simply relax. The day was warm and sunny, so even though the breeze wasn't strong, we managed to get in some real sailing. I like to hold the tiller and steer the boat, but I'm not an expert sailor, just a green first mate.

Unfortunately, Daniel and Suzanne couldn't be with us this time as they had work. We missed them, but we got to see something we had not seen on previous trips: seals basking on Fisher's Island just across the inlet from Mystic. This may be the best-kept secret on Long Island Sound. Normally, they swim north by this time of year, but there they were.

Another highlight was rounding the small rocky outcrop with a pretty lighthouse. The lighthouse used to be inhabited, but now it is automated and emits a rather jarring 'ping'...'ping' every few minutes to warn ships away.

All in all, it was a good day. Thanks, Mark.

Back Home

2010-07-04T17:46:00.000-05:00

I'm back in the US after 11 long weeks in England. My time there was good, and I got a great head start on my studies. There are definitely some things I did not like about England (sorry to all my English friends):
1. It was cold. Temperatures never got up to 30 C (86 F) and most days it didn't even get to 21 C (70 F). Temperatures below 70 F are against my body's religion. I don't know how the Enlgish can live. It's not just the outside temperature, either. It's the temperature inside. There isn't much heat in homes! And people like to have a window open when it's 10 C (50 F outside). I kept closing windows! Almost never in my time did I wear less than three layers inside or out. Many times I wore five layers with gloves and a hat--even inside.
2. Many days were raw and rainy. I guess that's what you get when you live on an island in the far north. I'll have to admit that the beautiful days made up for it. England is a beautiful country (the silver lining from the cloudy days).
3. While I like bright sunshine while it is day, I'm like it dark at night and don't sleep well if there's too much light. Of course, with the sun rising at 4 a.m. and setting at 10 p.m., this doesn't leave much room for night. When it gets light, my body wakes up. Needless to say, I didn't get enough sleep. In addition, there was a bright streetlight outside our room, and we didn't have any curtains or shades to block it out. It really bothered me. I finally resorted to wearing those masks they give you on the plane to block out light.
4. Things seem much smaller and more crowded. In a store, the shelves don't have enough room between them for two people to pass each other. Houses are much closer together and rooms smaller. It's hard to pass people on narrow sidewalks. So many people and bicycles crowd the paths in the countryside that it's hard to get in a decent run. I know that England is much more densely populated than the US and I did get to see some country. But I like wide open spaces like we have in many places in the US and in Africa.
5. I didn't know many people in England, and it was very lonely.

Lest you think that I really hated England, let me hasten to say that it wasn't all bad. Here are some things I really like:
1. I already mentioned that it's a beautiful country. The green countryside is almost unmatched.
2. I got to roam in the meadows with cows and horses. I felt like I was back in Africa.
3. The history was amazing. I couldn't believe I was walking amongst 500-year-old buildings.
4. We got to see some old friends, one of whom lives in Oxford.
5. We found a nice church in which we felt welcome.
6. I got to do some new things I had never done before (punting; visiting Oxford University; walking in the footsteps of such great men as William Carey, John Bunyan, William Cowper, and John Newton; reading in the Bodleaian). I love adventures.

Still, there's no place like home, wherever that is.

I'll be starting a new adventure in a month. It seems like I'm starting a new adventure every month.

What About THE Question?

2010-05-30T09:48:00.000-05:00

I don't intend to make this a long post. But I wanted to give an update on my studies and keep something posted on my blog for people to read. It's been a long, lonely month as I try to put in some solid studying and get a good head start on my research. (I hope it will be over 250 hours of quality work for the last six weeks I've been in Oxford--I'm at 234 hours now.) I'm also anxious to get back to the US (June 8) and get back to a new normal, whatever that is.

So where am I with the question? After lots of thought and discussion with my mentor and others, I realized that I can't really get into the issue of contextualizing worship music in the Songhai church until I understand much better what is going on in the Songhai culture and church with music. So, my main question has to deal with the background issue: Why is there so little indigenous worship music in the Songhai church? There will be two subquestions connected to the main question. First, what are the social and cultural hindrances to the development of an indigenous Songhai hymnody? And, second, how have western and other African concepts of music helped to shape the current form and style of worship music in the Songhai church? Simple questions, but not so easy to answer.

So, where do I go from here? During the next year, I'll be missionary-in-residence at Washington Bible College in Lanham, MD. I'll be working part-time, teaching a few courses and encouraging the missions-related groups on campus. I'll also be studying part-time. Between now and May 2011, I need to register with the University of Wales. I am only currently enrolled at the Oxford Centre for Mission Studies, OCMS does not grant degrees. To enroll at the University of Wales, I have to submit a detailed research proposal of 2500 words with an accompanying essay and bibliography. So, for the next year I need to do a lot of background reading, especially about the Songhai, ethnomusicology, and a biblical theology of worship. Then I need to submit several drafts of my proposal in order for it to be finally approved next May. But that is just the beginning of my research. The main research with my primary sources, the Songhai people themselves, will not commence until I get back to Niger in the summer of 2011. That will be stage 4. The first stage, preparation, is done. The second stage, induction is also past. And the third stage, working on submitting a proposal is now at hand.

Responsible Envirnonmentalism

2010-05-09T11:02:00.000-05:00

I'll probably alienate almost everyone with this blog, but I have to say my piece. Let's start off with one caveat: I am not an extreme tree-hugging environmentalist who wants to save the whales but cares little for the babies. At the same time, I believe global warming (or is it more politically correct now to say climate change?) is real and something that needs to be addressed. I'm skeptical about what is touted as causing climate change (is it mostly caused by people?) and if it's really significant in terms of the history of the world, so I don't advocate huge costly programs to bring the world temperatures down. I'm skeptical that we by our efforts can really affect a major change in world temperatures. It seems rather haughty to me and a bit like trying to play God.

Nevertheless, there is one indisputable reality that really bugs me. Where you stand on the issue of global warming does change fact that the US uses much more of the world's resources than any other country, especially when you measure that usage on a per ca-pita basis. Is this right? Is it moral? Doe we really need to use so much? Shouldn't Christians be at least as concerned about the stewardship of the earth's resources as anyone else? Why do the liberals get to define this issue? Shouldn't Christians be at the forefront of the environmental movement, promoting responsible environmentalism? Shouldn't this issue concern us? Why don't we hear more calls for responsible stewardship of the earth's resources amongst Christians?

I have visited or lived in several different countries. From what I've seen learned, we could do a lot better job in the US to use less and save some of the world's resources. Here are my top ten ways to be responsible stewards . Call it a be Christian Manifesto for the Environment. These may hurt.
            1. Recycle. Many towns and cities are promoting recycling across the US, but in most places it's still voluntary, and some things that should be able to be recycled aren't. Everyone who claims to be a Christian should be doing this, even if it takes a little more time and effort. Europe is doing a whole better than we are on this, in my humble opinion.
           2. Don't buy water in plastic bottles unless you're traveling or absolutely have no other water available. Water bottles clog up landfills (if they're not recycled) and oil is used in the process of making the plastic. Drink tap water instead. In most cases, it's cheaper and just as healthy as bottled water.
          3. Reuse sheets of paper that are only printed or written on one side. There is no need to be obsessive about this. You don't have to be packrat like my dad who saved every scrap of paper and had so much around the house he could never use it in ten years. When you have a drawer full of used paper, it's probably time to start thinking about getting rid of some of it. But it's always nice to have some scrap paper around to scribble on.
          4. Bag your own groceries at the supermarket (BYOB) using cloth bags or reused paper or plastic bags. Avoid getting new plastic bags every time you buy groceries. Plastic bags are another of my pet peeves. In Africa they are an environmental disaster as they clog up landfills and sewers and foul waterways, fields, and city streets. Plus they are made using oil.
          5. Reuse ziploc bags. Okay, I know this sounds disgusting to some people, but it's no more disgusting than washing and reusing pots or dishes. If the food is properly washed off it's just as clean as a a bowl or spoon. Again, you don't have to be obsessive. Just reuse them once or twice or until they look worn or have a hole in them. But don't throw away any more plastic than necessary.
          6. Use energy-saving light bulbs that last longer, and please turn off lights when you're not using them.
          7. Turn the thermostat down in the winter (especially at night) and up in the summer. Just one degree Fahrenheit can make a big difference on heating bills, and if everyone did it, think how much less oil and gas we would use in our country. Here, again, the Europeans do much better than us. I'm currently in England where they keep the houses pretty chilly in the winter. While it's a little cold for me here, we could easily find a happy medium between out 'hot' houses and the 'cold' ones in England and save a lot. Putting on a sweater doesn't hurt us. Likewise, we would hardly feel it if we raise the temperature of our air conditioning in the summer by one degree.
          8. Plant a tree, especially in a place where it is needed.
          9. Eat in more often. This takes a little more time and planning than eating out, but it saves on energy costs (driving to the restaurant, heating the restaurant, etc.), and it's cheaper, more healthy, and promotes more family interaction.
          10. If you live in an area where it's possible, bicycle, walk, or ride public transport to work or church, especially when the weather's nice. Not only does it help to use less gas and reduce our dependence on foreign oil, it's good for our health.

And now I have two complaints against corporations and restaurants and businesses and retailers. If these two complaints were rectified, it could seriously reduce our conspicuous consumption. These are two areas that seem so simple to me, but I don't hear any environmentalists or politicians talking about them. It seems that simple things like this could go a long way toward reducing our dependence on foreign oil, using fewer trees, and reducing costs. Here are my proposals:
          1) Turn the thermostats down 2 degrees Fahrenheit in the winter and up 2 degrees Fahrenheit in the summer. It doesn't need to be so hot in Wal-Mart in the winter nor so cold in McDonald's in the summer.
           2) Reduce the amount of plastic and cardboard packaging on items sold in stores. One of my pet peeves is to buy a piece of merchandise in a box or container only to have that item take up a tiny proportion of the box/container. Why do things have to have so much packaging? It's insane.
I'm not sure if we can legislate the last two items, but is there some way we could campaign for them? Couldn't places of business and retailers be encouraged by the public to take such actions? I'd like to see a movement in that direction.

Those are my thoughts. I hope I haven't stepped on too many toes.

"To Be or Not to Be, That Is the Question"

2010-04-18T15:52:00.000-05:00

No, I'm not contemplating suicide like Hamlet did in Shakespeare's famous play. I've only been at this doctorate for three weeks, and I have still to get into the real work. Rather, I'm contemplating the QUESTION. What is my question? Specifically, what question will my research answer?

We have been warned that we will go through many drafts of our research question before we settle on the final one. In three weeks I have already gone through 10 drafts. Another professor warned us that getting the question right is crucial to your success in getting the degree. He said he believes getting the question right is one-third of your degree. Wow, that puts it in a very important light.

So, I've been wrestling with the question. Before I came to Research Induction School at the Oxford Centre for Mission Studies, my question was something like," Why is there such a lack of indigenous worship music in Songhai churches?" After I arrived, that quickly morphed into, "Is there a culturally-appropriate, Biblically-based form of worship music (for church) that is distinctly Songhai? If so, what is it?" After nine revisions, the question now sounds more like this: "How can the discipline of ethnomusicology inform and speak to the issue of a lack of indigenous worship music amongst the Songhai?" The latter question may include the two previous questions and several of the in-between revisions.

And so the question goes on. This one or that one. That wording or this one. To be or not...to be continued.....

The end of the beginning

2010-04-11T16:48:00.000-05:00

For almost ten years I have thought, prayed, and sought advice about doing a PhD. There seemed to be many obstacles in the way: timing, a demanding ministry, family needs, finances, doubts, objections, lack of good Internet access, a topic, etc. One by one God removed each obstacle and showed me that this was His will.

I hope I never become an academic snob. Ultimately, this PhD has no lasting value in and of itself. The piece of paper I hope to get (and it's not guaranteed that I will get it: I have to go through several probationary stages first) might as well be burned if I use it to show how intelligent I am or how much better I am than others. No, it's more about obedience and doing something of lasting value that will further God's kingdom and help his people.

So, here I am off to school on my first day.

Just kidding.

Oxford Centre for Mission Studies (OCMS) is located on Woodstock Road in north Oxford.

It's actually less than a mile from the centre of town and the 40 different colleges that make up the University of Oxford. OCMS is located in an old church on a busy thoroughfare leading out of the city to the north.

Actually, OCMS is not a part of Oxford University. It is only loosely affiliated with it. We have no access to any of the colleges, but we do have one privilege afforded to all Oxford University students: access to the Bodleian Library, one of only a few copyright deposit libraries (meaning the library has a copy of any book printed in the country and many more besides) in the United Kingdom. In order to gain access to the Bodleian, you have to have a membership card, and in order to get that card you have to go through an orientation and swear an oath that you will not damage or steal any books or smoke and drink in the library. It's an old ritual, and tradition dies hard here. I do have my membership card now and have access to over 11 million books and other electronic media available in the "Bod." Here's a photo of one building in the Bodleian, the Radcliffe Camera building:

There are eleven other men and women beginning their journey toward a PhD with me. Five of them are Koreans (but only one works in Korea--remember that Korea is sending out more missionaries around the world than any other country but the US). Four are Americans (one is African-American and one is originally from the Caribbean). In the last two, one is British and one is Indian. I'm second to the left in the picture below.

This will be a long journey of at least 5-6 years. I'll try to post as frequently as possible and give you updates on the road, but since I'm doing "part-time" ministry and "part-time" studies, things will get very busy for me at times.

For now, I'm here for 11 weeks. The first four weeks involve orientation and an introduction to research methods and using the Internet and the library. After that it's mostly research, reading, and writing on my own with help from a mentor and supervisors--full-time for the last 7 weeks I'm here and then part-time when I return to the US. I'll communicate with my supervisors via skype, the Internet, and the phone, but most of the work will be my own. UK higher degrees don't involve a lot of courses. Instead, you do a lot of reading and research on your own under the guidance of supervisors. It's a lonely road, but OCMS tries to help you through it as much as possible.

Well, this is the end of the beginning. I've started on a new adventure. I predict there will be times I will wonder out loud why I ever embarked on this journey. But there will be times of enlightenment and discovery as well. I pray that this degree will bring glory to God and produce something lasting, something enduring for His work. I do not want something fleeting, something that is just a piece of paper that could be burned up in the fire. Until next time.

A New Toy

2010-03-23T10:12:00.001-05:00

Anyone who knows me knows I love music. From the time I sang my first solo in church when I was four until the present, I have been involved in music in some way. I started taking trumpet lessons when I was ten and played that instrument through high school. I also played the French horn for a number of years. I sang in choirs and loved to listen to good music.

However, it was when mom insisted that I take piano lessons that I really fell in love. It was 1972, and I was 13, trying to find out who I was, like any other teenager. Mom made me and my three brothers take at least one year of piano lessons. I was the only one who continued after the first year. I took eight years of lessons and got most of my musical training on the piano. I played for musical groups in both high school and college and often in church settings. I never really wanted to take up the guitar. All my friends played the guitar, and I was the only one who could really play the piano, so I carved out my identity on that instrument and tried to be different.

When I left home to go to college, I continued my musical training on the piano, but the piano on which I first learned to play remained at my parents' house. Here it is, the Baldwin spinet I loved so dearly.

As the time approached for me to leave for Africa in 1984, I realized that I wasn't going to be able to haul a piano all over the world. Affordable electronic pianos were just beginning to appear on the market at that point, but I still couldn't justify the price nor the astronomical shipping costs. So, I taught myself to play the guitar, a much more portable instrument. Over the years, I have enjoyed the guitar, and as my skills on the piano got rusty, my guitar abilities got better.

But I always considered the piano my first instrument and longed for the day when I could have constant access to one. I ran across pianos in Africa and in the US and would play whenever the opportunity arose, but in all my adult life (33 years) I have never owned a piano. Until now.

Before dad died, my parents and I had discussed the possibility of giving me the old piano that had sat in their house all these years. The problem was we had no place to store it and couldn't haul it to Africa. Pianos like that don't work well in the tropics. Then a few months ago I ran into a Christian man who operates a music store and repairs musical instruments. He suggested we trade mom and dad's old upright for a newer electronic version. Both are used, but both are still valuable instruments. And all we would have to do would be to pay for the shipping.

For five years, I have been praying that the Lord would give me my piano back. He has done that beyond my wildest imaginations. On March 20, we picked up the new (used) piano from our friend. It's not fancy and doesn't have a lot of bells and whistles. But it's what I have needed for a long time. Now I can rehone my skills and get better.

Now I'm headed to England to start a doctoral program. I won't have my piano (nor my guitar) with me, but the subject of my studies will be music, specifically, ethnomusicology (a branch of anthropology), the study of ethnic music played in various cultures. I'll be taking a more intense look at the Songhai people and their music, and I'm really excited. I leave tomorrow (March 24) for Oxford.

Zollo nda nga korfo (A gourd and its string)

2010-03-01T21:11:00.000-05:00

African languages have many proverbs, and the Songhai language is no exception. This is one of my favorites: "A gourd and its string." Now you're probably wondering what in the world that means. Well, first, a little explanation is in order.

There are many types of gourds in Niger, each with its own word to describe it. Some are spherical in shape and when cut in half, gutted, and dried, make nice bowls of various sizes. Others grow in such a way that they make spoons when cut in half. Sometimes the Nigeriens decorate these different gourds with various beautiful carvings and colors. But there is one type of gourd that grows roughly in the shape of an hourglass. It's called a zollo. Here's a picture of one of these gourds growing.

Ever see anything like that? Amazing, isn't it? Now these gourds have a variety of uses. People may cut off the top of the smaller end and put a stopper in the hole. Then they carry it around as a water bottle. Or they may put cream in it, put a stopper in the hole, and give it to a child to carry around all day. When he or she gets home in the evening, voila,.... butter, a little runny to be sure, but very much like butter. In both these cases the gourd will normally have a string attached to it so the person can carry it. The string may be long enough to carry it around your neck. So this gourd (zollo) is associated with a string attached to it.

So here's the meaning of the proverb. Actually, it's only half a proverb. But, like many proverbs in English, if you say half the proverb, most people could complete it. (Try completing, "A stitch in time..."). So the full proverb is, "A gourd and its string are always together." But the Songhai only have to use the first half of it, and everyone understands what they are saying.

That still leaves us hanging. What in the world does it mean? Well, the proverb is used about two people or things that are always together: A husband and wife, two close friends, two donkeys pulling a cart, etc. It got to the point where one of my friends in Tera would come to greet and during the long series of greetings that all Africans are really good at, he would ask me, "And how is your string (korfo)?" He wasn't literally talking about a random piece of string, but rather my wife. We all use euphemisms when talk, and this was one of them in Songhai. He didn't refer specifically to my wife. He used an expression which meant the same thing. And he didn't mean that my wife has me by the throat with a string. It is more of a metaphor indicating a close relationship of mutual support.

I could think of a lot of applications for this proverb in our own culture (our supporters and us, our supervisors and us, pastor and church, teacher and student, etc.). We are dependent on many others for help, support, and growth. We need to work together and rely on each other more. Our rugged individualism is not always such a good thing. This is especially true for Christians.

There is another use for this gourd which really interests me. As a musician, this one is especially intriguing. You can let the gourd dry out and leave the seed inside it without cutting it open in any way. Then you tie a net of beads to it, and it becomes a clacking rhythm instrument like a maracas. Here I'm holding one in my hands.

Lots of uses for a zollo, aren't there?

Death

2010-01-25T15:54:00.000-05:00

OK, I know. This isn't a subject we westerners like to dwell on. In fact, we do everything in our power to avoid pain, suffering, and death. We insure ourselves against all forms of accident, illness, and even life, and then we're surprised when something bad happens to us. Go figure! The fact is that pain, suffering, and death are a part of our earthly existence. If you don't believe it, go to Haiti right now or some places in Africa where war and violence are a daily fact of life. We have seen so many children die during our years in Niger that you almost become numb to it. Let's face it. All of us have to die. We'd better come to terms with it.

I had thought I would write a blog on death about ten days ago. The earthquake in Haiti had just taken place, and the devastation and pain there was unimaginable. I also know about various conflicts and violence in parts of Africa, the Middle East, and Asia, and those places were on my heart as well. Then something happened to bring the reality of death very close to home.

The past ten days have been tough for me. My dad, Robert (Bob) H. DeValve, died on 17 January 2010. He had been diagnosed with a ideopathic pulmonary fibrosis in the fall of 2009. This lung disease is not very well understood in the medical community and has no cure. It is also a very serious disease which can cause the stricken to suffer for years. Though we knew of dad's diagnosis, he seemed in good health aside from shortness of breath and a worrying cough. We expected him to be around quite a while longer.

Bob DeValve on his 79th birthday officiating at the wedding of his oldest grandson

June 20, 2009

So it was quite a shock to hear that he was admitted to the hospital on Wednesday, Jan 13 with serious breathing problems. Even at that point the prognosis for a partial recovery was fairly good, but on Thursday night, dad's health declined markedly, and he needed to be hooked up to a suction oxygen mask to keep him breathing. We were called in on Friday morning, and we spent two wonderful days around his bedside. Dad was aware and lucid, if hard to hear, but he understood what was going on and could hear us. We sang to him, read Scripture, and prayed. Don't get me wrong. It wasn't a picnic. It was tough to watch him fight for every breath, and it was hard to refuse when he constantly asked for food or water. He especially wanted hot chocolate, one of his favorite breakfast beverages.

By Saturday night it was clear that there was little hope, humanly speaking, of his recovery, and that the oxygen mask was the only thing keeping him alive. We could have had the mask removed that evening, but we decided to wait until my brother arrived from Ohio with his wife and sons. They arrived on Saturday night.

Sunday morning, the family gathered and held a little service around his bedside. Then everyone had a chance to say good-bye. Afterwards, the nurse removed the mask and tried to make him as comfortable as possible. Dad stunned us by summoning all his strength, raising his hands, and in a trembling voice, pronounced a blessing (we're now calling this the patriarchal blessing). Here are dad's last words:

"My prayer to God is that you all remain faithful to Him and serve Him and consult Him in all your decisions. He has His loving hands ready to forgive you, if you will repent....

No matter what happens, come hell or high water, He will carry you through and He will give you a glorious inheritance far, far better than anything on earth.

And with all your power, all your strength, all your might, you will rest in Him. Beyond anything I could describe I will rest at His side both body, soul, mind, and spirit.

If you fall, He will forgive you. I pray you don't fall hard. I love each one of you and pray for each one of you every singly day.

When you are driving, playing games, or fooling around, He is always there. He knows what you are thinking right now.

