Appleseed Travel Journal

— War-Time Wedding in the Congo

Steven, our Congolese team leader, met his wife, Angel, while they were both fleeing from their hometowns during the war of 1998.  The idea was to find a village where the rebels had already passed through: pillaging, killing, raping, and decimating. Hopefully some time would pass before the rebels would return to that particular area.

On foot for several days, Steven and Angel became traveling companions and then friends as