Let me go. If you want me, Lord, I'm ready. Take me, Lord Jesus."

After he finished, there was a pause and sobs, and then we all started singing. We sang him to heaven. About an hour and a half later, after struggling for every breath and with his family praying and crying around him, he flew to Jesus.

The memorial service was held at his home church, Trinity Covenant in Manchester, CT on Friday evening, Jan 22. Dad had been active in the church right up to the time of his death, serving both as retired pastor of missions and mentoring and as a member of the care team, visiting countless sick and shut-ins. He also visited prisoners in jail, discipling and mentoring them. Over 500 people showed up for the memorial, a testimony to a man who had touched many lives and to the God he served. The service concluded with the singing by the choir of the "Hallelujah Chorus" from Handel's Messiah. That was dad's special request.

Dad and Mom with a grandson, Summer, 2009

Now comes the tough part: living in the light of eternity. Dad's legacy to us is huge. No one could walk in his shoes. But we can believe and obey God like he did. And we can fulfill the vocation God has given us to the best of our ability. My prayer is that there will be many in heaven because of dad and his life. It was a privilege to have known such a wonderful man and be called his son. He was not perfect, but now he is. Bye for now, dad. I'll look forward to seeing you in heaven.

Christmas Traditions

2010-01-01T22:19:00.000-05:00

Every family has its Christmas traditions. Ours is no different.

On Christmas Eve we often have some ethnic foods (like curry or some kind of world food) and then watch a film. In the past that film was often the Jesus film in Songhai. This year we watched "It's a Wonderful Life" on tv.

In Africa we always celebrated Christmas as a family the day after Christmas (Boxing Day). The reason is that we usually celebrated Christmas Day with Africans by going to church and then sharing a big meal of goat meat in sauce over rice. Holidays in Africa are community celebrations, not private family affairs. So, we spent Christmas Day with Africans and then had our private family celebration the next day.

Whatever day we celebrated, we started off with a reading from Scripture by dad (me) and a prayer, then we opened our gifts.

We started with the stocking gifts. Over the years, Nancy has made individual cross-stitch stocking(except herself, she uses a nice bought stocking), so we have something unique to each of us. Then we proceed to the opening of the gifts under the tree.

In Africa, we have a little two-foot artificial tree that we use, and we don't put gifts under it until Christmas Eve. In the US, we buy a real tree and put the gifts under the tree whenever we finish wrapping them.

We never played "Santa Claus" in our house. The myth of Santa makes me sick, but we know that the myth is based on a real person named Saint Nicolas. The fact that Saint Nick lived and worked in what is today the modern country of Turkey is all the more fascinating for our family since I have intimate connections with the country of Turkey. I was born there. So we tell our kids the real story of St Nicholas. To me it's more inspiring and fun than the fake "Santa in the mall" junk.

After opening gifts, we have our traditional breakfast of sticky buns, a practice borrowed from the Hall family (Nancy's parents).

Later in the day we have a feast of turkey (chicken in Africa),

potatoes, vegetables, cranberry sauce, and pie. This year we celebrated with special coke--in bottles like we get in Africa. It just tastes better in a glass bottle! :)

It has been fun over the past three weeks to have our kids home from college. We've made cookies and memories together and cherished the moments. Wish I could slow time down. Now we're in Alabama for a wedding of a friend who spent some time in Africa.

Our trip to NYC

2009-12-11T15:09:00.002-05:00

Last Saturday, December 5, Nancy and I took a trip into New York City. It had been a long time since I was in Manhattan. My dad was born on Long Island just outside the city, and in the years when I was growing up, we would sometimes go to my grandfather's house and take the train into downtown New York. When I joined SIM, we also had to go into the city for medicals and some outreach. But other than using the airports and speaking at my dad's home church, I have not been in the city for almost 25 years!

We took the bus from Scranton into New York. Good thing we did, too as the weather was nasty and the traffic was horrendous. We went to meet up with two colleagues who had come from Niger for a conference. Peter Cunningham hails from Australia and works on our agricultural project in Niger. Ayouba Saabo is a Nigerien who works on the project. He had never been in the US before and had never seen snow. He got to see it on December 5.

We didn't have much time, so we elected to take the subway to Battery Park at the tip of Manhattan Island, where we walked around in the cold and dreary weather while it got increasingly more inclement. It was raining during a good part of the day. It would have taken all of our time to visit the Statue of Liberty with the long lines, expensive tickets, and miserable viewing conditions, so we decided to take the Staten Island Ferry.

The ferry goes from Manhattan Island to, naturally enough, Staten Island. Here I am with Ayouba on the ferry.

When I was a kid, this ferry cost you a nickel one way. Now it is free. That's deflation for you. Anyway, the ferry goes right by the Statue of Liberty and gives you a good view.

After the crossing, we had lunch in a deli ( a very New York experience) and then went up to Rockefeller Center where we wandered around and saw the big Christmas tree, the ice skating rink in the plaza, Radio City Music Hall, and St. Patrick's cathedral. Across from St Pat's is the famous statue of Atlas straining to hold up the world. We never saw the statue of baby Jesus holding the world in his hands in St Pat's, even though we looked for it.

By then the rain had turned to snow, and it was blowing and cold. The snow was melting on contact. The crowds were intense and ballooned with all the umbrellas people were carrying. In fact the worst part of the day was all the umbrellas barreling at you down the street at eye level. You had to dodge and weave in order to avoid getting one in your face. We did some window shopping and had something to eat, then caught our bus back to PA. It was great to be on the warm bus, out of the wet snow. I don't know if the snow accumulated in New York, but just outside the city it was laying on the ground, and when we got home, there were 4 inches (10 cm) on the ground. Here are two pictures of Times Square, one in the morning when we got there when the weather was still okay, and one at night just before we left. Note the snow falling!!

Thanksgiving

2009-12-03T12:18:00.000-05:00

Since I left college, American Thanksgiving has always been the time when my family gets together. It's even a bigger holiday than Christmas in my home. Rarely do we all get together for Christmas. This year we gathered, as usual, at my brother Tim's house on the fourth Thursday of November (Nov 26 this year) for the annual feast and family fun time. My two brothers (one lives in Ohio one in Oklahoma) and their families couldn't make it, so we only had 26 people, but we had a great time eating turkey and all the trimmings.

My family loves pie, and my sister-in-law, Laurie, and her mom are the queens of pie. Between them I think they made at least 10 pies. There were 13 pies in all, 1 for every 2 people (!), including the traditional pumpkin as well as pecan, blueberry, cherry, berry, strawberry, chocolate, and apple. What a feast! Here's a picture of some of the pies arranged on the cupboard. The pies were gone by the end of the weekend!

It has often been the case that we have guests from other countries during our Thanksgiving celebration. I can remember citizens of Pakistan, Iran, China, Taiwan, and Europe around the family table in years past. This year we hosted a family from Puerto Rico who are friends of Laurie. Here they are around the table with Laurie and some of her relatives. We also had JR, Daniel's dorm mate who lives with his adopted family in Texas and couldn't get home for the holidays. He was born in Haiti.

After the feast, we often lay around in the living room talking, singing, and having fun. Here are Daniel and three of his cousins getting mutual scalp rubs.

Finally, a picture of my beautiful daughter Suzanne sitting next to JR.

Music and Adventure

2009-11-11T18:22:00.006-05:00

Anyone who knows me knows I like music. To a lesser degree, I also like variety and adventure.
In 2010 I will begin a new adventure. And that adventure involves music. I plan to begin studies leading to a PhD. And what will the subject of that degree be? I'll be studying the music of the Songhai people of Niger, with whom we have worked for the last 20 years. This plan has been a long time coming, and it promises to be a five-year adventure. I'll be writing more about it in this blog in the weeks and months to come. Suffice it to say that I'll be doing the studies through the Oxford Centre for Mission Studies in Oxford, England. I have to go to England in March to begin with a 10-week "induction" course. Nancy will go with me for the first month to encourage me, sightsee, and see where I'm going to be. Then she'll return to the US to be here when Daniel and Suzanne finish college. I'll stay until early June.

While I'm in England, I'll take courses in research methods, learn about the OCMS program, and have a supervisor assigned to me for my studies. Then I return to England each year until I finish the degree and have to spend only six weeks there per year meeting with my supervisor and reviewing where we're at. The rest of the program will involve research, writing, reading, and communicating with my supervisors on line.

Today I took the first step in the pursuit of this program. I bought tickets to England for next March. I leave with Nancy on March 24.

Succes and Enthusiasm

2009-10-23T15:16:00.002-05:00

What do these two words have in common? A while ago I wrote a blog about failure and success. In that blog I cited a quote from Winston Churchill: "Success is going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm." I like that quote. It mirrors in many important ways my experience over the past few years. And it seems to me that the oft-quoted saying in Christian circles that we just need to be faithful in order to be a success seem rather flat and empty. It seems there's more to being a success than just being faithful.

One key to success, I think, is our attitude. We need to continually have God's perspective on the events of life. I know, easier said than done. This is where the word enthusiasm comes into the picture.

Recently I learned something about the etymology of the word enthusiasm that makes the quote by Churchill seem even more inspired. While relaxing at a home by a lake, I saw a plaque on the wall that wasn't the usual Christian "kitsch." I abhor kitsch. I don't like to have what everyone else has. This plaque simply stated the definition and origin of the word "enthusiasm." I had never learned this before, and it's really neat.

Enthusiasm comes from the Greek enthousiasmos, and this word is composed of the prefix <en> and the word <theos> with suffixes.!.! Now I know there are a few Greek scholars out there who know that theos is the Greek word for God. So the word enthusiasm comes from the Greek "in God." So enthusiasm means "an exalted or ecstatic feeling, and someone who is enthusiastic is
"inspired by God" or "possessed by God." Wow, I was blown away when I saw this.

This is even more meaningful to me because the way I usually respond to people, to God, and to what's happening around me is enthusiastically. Even though I've had some of the wind knocked out of my sails over the past few years and my enthusiasm has waned as a result, I normally respond this way. Isn't it neat that God continually has a way to refresh my soul and bring me up from the pit of despair, showing me more about myself and Him in process.

So here's my definition of success: live a life inspired by God and possessed by God. Do all things with enthusiasm, even when they don't work out as I had hoped.

Marathon Journey

2009-10-18T15:14:00.015-05:00

Nancy and I just completed a 9-week, 9,000-mile journey through 23 states in the US. It was a marathon, and we showed our power point dozens of times in many different settings in homes and churches. It wasn't all business, though, and I want to put some of my favorite photos up on my blog.

The first part of our trip was taking our kids back to college, especially Suzanne, who is beginning her freshman year. Here's a photo of Nancy and Suzanne together at Cedarville University.

After we left Cedarville we visited many beautiful spots in this beautiful land. First, however, I want to show you a shot many people would not expect. This is near Toledo, OH. It's the Islamic Center of America.

Later on, we spent a memorable, sunny day at Indiana Dunes on the southern shores of Lake Michigan.
Afterwards, we visited Chicago and saw the "Bean." Your reflection is all distorted in the "bean."

We then traveled through the Midwest from top to bottom (Minnesota to Texas) in a week. We did get to spend two nights in the Ozark Mts in Arkansas, and we saw the Pea Ridge battlefield, one of the major US Civil War battle sites.

We also spent two nights with my look-a-like brother in Oklahoma.

After a week in Texas with relatives, friends, and supporters, we moved on to Sebring, FL and the SIM Retirement Village, where Nancy's parents live. This became our home away from home away from home for two weeks.

Finally, we moved on to Charlotte, NC, SIM headquarters, for debriefing interviews and a week-long retreat. During the retreat, we spent two days relaxing and seeking God at this lake-front property.

Finally, we returned home to PA via the mountains of Virginia, which were putting on a display of their finery.

When we got back, we had a big surprise. It snowed for one entire day. Here's what it looked like outside our window. Brrr!!

My Real Double

2009-07-19T15:14:00.004-05:00

A few years ago, I wrote a blog about my "double," Zinedine Zidane. Well, at least some Africans think I look like him at first sight. I don't think there is much resemblance.

There is someone who looks just like me, however. It's my brother, Dave. He is four years younger than I, and there are two more brothers in between us (I'm the oldest in the family). But people do really confuse us. It's not too hard to distinguish us if you know us, but you could do a "double" take if you don't know us well.

So when Dave came down dressed in a blue shirt and tie for our nephew's wedding in June, I rolled my eyes. People were going to have fun distinguishing between us that day. In the end, it worked out fairly well, and most people didn't call me Dave or ask me how things were in Oklahoma (that's where Dave and his wife and four kids live), but several people commented how much we resembled each other. See if you notice the likeness.

It's great to be back on American soil for a while. It's also great to have our family back together again for a while. Daniel has been at university the past two years, and we've missed him. He came out to visit us on May 7 and was in Niger for Nancy' birthday, Suzanne's birthday, and Suzanne's graduation from high school. What fun we had! Here's our family picture at the wedding in CT, which I mentioned above. This was only five days after our return from Niger, so we were still a bit overwhelmed and tired.

Conflagration

2009-06-10T05:15:00.005-05:00

A huge cloud of black smoke cast a long shadow over Niamey on the afternoon of May 27, 2009. The big, central market was on fire. The market is like a open-air bazaar confined to a vast walled-in spot in the center of Niamey. Here's a picture of the black cloud from across the Niger river.

The immense fire burned all afternoon from 2 p.m. until about 7 p.m. At 5, I happened to be traveling in the center of town via taxi. I hopped off the taxi and took a walk up near the market to see the conflagration. Though traffic was obviously being blocked, people could walk quite close to the market where a cordon of police was keeping everybody away. I could still see big, black plumes of smoke rising up out of the center of the market, though I couldn't see the flames. Just then, the wind shifted as a storm started moving in from the northeast, and it made the flames go back in the direction from which they had come. The contrary winds made it difficult to control the blaze.

Many shops crowded into the center aisle of the market were completely destroyed. The government news service said over 100 shops were totally obliterated. Hundreds more were damaged. But thanks to the work of many firemen and police, many hundreds more were spared much damage. Still, the loss of goods and income is incalculable. Pray for these poor people. They have suffered much. What caused the fire? I heard by the grapevine that it was an electrical short circuit. This is not the first time this market has burned. Back in 1982 (before I arrived in Niger), the market completely burned to the ground. Other markets in Niamey have suffered fires during our time in Niger. One even experienced a flood!

Fire can be so destructive. But it can be beneficial when under control. In that case it gives heat and light to those who are around. That's why there are two words in French for "fire:" "incendie" for the out-of-control, destructive fire; and "feu" for the under-control, beneficial fire. I want to be a fire like the latter, lighting the path for those who are around and bring beneficial heat to the world.

Termites!

2009-05-03T12:14:00.016-05:00

"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where termites and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal." --Matt 6.19

All right, I've taken a few liberties with the text and introduced a term that does not exist in the original. Call it the Revised Niger Version. We don't have many moths here, at least not those that cause much destruction. But termites...

For years we have kept some personal valuables and keepsakes in three cardboard boxes. These are all paper-based valuables. Some of the stuff is more than 23 years old. When we moved last year, we decided to store the three boxes on the floor under our computer desk.

A few weeks ago, I noticed some "cookie crumbs" under the computer desk and wondered who was eating while working at the computer (a long-standing rule in our house is that food and drink is not allowed at the computer). I cleaned up the "crumbs" and thought nothing of it. Then on Saturday, April 25, Nancy discovered more "crumbs" under the desk. It was after 9 p.m., and it was beastly hot and humid. She picked up one of the "crumbs" and instantly discovered it was dirt. We realized immediately we had a termite problem. I tried to pull out one of the boxes, but it was stuck to the floor and at my touch, the box crumbled into dust. It was infested with termites. Here are some photos of the mess.

DISCOVERY

REMOVING THE BOX TOPS

THE MESS UNDER THE DESK

A FORMER BOX

CHECK OUT THIS PIECE OF WORK!

Termites like a warm, moist environment in which to make their home. Believe me, we had a nice little termite mound growing right under our noses inside our house. It was wonderfully hot and humid under there with the computer right next door.

LOOK HOW THEY ATE THIS OLD LANGUAGE NOTEBOOK

SOME OLD LANGUAGE NOTES--IN HAUSA

CAN YOU PICK OUT THE TERMITES IN THIS PHOTO?

A FORMER NOTEBOOK

CLEANING UP THE MESS

Now what was in those boxes? Old letters from and to family (I managed to salvage a good part of these), old love notes between Nancy and I (completely destroyed and irreplaceable), magazines (mostly not important), language learning materials (some of our old language notes for both Hausa and Songhai were totally destroyed, but I managed to salvage some), and notes for various courses I've taught in Niger (I managed to retrieve all of these from the mess of destruction).

I hate termites. But they do serve a useful function in this part of the world. You see, the soil in Niger is at best poor, and at worst, sterile. We don't have worms that can aerate the soil and replenish the nutrients to the soil. Termites do that job here. They will invade any organic matter left out in the field and break it down into decent soil. Sticks, stalks, compostable matter, and other biodegradable stuff left out in the sun to dry will quickly be turned into, if not manure, at least into tillable soil. How do you like that?

Will there be termites in heaven? If there are they will perform the good functions God intended and won't destroy. Anyway, our hope is not in earthly treasures which so easily turn to dust and ashes, but in God who cleanses us from all sin.

Lemonade

2009-03-27T12:24:00.006-05:00

There's nothing like a hand-squeezed glass of lemonade to quench your thirst on a blistering hot day in Niger. It takes quite a process to make lemonade. We can't buy lemon juice in the store, but we can buy real limes and lemons. Here's my recipe for great lemonade.

First you have to choose the right lemons or limes. You want ones that are firm, not mushy or smelly. But you don't want them to be too hard. You should be able to squeeze them a little and feel juice in them. Lemons should be somewhat yellow and lime have a greenish-yellow tint.

Once you bring them home and wash them, you need to cut them in half and squeeze them. We have an old hand-squeezer that I use. It's not in great shape, but it's so much stronger than those wimpy, modern squeezers you buy in the store. While I'm squeezing the lemons, I also strain out the pulp and the seeds.

After squeezing the lemons, I pour the juice into ice cube trays. With long experience, I've discovered that lemon juice keeps well frozen. When the cubes are frozen, I take the cubes out of the tray and put them into small Ziploc bags five to a bag. Then I pop them in our big chest freezer.

When I want to make lemonade, I take a bag out of the freezer, put it in a 2-litre jug of cold water, and add 3/4 to 1 cup of sugar. Stir, pour over ice, and enjoy. Ahhhh! What a great way to quench your thirst.

Niamey, Part 2

2009-02-23T09:59:00.002-05:00

Ok, so I guess there are a few things I like about living in Niamey, the capital of Niger. A few weeks ago I wrote a blog telling about what I didn't like about the big city. Here, I'll write about a few things I like.

6. More people are available to repair things. You have more of a choice about who will fix your car or charge your air conditioner or put a new screen on your window. Though the quality of workmanship is definitely better then in the villages, it still doesn't come up to the standards many of us would find acceptable in our country. We also have colleagues who are here specifically to help us fix problems with our computers and our houses, and that helps.

5. More services are available. There are a variety of bookstores, grocery stores, boutiques, bakeries, gas stations, bottled gaz, and other services available in Niamey. Many of these were not available in Tera or there was little variety or quality in the services tendered. At least here, there is more of a choice.

4. There are more believers and stronger churches. In Tera we struggled to get anything off the ground and everything depended on us. Here there are strong believers who can help carry the load, and the whole burden for the work doesn't fall on us. We have many African Christian friends we can share with, pray with, and worship with.

3. Colleagues. One of the hardest things about living in Tera was being alone. We had no one to share our joys and sorrows with and no one working with us in the ministry (except when Mike Murphy was there in 2004-05). It was extremely lonely for me and one of the reasons we left Tera. Here we have numerous colleagues and acquaintances. Though everyone is frantically busy, at least the possibility exists to be able to get a few minutes to share the triumphs and struggles of life together.

2. Internet access. We never had Internet access in Tera. We always had to come to Niamey to do our e-mail and surf the Internet. While there is now an Internet cafe in Tera, it is expensive, and we still wouldn't have it in our house. For a month now, we have had Internet access in our house in Niamey for the first time since Internet came to Niger. It is fairly reliable and cheap to boot. It's wonderful not to have to haul our laptop to the office or an Internet cafe to do e-mail. And Suzanne can do her Internet courses on line from the privacy of her own room. What luxury!

1. Fruits and vegetables. I'm a fruit and veggie freak. I need decent fruits and veggies to survive. One of the nicest things about Niamey is the quantity, variety, and quality of the fruits and vegetables one can purchase here. We can even get broccoli, one of my favorite vegetables, in the cooler months. I still miss some of the cold climate fruits like grapes and peaches, but they are made up for by papayas and guavas. We don't have the variety and quality one would expect in the US, but it's a far cry from where we lived for 16 years.

Admittedly, this list is not long. I can't think of anything else I like about the city. But the items listed here are very significant and contribute to an overall well-being that could not be matched in the country.

A half century!

2009-02-06T09:50:00.005-05:00

I celebrated fifty years of life on January 29. We didn't have a big party, but we did go out to eat at one of our favorite Lebanese restaurants, where they have great hummus (if you don't know what that is, look it up in a good dictionary). Here are Nancy and I toasting all those marvelous years (no wine in glasses).

While we were gone, our pesky neighbors, the Rideouts, decided to decorate our house. They strung black crepe paper from the fan, draped a Happy Birthday sign over our bookshelf, wrote a hand-made card on black construction paper, and gave me a cardboard tie with "Fifty years of Magnificence" on it. Here are some photos of the tie and card. Later, I opened my gifts. I'm still waiting on two packages from family.

The next evening we had cheesecake at our monthly prayer meeting at the Rideout's house. Cheesecake is one of my favorite desserts. I got a lot of nice e-mail greetings and some sent cards the old-fashioned way.

"Seventy years are given to us!
Some live even to eighty.
But even the best years are filled with pain and trouble;
soon they disappear, and we fly away....
Teach us to realize the brevity of life
so that we may grow in wisdom." (NLT)

Psalm 90. 10,12

Separating the Sheep from the Goats

2009-01-21T09:51:00.011-05:00

Good thing I'm not sitting on a throne on Judgement Day. When I first came to Niger, I had a hard time separating the sheep from the goats. In Niger they have some resemblances, both being rather small and undernourished with small heads. All goats and all male sheep have horns, so at first sight you might be confused. See if you can do any better than me. Can you distinguish sheep from goat in the following photos?

Now goats are a lot smarter than sheep. That's one way you can distinguish them. During our years in Niger and especially going back and forth to Tera from Niamey, we would often run into a herd of sheep or goats (or a mixed group) crossing the road (it's open range everywhere you go in Niger, even in the city). Normally, the goats are quite cautious. When they hear the sound of the car coming or the sound of the horn blaring, they'll move quickly to get off the road and out of the way. Sheep are another thing altogether. They may stare dumbly at the approaching car, all the while standing their ground. They may double back on themselves, first swerving to one side of the road and then suddenly reversing course and running across the road directly in front of you. Or they may develop a herd mentality, where they all have to get to the same side of the road together regardless of the obstacle in their path. So they may all try to run to the farthest side of the road, again right in front of you. You wonder where their brains are. It also makes you wonder why Christians are so often compared to sheep! Are we that dumb? Non-believers are sometimes compared to goats. Do they have more cunning and sense than we do? Sometimes I wonder. But the sheep are the ones who get the most attention because they make more noise and are more numerous. They also stand out on the road more often.

So how did you do? Can you separate the sheep from the goats? Hint: if you're still having problems, look not only at the head but also at the tail. The tails of all goats are short while a sheep's tail is long.

Pet Peeves about Niamey

2008-12-30T09:08:00.003-05:00

I don't consider myself a city person. Cities get me mad and frustrated. Waiting at lights. Traffic. Pollution. Noise. Lights. The pace of life. I prefer life in the country, with fresh air, quiet, and God-made scenery. So, when we made our move to Niamey, it was with some regret because Niamey is the capital of Niger and has over a million people in it, more than most cities in the US! It's not easy living here, and I have a lot of gripes. There are advantages, I will admit. In another blog perhaps I'll talk about some of the advantages of living here, but right now I want to sound off. Here are my top ten pet peeves about Niamey:

10. The fast pace of life. It never lets up. At least in Tera we had times where things slowed down a bit. This is probably true of most cities and not unique to Niamey, but it's been quite a shock to me.

9. You don't know your neighbors. In Tera we knew everybody, and everybody knew us. Not only that we looked out for each other and borrowed from each other. Here, you don't know most of your neighbors unless you work with them. Often your neighbors change from year to year. High walls, guards, and gates keep you out of other people's yards. People are suspicious of each other. Fortunately, we live in a small complex with two other missionaries: the Rideout family (Ian is a pilot and Becka is currently our guest house hostess) and Jeanette James (the principal of Sahel Academy). So we have some interaction with neighbors, but we know almost no one else on our street. Many of them are French and very aloof.

8. Well-dressed children asking for money. There are many legitimate beggars in town. This is partly due to Muslim influence and partly due to the extreme poverty of the country. But there are many children relatively well off who simply ask any white person for money as though it were some kind of greeting. That annoys me no end. We did not have that in Tera.

7. Cars turning left from the right-hand lane right in front of you. These people seem to think they own the road and have no consideration for others. They probably don't even look to see if you're there.

6. Cars running red lights. Often cars will pass a long line of cars waiting at the red light using the lane of opposing traffic and go right through the red light into the intersection. They must be more important than me.

5. All the bicycles, motorbikes, animals (camels, sheep, cattle, and dogs), donkey carts, and pedestrians in the road. Many of these don't know the rules of the road and don't know anything about "right of way." It is nearly impossible to avoid all these obstacles and maneuver around them. You have to keep an eye on everything coming at you in every direction. It's exhausting. One new missionary said he prefers driving in downtown Philadelphia to Niamey. His blood pressure was skyrocketing just after a ten-minute drive. And Niamey is nowhere near the worst place in Africa for driving.

4. The slow trucks piled beyond the gills with goods. These vehicles block up traffic, give off enough smoke to rival the smog in Los Angeles, and often break down. I've seen them loaded so high that they touch electric wires as they pass under them!

3. Traffic cops who pull you over for minor traffic violations that really would not result in any major accident. I have never received a single ticket in the US, but I have received 8 tickets in my 24 years in Niger. Yesterday (29 Dec 08), Nancy got pulled over for "not signalling". She had signalled to turn right, but the traffic cop did not see it. The steering wheel may have cut the signal off before she completed the turn, but she did signal. But the cop would hear none of our protests, and she now has to pay the fine.

2. Merchant stalls crowding the roads. This is a problem almost anywhere in Africa, but especially in bigger cities. In the major market areas, the problem is so bad, there's barely enough space for one lane of cars to pass when there are supposed to be two lanes of traffic.

And my number one pet peeve:
1. Power cuts. These are more frequent and longer than anything we had in Tera. And the people in Tera are rejoicing because they are now erecting high tension power lines to take power from Niamey to Tera so they won't have to rely on their diesel generator. I've told them to hold the celebration. They may be sorely disappointed. Power cuts in Niamey come without warning at almost any time. And they can last from an hour to a day. During the summer we had terrible power cuts lasting as long as 24 hours. We had to empty our freezer and use the stuff in it or put it somewhere else where it wouldn't go bad.

You've probably noticed that a lot of my pet peeves relate to traffic and congestion. I get tired of feeling cooped up in cities and waiting around for people. I always feel cramped and like the wide open spaces outside the city. In Niamey you also have to think about how long something should take and then double it to get the actual time it takes.

It's been a while since I've written. That reflects the pressure I've been under as well as the fast pace of the city and the time it takes to do everything. I hope to be able to post a little more often in 2009.

What Does He Do?

2008-11-24T09:15:00.001-05:00

I have been so busy lately I haven't had time to blog. What has kept me so busy? I'm doing lots of things, but there are five main things I'm involved in.

The first is revamping our language learning program and trying to keep up with language learners on our field. This has involved a lot of work over the past few months. In July, I had discussions with a French language teacher from Quebec. We talked a lot about how to improve French language learning and keep in contact about learners in the pipeline. I'm also working on a new set of French-language standards for SIM. Many of our SIM people have to learn two languages: French and one local language. French is the official language of Niger, and there are seven other national languages: Hausa, Songhai/Zarma, Fulfulde, Tamajaq, Manga (Kanuri), Gourmantche, and Tubu. Our missionaries work in all of these languages (including two dialects of Fulfulde) except Tubu. In early October I led a workshop on independent language learning for eight people, most of them new to Niger. I have also been working on a collecting language learning resources and making a database of them for our people to use.

My second job is orientation. When new missionaries arrive on the field, I have the job of giving them an initial orientation to Niger and to SIM. This usually last one morning, and involves talking about the vision of SIM, a brief overview of SIM's ministries, cultural and practical guidelines, important health matters, writing a will, helping the newcomer figure out their finances and the new currency, and some paperwork (we have that everywhere, don't we?) Here's a photo of me in an orientation with two new teachers for Sahel Academy.

In addition to an initial orientation for every newcomer the day after they walk off the plane, I coordinate a one-day workshop twice a year for eveyone who has arrived since the last workshop. This helps newcomers process what they see and learn more about the country to which they have come. Part of orientation is getting housing set up for those associate members who will stay in Niamey for less than two years. In this capacity I assisst Nancy who is in charge of making sure each house is set up correctly. Here I am lifting some furniture with a young student at Sahel Academy.

My third job is teaching. If you don't know me by now, you need to know that I love teaching. It's my passion and my calling. I've done quite a bit of teaching this fall. I started out teaching algebra at Suzanne's school (Sahel Academy) for the first quarter of the year. I couldn't keep that up for more than five weeks, though, because I had many other things to do. After the workshop in Galmi, I started teaching a weekly course at my church on missions.

My fourth job is to keep up with the translation of children's stories that we completed while in Tera. I'm making slow progress on that one. Just last week, I was able to check 5 stories with a man who was in town from Tera for a few days.

My final job is worship leader. I play both guitar and piano and regularly lead worship for our mission family. At our annual conference in January 2009, I'm coordinating the worship team which will lead us all in singing and praise to God. I'm looking forward to that.

To do all this work, I spend a lot of time sitting at the computer writing letters or preparing for my classes. Sometimes I work at home and sometimes I work at the office. Here's a photo of me at my desk at the office working on my laptop.

So, I'm busy. What do I do in my free time? What free time? Actually, I like to read, work out, swim, run, watch videos, practice my guitar, and talk with my friends. There's not a lot of stuff to do here, but we make our fun. It's a simple life, but busy.

The Hottest Inhabited Places on Earth

2008-08-19T09:53:00.003-05:00

Recently we got to house sit at the home of an American Embassy couple while they were on vacation in the US. They had a pool, American tv, and air conditioners in every room. We didn't get a vacation this year, so the five weeks we spent at their house constituted a "working vacation" for us. We were able to take 4 or 5 days off from the office each week and rest a bit.

One of the things I found at the Embassy home was the World Reference Atlas (2007 edition). In the back of the atlas were lists of extremes: the largest countries in the world, the poorest countries in the world, the most populous countries, the usual types of lists you would expect with the usual culprits in the lists. One list I found unusual and fascinating. It was a list of the hottest inhabited places in the world. I discovered some very interesting bits of information. And I had one of my greatest suspicions confirmed: Niamey (where we live) is one of the hottest inhabited places on earth as measured by the average annual temperature!!!!!!!!!! Surprised? I'm not.

Now it's true that there are probably small places that didn't make it into the worldwide statistics for hottest places. We know of two places in Niger, for instance, that consistently average slightly hotter than Niamey. And there may be at least one place in Mali, the neighboring country that is hotter on average.

It's also true that there are places hotter than Niamey during certain times of the year. Right now, for instance, it is positively balmy here in Niamey. The temperature at 4 p.m. was 84F (29C). That really isn't all that hot, either for here or for some places in the US in the summer. The reason for the cool weather is that we've had almost 3 inches of rain in the past 36 hours. When it rains, it cools the temperature down considerably. In places where it doesn't rain much in the summer (like Iraq or Saudi Arabia), it is much hotter than in Niamey right now.

Another thing that is probably true is that there are places where it feels hotter than Niamey because the humidity is much higher than here. I'm sure New Delhi feels much hotter at this time of year because heat and humidity combined make the heat seem much more intense (it's called heat index). Niamey is very dry much of the year, which makes the heat more bearable. But from May to October, it is quite humid here, and it feels very heavy even when it's relatively cool.

Also, we're not talking here about places that are virtually uninhabitable. Places in the Arabian Desert or the Sahara are probably hotter than Niamey. Indeed, the highest temperature ever recorded in the world was 136F (57.5C) in the modern country of Libya. That was on 13 Sept 1922. In the US the hottest temperature recorded was in Deat Valley, California on 10 Jul 1913: 134F (56.5C). But those places are sparsely inhabited precisely because the heat makes them practically inhospitable to life, and so they are not included in the statistics.

So, what we're talking about is average annual temperature only. And we're excluding small towns and places that are very sparsely inhabited.

So, where does Niamey stand? Well, it's tied for fourth hottest inhabited place in the world and second hottest capital city in the world. Here is the list with average annual temperature:

1. Djibouti 86F (30C)

If you don't know where this is, pull out your atlas.

2. Timbuktu, Mali 84.7F (29.3C)

(tie) Tirunelveli, South India

(tie) Tuticorin, South India

3. Nellore, South India 84.5F (29.2C)

(tie) Santa Marta, Colombia

4. Aden, Yemen 84F (28.9C)

(tie) Madurai, South India

(tie) NIAMEY

5. Hodeita, Yemen 83.8F (28.8C)
(tie) Ougadougou, Burkina Faso
Thanjavur, South India
Tiruchchirappalli, South India

Now, I hope you're getting the picture here. With one exception, the hottest inhabited places in the world are grouped in three general locations: the Horn of Africa around the Gulf of Aden, the Sahel of Africa (the southern fringe of the Sahara), and southern India. We live in the Sahel of Africa.

Now, I've updated my blog page, and I've tried to put an icon on there that gives you the actual temperature in Niamey. You should be able to see what the temperature here is whenever you consult my blog. You can also go to Weather Underground to check out some of these other places. Have fun!!

And remember us as we live in one of the hottest places on earth.

Daniel and Sumeyla

2008-08-03T09:54:00.009-05:00

Our son Daniel grew up in Tera, Niger. His best friend there was Soumeyla, our houselady's son. They lived just two doors down from us. Daniel and Soumeyla are the same age (19 in 2008) and have similar personalities and tastes. Both are quiet and love the outdoors. Both love sports. They speak Songhai with each other and Soumeyla knows quite a bit of English both from studying it in school and also from hearing us use it. But the differences in culture and religion (Soumeyla is a Muslim) and especially in education form a huge gulf between them.

At age four

We just learned that Soumeyla passed his exams to enter high school. No, I did not say that wrong. At 19, he will be entering high school. This is the result of the school system in Niger which is partly inherited from the French. Let

With friends at age five. Soumeyla is on the right.

me explain. At the end of primary school (the equivalent of 6th grade in the US), all the students take exams. A certain percentage of the students who make the top grades will go on to junior high school (which in Niger is called college). Most students do not pass the exam. But they have the option of taking 6th grade over and retaking the exam the following year. If they fail to pass, they may take 6th grade over a third time. If after three tries, they fail to pass the exam, they are out of the education system and cannot go on with their education. They must find some kind of trade or go back to farming or go into the army or police force. There are few other options. I don't know the exact percentages, but most people who start elementary school never go on to junior high school (college).

Eating fish sandwiches. The fish were caught in the Tera lake.

Soumeyla is on the left. (2003?)

If, however, the student finally passes his primary exams and moves on to college, s/he has another four years to prove himself or herself. He or she may be as old as 14 or 15 when they enter college. At the end of four years of college, there is another exam. As was the case for primary school, there is another exam to determine if a student can pass on to high school. Again, most students don't pass the exam. And again, if they do not pass, they may retake the exam two more times after redoing the final year of college.

Daniel and Suzanne with Genda and Soumeyla (on right)--2004.

Now I don't know how many times Soumeyla took the primary exams, but I do know that he failed to pass the college exams twice even though he was one of the top students in his class. At the beginning of last school year, his mother pleaded with us to find a job for him or some way for him to continue his education. After some thought, we remembered that a Christian friend of ours ran a private college in Tera. Would he be willing to bring Soumeyla into his school to redo the last year of college and try one last time to pass the exam? He would, and we paid for Soumeyla's tuition (75,000 francs, which translates to about $187.50). Our friend, the director of the school, thought he could easily pass the exam given his grades in last class. Well, Soumeyla finally made it. He now has the chance to get to university. But first, he has to get through the three years of high school (called lycee in French). At the end of lycee he has another exam to take, and, you guessed it, he has three tries to pass that exam. So, if he gets to university, he could be as old as 24 before he starts. That is the system here.

Renting bicycles to ride around Tera. Soumeyla is on Daniel's

right. Jeremy Slager is on the far right in the picture. 2006.

When Daniel first started school, Nancy home-schooled him. At that time, Soumeyla's mom asked us if we couldn't home school Soumeyla along with Daniel. Should we have done so? Did we make a mistake in not doing so? That is a big, unanswerable question. How do you know what is right? Could we (or should we) have supported Soumeyla throughout his schooling? Would it have benefitted Soumeyla to do that or would it have made it harder for him to adapt back to his home country's educational system? Would he have had a better education? Probably, but would it have been the best thing for him? It's easy to look back and second guess. It's not so easy to decide on the spot. There are many factors and variables.

Soumeyla and Daniel in 2007 just before Daniel left Niger.

In any case, we're very happy that Soumeyla has made it to lycee and has a chance to move on with his education. He will get at least three more years of schooling, and that should help him find a better job and better working conditions.

The Mysterious, Fabled City in the Heart of Africa

2008-07-08T12:08:00.009-05:00

The city from the air

For years I’ve had a dream, a dream of visiting a city so remote and mysterious, it’s become a byword for the end of the earth, a place of isolation, a backwater of little importance. It's a "lost city" in the heart of Africa. Many people doubt it even exists. Many others have heard fantastic stories about this city, but upon seeing or hearing of it, their disappointment is palpable.

The Djingarey Ber, or Big Mosque, which dates fron the 14th century.

During the late Middle Ages, stories circulated throughout Europe of a city full of gold in Africa. There was also a famous library and university in the city with scholars who knew the ancient and contemporary worlds well. The library had over 700,000 manuscripts in it, some dating back as far as the 9th century. The reputation of the city spread, and Europeans wanted to find a way to get there.

By the early 1800’s, much of the world had been explored by white people, and few places remained where the foot of Europeans had not trod. Many of the “unexplored” places that remained were in Africa, and there was no place more forbidding than the Sahara, a desert bigger than all 50 US states (minus Alaska) combined.

In the early 19th century, the French Geographical Society put up a prize of 10,000 francs to the first person who could reach this city. The competition heated up between several European nations, especially Britain and France. Several explorers died trying to reach the city. The first European to do so, in 1826, was an Englishman, Alexander Gordon Laing, but he never made it back. Ultimately, it was a Frenchman, Rene Caillie, who won the prize by reaching the city in 1828 and finding his way back to Europe. This, of course, galled the British, but the contest stipulated the explorer had to make it back alive.

Rene Caillie was very disappointed by what he saw. It was no city of gold. It looked like a village perched on the edge of nowhere. He described it as a collection of mud huts on the edge of the desert. Everywhere the glaring, white hot sun pierced the stillness, and it seemed desolate and unimportant. The sign reads: Rene Caillie lived in this house from April to May 1828 during his voyage from Guinea to Morocco.

By the time Caillie reached the city, it was long past its glory days. But the stories Europeans had heard were true. Caillie had just arrived about 300 years too late to prove them. The city, which had been built on trade in things like gold, salt, slaves, and ivory, had been a wealthy city in the 14th to 16th centuries. But it had been bypassed by newer and faster trade routes, and foreign invaders (Moroccans and others) had come to the city in the late 1500’s, plundering its wealth and carrying off many manuscripts in its library.

Can you guess what city I’m talking about? Yes, it’s TIMBUKTU, and I had the privilege of making a overnight trip there on July3-4, 2008. I was able to take a tour of the city and see some of the main sites. The city is not much to look at today. Caillie’s description is still apt, but the streets are filled with history and mystery. I was able to see three of the famous mosques (one dating from the 14th century and made of mud) as well as the site of the ancient library. A new high-tech library is under construction on the site of the old one to house a collection of the old manuscripts. There are libraries all over town containing some of the ancient manuscripts that still exist. I saw places with plaques commemorating famous people I had heard and read about (among them Laing and Caillie). And there are a number of fascinating museums. The old city is a place of winding, narrow streets and ancient bazaars.

The city has a population of only about 50,000 today, well below what it once had. Still, it is the fifth holiest city in Islam and a place of pilgrimage. There are only about 200 Christians. It is located on the top of the Niger River bend about 700 miles by road upriver from Niamey, where we now live. It is still a center for trade, but today it is the tourist trade and modern merchandise that make up the majority of the commerce. Timbuktu was built on trade and the most of its inhabitants still make their living out of trade. While many of the buildings are still made of mud, many others reflect a Spanish/Moorish influence from the Moroccan invasion of 1591. These houses are constructed of a white, chalky stone similar to limestone that is mined in the desert and is more durable than mud. The wooden doors and windows are elaborate, decorated with intricate designs made of metal. The windows often have a lot of latticework.

My interest in Timbuktu is two-fold. First, there’s the history locked up in the place. Few places in the world can lay claim to as much history as Timbuktu. The second reason is Timbuktu’s connection to the Songhai. We’ve worked with the Songhai for almost 20 years, and Timbuktu was once known as a Songhai city, especially during its glory days. It was founded (or at least partially founded) by Songhai people and, until the mid-20th century, was a majority Songhai town. Today, the Songhai make up only about 25% of the population. The biggest group is the Tamasheq (also known as Tuareg), the enemies of the Songhai, who are about 60% of the population. The rest is made up of Arabs and southerners. Many tourists who go to Timbuktu buy the overpriced souvenirs that are typically Tamasheq (the same stuff we can buy in Niger), but I wasn’t interested in that.

Suz and I on a dune in the Sahara

Embedded in the text of this blog are pictures of Timbuktu. Remember that the French spelling for the city is Tombouctou.

One final advantage of visiting the city is that now I can tell my friends I’ve been to Timbuktu.
Welcome to Timbuktu

Correction

2008-07-08T12:04:00.002-05:00

I need to make a correction to my last post on THE BRIDGE. I said I didn't know of any other bridges between Niamey and Bamako, Mali over the Niger River. There is a new one that crosses the river at Gao, Mali, about 300 miles upstream from Niamey. Gao was the capital of the anicent Songhai empire, and we have concentrated our efforts in Niger on working with the Songhai people.

There is also another bridge that crosses part of the river to an island on which is a city, and that is upstream from Gao and past the bend of the Niger River.

Just thought I'd better clarify that. I don't think there are any other bridges over that stretch of river.

The Bridge

2008-06-28T06:12:00.006-05:00

I haven't been able to write in my blog for some time. Unreliable internet access, slow speed, other priorities, viruses, power outages (there's one that just started as I logged on to blogger), and lack of time have prevented me from posting. Now I hope I can do this one before I lose the Internet server or my computer dies.

Last night we had a sad occurrence. Our cat, Midnight, died. I did a blog on her on 12

Dec 07, so if you want to read more about her, go to that post. She had been our kids' faithful pet for almost 16 years. It was sad to see her go, and it broke one more tie that we had to our "home" in Tera.

That isn't what I wanted to write about, but so much has happened in the past few weeks. What I really wanted to write about is THE BRIDGE. I use that word with the definite article because it is one of the few bridges across the upper reaches of the Niger River. In fact the bridge across the Niger in Niamey is, to my knowledge, the only bridge across the Niger for over 1000 km between Niamey, the capital of Niger, and Bamako, the capital neighboring Mali. Between here and there, the river makes a huge inverted U-shaped bend the passes through the southern reaches of the Sahara Desert.

But let's introduce the bridge more foramlly. The bridge is called the Kennedy bridge. It was funded by the US during the Kennedy administration in the 60's. It is about 1 km (o.6 miles) long and connects the two halves of Niamey on either side of the Niger River. It is well built and has stood up well to the traffic and ravages of weather and time. Unfortunately, it was never designed to accomodate the volume of traffic it now must sustain every day. It is a narrow, two-lane bridge which carries lots of super-loaded trucks, heavy car traffic, donkey carts, a gazillion motorbikes, many pedestrians, and even camels loaded with huge mounds of grasses and bags of who knows what. IT looks quite peaceful in this photo.

The bridge can be quite pictuesque, especially at sunset when the blazing orb of heat and light sets over the right bank of the river (to the left in the picture at right). At night, the streetlights blaze a curving arc over the main channel of the river. Camels bouncing across the bridge can seem very exotic, but you get used to them after a while, and you hardly even notice them. There are also the humorous sights like the spooked cattle wandering all over the bridge or the people doing laundry in the river and laying the clothes out on the island in the middle of the bridge to dry.

But mostly the bridge seems like a necessary evil. As the only artery connecting the two parts of the city, it is often clogged up by massive traffic jams. All it takes is one broken donkey cart to cause a traffic jam. And if a truck breaks down or there is an accident, it's chaos. When the president or a government official goes by the access road on the left bank of the bridge (a common occurrence as it's one of the main roads to and from the presidential palace), the bridge can be locked up for 20 or 30 minutes. We joke a lot about people going to the bridge specifcally to break down, and it often seems that they position their broken vehicle in the most awkward position to obstruct the maximum amount of traffic. There's always an adventure crossing the bridge. The speed of vehicles apparoaching and crossing the bridge is horrendous, and you have to make split second decisions sometimes to avoid disaster. Rush hours always tend to make me nervous. And if that isn't enough, sometimes the students or civil servants like to block the bridge to make their point about their grievances. They have even burned tires or smashed and burned vehicles on the bridge. The only university in the countrty is located on the left bank of the river just at the end of the bridge, so it is nice and convenient for the students.

The problem for many ex-pats is that they have business on both sides of the bridge. Sahel Academy is on the right bank of the bridge; we live on the left bank. That means a dangerous , polluted, and crowded commute to get Suzanne to and from school each day. Also, the Bible School is on the right bank. Many of our colleagues live on the right bank, some of them on the Sahel and Bible school compounds. The SIM Office is on the left bank, near our home. The airport is also on the left bank. So is the American Embassy. And many ex-pats live in the more up-scale sections of town on the left bank. So, we have to cross the bridge almost daily.

Niger is now about to build a second bridge across the Niger in Niamey, about a mile downstream from the current bridge. It is desperately needed. This time it will be built and funded by the Chinese. There are many Chinese contractors in town doing a lot of building right now. Recently, they bought up so much cement (partly for the bridge) that there were spot shortages of the commodity and the price went way up. That made it difficult for us to find and pay for cement we needed for ongoing building projects in the country. Oh, well, at least we'll be getting a new bridge. I hope it gets up soon. The old bridge needs some relief, and it can't come a moment too soon.

Ah, the power is back on, and I can post this before I head back home (I'm working at the office. We have no Internet access at home).

What is Success?

2008-05-12T06:35:00.002-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about success and failure in the past few months. What constitutes success? Is it making a lot of money or having lots of friends and acquaintances? Is it having great status (fame) or power? Is it found in your job and what you do? Is it measured by your ability to create solutions to very difficult problems? Does it come by helping to alleviate suffering for thousands of people or by how big your house is?

In the Christian world we have our own means of defining success. Often we measure the number of decisions for Christ or the number of churches started. We look at how fast and how much a church grows over a period of five or ten years. We count the number of children saved from malnutrition and starvation. We look at how many people have gone on a missions trip in the past year. Are these accurate measures of "success"? I don't want to underestimate the value of numbers and statistics, but it seems to me that these are only superficial ingredients in our measurements.

What then is success? Is it simply remaining faithful to God and His calling? We've stuck it our for 16 years in a very hard place. And the result has been....what? Failure? If you look at the situation based on numbers of people coming to Christ or growth of the church, it sure looks like failure. Several people have written to tell us how they admired our grit and determination in the face of "impossible" odds. I don't know that I'm worthy of such praise. I certainly haven't done everything I could or should have done. And I've made plenty of mistakes. And except for Mike we haven't been able to recruit anyone to join us in the ministy. Is this failure? Or is it a success merely because we've been faithful and persevered for so long on our own with minimal help?

I'm not sure that even faithfulness by itself is an adequate measure of success. If you're faithful outwardly, but your attitude stinks, is that success? That was the case of the older brother in the parable of the prodigal son. I think there are several factors that constitute success.

Winston Churchill once said that "success is going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm." That's quite a statement. If you look at many of the world's greatest people, you see failure over and over in their lives. Both Churchill and Lincoln had periods of great failure. The apostle Peter also failed miserably. What distinguishes these men from other people is that they were able to pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and kept on going. Am I like that? Can I get up from this "failure" and continue to be faithful to God, to the church, to my family. I want to be like that. I don't want to give up because of failure. Perhaps that is the key to success. Even if the failure seems unfair or unhappy, I will keep going. I will put one foot in front of the other and continue to take the next step as God leads. I want failure to make me grow, not make me quit.

I want to be a success.

How do you say goodbye?

2008-04-22T14:36:00.003-05:00

I haven't posted on my blog for a while. We've been in the process of moving, and it's been hard. Much harder than I expected. We moved into our new home in Niamey March 30 (see Nancy's blog for photos), but it took a while to get things organized and arranged, and I haven't done much work since March 15. Though we're fairly well settled now, we're still trying to set up a routine, and it's complicated by the extreme heat of the HOT SEASON in the West African Sahel. We're in the hottest time of the year, and it's hard to think after about an hour of work because your brain is so fried.

How would you say goodbye to a place where you have lived for 16 years? I lived in Tera longer than anywhere else in my life. Now I've had to say to goodbye. Here are my top ten ways to say goodbye. Hope this resonates with someone.

10. Learn from the mistakes of the past, but don't dwell on the past and its failures.
9. Don't ignore your feelings. Be honest and open.
8. Remember the good times you had.
7. Don't rush the process of resettlement.
6. Visit old haunts in your old location before you leave.
5. Let God show you the next step in His time.
4. Bring familiar things to your new home to keep up the continuity.
3. Take mementos of the place you're leaving with you.
2. Take lots of pictures to remember the old place.

And the number one way tosay goodbye:
1. Take time to grieve.

That's all for now. I hope to be able to post more often in the weeks to come.

Dam Bridges

2008-02-23T08:13:00.003-05:00

Look--under the car. It's a dam. No, it's a bridge. No, it's a dam bridge. On the road to Tera there are five places in the last 50 km where the road crosses a bridge. But it isn't simply a bridge. As you can see in the photo, the water does pass under the road, but the road is constructed high above where the water flows. So the bridge also dams up the water and creates a small pond next to the road. Only in one of the dams does the water remain all year round. But in the other 4, the water lasts 4-6 months after the rainy season has ended. That means that the people in these villages have water in which to wash and water plants and animals for 7-9 months of the year. It helps to preserve surface water in a land that is short on this natural resource.

Since the construction of the paved road to Tera in 1997, we have bounced over these "dam bridges" (my affectionate term) many times. They signalled that we were getting near to Tera and home. When you come to the bridge, the road actually dips down onto the bridge. It's like the opposite of a speed bump. You wouldn't know it, but as you cross the bridge, there are actually conduits underneath which channel water under the road and over the dam. From the vehicle it looks more like a dam than a bridge. I didn't find pictures of one of the dams. I'll have to take one and put it on another blog.

JUBILEE!

2008-01-31T15:34:00.000-05:00

Remember the law in the Old Testament (Levitcus 25) that mandated that every seventh year was to be a "sabbatical" in which no one was to sow or reap? The land was to lie fallow in remembrance that God is the true owner of the land, and the poeple needed to remember to honor Him. After seven cycles of this "sabbatical year" there was to follow another year called the year of Jubilee. In this year, all debts were to be forgiven, land was to be restored to its original owners, and no one was to sow or plant. The people were to remember that God is forgiving and merciful, and He delights to save those who honor Him.

This week I completed seven cycles of seven years and started my own "year of Jubliee." It is a year of liberation and freeing for me. For years the work in Tera has been a growing weight on my shoulders. In the past few weeks, God has lifted that burden and told me the time has come to move on. He will take the burden and bear it. Maybe the land in Tera needs to lie fallow for a while. We've sown many seeds there, often with sweat, toil, and tears. Now it's time to stop planting and let God work.

It's also a year of rejoicing as I look back on the past 49 years and see what God has done. It hasn't always been easy. I've chosen a road "less traveled" and that has definitely made "all the difference," to quote Robert Frost's famous poem. But there are wonderful memories and lots of laughter amidst the pain and the tears.

But the laborers are too few. There are a few believers in Tera now, but they are not strong and have tentative and marginally trained leaders. Is there anyone out there ready to come in and water the seeds? I long to see the day when the fields will be white to harvest. Actually, that's what the Songhai say when the millet is ripening, that the fields are turning "white." When the stalks dry up and become a drab whitish-brown, they are ready to harvest. May this day come soon for the Songhai. But God has his time, and it will come. Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

In the meantime, we rejoice and proclaim freedom for the captives, the restoring of sight to the blind, the loosing of the chains of those in bondage, and the ability to walk to the lame. This is the year of jubilee. May His mercy and forgiveness be known in all the earth.

Waiting

2008-01-16T15:48:00.000-05:00

We've been in a waiting mode the past few weeks. As many of you know, our world has been turned topsy-turvy by a decision we made in December to move to Niamey because of Suzanne's health and personal needs. The official moving day was this past Monday, January 14.

We're waiting on God to show us the next step. What will we do in Niamey? What is God's plan for us? After 16 years of work in one place, we've been abruptly uprooted and moved to another. While I never doubted that the move to Niamey is the right one, I've been torn by the decision. I've not really wanted to do it and didn't think it was good for me. I asked the Lord for confirmation, and He responded more than once, assuring me this was for the best.

The first confirmation came during our annual field conference held Jan 5-9. Our speaker came from California, and almost everything he said spoke to my aching heart. One picture he painted was of a big building on Fifith Avenue in New York City. When you walk into the lobby, there is a statue of Atlas straining to hold up the world. Walk across the street to St. Patrick's Cathedral, and there you see a small statue of the baby Jesus holding the world in His hands. For a long time, I've felt the burden of the Songhai people on my shoulders. In one way the burden has been ours to bear because there are so few workes amongst the Songhai. In another sense, I've tried to bear a lot of the burden that belongs to God. During conference, that burden lifted, and I placed it back in God's capable hands. For the first time in years, I felt free of that heavy weight.

The second confirmation also came during conference when one of our African colleagues encouraged us by saying that he felt it was time for us to move but that our time in Tera had not been wasted effort in spit of the meager results we had seen. This man knows what he is talking about because he was born and raised in Tera. He currently teaches at Sahel Academy and has taught French to both of our children. He is a believer, but his extended family is not. He said that everyone in Tera knows about Christianity because of us and has some respect for what a Christian is. Even his own family allows him to stay "Christian" as long as it is like what Yaaye (my African name) and his family practice. That is a major step forward, and he says our being in Tera has encouraged him to persevere in his Christian faith. I don't have to tell you that I had tears in my eyes when he told me this.

A third confirmation came the day after conference ended. Nancy handed me the devotional book My Utmost for His Highest and pointed me to the entry for Jan 11. It struck me how it fit our situation so well. Listen to these words: "If we obey God, it will mean that other people's plans will be upset....We have simply to obey and to leave all the consequences with Him." Our friends in Tera did not react very well to the announcement that we would be moving away. They wanted to prevent that or at least mitigate the circumstances of our departure. For some of them, it will mean the loss of a job. Others will not have the teaching and spiritual input into their lives. For others, we've become like family to them. It is very hard to say goodbye. But what Oswald Chambers says applies to our situation very well.

A final confirmation came on Sunday, Jan 13, when our guard, a man who once seemed to have a strong faith but has fallen back some in the past three years, came to our house and said he and the others needed to get back together for meetings and studying. I was encouraged by that crack in the wall. He also commented that I seemed more at peace than I'd been in months, perhaps years. It showed me that this move seems to be the right thing, and I've decided in my mine that it is the right thing to do.

So, how am I going to wait? Our speaker at conference gave three suggestions:
1. Wait on the Lord, not for an answer to my questions. By the way, wait in Hebrew means trust.
2. Wait in a crowd. We'll be waiting with our SIM colleagues and our African brothers and sisters. It's not good to wait alone, as that is when Satan attacks.
3. While waiting, we will do what we can, even when it seems insignificant. God takes small acts of obedience and turns them into great things. The greatest things may be accomplished while we're in a waiting mode.

So, here in Niameywe wait. We are living temporarily in one house for 2 months until another house can be fixed up for us. We are learning to live without plans and by His timetable. We will step forward, and He will give us His power along the way.

Midnight

2007-12-12T09:20:00.000-05:00

Midnight

No, I’m not talking about a time of day. I’m talking about our cat. Midnight has been our pet for over 15 years, almost the entire time we’ve lived in Téra. While we’ve had other cats, Midnight is the only one that has survived all this time, including three home assignments, when we were gone over a year each time.

We got Midnight about three months after we moved to Téra in 1992. Nancy had taken the kids and gone to see some women as she studied the Songhai language. While visiting at one home, the kids noticed a cat with kittens. Daniel pleaded with mommy for one of the kittens, and the rest is history.

Midnight is quite an attraction in Téra. She is older than half of the people in this country. Every so often, children come into the yard, and one will say to the other with some awe, “That cat is older than you are!” Also, Midnight is the only cat in Téra we know that has been fixed. After having three litters (we once watched some being born), we decided to have her spayed. This was the source of endless curiosity among the Songhai people. They came to see “the cat who had the operation,” laughing at the crazy white people who do such weird things.

Midnight has never been a terribly affectionate cat. She would almost never sit in anyone’s lap or purr. She is quick to hiss at you if you invade her private space. Her idea of affection is to jump up on the couch next to you and fall asleep right there. Daniel was the only one who could pet her and get her to purr.

Midnight once fell down the latrine. We were getting ready to go to Niamey and couldn’t find her, but we heard plaintive cries coming from the direction of that foul hole in the ground. With a flashlight we could see her down at the bottom looking up at her would-be saviors. We solved the problem of getting her out by putting a long log down into the latrine, and she climbed up it. Last year as we were getting ready to go to Niamey for our annual field conference, Midnight was very sick. We thought she was going to die, so we tearfully bade our good-byes to her. When we got back two weeks later, there was Midnight welcoming us, alive as could be. We were all very happy to see her.

Midnight is now an old lady. She has only one tooth left and isn’t quite as active as she used to be, but she still catches mice, and her vision is impeccable. She sneezes a lot and can't tolerate milk. She is much more affectionate that she used to be and she loves to curl up on the couch next to one of us, especially in the cooler weather at this time of the year. She even purrs. She has been a special pet for our kids, and when the time comes, it will be hard to say good-bye to her.

Walliyya aka Abdim's Stork

2007-11-16T04:09:00.000-05:00

Walliyya

A bird commonly seen in W. Africa is the Abdim’s Stork, also known by its Songhai name, walliyya. This bird summers north of the equator and “winters” in southern Africa. I use the parentheses around “winters” because though it is “winter” in W. Africa, it is summer in southern Africa when the stork lives there, so you might say it’s a real “snow bird,” if that expression can be applied to Africa. It likes to be where there is eternal summer.

The Abdim’s stork usually appears in W. Africa in April and migrates back to southern Africa in October. This corresponds roughly to the hot, humid period in our part of the world. In April one of the common questions you may hear will be, “Have you seen a walliyya yet? The walliya is supposed to be a harbinger of the coming rainy season (June-September in Niger), and when you see one, you know that the rains are on their way.

Interestingly, the Abdim’s stork nests only when it is north of the equator. It is very gregarious and usually builds a nest in a tall, leafy tree in a town or a village near a water source. The brood consists of 2-4 eggs. During the rainy season, the chicks hatch and learn to fly, and by September, they’re ready for the long trek to southern African with their parents.

So it was quite a surprise one day this month (November, 2007) to see a walliyya walking around in the street outside out gate. They should all have been long gone by now. And this one wasn’t flying. Either it was injured in some way or it hatched late and was too young to fly when the migration took place. Earlier this week, the walliyya came into our yard looking for food, and we snapped these pictures of it.

It’s not the prettiest bird. Actually, it’s rather gangly and ugly, but it does play an important role in encouraging everyone during the long W. African hot season (March-June). You might call it the “rain bird.”

Choking Weeds

2007-10-18T11:06:00.000-05:00

Isn't this a pretty picture? Some beautiful flowers floating on the edge of the Niger River at the ferry crossing. Actually these are dangerous weeds. They're called water hyacinths, and they're choking up rivers and lakes all over Africa, killing fish and the organisms they feed on. It's kind of like kudzu in the southern U.S. In some places, there is a mat of hyacinths several miles long extending from the shore out onto the surface of a lake. The fishermen have to struggle to paddle their boats to get to open water where the fish live. The mat of weeds gets bigger and bigger, and the amount of open water shrinks. It is difficult to get rid of this weed. Poisons don't kill it, and it harms the fish and the people who drink the water and eat the fish. It has no natural enemies that eat it, either. Recently, I read about a microorganism that feeds on the hyacinth. It gradually eats away at the roots little by little, killing one plant at a time. It was the only known method of getting rid of the flower at the time the article was written.

It occurred to me that maybe my life is a bit clogged up with clutter that is choking up my life. It's not so much sin (although every one of us has his or her besetting sins). It's just that I've got so many little details to manage that I can hardly think any more. My life is terribly complicated and full of lots of irreconcileable differences. I'm being pulled into Niamey for different meetings when my main ministry is supposed to be in Tera. I'm supposed to be working in the Songhai language with Songhai people, but I'm actually working mainly with other people groups using the Songhai and French languages. I have some priorities I want to work on this term in Niger: finishing up translation work and publishing it, launching the church in Doumba to be on its own, setting up a good language and culture learning program for Niger, and trying to get repairs to the sports field in Tera moving. But I have gifts that are barely getting used, and I'm getting a little frustrated by that. I'm wearing a lot of hats, and I'm being pulled in many directions. It's hard to concentrate on all these things and do them well. Then there's all the interruptions from people at my door. People are more important, but I also have to get some work done.

I need to simplify, but how? I can't set loose a lot of bugs to finish all the work. And I can't wave a wand and magically get everything accomplished. Little by little some things are moving forward, but it seems as slow as the desert tortoise. Maybe I need to stop and admire the "roses" God has created for a moment, even if they are destructive. These water hyacinths are prominent every year at this time on the Niger River. So far they haven't choked up the river, but they are sometimes a problem for the canoes. I don't want my life so choked up that I'm paralyzed. But I do want to have time for beauty and laughter. Let's look at the "roses."

The Road to Tera

2007-10-03T14:20:00.000-05:00

Traveling the road to Tera is always an adventure. You never know what you're going to see or what is going to happen. This is true at no time more than the rainy season, which corresponds roughly to summer in the northern hemisphere. I have already posted a blog on the back road. Now it's time to talk about the main, paved road.

Shortly after Suzanne and I returen to Niger on July 30 after our summer vacation, we tried to return to Tera. At first, we heard that the back road had been washed out by heavy rains. At the same time the ferry wasn't working, so the main road was also not an option. We had to stay in Niamey a few more days than planned.

Finally, on Monday, August 6, we heard the ferry was working, and we could get to Tera. However, we were not informed of another hazard, and just a few miles outside of Niamey, we came upon this scene:

Now what should we do? It was already after noon. There was no way to get to the other side of the canyon. There didn't appear to be any detour around. Would we be able to get to Tera at all? This is what I mean by adventure.

We learned later that the bridge had been washed out by a wall of water that came down the creek on Saturday night, August 4. Over four inches of rain had fallen that night, and it was too much for the bridge. Probably the water washed away the road at either end of the bridge, causing it to collapse. Normally there is no more than a trickle of water flowing in this creek. I've never seen angry floodwaters in it.

At the time of the bridge collapse, a bus or taxi loaded with people was barreling down the hill from the other side. It dive-bombed into the canyone which had just been created and twenty people were killed. We heard by the grape vine that eight people were washed downstream and that their bodies were never recovered. Whether that's true or not, we don't know. In any case, all this happened the same week as the major bridge collapse in Minneapolis. Though this bridge was much shorter and only one vehicle was involved in the accident (in contrast to the many scary stories we've heard about the bridge in MN), this one produced more deaths.

Suzanne and I did find a way around the bridge (at that point it was a scary detour of about 5 miles which included lots of sand and mud) and we made it to Tera where we were able to stay for a week. The way around has now become a permanent detour (it has been graded and new dirt has been laid on it), and there is little risk of major floods now because the rainy season is over. We won't see much rain between now and next May.

In September, when Nancy came home, we took a lot of pictures of the broken bridge and the canyon created when it collapsed. Here are a few of my favorites.

The jagged edge of the road and the old bridge lying at the bottom of the canyon.

Me standing on the old bridge at the bottom of the canyon.

Nancy at the brink!

Multilingual

2007-09-04T11:03:00.000-05:00

Any of you who know me know I like languages. I have studied six (including Biblical Greek and Hebrew) and speak three fluently(French, English, and Songhai) and know another African language a bit (Hausa). I get bored and restless in a monolingual environment. A multicultural, multilingual setting seems so much more dynamic and interesting. In the places I've lived in the US, I've unfortunately experienced more of the former than the latter. That is changing, however, and I think it is good for us as Americans, even though it does produce some "growing pains."

Thus it was fascinating last Friday, Aug 31, to participate in our monthly Day of Prayer meetings held in Niamey at Sahel Academy. Not only were we using French and English, the two main languages spoken by SIM people in Niger, but there were also other languages spoken. Two short-term workers from Romania gave their testimonies. One spoke in Swiss German (low German) and was translated into French. He is very gifted in languages and already knows some French and English in addition to German and Romanian. The other spoke in Romanian and was translated likewise into French. By the way, watch out for the Romanians. They are serious about their commitment to God and His work. They may become the next Koreans or Brazilians or Nigerians in the missions movement. Later in the prayer session we watched a DVD in Arabic with French subtitles. So, there were five different languages used in one prayer meeting! How's that for a taste of heaven?

I love being in this kind of work where many languages are used. Let's get used to multilingual environments. They're going to become more and more commonplace.

Good-byes

2007-08-14T03:32:00.000-05:00

No one likes to say good-bye, especially if it's for a long time or potentially for a lifetime. I don't like good-byes, either, and I've had to say a lot of good-byes over the last few months.

The first good-bye occurred in June when we said farewell to our long-time colleagues Martin and Lucie Brown. They have been in Niger almost as long as Nancy and I, and their daughter, Naomi, has been one of Suzane's best friends. We don't if or when we will see them again.

The next good-bye was even harder. On Thrusday, July 26, I said good-bye to Daniel. I took him to breakfast that morning, told him everything I thought he needed to know (how do you do that in 30 minutes?), hugged him, and waved good-bye as he left for work. The tears misted my eyes as I drove back to MRF, where we had been spending our vacation. Later that day, Suzanne and I left PA to go to CT and fly on to Niger on July. It's hard to leave your grown-up son (who still seems so young) and not know if you'll see him in the next two years.

On July 27, I said good-bye to Nancy for five weeks. Though I'll see her again when she returns to Niger on Sept 5, I feel a little like a part of me is missing.

The last good-bye occurred when we arrived back in Niger on July 30. Unbeknownst to us, while we were en route, our dear friend and colleague, Helene Zoolkoski, died. She had been diagnosed 16 months ago with stage 4 melanoma. There is no cure for this stage of cancer. Helene did not take any medicine and remained symptom-free for almost a year. Her husband, Chris, is a doctor, and together they decided to return to Niger to live as long as they could here. Early this year, Helen began experiencing symptoms of the encroaching disease. I saw her for the last time in late April, and at that point she was having more good days than bad days, but by June when we left it was evident she was failing fast. The last week of July,while we were still in the US, we were hearing ominous reports of her condition, and we knew the end was near. In addition to her husband, she leaves behind three children: Elisheva, Zeb, and Joel. Eli was in the dorm last year and knows Suzanne well. She is the oldest at about 14. Joel is 6, and Zeb is about 10. They are returning to the US with their father tonight, August 14. Pray for them in the months ahead.

Nancy and I have known Helene since we were kids. She was only a year older than us, and we went to school together in Nigeria when we were all MKs. In our adult lives, we have worked with Helene in Niger off and on over the years. Nancy and Helene even taught together one year at Sahel Academy. She has been an educator, a mom, a wife, and a person of faith, and she will be greately missed and mourned in SIM Niger. Because of her love for and service to Sahel Academy, a tree was planted in her honor and in her memory at the school during this morning's opening assembly at the school. Good-bye, Helene

I was present at Creation

2007-07-18T08:32:00.000-05:00

No, not the one that happened "in the beginning," but during our vacation in the US this summer, I have attended two events that had some relation to the word "creation."

The first event was Creation Festival 2007, a musical event in honor of our Creator. This was a camp with concerts by Christian artists which lasted for four days at the end of June. Suzanne, Nancy, and I went. There weren't many facilities at the camp (we had to walk a mile to get a shower and there wasn't running water or electricity hookups), but hey, we deal with a lack of amenities in Niger, so it wasn't much of a hardship for us. We got to hear some of my favorite artisits: Newsboys, Casting Crowns, David Crowder Band, Aaron Schuste, and Third Day. There were four different bands every night. We heard some new ones we had never heard of before. Leeland became a new favorite.

The Word of God also played an important part in the festival. There were messages by renowned speakers, and all the concession stands and booths closed down during the preaching. We had a lot of fun in the out-of-doors with the green and the fresh, cool air. We borrowed a tent and cooking utensils from one friend and sleeping bags from another.

It rained a few times, but we like rain. One night they said there were about 70,000 people at the concert!!!

Another day Daniel and I had the chance to go to Strasburg, PA to Sight and Sound theater to view the production of "In the Beginning." It was an elaborate stage recreation of the creation of the world, the fall, and, at the end, the restoration of the world to the way it was "in the beginning." The music and the production were excellent.

That's some of what we've done on vacation. No, the theme of our vacation is not "creation," but in some ways we are experiencing a recreation as we begin to feel refreshed and rejuvinated after a stressful and difficult year in Niger. We are also experiencing the wonders of God's creation as we hide out in the beautiful rolling Poconos of Pennsylvania.

50 YEARS

2007-07-08T18:02:00.000-05:00

Humanly speaking, 50 years is a long time. How many of you can remember where you were 50 years ago? I can't because I haven't reached that milestone yet. That was 1957, and I wasn't born until two years later. Think of all the things that have happened in the last 50 years: econmical jet travel, missions to the moon, computers, e-mail, IM, independence for most African countries, many wars, the growth of evangelicalism, the Lausanne Covenenant, Islamic resurgence, people pushing for all kinds of "rights".

From God's perspective, of course, amd even considering the recorded history of the world, 50 years is a mere cursor blip on the screen. Casting Crowns sings a song that inculdes the following words:

"I am a flower quickly fading

Here today and gone tomorrow

A wave tossed in the ocean

A vapor in the wind..."

The song goes on to say,

"...Still you hear me when I'm calling

Lord, you catch me when I'm falling

You show me who I am:

I am yours...."

Isn't it great to know that we are His? That we belong to Him and that He controls all the years of our lives?

Fifty years ago an event happened that has great significance for my life even though I wasn't there when it happened: my parents got married. If it wasn't for that event, I wouldn't be here!! The date was 15 June 1957. To celebrate this great milestone, family and friends from near and far came together at Trinity Covenant Church in Manchester, CT, on 24 June 2007. We had a grand celebration remembering 50 years of God's faithfulness. I am the oldest of four boys, all of whom are in the picture below.

Nancy, myself, and our two children, Daniel and Suzanne, traveled from Africa to be there for the big day. Jim and Beth Anne and their boys along with two girlfriends came from New Jersey. Tim, Laurie, and boys, who livein Manchester, were all there. And Dave (the one who looks like me) flew in from Oklahoma. His wife Debbie and their four were unable to come, and we missed them. In addition, my mom's four sisters and their living husbands (one died of cancer two years ago) all came from Seattle, Washington. See the picture of my mom and dad (on the extreme right) and the sisters with their husbands on the left. The woman to the left of my mom is Aunt Muriel. Her husband, Uncle Sev, is the one who died.

My dad's brother came from Florida with his daughter (my cousin) and her husband. There were other guests, mostly members of Trinity Covenant Church, where my parents have attended for 30 years and where my dad has been pastor of missions and mentoring for many years. Others came from CT and from Florida.

The relatives arrived on various days of the week before the big day. We arrived from Africa on Monday, June 18. Those from Washington came in to Hartford on Thursday, June 21. The relatives from Florida were there on Saturday, June 23. And my brother from Oklahoma also came in on Saturday. We had a picnic at Tim and Laurie's on Friday, June 22. Unfortunately, it was cold and rainy. Saturday noon all the relatives that had arrived went to a Chinese buffet. And all the older generation went to a nice restaurant Saturday evening. That did not include anyone under 50.

Sunday afternoon, 24 June, on a glorious sunny day, we four boys hosted a reception for my parents at Trinity Covenant Church. We estimated about 200 people showed up. That was an excellent turnout to honor two who have modeled fithfulness and godliness to us all. Many could not make it. A 45-minute program in the sanctuary was well-received. Mom and Dad surprised us by making a powerful 20-minute DVD which included pictures I had never or rarely ever seen of them and us when we were growing up.

Fifity years. In this crazy world, where commitment no longer means what it used to and where people trade spouses like they trade commodities, we are pleased to honor my parents, Bob and Jean DeValve, on their 50 years of married life. Congratulations!

Rain and Traveling to the US

2007-07-04T14:33:00.000-05:00

It's 3:30 p.m. on July 4th, and it's raining. A thunderstorm! Just like Niger. Though it's cold (only in the 60's), I try never to complain when there's clouds and rain. We see so little of either in Niger that I've come to appreciate both very much, even when it feels like winter to me. iIve got on a t-shirt and a sweatshirt. Our last day in Tera it was 111 F in the shade with about 40% humidity, a heat index of nearly 140 F. Unfortunately, we haven't heard that Niger has had much rain yet, and that's not good. They should have had rains starting before the end of June.

We're back in the US for a vacation. Our trip here was another adventure. We were supposed to leave from Niamey at 2:45 a.m. on June 18 (local time). We dutifully went out to the airport at midnight after not getting any sleep since 6:30 a.m. the previous day, when we got up to have church and travel down to Niamey from Tera. We quickly got through baggage check-in with our loaded suitcases, then proceeded to passport control. That took a while, and then we had to get in a line for security. It wasn't long before we were in the single waiting lounge in the departure section of the airport. We waited and waited and waited..... Our plane didn't even arrive until 3:30 a.m, and we weren't in take-off position on the single runway until 4:30, nearly 24 hours after we had gotten up the day before.

The big surprise of the trip was that we had a scheduled layover in Ougadougou (try that mouthful on for size), the capital of Burkina Faso, only a 45 minute journey from Niamey. We thought we were on a direct flight to Casablanca, Morocco. The layover was supposed to be 45 minutes, but it turned out to be triple that. First they asked Nancy and Suzanne, another family we were traveling with, and several others to move from the back of the plane. Then they unscrewed some of the back seats and lowered them to install a frame for a stretcher. Then they installed the stretcher and a curtain and carried a sick patient onto the plane, escorted by his daughter and doctor. I had never been on a plane with a medivac before. It was quite dramatic. It was well after sunrise before we took off around 6:30, and we had burned up over three hours of a scheduled 3 hour, 40 minute layover in Casablanca. We were afraid we would miss our flight to New York, but when we landed in Casa at 9:40, we had hope we might make it to the 10:45 flight.

We had to go through security into a waiting lounge, and then we were bused to a secondary terminal, past our waiting plane sitting on the tarmac. At the new terminal, our plane was already boarding. We had to go through secondary security: a thorough check of our hand luggaged and a frisk down. I was wearing cargo trousers with a lot of pockets, and they were full of travel stuff. I dutifully pulled everything out of my trousers. One thing I was carryin in a side pocket was a bee-sting kit. I'm allergic to bee strings and have to carry this kit wherever I go. The policemen looked at it, promplty popped the 1/2-inch needle out of it and reprimanded me for trying to take a needle on the plane. I tried to explain that I'm allergic to bee stings, and the medicine in the kit could save my life. He glared at me, seeming not to comprehend a word I was saying (all in French) and not happy with the needle sticking out of it. I don't think he'd ever seen or heard of such a thing. He said he'd have to confiscate it. I said he might as well because he'd exposed the medicine to the air, and it would lose its potency quickly as a result. We got on a bus that took us halfway back to the other terminal, where our plane waited. We boarded our flight and took off only a half hour late (11:15 a.m. local time). We made up the time in the air, and arrived exactly on time at JFK in New York at 2:45 p.m. NY time. We breezed through passport control, baggage claim, and customs, and found ourselves out in the lobby of the international building arrivals area. We had decided to take the "Connecticut Limo," a fancy name for a comfortable van, to Hartford, CT to meet my parents. It was an expensive, but easy way to leave the New York driving to someone else. We were picked up at 4: 30 p.m., but it took another hour to pick up other riders at other terminals, and we had to switch vans at one point to accomodate even more passengers. So it was after 5:30 before we left the airport, and you know what that means on a Monday afternoon. It was bumper to bumper on the Van Wyck "Expressway" until we got to the bridges going over the East River to the mainland. Then we had to drop passengers off in three different places in CT before we got to Hartford. My brother, his son, and my mom were waiting there with a van to pick us up with our large assortment of baggage and take us home. We went home, had a delicious supper of subs, and then crashed at about 10:30 p.m., EDT, nearly 24 hours after we had taken off from Niamey, and about 45 hours since we had had any real sleep. This is the stuff of international travel, and I begin to wonder why I thought traveling was so much fun when I was younger.

Next blog I'll detail some of the things we've been doing on vacation.

Graduation

2007-06-08T09:42:00.000-05:00

I'm tired and emotinally drained after a week of celebrating our son Daniel's graduation from high school (see picture below). Where have the years gone? It's only this week that it's beginning to hit me that Daniel will not be around next year with his playful spirit and sincere heart. I'm really going to miss him. He has grown up and is ready to fly on his own. It's true he's been in the dorm at Sahel Academy in Niamey for a number of years, but he was only a 3-hour drive (and this past year a quick phone call) away. Now, he'll be nearly a full 24-hour day journey away by plane, and the contact will be much more difficult. I know he can cope, but I still want to protect him from all the unknowns.

This week there were two big ceremonies to honor the 6 graduates of Sahel Academy (SA). (Daniel was the only American among the six--there were 2 Koreans, 2 Nigerians, and one Ghanaian, in addition to Daniel). The first was the graduation banquet Tuesday night, June 5. All the staff of SA, the juniors and seniors, and the families of the graduates were invited. It was a time to laugh and cry as we remebered the years that each of these 6 have spent at SA. Of the six seniors, Daniel had been at Sahel the longest, starting there in 1999, when he was in 5th grade. The juniors gave some prophecies about where each of the seniors would go and what they would do in life. Some of the prophecies were really funny and fit quite well the personalities and backgrounds of the seniors.

After the prophecies, each parent had a few moments to share some thoughts with their children. Nancy reminded everyone how Daniel loves food and exhorted him to feed on the Word and not just on bread alone. I recalled the time when Daniel was 3 and came up to Nancy and said to her, "Mommy, when I grow up, I want to be a killer." After being reprimanded for saying something so awful, Daniel, nearly in tears, had replied, "But I just wanted to be a killer like David who killed Goliath." I told Daniel that there are many giants out there, and they can be quite fearsome. But I reminded him that, like David, we do not need to fear, because God is with us and we are on His side. Then I said he had our blessing to be a killer and to go out and slay some giants.After all the parents had finished their speeches, I got up and sang a song sung by Mark Harris called, "Find Your Wings." I can't sing it like Mark Harris, but it expressed a lot of what I would like to say to Daniel and all the seniors at this time. I made it through the song without choking up. Here are the words:

Find Your Wings

It's only for a moment you are mine to hold

The plans that heaven has for you will all too soon unfold

So many different prayers I pray for all that you might do

But most of all I want to know you're walking in the truth

And if I've never told you

I want you to know,

That as I watch you grow

Chorus:

I pray that God would fill your heart with dreams

And that faith gives you the courage to dare to do great things

I'm here for you whatever this life brings

So, let my love give you roots,

And help you find your wings.

May passion be the wind that leads you through your days

And may conviction keep you strong,

Guide you on your way.

May there be many moments

That make your life so sweet

But more than memories

Chorus

Bridge:

It's not living, if you don't reach for the sky.

I'll have tears as you take off,

But I'll cheer as you fly.

Chorus

The graduation ceremony was last night, Thursday, June 7, at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Niamey. It was attended by everyone from the international community involved with SA, about 100 adults and children. In addition to a speech by one of the faculty and by the director of the school, each graduate gave a short speech. None of the six graduates like public speaking very much, but all six did an excellent job. Daniel did the best speech of his life, and I was so proud of him (we have it on video). He even spoke a few words in Songhai to his best friend from Tera whom we had invited down for the occasion. I couldn't help the tears during the ceremony. It was very moving. Afterwards, there was a simple reception in the SA dining hall, with cake punch, snacks, and most importantly, the love of friends and colleagues. And then it was all over, and Daniel is now flying on his own. The high school kids stayed up all night watching all three Lord of the Rings videos in the extended version. But Nancy and I came home to try to calm down and get some sleep. We were going to go back to Tera today, but we are too tired and have too much to do, so we'll go back tomorrow, where we'll spend a week letting Daniel say good-bye to his home and packing up for our trip to the US on June 18.

Congratulations, Daniel!!

Dust Storm!

2007-06-03T15:15:00.000-05:00

We have a lot of dust in Niger. In a previous blog, I talked about the harmattan. This is the dusty wind that can blow off the Sahara any time during the long dry season (October-May). It is especially bad in December through March. See the dust that collected on our windowsill in a two-week period in March below:

This time I want to talk about dust storms (or sand storms, as they're sometimes called). At the end of the dry season, there is a three-month period of time called the hot season (mid-March to mid-June). This is a time of intense heat and rising humidity as the monsoon winds begin to blow in from off the ocean to the south and west and work themselves in under the upper-level winds which keep blowing from off the Sahara. Towards the end of the hot season, small storm cells begin to form as the hot, humid air rises into the atmosphere, creating towering cumulus clouds. These storms can be extremely violent, with high winds, hail, and pelting rain that accumulates at a rate of more than an inch an hour.

The high winds in these storms pick up all he loose dust, which has very little to hold it down, and throw it hundreds of feet into the air. The result is a huge wall of orange or black dust preceding the storm. It comes rolling in like a tsunami. Sometimes we joke that weather predicition in the Sahel consists of watching for the dark dust cloud on the horizon and knowing that when you see it, you have about ten minutes to get your laundry in off the line before it hits. The dust storms can turn night into day, and they can blow for as long as an hour. Rain may or may not follow the dust storm, but the dust storm is always associated with the rain clouds, and there will be rain somewhere even if you don't get it. In one dust storm, you can see as much dust settle on your windowsill (and tables, chairs, desktops, computers, etc) as you see in two weeks of harmattan dust like in the picture above.

I wrote about these dust storms backin 2004. I'm going to paste in what I wrote here:

"Few things are as spectacular or as dramatic as a sandstorm in the Sahel region of Africa. For days on end during the months of April and May, the heat and humidity build as the monsoon winds blown in from off the ocean. When you feel like you can't stand it one minute longer, and sweat is pouring down your legs and off your face, you know a storm is not far off. A dark line of clouds appears on the horizon, and you run to shut all the windows in your house, knowing that you have 15-30 minutes at most to prevent your house from becoming a disaster area.
As the storm clouds approach, a bright orange "fog bank" appears ahead of the storm. This is the sandstorm, which boils out in front of the rainclouds. The fierce winds pick up the fine Sahara sand and throw it hundreds of feet into the air, creating a massive orange cloud of dust that gradually gets bigger and bigger as it approaches. As you watch it coming, the air is still and close. Suddenly, the sandstorm hits, and the winds increase to gale force knocking down trees and branches and carrying away anything light with them. The dust sandblasts your face and skin, and the day becomes dark and gloomy. Sometimes there is so much sand in the air that the sky becomes black as night. The sandstorm may last anywhere from 5 minutes to an hour. The temperature drops dramatically, often as much as 30 degrees fahrenheit in the space of five minutes. After the sandstorm passes, the rain begins. Huge thunderclouds unleash their reservoirs of water, and torrents of rain begin lashing the ground. Within an hour, an inch or two or rain may fall. After the storm all is cool and still, and the smell of the rain settling the dust perfumes the air. "

We've had two big dust storms this past month in Tera. We had our first on May 6. That one was rather weak and only turned the sky a milky orange. It wasnt' terribly windy, either. The areas surrounding Tera got a lot of rain that day, however. We got about 0.15 inches in town. The next day, Monday, May 7, we had a doozy of a dust storm, one that turned the sky into almost night at 4 p.m. Here is a picture of the approaching wall of dust.

We didn't get any rain after this dust storm, but it was cooler for a day or two. We did get 0.75 inches of rain on May 13, however. That was in the night, and it didn't have a huge

dust storm with it, just a lot of wind. That night was really cool. We haven't seen any rain in Tera since May 13, and the rainy season hasn't officially started yet, but some parts of the country have already been blessed with good first rains. Once the rains get going, they settle the dust down, and the dust storms don't blow any more.

I'll leave you with a picture looking out our window around 4 p.m. on Monday, May 7, 2007.

As Stubborn as a Donkey

2007-05-25T10:50:00.000-05:00

We've all heard this expression, I'm sure. In Niger we see donkeys everywhere, and they are some of the most difficult animals to work with. Yet, they get a lot of work done. Most of the carts that carry stuff around Tera are pulled by donkeys. Currently, we're having a lot of our water hauled in by donkey cart since we don't have any water coming into our pipes.

The classic stubbornness of donkeys is most revealing when you're traveling. If they're standing in the road, they won't move out of the way even if you're honking at them or racing up on them fast. At twilight, the gray donkeys are particularly hard to see because they blend in with the road and the sky. You have to keep a sharp eye out for them on the road because they won't move out of the way.

This stubbornness was illustrated in a hilarious way one day as we waited to catch the ferry across the Niger River. About 150 donkeys had come across the river on the ferry to our side, and the herders were trying to get them off the ferry so the cars could get on. There was a small gap of no more than three inches between the deck of the ferry and the ramp of the ferry. The donkeys refused to step over this gap. They would rather stay on the deck of the ferry where there was no food or water than step over the gap and move on to the "greener" pastures below. The herders were doing everything they could to get the donkeys to move: beating their backs with sticks, pulling their legs (literally), pushing them, and grabbing them by the nose and ears. The donkeys refused to budge. Or if they did, they would come up to the crack and circle back around onto the ferry deck. It was funny watching the whole incident.

Then it occurred to me that we can be a lot like those donkeys. We're comfortable where we are, thank you, and we don't want to move out of our comfort zone. God wants to lead us on to greener pastures and take us beside still waters, but we refuse. We'd rather settle for the slim pickings this earth has to give us than to step over the gap in faith into His arms and let Him lead us on. Sometimes God has to bring suffering or pain into our lives to get us moving and push us to step over the small crack we're afraid of. Or we're just happy to rely on all the things we possess and don't want to make a small leap of faith to trust God. God then gives us a good whack or pulls our legs, and we have to make that step of faith in pain. We question why God is doing this to us. If only we'd step over without complaining and knowing He is with us, we'd have a much more pleasant life.

Well, it took a half hour for the herders to get all those donkeys off the ferry, but they finally did, and what they left behind was their smelly detritus. I won't explain it to you, but you get the picture. It was awful. And the cars in front of us couldn't wait for the ferry workers to clean up the mess and sweep it off the ferry. We had to hold our noses when we got on and watch our step if we got out of the car. I'm not sure there was a spiritual application to that part of the journey, but I'll let you make an application if you can see one.

Maybe next time we should offer a carrot to the donkeys. NOT!! I don't think even that would have enticed them to step over the gap.

Thailand vs. Niger

2007-05-23T14:22:00.000-05:00

Thailand is a truly and amazing and wonderful country. Nancy and I had the privilege of visiting there in March. Although I had lived in Asia (was born and lived the first four years of my life there), I had never before been in SE Asia. Nancy had never been in Asia at all. So it was quite an adventure for us.

We didn’t get to see a lot of Thailand while we were there because we were in meetings most of the time at a resort complex and we arrived and left at night, but what we saw gave us lots of room for comparison with Niger.

Of course, there are many differences. Niger is a land-locked country that is mostly desert while Thailand is situated on the ocean with a long coastline and abundant rain. Niger is on the shore of the Sahara, but we don’t have much water. Here is the view of the Gulf of Thailand that we could see every morning from the balcony of our 12th story room.

There are other differences as well. While the roads in Niger are very good for West Africa, the roads in Thailand are startlingly good. We were amazed to see so many traffic lights. And some of the lights had timers on them that digitally counted down the seconds until the light would turn red or green. In Niger we have very few traffic lights, and many of them don’t work all the time. Almost all the traffic lights are in the capital. You rarely see them outside of Niamey. In Thailand people drive on the left side of the road, and we had to constantly reverse the way we looked for traffic before crossing the road. Instead of looking first to the left, you have to look right. All of W. Africa (including Niger) drives on the right.

Another difference was the food. The staple crop of Niger is millet. Only three countries in the world have millet as the staple crop. The staple crop of Thailand is probably rice, but if I were judging by what we ate, I would say it was pineapples. About 30% of Thailand’s pineapples are exported to the United States, either in canned pineapple or as juice or in some other fashion. We can even get canned pineapple from Thailand in Niger!!! We had fresh pineapple on the table at every meal, and it was delicious and melt-in-you-mouth sweet. I am a fruit freak, and I had pineapple every single meal. There were also a variety of other fruits available, especially watermelon, banana and papaya. All these fruits we can get in Niger, but there also were some fruits that we had never seen. My two favorites were the dragon fruit, a pink pineapple-looking fruit that has white flesh with lots of little black seeds, and the rose apple, a light red, pear-shaped fruit that was crispy like an apple but was lightly sweet like an apricot. Then there was Thai food. Every night we had a choice between traditional Thai food and more western-style food. Nancy always went for the Thai food which was spicy and often had noodles with fish or Thai dumplings. It was all delicious. Our last night, we got to eat at a roadside café and really enjoyed the cuisine.

We saw very little poverty in Thailand, at least not like we see in Niger. Of course, we were in the tourist areas and Bangkok and did not get up into the countryside, and we did see some very simple dwellings (see photo), but the poverty seemed to be on a much more limited scale than we would see in Niger’s capital. Thailand looked like an economic boom town to us. That has its down side, and you are probably aware of the terrible traffic in which many in Thailand are engaged, but there were nice supermarkets, malls, several-story shops, etc. They even had Starbucks!! That’s something you don’t see in Niger. We had never been to a Starbucks before. Thailand was our first experience in a Starbucks.

The buildings in Thailand were also very different. There were lots of high-rise buildings, especially tourist hotels near the beaches, something we don’t have too much of in Niger. There were more humble dwellings, and as in Niger, there was very little wood used in construction, but many buildings were very fancy and modern-looking. Very few were made out of mud block, at least in the areas that we saw.

Another difference was, of course, the language and the religion. The language of Thailand, Thai, is spoken by about 60 million people and used all over the country, quite a contrast with Niger’s 20-odd languages, none of which is spoken by more than 10 million people in the country. Thailand is a Buddhist country, and we saw many Buddhist temples. Niger, of course, is a Muslim country. There were also huge statues of Buddha in the airport and many little shrines everywhere. We even saw a shrine outside a supermarket. The birds were eating the food offered at the shrine.

There were some surprising similarities between Niger and Thailand. The first, which wasn’t so surprising, I guess, is the weather. Both countries are, of course, in the tropics, so their weather patterns are similar, with alternating periods of dry and wet. Thailand was very humid, much like Niger is now in May. But it was nowhere near as hot as Niger in April and May. Another similarity is that Thailand was still in its dry season while we were there in March. (Niger’s dry season goes from October to May.) We were surprised at how dry everything looked. It wasn’t as brown as Niger, but the grass was often yellow, and trees looked a little limp and dry. We were told that it was the end of the dry season, and we did have one gully-wumper storm while we were there, but otherwise it was sunny and dry all day long.

Another similarity is the latitude of the country. If you look at a map, you’ll be surprised to find that Bangkok is at about 14º N latitude. That is the approximate latitude of Niamey, Niger. We thought Thailand was much farther south, towards the equator. Parts of it are, but only the long, skinny tail, down where the tsunami of 2004 hit.

There are also similarities in the transportation system. There are all kinds of cheap transport in Thailand, and vehicles often carry more people than they are supposed to. In Niger, 12-person vans called “bush taxis” are often loaded with as many as 24 people. They may also have loads on top which are taller than the taxi itself. In Thailand, they have modified pickup trucks (called “tuk-tuks” I think) with benches along the back and a step on the back for people to hang onto if the benches are full. We saw lots of people hanging onto these “tuk-tuks” and even got to ride them several times.

One of the most beautiful similarities between the two countries is the friendly people. Hospitality to strangers holds a very high place in both cultures. This is not true of the USA and most European countries, at least nowhere near at the same level. The Thai are a beautiful, hospitable people who try to make you feel at home and provide for your creature comforts. We were well cared for. Niger’s people are also very friendly and hospitable, and you can easily make friends with total strangers.

It was a great trip to Thailand, tiring with long layovers in airports (we got to visit Dubai airport for the first time and fly Emirates, one of the best airlines in the world), and we really enjoyed our visit to this wonderful country.

Toad Trivia

2007-05-22T01:13:00.000-05:00

Here are several things I did not mention in my last blog on Téra’s toads.

You know the story about the prince that was turned into a toad by magic, and the only way to break the spell was for a princess to kiss the toad? Well, for all you princesses out there, I advise you not to kiss these toads. They are definitely not prince material and they do not live in Toad Hall.

A few weeks ago, Nancy attended the wedding of a neighbor. The women were all sitting around outside on mats in the darkness, and who should hop up to join the party but one of these wart-covered toads. One of the ladies attempted to pick up the toad to eject him from the party. You know what a toad does when you try to pick it up? Yeah, and this one let loose with all jets, and sprayed Nancy on the leg. Then, of course, there was a lot of fuss as the ladies tried to clean Nancy up and get all the sticky liquid off of her.

We’ve had a few rains in Téra recently (May 6 and May 13), and there’s been enough rain in the surrounding countryside to fill up the dry stream bed that flows not even a kilometer from our house. A few days after the first rain, we heard the bloated burping sound that many toads together make coming from the direction of the stream. We had not known the stream had filled up with water, and were surprised to hear the noise after many months of dry weather and fewer toads. Oh, well. At least we know the toads are looking for juicy insects to munch. I’ll cheer for them whenever they catch a female anopheles mosquito.

One last thing. Have you ever noticed the scum that develops on top of stagnant ponds? The Songhai have a colorful phrase for that scum. It’s one of my favorite Songhai phrases. It’s “korboto yeeri,” which translates as “toad barf.” This is no joke.

We live in Toad

2007-04-25T15:25:00.000-05:00

Yep! That's right. How would you like to live in a place called "Toad"? Well, that's where we live. The town carries the name of Tera. In the Gourmantche language, the word Tera is a form of the word for "toad."

How did it get that name, you're probably asking? Well, the town was founded by the Gourma people many hundreds of years ago. The Gourma are an ethnic group who live next to the Songhai people and are sometimes embedded in Songhai territory. When the Gourma founded the town, they founded it on the banks of a seasonal river. Here is a picture of the river which flows right through the town of Tera.

The river is dry most of the year except for the rainy season. In the 1980's the Chinese built a big dam to hold back the water of the river and conserve it for watering plants and animals. Today we have a 4-mile long shallow lake behind that dam that provides water year round. (We're getting water for our plants from this dam--see my last blog and the part about our water shortage in Tera). Here's a picture of the lake:

Natrually there are many toads around this river. Though they don't like to be submerged in water, they like to stay where it's cool. On a breezy evening, we can hear the throaty croaking of the toads down by the river. They love to eat the insects that breed down there. The river is less than one-quarter of a mile from our house. Here is a picture of one of our African toads. Pretty, isn't he? Don't you just want to squeeze him? Actually they find our way into our house, our shoes, and our lives. They can be quite annoying, and I sometimes pick them up and throw them against the wall where they go splat.

And this is what Tera is named after: a famous city named after a lowly toad.

Survival

2007-04-16T16:10:00.000-05:00

You know all those "Survivor" and Survivor-inspired shows on TV? We think they're a bit of a joke. They're not really about survival, just about who can claw his or her way to the top by any means possible in order to win the US$1,000,000. To us that smacks of all the worst of our society. We think we've got a better and much more intense survivor tale to tell.

Imagine that you're living in temperatures which approach or even exceed 115 F in the shade every day! Not only is it hot, it's positively exhausting. Every night you fall into bed completely worn out. Though you have an air conditioner, it's only in the bedroom, and you can only afford to use it during siesta and at night. So, though you get an adequate night's sleep, you don't feel rested. Energy is always at a low ebb. Every task takes monumental effort to accomplish. Productivity dives. You can't concentrate on any task. Your mind gets tired easily. It's easy to get cranky and snap at everyone. Everything is a dry, drab brown because it hasn't rained for over six months. You drink and drink and you don't feel satisfied. You also drink so much you don't feel too hungry because your stomach is bloated with water.

Now add to that not having any running water in the house. You have to haul in water from outside. Some of it comes in on a donkey cart each day from the dam. You use this to water plants. Occasionally, you have a barrel of clean water brought in from one of the public taps so you can wash your clothes . You also take six large plastic jugs each day to a public tap that has some water pressure and pick them up about four hours later. That provides you with drinking water and dishwashing water. Then you conserve water as much as possible. You use some of the wash water to water plants. You reuse some of the hand-washing water. You take only one spit bath a day. You can't flush your toilet because it uses too much water. And you have five adults in the house using water. And because it's so hot, you are drinking more than a gallon a day each. Constantly searching for water eats up time and energy that you would like to conserve for other tasks. It also eats up more money than the water that is supposed to be piped into your house.

In addition to all this during the first few days of the week you have only a pit six feet deep and six feet in diameter for a latrine. Since you're not using your toilet, you have to use the pit. There is no other option. The smell is horrible. The cockroaches swarm over the pit. You either have to balance on the edge to do your thing (and try hard not to fall backwards into the pit) or do it on the ground next to the pit and shovel it in when you've finished your business.

Then one night you have a scary run-in with a nasty critter. After you turn out your lights and crawl into bed and you're almost asleep, you feel something big crawling on your neck. You try to flick it off only to get a wallop of a pain in your finger. That's when you realize you've just been stung by a scorpion in bed. The pain is severe, and you can't sleep. You go outside into the hot, close air to try to while away the pain and not wake everyone else up. Two tablest of extra-strength Tylenol do nothing to quell the pain. It takes several hours for the waves of throbbing to subside. Even then sleep is fleeting.

Take all that into an environment where people are hungry and have not had enough to eat on a daily basis. The pressure to help as much as you can is very high, and you feel guilty with the abundance and variety of food you have. You can help some, but your resources are limited, and you have to say no at some point. Does this mean one or more of your friends will die of hunger? It is possible. The poverty is overwhelming, and it's hard to know how helping one person can be more than a drop in the bucket of need.

That is the situation we have been living in for most of the past two weeks. It is not for the faint at heart, and sometimes we feel so faint. You ask who was stung by the scorpion? It was Nancy on the night of Thursday, April 5. The latrine was repaired by the middle of the first week, but not before we wondered if we could make it through one more day without some kind of toilet facilities. The cockroaches are just as bad at night, however. The temperatures this hot season have been some of the highest we have ever seen in Niger. In fact, on April 4, we recorded a high of 116 F in the shade, the highest temperature we have ever seen in this country. The water problems continued throughout the two weeks of the Easter break while we had our kids home and at first, Jeremy, then a son of friends. We had to refuse to accept other visitors because we simply couldn't keep up with water for any more people.

After all that, are we surviving? Sometimes it seems like we're barely handling everything. And you still have to cope with culture and the difficulties believers and the church face in this land. Sometimes it seems like too much to handle. That's life in Niger. Hot season is always the most difficult time.

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose trust is in the Lord.
For he will be like a tree planted by the water, that extends its roots by a stream,
And will not fear when the heat comes; but its leaves will be green,
And it will not become anxious in a year of drought, nor cease to yield fruit."

Jeremiah 17.7-8

Tom Sawyer--African Style

2007-02-22T15:53:00.000-05:00

Remember the scene in Mark Twain's novel Tom Sawyer where Tom has been told to paint the fence as a punishment for some misdeed? What does he do? He manages to make it look like so much fun that everybody else wants to do it. So, pretty soon, there are enough people painting the fence that Tom doesn't have to do it at all. He just sits back and watches them do all the work and take his punishment.

Now this scene has been repeated in the heart of Africa. "How's that," you say? Well, it is African style, and the names have been changed, but it's much like the scene out of the novel.

Let's say you want to collect manure. "Manure," you say? Yeah, lots of cow and sheep dung. Well, what you do is go down to the edge of the dam where the animals come to drink and people bring their animal-drawn carts to get water. There's lots of manure there. You get out of your truck and start picking up the stuff (with gloves, of course). Pretty soon you'll have a crowd of curious onlookers who wonder what you're doing. Then some of them start helping you.

It doesn't take long, with lots of willing little helpers, to fill up the back of a pickup truck....and they don't have gloves!

But after a full morning of collecting the stuff in the hot sun, you come home pooped!

Now you're probably wondering why in the world we would be collecting manure. Well, we're making compost, and one of the key ingredients in compost is manure. Sheep and goat dung are the best, but big cow pies are the easiest to find and collect. So, we get as much as will fill the back of our truck, take it to our house where we've dug a pit, mix it with lots of good compostable material (in our case the only really good thing is the chaff off the millet), water it for a few weeks, and presto! lots of good compost. We are going to use the compost to make what is known as zai holes. These are small round holes you dig in your field. Into each hole you put a shovel full of compost. The compost not only enriches the soil, it also holds in the moisture (otherwise it sinks down into the endless sand) and helps prevent weeds from growing. Making zai holes in a field can double or even triple the crop yield, but it is very hard, labor-intensive work. We have decided to plant millet on our church property this year and use the grain to help feed the poor. Jeremy has already dug a lot of holes on the property (see photo), and a team coming up March 9-11 from Sahel Academy will dig more.

So the next time you want to play Tom Sawyer, come to Africa and help us collect manure.

Found--My Double

2007-01-22T16:17:00.000-05:00

During the past few months, I have been mistaken for the same famous person on two separate occasions. Both times it was by kids, but it was in two different locations, once in Tera and once in Niamey. The first time, in Tera, I heard two little boys in the street arguing about my identity as I walked by. One said I was the famous person. The other one said, "No way." So, they asked me, "Are you ______?" To throw them off, I said, "Yes." (All this conversation was in Songhai, by the way.) The first little boy turned to the second and said, "See, I told you."

The next time it happened, I was running in Niamey, and I a heard a young boy yell out to me using the famous person's name as I ran by.

Now, who is the famous person, you ask? His name is Zinedine Zidane, one of the most famous footballers in the world. For those of you Americans who are not up on the world sport of football (or soccer as it's called in America), you may not have hear of Zizou, as he is affectionately called in France. He is one of the greatest footballers of all time. He led France to a FIFA World Cup victory in 1998 and has played for European teams for many years. This past year during the final of the World Cup in which France challenged Italy, Zizou committed an unpardonable foul by butting one of the opposing Itialian players with his head in the last minutes of overtime. He was red carded and some believe he lost the cup for France. Be that as it may, he still won the most valuable player of the tournament award. He is getting old for the sport now (he will turn 35 this year), but he is still recognized as one of the world's top players.

But the weird thing is that he bears a striking resemblance to me. Or at least some kids think so at first glance. What do you think?

Harmattan

2007-01-14T12:27:00.000-05:00

Have you ever tried to look directly at the sun? If you have, you know that it's nearly impossible. And you've all heard the warnings about the sun's damaging effects on the eyes if you look at the sun. Well, here's a new twist on that story.

In Niger, there are times you can look directly at the sun without any effect on your eyes. Yes, it's true. It's because of a weather phenomenon known as the "harmattan." The harmattan is a wind that blows from the north and east during the dry months of the year. For us in West Africa, that means off the Sahara. Often, especially from November to March the wind is laden with a fine, gray, Sahara dust. This dust chokes up the atmosphere and may reduce visibility to less than a mile. It also chokes up your lungs, and for those who are allergic to dust (like my daughter Suzanne and me), it can make it hard to breathe. Notice the picture above. This is what the air looks like on a dusty, harmattan day. It's gray and looks like it might be about to snow. That's the actual color in the late afternoon. I haven't doctored up the picture at all.

The word "harmattan" technically refers to the wind, but it is often used simply to refer to the dust blown in by the wind, as in, "The harmattan is thick today." All in all, the harmattan dust creates a ghostly glow day and night while it lasts. The harmattan does not continue incessantly for five months. Some days are clear, crisp, and cool. But it may last as long as seven days at a time, sometimes longer. When the harmattan is bad, you can wipe your table off in the morning, and you can come back at lunchtime and write your name in the dust that has collected on the table in the past four hours. It doesn't do any good to close your windows, either. The dust has an uncanny ability to find all the little cracks and holes in your house's armor and seeps in on the fierce wind. It is hard to keep your house clean, but remember: eveyone's house looks like this, so you either live with it or spend your entire day cleaning and then starting all over again.

When the dust is really thick, you can look directly at the sun without any problem. And it won't hurt your eyes. The following picture was taken just outside of Tera at about 8 a.m. Notice the dusky yellow orb in the sky. That is the sun.

Now doesn't that make you want to come and see Niger? There are advantages to living here. You can do things you would never be able to do back "home."

This year we've had some of the worst dust I've ever seen, and it's lasted longer than most times I can remember in the past, sometimes more than a week. We've also had some of the coldest temperatures on record. On Dec 10, we recorded 49 F, the second lowest temperature we've ever seen in Niger. Since the beginning of December most nights have been in the low to mid 50s. December's average high was about 10 F lower than last year. The same is true of the average low. So, we're having a lot more dust and cold this year than normal. And we hear that the northeast US is having a much warmer winter than normal. Go figure.

The Women at the Well

2006-12-13T15:09:00.000-05:00

Water is a precious commodity in Niger. We only get significant rainfall in four months of the year--June, July, August, and September. After the four month rainy season, streams and ponds slowly dry up leaving very little surface water in the country by December. The Niger River, the only permanent river in the country, slows down to little more than a trickle by the end of the dry season in May. This year (2006) in Tera, our total rainfall was only 13.3 inches (374 mm).

Many people in Niger do not have running water from a tap in their homes or in the yards. They may have to walk miles to a well or water source to get a single bucket of water. In a town like Tera there is a water system. Water is pumped up from deep underground, treated, and sent to a tower. From there it is piped throughout the town. Every few blocks in town there is a public tap. People can go to the tap with their bucket, fill it up, and pay 10 francs (2 US cents).

It is usually the women who go get the water and bring it home in buckets on their heads. In Tera they don't usually have to walk too far to get water, but in recent years we've had water shortages as the underground aquifers slowly dried up. In 2005, the last year we were in Tera before our year in the US, we had no running water in our house from January utnil June. We were at the end of the line and on a hill to boot, so our water pressure always went down first. We had to take are buckets and jerry cans to a pump a quarter of a mile away and leave them in line there, coming back several hours later to pick them up. We often had to do this two or three times a day. And that only covered our drinking and wash water. Think what this did for the Africans. They had to walk farther away to get water and carry the heavy load. Donkey and ox carts did a brisk business carrying barrels of water to thirsty households which often inclueded animals.

Last year, the town of Tera dug some new wells, and that alleviated the water shortage, but did not completely solve the problem. There were still some water shortages last year, but they started later in the dry season (like February). We expect that we will have shortages again this year. What usually happens first is that we'll have low pressure or no pressure during the day, but we'll have water at night. We would then have to get up in the night to fill buckets, barrels, or whatever container we might have. Later, the pressure will start decreasing at night until it is only there early in the wee hours of the morning. Finally, we'll have no water at all.

In order to alleviate stress and prevent us from having to go searching for water every day, we installed a big 2,000 gallon water tank with a pump in our yard. It has a float valve in it which cuts off when the tank is full. It pumps the water up into our pipes when the pressure is low. Best of all, it can fill up in the middle of the night without us having to get up. That way we'll have water the next day even when there is no pressure. As long as there's some pressure in the night, we should have water the next day.

There is spigot on the outside of the tank, so we can fill up buckets in the yard. Recently, water started leaking from around the spigot pipe where it goes into the tank. We called in a plumber, and the pipe came off the tank into his hands, spraying water everywhere. He said we needed to empty the tank so we could repair and clean it. We decided to do it then and there. But it would have been a waste to spill it all on the ground and have it go for nothing. So we invited the neighborhood women in for free water, and we also got some for ourselves. Nancy had planned to start her women's group that day, but we cancelled that and had a women's water party instead. It was great fun as all water broke loose and the tank was emptied.

All the women came in and were rejoicing over the free water.

Finally, I want to show you a picture of one of the buckets in the yard. Can you see what it says on it?

You Can't Raise an Elephant in a House

2006-11-10T09:26:00.000-05:00

--Songhai Proverb

How would you announce your engagement? Try this idea on for size.

One day we were at the home of some friends. Our cell phone beeped telling us we had a text message. This was the message:

"Please pray for me. I am planning to get married to Z___.

Amadou"

Now we have known Amadou for several years. He is an intelligent young man from the Gourma tribe who lives in Tera. He became a believer during our last term, hungers to know God, and yearns to tell others about Him. We had prayed for a wife for him and had even talked about trying to arrange a marriage for him. But this was the first we had heard of any intentions he had about any girl. So it came as quite a surprise to us.

Not only this, but Amadou is extremely tall. When you see him sitting in a chair, you aren't aware of how big he is.

But when he unfolds his long, lanky body and climbs out of a chair, his height becomes apparent. He is about 6 feet 5 inches, and he dwarfs those around him. In fact he is sometimes known as "giant" or "Goliath." He has to duck to go in and out of many doors to avoid hitting his head.

Amadou will be marrying a Christian girl from the Baptist Church in Tera. I don't yet have a picture of her, but I hope I'll be able to post that in the near future. As far as we know, this will be the first Christian wedding in Tera, and we'll be setting a precedent for others to follow because we'll be creating new customs and replacing cultural practices with Biblical ones, we hope. So this will be quite an adventure. We don't have a wedding date yet, and that won't be set until one or two months before the wedding, but it will likely be sometime in mid to late 2007.

Now you're probably wondering what in the world the Songhai proverb above has to do with this story. Well, when I saw Amadou after receiving the text message, I asked him if he had informed many people about his intentions. He said, "No," and then he used the Songhai proverb, "Tarkund'ize si biiri huwo la." Those are the Songhai words for the title above, and they mean basically that you can't keep a big secret for long. I said I'd never tell, but the way the grapevine travels in Africa, once the secret gets out, the news travels fast.

What makes the proverb doubly meaningful is that Amadou is so big, he's like an elephant, or at least a giraffe. And you can't raise a big animal in a house like that because it will eventually burst the bonds of the house.

So, that's the secret. Don't tell anyone I told you.

The Back Road

2006-10-26T16:00:00.000-05:00

There are two ways to get from Tera to Niamey. One is by taking the paved road from Tera to the Niger River 100 km away. Then you take the ferry across the river to a paved road on the left bank which runs directly into Niamey. That's the easy way. Along the way you often see scenes like the one at the left. Note that the stuff on top of the van is higher than the van itself. Is this van top heavy or what? Maybe we should try this with airplanes. We could carry a lot more luggage.

The other way to Niamey starts out the same. You take the paved road from Tera to the Niger River, but instead of taking the ferry across to the left bank, you turn off onto a dusty, unpaved road on the right bank which parallels the river. We affectionately call it "the back road." Only real missionaries take the back road. It is a bone-jarring, teeth-chattering, head bashing rocking and rolling ride. The road has moon-sized craters, hard washboard abs to die for, sand dunes in the most unexpected places, road hazards like cows and people and thorns, bushes along either side which totaly obscure the view, choking dust, and pebbles which when thrown up by passing cars can smash you windshield to smithereens. Also, the road has huge potholes which can swallow your car whole. Be on the alert. Here is a picture of the road.

So when we turned onto the back road on Sunday, Ocotber 15 on our way to Niamey, I told the kids to hold onto their chins because they were going to get jerked around. They were.

One nice thing about the back road is the scenery. At one point, the road tops out on a sand dune high above the river, and a beautiful panorama unfolds. The whole valley of the Niger is spread out at your feet. This picture does not do it justice.

After our stop for pictures on the dune , Daniel decided to try his skills as a hood ornament. He didn't fare too well.

After 60 km and nearly one hour of bumping, rolling, and jerking, you finally reach the end of the road, but not without one final obstacle: a washed-out bridge. You have to cross about 300 meters of deep sand which is the bed of a seasonal river. Only occasionally do you see water in it. With our four wheel drive truck we have no trouble crossing, but more than once we have seen cars stuck in the sand.

What a relief to get to the smooth, paved road coming from neighboring Burkina Faso and heading into Niamey! Then all we have to do is cross the bridge in Niamey (the only bridge on the river between Nigeria and Bamako, the capital of Mali) to get to our destination. On Sunday, Ocotober 15, we made it in one piece, only slightly the worse for wear.

The next morning we woke up to find a thorn in one of our tires. Yes, it was flat! That's life in Niger.

A Naming Ceremony and What Happened There

2006-10-07T14:38:00.000-05:00

In every culture there are life change points. The most important of these are birth, marriage, and death. The rituals surrounding these life change points tend to reflect the prevailing beliefs and mores of the people, and many people follow closely the pattern laid down for the rituals, preferring not to offend the prevailing deity and the society at large. This is especially true in traditional societies.

One of the most important rituals associated with birth in the culture and country where we live is the naming ceremony, called a cebe (pronounced "chay-bay") in Songhai. On the eighth day after the birth of a child, the family and friends gather together early in the morning not long after sunrise to name the baby and celebrate the birth. The men sit on mats or chairs outside the house or even in the street while the women gather together in the house or on the porch and sit on mats. Guests bring small monetary gifts to share with the family. Friends of the father pass out kola nuts or dates to all the guests as a symbol of friendship and hospitality. The baby's head is shaved. Then someone slaughters a ram which will be put in the pot for the stew to be made for all the guests at midday. Meanwhile, the name is announced by the religious teacher and everyone begins to pray in Arabic. The prayers go on for about five minutes, and then everyone leaves to go about their busines until noon, when they all come back for the feast.

With the new believers in Tera, we have developed some of our own rituals which complement the culture but also incorporate some elements of baby dedications in western-style churches. I believe these are more true to the Bible and to the spirit of what we find in Biblical times. After all, the Jews had a ritual similar to the naming ceremony when they brought the child to the Temple on the eighth to be circumcised (if it was male) and to offer sacrifices.

When I go to naming ceremonies amongst the believers, some of the same things happen that happen in the culture. The men sit outside the house while the women sit in the house or on the "porch." I as the religious teacher announce the name of the baby. Often I am given the privilege of choosing the name, especially amongst people who are less literate and live in rural areas. A meal of rice and sauce with goat or sheep meat will be prepared for the guests, but the animal won't be slaughtered right at the moment of the naming as in the prevailing culture around us. Usually, a small gift of kola nuts or dates will be given to each guest. Guests will in turn bring some money to give to the family. We will have a time of prayer for the family and the baby, but in Songhai, not in Arabic.

However, I add some elements that I think make it more meaningful and Biblical. First, I talk about the fact that God loves children and holds them in His hand. I read such passages as Prov 22:6; Psalm 127; or Mark 10:13-16. I then give a short gospel presentation and afterwards I read a charge to the father as the representative of the family to exhort him to a godly example and training of the child. Then I announce the name. If I've been given the privilege of naming the child, I choose a Bible name and first talk about that character in the Bible. After a prayer, I go to the house where the mother is and pray for the mother and the child. I usually take the child in my arms and hold him/her while I am praying. I always pray the prayer of blessing from Numbers 6.24-26. Then if Nancy has not gone to the cebe I give the mother the gift of an outfit for the baby which my wife has chosen ahead of time.

This is the time of year when there are a lot of cebes. We have attended many in town among non-believers and also some for believers. I have been given the privilege of praying for the family in a village outside of Niamey. In another village, I have assisted at two Christian naming ceremonies, one in September, and one on October 1. At both of the latter, I was given the privilege of naming the baby. I named the first Yakuba (Jacob) and the second Ayuba (Job). Yakuba was quiet and slept through my prayer of bessing for him. Ayuba was a rascal. Not only did he scream and yell when they passed him to me for the prayer, but as I was praying, Ayuba decided to let loose from another end. No sooner had I begun to pray than Ayuba peed in his pants. Actually, to be more accurate, since babies in Africa don't wear diapers, he peed on my pants. He was covered in a cloth, but it was very thin, and the liquid quickly soaked through and onto my pants. Then I heard a soft gurgling sound, and the liquid on my pants started turning yellowish-brown. At this point, the mother noticed my predicament and her friend sitting there snatched the baby away and started pouring water all over my pants with a plastic tea kettle so common out here that people use to wash. Meanwhile, I continued my prayer of blessing as though nothing had happened. All was proceeding as normal. This is not an uncommon occurrence for me, but it doesn't happen all the time. Anyway, we finished the ceremony without any further ceremony or interruptions, and the baby was properly named and dedicated.

Now that is a story to write home about.

A Wild Journey to AFrica, Part Four

2006-08-25T15:47:00.000-05:00

This will be my last installment in the saga of our journey to Africa. It was quite a trip, but after a nice time in Paris, we still had half the journey to go.

As an aside, some may wonder how I got to know Paris as well as I do. Including this unexpected layover, I have been in Paris four times for at least an overnight. The first was in 1975 when I got to stay in the city and see a few sights as a teenager just learning French. I was with a short-term team that passed through Paris both coming and going on our way to Marseilles, the second largest city in France on the Riviera. The last time I got to see Paris was when our son Daniel was little (one year old). That year (1990) Nancy and I did some touring around Europe on our way home from Niger. But the reason I know Paris so well is because of the second trip I took there in 1980. I was taking a course from Houghton College during the month of May that year (the same month Mt St Helens blew its top). It was the easiest A I ever got in college. Oh, we had to write a paper in French on some aspect of the city (I chose to write on the history of the metro and trolley systems) and keep a journal (in French). We also had to attend a conversation class at the Alliance Francaise, a French university, taught by a real French teacher. But the best part of the course was that we got to tour the city from one end to the other. We saw all the major tourist attractions and lots of the smaller ones that tourists often don't know about like the Catacombs, the church of the Madelaine, the Pompidou Center, the Monet museum, the opera house, and the Paris zoo. We also learned to use the city transport systems and get around town. I also learned a lot of French during that month. It gave me some great memories. I stayed on in France for most of the rest of that summer and spent some time with AWM both in the south of France (Grenoble, Marseilles, and St. Etinne) and in Algeria. I had many opportunities to practice French, and that's when I really learned it well.

On with the story of our trip:

9 a.m., Sunday, 13 August 2006 (Paris time)
I wake up and rouse my family so we can get down to the zero floor for the hotel breakfast. We fill up on croissants and cereal and return to our room to pack our carry-ons.

11:15 a.m.
We meet the Sauers and Jeremy at the Gare du Nord and use our round-trip train tickets to get back to the Charles de Gaulle airport.

12:30 p.m.
We join the queue (get in line) to check in for our flight to Casablanca, Morocco. It takes a long time to get all our baggage checked, even thought they have it all stored in the bowels of the airport. We are told that all our baggage might not get on, as it's a much smaller plane than our flight from New York, but if it doesn't, the worst case scenario has it coming on the Tuesday Air France flight from Pars directly to Niamey. Then we get our boarding passes for both flights (Paris-Casablanca and Casablanca-Niamey). Finally, we're ready to pass through security.

2:30 p.m.
We pass throught a much shorter security line than we had had in New York and head to our gate. We don't have long to wait.

3:00 p.m.
We board our plane. As we get on, the agent checks our baggage, and all but three pieces are already tagged as being on the flight.

3:40 p.m.
Our flight takes off almost on time with almost no waiting on the runway. (We were scheduled for a 3:30 p.m. take off. In flight we are served a cold lunch that doesn't taste very good. There are no video screens on this flight and no movie.

4:25 p.m. (Casablanca time, 4 hours ahead of EDT)
We land in Casablanca slightly ahead of schedule after a flight of about 2 hours and 45 minutes. We go to the transit lounge and wait and wait and wait. We try to while away the hours by playing games (we had some card games with us), talking, eating, walking up and down the transit area, and visiting the duty-free shops. Casablanca has a nice airport except that there is no non-smoking area. The seats are comforatable, but many of them are taken, at least initially.

9:00 p.m.
Our gate opens up and we move from the transit lounge to the boarding area. We wait some more.

10:15 p.m.
We begin boarding, nearly six hours after arriving in Casablanca. A bus takes us from the gate to our plane parked out on the tarmac somewhere. As we approach the plane, I see our boxes being thrown (literally) in the cargo hold. I pray that all our computer equipment makes it without being broken. (We learn later that everything has come through the ordeal in.)tact

11:00 p.m.
We take off about ten minutes late. Though this plane is older than the previous flight from Paris, I like it better. We are served a delicious hot meal and given a pillow, blanket and in-flight kit which includes socks, an eye patch, and earphones (none of which we had on the previous flight). The flight is more than half empty, and we get to sit in the emergency exit aisle where there is more leg room. What's more, the cabin has monitors which show the progress of the plan across the Sahara. I doze off for about three hours.

3:15 a.m., Monday, 14 August 2006 (Niamey time, 5 hours ahead of EDT)
We arive in Niamey about ten minuets early. We are dog tired. After walking down the ramp, we get in a bus, and it makes a U-turn, dropping us off at the entrance of the terminal (about 50 paces away). We could have walked there faster. We get throught immigration and health checks without incident and enter the baggage claim area. A porter helps us collect our baggage. After an hour, it appears certain that two of our bags are missing: one of the guitars and the suitcase with clothes and medicines for Nancy and I. I have to make a declaration of the missing baggage. Though the line is not long, it seems to take forever, and I can't stand any longer. I lie down on the ground in the missing bag claim area. I am the last one on the flight to declare my missing baggage. The Sauers are also missing a bag and so is Jeremy.

5:15 a.m.
No one has come to meet us at the airport. Apparently there was some confusion about when we would come. Fortunately, someone is there to meet the EBM couple, the Totmans. He rouses some of our SIM people on his cell phone (everyone has cell phones now), and they arrive before we actually clear customs. No one opens our bags and everything clears customs without hassle. Thank you, Lord! We are the last people to leave the airport. We load all our baggage (our 25 pieces and Sauers' 17 pieces) into two vans and a pickup. My legs give out under me in the parking lot, and I collapse. I'm wiped out!

6:00 a.m.
We finally get to bed after a long and tiring night. We have had two 36-hour periods in the past four days with little or no sleep. We are staying in an apartment above our field office. It is a gift from God. We sleep until about 11 a.m. and then hunger pangs wake us. Nancy and Suzanne go out to find something to eat and have to walk back in a heavy rain shower. They get soaked.

1:00 p.m.
The kids take a taxi over to Sahel Academy across the Niger River from where we're staying. They stay all afternoon.

Wednesday, 16 August 2006
First day of school for Daniel and Suzanne. There is an assembly in the morning which Nancy and I attend. We meet some of the new staff and parents. There are some new faces amidst the old, and there are some who have come back after a long absence. This day marks the 20th anniversary of the beginning of Sahel Academy. It is also our 20th wedding anniversary. We go out to celebrate in the evening at a local eatery. The food and ambiance are both good. After dinner, we go out to the airport and check to see if our two missing bags have arrived. They have. We retrieve them and return to Niamey. Our saga has ended a week after it began. Whew! We made it. Now for the hard stuff.

A Wild Journey to Africa, Part Three

2006-08-22T14:24:00.000-05:00

Our satelite server has been down for about 36 hours, so I was not able to post the rest of the story of our trip yesterday. Here is what happened on Saturday, August 12.

One of our supporters wrote and reminded us of the phrase, "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade". That is exactly what we did on the this day when we were stuck somewhere we hand't planned to be.

9:30 a.m. Paris time (six hours ahead of EDT)
I wake up after a decent night's sleep. Fortunately, I didn't have a drug overdose or a drug interaction during the night after all the medications I had taken (see the previous blog). I thought of that just before going to sleep.
It is raining. When I walk down to the lobby (we are on the sixth floor, or if you live in Europe, it's called the fifth floor), I am told the forecast calls for occasional showers. Not the best day to see the city, but we'll make do with what we get. First, I go and find the Sauers and Jeremy at their hotel around the corner. We go out to find a place where we can exchange some dollars for euros without getting robbed. When I get back to my family, Nancy goes out to a local grocer to find some food.

1:00 p.m.
The nine of us head for the Gare du Nord (train station). We buy an all-day pass (Mobilis) which allows us to ride any of the city transport systems for one whole day. We will use these passes a lot during the rest of the day, getting our money's worth out of them. We first head to the Ile de la Cite (the Isle of the City), the center and oldest part of Paris. Notre Dame is on the Ile de la Cite, but I tell my tourists that the best church in the city is la Sainte Chapelle (the Holy Chapel), a "tiny" Gothic cathedral built in the 1240's for the royalty of France. It is just around the corner from Notre Dame. When we come up out of the metro, it is raining, and we get soaked waiting in line to enter la Sainte Chapelle. The cathedral was built to house the supposed crown of thorns which Jesus wore, but today it is best known for its 13 spectacular stained glass windows (including the rose window), two-thirds of which are original. They cover 6,458 sq. ft. of wall space and tell the story of the entire Bible, including the Apocrypha. The dominant colors are reds and the blues, and the celing seems to disappear in light. No picture can adequately capture the heavenly vision, but here is a shot of one of the windows.

2:45 p.m.
By now the rain has stopped, and we head out of la Sainte Chapelle and around the corner to Notre Dame. Since the line is long, we decide not to go into the cathedral, but instead walk around it and admire the architecture. We also see the Seine River, which bisects the city. Here I am with the back side of Notre Dame behind me.

3:30 p.m.
We reboard the metro and head over to la Tour Eiffel (I don't think that needs any translation). We have to change trains once and take a different line. It is fun trying to find your way around Paris and push your way through the crowds! When we get to our station, we have to walk about four blocks along the Seine to get to the tower. Daniel, Suzanne, Luke Sauers, and Jeremy have the energy to climb the 700 steps to get to the second level (to get from there to the top, you have to take an expensive elevator, and we didn't have the money for that). The rest of us stay at the bottom and rest on the benches in the partly sunny weather. It is cool, but pleasant. We watch the tourists and policemen and pigeons walking around under the massive iron tower. The architect is the same man who designed the Statue of Liberty in New York.

5:30 p.m.
We retrace our steps and board a train for the north side of Paris. We have to change trains again, but this time our first train comes to the end of the line. At the end of the line, you can get out on either side of the train, and the Sauers and Jeremy, riding in the car in front of us, get out on the wrong side of the train. We wait for the next train to come into the station, and they walk on and walk right back off onto the right (left) side to join us. Are you confused? So are we. We board another train and take it to one of the most visible and interesting sites of Paris: le basilique de Sacre Coeur (the Sacred Heart Basilica). The church stands on one of the few hills in Paris and is known by its distinct shape and color (white). It is really pretty in the setting sun, as you can see. We don't walk up the hill to the church as our feet are getting pretty tired (especially those who climbed the Eiffel Tower), and we're also hungry, so we do decide to eat our supper in the plaza at the base of the hill. We find that most delectable of French "fast foods": a croque monsieur (a sandwich with ham in between the slices of bread and French cheese roasted into the bread on the outside). Some of us also have crepes with nutella sauce. We watch the pigeons in the plaza and try our hand at feeding them. Suddenly, a wild cat jumps out the bushes on the plaza and clamps its jaws on one of the pigeons. The pigeon barely manages to escape, but at the cost of losing most of its back feathers. There is an explosion of feathers and the cat is covered with them. We all have a good laugh.

8:00 p.m.
We head back to our hotels just a few metro stops away. We are tired but glad we got the chance to spend some time seeing the city. Jeremy goes out and sees more of the town during the later part of the evening. I wake up after an hour and a half of sleep, but this time I don't have a headache and get back to sleep fairly easily. I don't take as many medications as the night before. It rains heavily in the night.

I will post the last phase of our exciting saga tomorrow. Until then!

A Wild Journey to Africa, Part Two

2006-08-20T14:37:00.000-05:00

Noon, Friday, 11 August 2006 (Paris time, 6 hours ahead of EDT)
Our plane touches down on a runway at Charles de Gaulle airport outside of Paris. We cherish a slim hope that they might have held our connecting flight up for us (it was scheduled to leave at about 11:10 a.m. Paris time), but by the time they bus us from the airplane, which is parked way out in the bush, to the terminal, we read on the departure screen that boarding has closed for our flight. No reason to rush now. We're going to be here a while.

1 p.m., same day
We take the shuttle bus from terminal 2C to the terminal where we were scheduled to depart for Niamey. We have to stop at every other possible terminal, first 2A, then 2B, then 2D, then 2F, before finally arriving at 2E . We find the transfer desk and immediately recognize colleagues Dave and Anora Totman and their two small children, who are with EBM. Dave is the youth pastor at Sahel Academy, where Daniel and Suzanne attend school. They had also missed the flight to Niamey. We are not alone in our plight (or should I say flight?). We get in line and shortly afterwards SIM colleagues Ralph and Meridee Sauers with their two children come into the room accompanied by a short-termer going to Niger with the Assemblies of God. They had also missed the flight. So there are 13 of us in this together. What a relief that we don't have to face this by ourselves. It takes nearly three hours to get through the line. Meanwhile, everyone is tired. Here is Daniel expressing what we all felt at that moment.

Because there are only two flights a week from Paris to Niamey, and because we had so much baggage, it took almost two hours to get another booking for our destination. But we would have to spend two nights in Paris--at our own expense!! At first the airline wanted us to collect all our baggage for security reasons and take it with us to the hotel, but we simply refused to do that and tried to explain how impossible that would be. Finally they relented and agreed to keep the baggage for two nights. We asked if the baggage couldn't go on the next Tuesday flight to Niamey and we go on another flight. They said the baggage had to accompany us. So, after five hours of standing in line and waiting, we are finally booked on an Air France flight to Morroco on Sunday, 13 August, with a connecting flight to Niamey the same day.

5:45 p.m.
Nine of us (excluding the Totmans) proceed through customs with just our carry-ons and proceed out into the main lobby, where we have to make our own hotel arrangements. We elect to go into town because it is cheaper. After some searching, we find two hotels near each other so we can be together. It will just mean a 30 minute train ride to get to the center of town.

6:45 p.m.
We board our train and head into Paris. Suzanne has never made this trip before, but the other three of us have all visited the City of Lights at some time. We find our hotel and check in. It is called the Hotel Metropol. For those of you who know Paris, it is near the Gare du Nord. We leave our baggage and go out to find something to eat.

8:00 p.m.
Due to the latenes of the hour, we decide to eat at a street-side cafe in typical French fashion. We are only a block from our hotel and across the street from the Gare du Nord. We order the menu, which includes a choice of an appetizer, a main course, a drink, and a dessert or cheese. I have tomatoes with a tasty vinaigrette, pepper steak with fries, a bottle of apple juice, and an apple tart. It is delicious and really hits the ravenous spot. Here is a photo of the street at the restaurant.

10:00 p.m.
We head back to the hotel and get ready for bed. We are naturally exhausted. I fall asleep immediately, but after a two-hour power nap, I wake up and cannot fall back to sleep, so I take a Tylenol PM. I have a tension migraine and take some Ibuprofen. I can't breathe due to my allergies, so I take some Nasonex. I am in a panic and my heart is beating furiously, so I take some panic medication. The room is hot and I'm sweaty, so I crack open the window even though it is cold and blustery outside. I have to go to the bathroom. Finally at about 1:30 a.m., I fall back into a deep slumber and sleep the sleep of the dead until 10:00 the next morning.

That was day 2 of the saga. I'll post more tomorrow.

A Wild Journey to Africa

2006-08-20T13:27:00.000-05:00

As journeys go, this was one of the most arduous and exciting we have ever expereienced in all the 22 years we have lived in Africa. I'm going to give you a blow by blow journal of events starting with the afternoon before our departure.

2 p.m., Wednesday, 09 August 2006
I call Air France to check on our baggage. We have 27 pieces that we want to take onto the plane, 19 of which will be going as excess baggage. Even though we pay $150 for each excess piece (maximum of 32 kg each), it is the cheapest way to get the things we need to the field. I have been calling for the previous three days to get the baggage approved for the flight. There is still no confirmation of the baggage going on the flight, and a check with the office in Paris reveals that the Paris office is closed for the night. Panic begins to set in. I call Jim Knowlton, a colleague with SIM, to ask him if there is another way to ship our bags. He says the container going to Niger is full and to ship air freight would almost certainly result in a 65% duty slapped on our goods on arrival. He tries to call the airline without success. I hand the packing list to Daniel to have him look over the contents and decide which pieces of baggage are priority and which could be left behind to ship another way, if necessary. We decide that there are 11 excess pieces that must go on the plane with us, leaving 8 that could come later. The boxes that must go have all the computer equipment and the most valuable stuff in them. I start estimating the value of the contents of each piece that could be left behind. The rest of the evening involves packing.

7:45 a.m., Thursday, 10 August 2006
I am roused from bed by a phone call from Pastor Terry. I had slept in due to the exhaustion from the night of packing, but I was awake. Terry asks me if I have heard the news. I say, "No." He informs me of the plot to blow up 20 planes in mid-air traveling from England to the US. He says the threat level has been upgraded and security at airports has been increased. We must take all liquids, gels, sprays, and medicines without our names on them out of our carry-ons and put them in our checked luggage. Frantic unpacking and repacking ensues.

8:15 a.m., same day
I call Air France. Our baggage still is not approved, but there seems to be some misunderstanding about how much baggage we have. The airline thinks we have 480 kg of excess per person!! Our total excess turns out to be only 550 kg. That's still a lot, but a long ways from what they think we have. Did every agent I call on the previous four days submit a new request for baggage? I call Jim Knowlton again and plead for help. He gets on the phone with Air France. I call Pastor Terry to inform him of our predicament.

8:50 a.m.
Jim K. calls to say that our bags are approved to Paris but not to Niamey. He is still on the phone with Air France.

9:15 a.m.
Jim calls with the word that our baggage is approved all the way to our destination. Thank you, Jim! However, the airline requests that we remove Daniel's BB gun from one of the bags and also take print cartridges out of both printers. More frantic unpacking and repacking. The BB gun is shipped to our headquarters in Charlotte for probable shipment on the container.

9:45 a.m.
We sell our van. This had been a big item hanging over our heads.

10:15 a.m.
The church van arrives to load up our baggage. It goes first to the MRF storeroom where we had been putting our bags after we had packed them. Then it comes to the house to load up the last pieces. Everything fits, and there is even a space between the ceiling and the boxes to see out the rear view mirror.

11:15 a.m.
After final goodbyes and a prayer with those gathered, we leave for JFK airport in New York with Pastor Terry as our driver. We have had enough of goodbyes and are sad to leave all our friends old and new behind. We wish it would get easier, but it doesn't.

noon
We stop at a Subway in Matamoras, PA to get some food to fortify us for the trip. It will be our only real meal for the next twelve hours. Jim K. calls us on Pastor's cell phone to tell us to hurry it up and get there as quickly as possible.

1:45 p.m.
We cross the George Washington Bridge into New York City. Traffic gets much more crazy, and we are getting anxious to get there. We don't experience any major traffic congestion on our way into the airport.

2:30 p.m.
We arrive at Terminal 1 at JFK airport. We quickly find the Air France desk, but getting all our baggage up to the counter is a big job, even though it's not very far. We hire four carts to lug it all, but it takes several trips and a lot of time and effort. It takes us over two hours to check in all our baggage and weigh it, but thankfully the agents at the desk can see the approval for the baggage on their computers and don't question the number of pieces or the weight.

4:45 p.m.
We head for the security line to go past customs to our gate. Predictably, the line is long and slow, and Nancy and Daniel get in a longer line. They discover some things in Daniel's carry-on that he had forgotten to remove, and they confiscate them. We have to take a lot of things out of our carry-ons to show them to the security people. Thankfully, they let me keep my Nasonex spray.

5:30 p.m.
Cleared through customs, we walk to our gate at the end of the concourse. We walk right onto the plane as boarding had started 10 minutes previously.

6:05 p.m.
Our scheduled departure time comes and passes. We wait in our seats in the plane. Eventually the pilot comes on to inform us that there are 20 people supposed to be on the flight who are still trying to get through security. Later, after a count of the number of passengers, he informs us that one passenger did not get on but his baggage did. The hold must be opened and the baggage removed. We pass another 30 minutes waiting.

7:45 p.m.
Still at the gate. By now the sky is becoming black, and it's not because the sun is setting. A tremendous storm is approaching from Manhattan Island, and the wind begins to pick up. We are not cleared to leave the gate. The storm hits with a bang and a shudder at about 8:30 p.m., and we are grounded. Around 9 p.m., the pilot informs us that the airport has been closed. We are hungry and ready to climb the walls of the enclosed cabin. Everyone is getting up to walk around and get something to drink.

10:30 p.m.
We have now been on the plane five hours, but it has not moved one centimeter. However, the storm is blowing itself out, and the airport is reopened. Finally, at about 10:35, we pull back from the gate.

11:30 p.m.
Lift off! We are served a nice meal on the plane, and then I actually doze off for about 3 and a half hours. I never sleep on planes, but I am so exhausted from the frantic pace and all the uncertainties that I do sleep this time. We are fairly certain we will miss our connecting flight from Paris to Niamey, as we are six hours late, and we only had a scheduled layover of 3 and a half hours.

That is just the first day of the journey, and there are still four more to go.

It's a Moving Experience

2006-08-05T12:12:00.000-05:00

Wow! It has been a long time since I posted on my blog. Sorry to all of you who were hoping for something sooner. I was on the road for four weeks (June 16-July 16) and put 4,000 miles (6,500 km) on our cars!! For you European folks, that is all in a day's work in North America. Traveling is tiring, but I love the speaking and interaction with people. I didn't have access to pictures during that time, and I wanted to post some pictures on my blog, so I wanted to wait. Also, I was busy in meetings, seminars, visiting friends and supporters, and getting some business done. Then since July 16 it has been frantic trying to get ourselves packed up and ready to go. The lists seem like documents, and the mountains of stuff (how did we ever accumulate so much stuff?) to pack were huge piles that needed to be moved. We will be taking 28 pieces of baggage with us on the plane.!! A lot of the stuff is necessary, like computer equipment (how long ago was that not even considered a necessity?), school books, guitars (two of them), language matieral, clothes, and some personal items, but how much do we really need to take? I wish I could just wave a magic wand and have it all be transported to Niger in a few seconds waitng for us in our house when we arrive. Beam me up, Scotty!! With all my stuff. Anyway, here is a picture of me in the midst of the chaos trying to pack and organize it.

By God's grace the mountain has moved and been reduced to a small molehill. We're only five days away from departure, and the list is slowly getting smaller. Anyone who has made an international move knows what it is like to take care of so many details that it boggles the mind: closing down a bank account, getting needed prescription medications, selling your car, calling the airline about excess baggage (we'll have to pay $150 for each excess piece of luggage beyond our usual two pieces of checked luggage per person), getting visas (a stamp in your passport permitting you to enter another country), filing reports and papers, sending out address changes to those who write you and send you information, writing a last prayer letter, setting up a way to work your taxes while you are gone, cancelling insurance for your vehicles, buying last-minute items, writing in your blog, filling out college applications, and a host of myriad other details to attend to. That's in addition to the chaos of packing and the heart-wrenching good-byes which never get any easier. It's hard to sleep with so much on your mind and lots of details to remember. It's easy to misplace items, and then you pack things you realized later you could have used for a specific application during the last days.

It has been a tough home assignment for us. It's not just the changes we're going through, the changes in our mission, the reverse culture shock of living in the US (which is just now starting to wear off), the reality of having teenagers who have had more needs and more likes and dislikes to accomodate, or the financial matters that have preoccupied us. It's more like a combination of all these things plus personal matters and plans for the future.

Even though it has been tought in many ways, we've all grown, and I choose to remember the good things God has given and done. He has provided all of our needs at the right time. I want to sign off with a few pictures from this year, memories I want to cherish forever.

The first picture is from a hike we took in June 2006 just before I left on my trip to Chicago and before the flood which closed down this park. It was taken in Rickett's Glen State Park, a wonderful, backwoods place in PA that I have come to love. I first discovered it when I taught for three years at a school near Williamsport, PA before going to Niger. We hiked down a trail with over a dozen waterfalls, and here is one of them. At the end of the trail (about 4 miles) we had a picnic lunch together in the park picnic site. It was a fun day.

Another picture is of one of my favorite flowers. It's the state flower of both Connecticut and Pennsylvania. Anyone know what it is? It only comes out in the month of June. Note the bee pollinating the flower.

Finally, I want to publish a picture of my family at Easter. We had a great time with Aunt Jeanette and Uncle Carl (actually my wife's great aunt and uncle), both in their 90's. They are the youngest 90-somethings we have ever known and an absolute hoot to be around. We're going to miss them a lot. This picture includes Aunt Jeanette.

I'll publish some more of my favorite photos from home assignment next time around, probably after we get back to Africa, where it's hot and humid right now. We arrive in the midst of the rainy season, and five days after our arrival, school starts for our kids. Daniel will be a senior this year, and Suzanne will be in her sophomore year. Nancy and I will continue our work in Tera, and our kids will board at the school in Niamey, three hours away from Tera. The school they attend is Sahel Acedemy. Thanks for taking the time to read our blogs.

Choices

2006-06-15T16:24:00.000-05:00

We Americans have many choices, too many I think. If you walk into almost any supermarket, you can find a gazillion different types, brands, and colors of ketchup. A trip to the fast food restaurant offers a bewildering array of food and drink choices from triples to doubles and super size to small. A Super Walmart Center has so many choices of products and sizes that it can take a long while to find what you want. I find that I often get lost looking over the shelves when I'm looking for a specific product. I simply can't see what I want amidst all the choices. Sometimes there are so many choices I feel paralyzed and can't make a decision what I need or what I want.

What a contrast with our lives in Niger, where there are often few choices of any particular product. Is ketchup in town today? If it is, you will likely find only one or two brands, and it doesn't compare to American ketchup. There are no "fast" food outlets, and restaurants have some choices but not many. There are no Super Walmarts or Home Depots. There are only two "supermarkets" in the whole country, and neither has more than six aisles or has more floor space than a basketball court.

Our African friends are extremely poor and cannot afford the luxuries we buy, like ketchup and meat, or Cokes and toilet paper. They think we have it all. We can get the best health care available. We can buy anything we like to eat (as long as it's available in the country). We can travel freely from place to place without too much hassle. We can take a vacation, something only the rich can afford. They often cannot afford even the $1.60 they need to pay for malaria medicine. They eat millet (bird seed) three meals a day. They don't have adequate public transport or good roads and don't own cars. They often can't afford to travel anywhere.

Sometimes after four years in Niger, we come back to the US and are dazed by the choices here. We want to experience the things we have done without (cold season fruit or nice tennis shoes, for instance) and so are tempted to buy things we don't need or can't use (at least all at once). We want to pack four year's experience into one year at home. We're also tempted to buy something when we see it because "it might not be there the next time." This mentality comes from being in Africa where if you see it you'd better buy it because it might not be around the next time you go to the store. This applies to necessities as well as the little extras of life.

If anyone thinks we don't have enough choices, look at the world of telephones. We have land lines with a confusing array of local and long-distance servers. We have cell phones that come with text, photo capability, and a huge choice of ring tones. Each company or server comes with different options. Or you can use a phone card to do your calling anywhere in the world. Then there is the latest choice of bundling your phone service, tv, and internet all together. Where is all this going? Who can keep up with it? What ever happened to Ma Bell?

Then there's the way we use the word "choice." I deserve to have choices. We want to "choose" our destiny. There are choices of lifestyles and family situations. "The choice is clear," says the commercial. Some people even use the word to refer to eliminating an unwanted person. That seems more like a lack of choice to me, kind of like what my African friends experience every day of their lives.

One of the ways I define poverty is "lack of choice." When people have few choices, it's usually because they have little means or resources to make choices. So I'm not opposed to choices per se, as long as the choices are not evil or immoral or harmful. I just think we as a nation have more than our share of choices. We don't need them all. We are drowning in choices. When we have so many choices that either we're paralyzed, not knowing what to choose, or we want to experience every choice imaginable, something's wrong.

This is another reason I like Aldi's. It's not a huge supermarket. They sell only the top 500 or 600 items sold in the US. They generally only sell their brand of any item. There may be a normal or deluxe variety of each item (like ketchup), but that's it. There isn't a bewildering variety of items on the shelves. In fact, there aren't any shelves, just items in boxes like in a warehouse. You bag your own groceries, but it doesn't take long to get throught the checkout counter, even when there's a long line. You can't get speciality items, but you can get the necessities.

Another thing that bothers me is the number of choices of English Bible translations. Don't you think there are enough of them out there? Think of the alphabet soup of Bible translations we do have: NIV, NKJV, RSV, NLT, The Message, NASB, Darby, Young's, Amplified, NCV, TEV, ISV, Berkley, ASV, etc., etc., etc. Then there are all the variations of Bibles in each version like the Student Bible or the Men's Bible or the Study Bible. Do we really need all these versions and variations? I know language changes with time, and the translations may need to be upated after a period of time, but it seems like we've got enough out there to suit the choice and taste of any individual who speaks English! Get this: In the Zarma dialect of Songhai, there is only one version of the Bible. Granted, there are only about three million people who speak that dialect of Songhai, and many don't even read it due to illiteracy or lack of interest or difficulty in understanding it, but there is only one version. Thousans of languages in the world don't even have one translation of the whole Bible in the language. I would love to make a proposal to those who translate and publish Bibles. Let's have a moratorium on any new translations of the Bible in English for ten years. Let's then take the money we save from all those translations and let's spend it to give the rest of the world that doesn't have access to the Bible in any version a chance to hear the greatest message ever told in their own language. Is that too much to ask? I'm afraid the answer is yes, but I can't help but make the proposal. It seems to me like the time has come for something like this. And if Christians don't do it, who will? We need to strategically place resources where they can best be used.

I know, this was a long blog. And I've probably offended some of you. But can't we do without some things so that others in this world can have a few things? Think about it.

Pet Peeves

2006-06-03T20:02:00.000-05:00

One of my pet peeves is shopping carts all over the parking lot of a store or mall. Why can't people return their carts to the store? In recent years, mall managers and store owners have taken to installing "parking garages'' for shopping carts in the parking lot. It's so convenient, I can't figure out why anyone wouldn't take their cart to the "garage". They could get some exercise that way and help save other people some headaches.

Have you ever seen a shopping cart careen across a parking lot and slam into a car in a high wind? Have you ever seen a cart jump a guard rail and crash down a hill, creating a hazard for traffic and people alike? And worst of all, have you come into a parking lot and turned into a narrow space between two cars only to find a cart or two parked there in the way. That drives me crazy. Who could be so insensitive and inconsiderate as to leave their cart in a parking space when the cart has its own parking garage not twenty paces away? It's a sign of the selfish, me-first attitude that pervades this country and many of its people. I know we can all make excuses: not enough time, not feeling well, having a bad hair day, etc. All the excuses seem pretty lame to me.

Every culture and country has its weak points. This lack of consideration for others and me-first attitude is one of the weak points of the USA.

As someone who has lived overseas half my life, I can't help but compare cultures. Of course, not everything is perfect in other lands, but there are definitely things in the USA that I can't stand, and shopping carts in the parking lot are one of them. This kind of bad habit leads me to compare the US unfavorably with other countries. The US is my home, and I do love my country, but I don't like all the customs and practices of my culture.

One of the reasons I like Aldi's is the way it deals with shopping carts. If you don't have an Aldi's in your area, you are deprived. It's kind of a stripped-down version of a wholesale grocery. The concept of the store originated in Germany, where everything is efficient and fine-tuned. The shopping carts for the store are all chained together outside under the awning. In order to get a cart, you have to slip a quarter into the chain holding the lead cart to the others. When you have inserted the quarter, the chain releases immediately, and your cart is free. If you want your quarter back, you have to take the cart back to the "parking garage" after you've finished shopping and slip the chain back in the slot. The quarter pops out, and you retrieve it. Guess how many people leave carts in the parking lot? I have never seen a stray cart in the parking lot of an Aldi's. Isn't that ingenious? I think all stores should have a system like that. It would cut back on some parking lot blues.

Sometimes big problems have simple solutions, but everyone has to be willing to do their part. Sometimes that involves a small, temporary sacrifice (like paying a quarter for a shopping cart). Maybe people ought to pay a quarter if they leave their cart unattended in a parking lot. The way we demand our rights in this country, however, does not make me optimistic that this parking cart problem will be solved soon.

Let's all do our part and return our carts to the "parking garage." And I challenge everyone out there to make little sacrifices to make our country a more considerate, more humane, and less selfish place.

Colours

2006-05-25T18:58:00.000-05:00

If I had to choose a favorite colour, it would be green. But, in truth, I am not a monochromatic person. I like colours. I like combinations of colours. I like a riot of colours. My favorite combination of colours is green and yellow. If you know me, you know I like to wear colours. (After all, the most colourful birds are usually the males of the species.) I also like polychromatic paintings and dislike dark, monochromatic canvases. My favorite era of painting is the Impressionists, where artists explored the play of light and shadow on colourful scenes. My favorite season is the fall, where the colours bleed all over each other in wild profusion, especially in the northeast US and eastern Canada. It is my favorite season, the one I miss the most in Niger even though it is the prelude to winter, my least favorite season. I love beautiful, colourful scenery. I also like colourful people and vibrant personalities.

After living for the past 22 years in a country where everything is usually a drab, monochromatic grayish-orange, I appreciate beautiful places and lots of colour. Sometimes when we arrive back in the US in the summer after four long years in Niger, the green grass and heavily-forested hills hurt our eyes. It is definitely a sight for sore eyes. We have been seared by the hot sun and the glare of the Saharan landscape, and our eyes have grown dim. The green of the US, by contrast, is blinding. We haven't seen anything so lush and green in a long while. Huge lawns and sweeping golf courses stretch to the horizon. Hills are covered with trees in full leaf. Everywhere you look, there are flowers or trees or rivers or hills. I try to keep my eyes open while we are in the US, looking for gorgeous scenes to file in my memory for a time in Niger when everything seems drab, colourless, discouraging, and lifeless.

God has created so much variety in this world, and every place and every country has its beauty. In Niger, the beauty is more veiled, but if you watch out for it, you will find it. It might be a brilliantly-coloured bird. Or it will be a dazzling sunset. Or maybe a flower with a particularly bright hue. Just when I think I can't stand the monochromatic, drab landscape any more, God surprises me with a disply of His splendor, like the sunset we saw on our way home to Tera around Christmas, 2004 (see photo). His reminders are everywhere, and in a country where beauty is not so obvious, it gives you more appreciation for what is beautiful and colourful.

Ironically, people in Niger don't see colours the way we do in America. In the Songhai language, there are only six words for colours, and three of them have been borrowed from French. For instance, they don't distinguish between orange, red, and pink. Flowers are meaningless if they don't serve some utilitarian purpose like food or some necessity of life. People are so preoccupied trying to find the basic necessities of life, they don't have time for aesthetic pursuits. Dirt and garbage are everywhere, and life is drab and colourless for most people.

I want to be a colourful person, always enjoying God's creation and the colours He has put in this world. I want to appreciate beauty, and I'm glad we have many words for colours in English. For my American friends, you've probably noticed I've used the English spelling for the word "colour." I hope you aren't offended by that. They invented the language. It certainly adds colour to our language when we disagree over the spelling of some words. I like to do things differently sometimes. It's part of the colour God has placed within me. Aren't you glad for all the colour in the world?

Change

2006-05-18T10:17:00.000-05:00

Change is an unavaoidable part of life, so they say. But it seems like I have been experiencing more than the usual amount of rapid and dramatic change lately. I feel like the world is spinning so fast, I'll fly off if I don't hold tight. Who could have seen these changes coming just four or five years ago?

The mission organization of which I'm a part, SIM, is in the process of changing dramatically. Our old pooling system of support changed to a new, more individualized system on January 1st of this year. After 21 years of dealing with finances the same way, we have to get used to new methods and new ideas. We have several new financial accounts. We have support agreements. We are using a new medical insurer. Taxes will be handled differently. We are responsible for our housing costs and have to arrange all our travel and visa costs. Support levels are much more flexible.

Our financial support base is also changing. In the past two years, we've lost a lot of support, including three key churches. Individuals have picked up the slack, but we are down to just over one-quarter of our support coming from churches. So our support base has become more individual and has spread out geographically. And of the eight churches that still support us, many of them have changed pastors in the past three years, and some have had big changes in membership.

Not only is our financial system and base changing, but the mission is changing in dramatic ways. New leadership has begun to steer the organization on a slightly different course. We want to be able to send missionaries from anywhere to anywhere. This parallels the worldwide trend of missionaries coming more and more from non-western countries. We want to be more flexible and stream-lined. Any organization that is more than 100 years old can easily become lifeless or petrified unless it changes. We also want to focus on key priorities and be less scattered in our focus. Our field office has a brand new administrative structure which is regionally-based and responds more to the needs of the churches.

My life is changing dramatically in personal ways as well. My son will be entering his senior year of high school this fall, and in 2007, we'll launch him off to college (he's still in the process of deciding which one). May daughter will finish high school in 2009. We are returning to Africa inless than three months, and for thosewho know what it's like to move cross-culturally, that is a huge change even when you've done it before. My close-knit family is changing as well, nephews and nieces moving on with their lives, a brother living in Oklahoma (we've been in the US nine months and still haven't seen him or his family), and parents and in-laws aging and experiencing more health problems.

Then the world outside is changing rapidly. Technology is moving so fast, who can keep up with it ? You need to be at it 24/7/365 to understand it. Even doing this blog is a bit frightening for someone who likes to master something before he does it. I don't feel like I understand it as well as I would like. Will I get anonymous and/or critical comments? Air travel is becoming more and more complicated with all the threats. We are more aware of global realities, and yet I think we understand them less. The USA is experiencing a religious shift, one that has huge implications for the church. Our faith is being challenged like never before by neo-Gnostics ("The Da Vinci Code," "The Gospel of Judas"), homosexual activitis, post-modern "toerance," and different worldviews such as those found in Islam or Hinduism.

We are also contemplating changes in our work, changes that will likely remove us from the place where we are currently working and transport us in a few years to another ministry worlds away. I am considering going for a doctorate. And I'm in the process of doing things I've never done before: writing articles for publication, doing radio interviews,

Change can be a good thing, but too much at once can leave us unstable, groundless, and fearful. Where do I go? What is right and true? Is there anything I can stand on that is not moving? Stop the world! I'm getting dizzy. In a world of change and decay, there remains one constant, one steady Rock that I can rely on, and to it I hold tight: Jesus Christ. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. I'll conclude with a poem I wrote years ago that always encourages me to keep on in the fight and not let go when the world is spinning. I entitled it "Emmanuel."

He walks before me
To guide me in the right way.
He walks beside me
To guard me lest I stray.
He walks behind me
To goad me into the fray.

His presence is my peace.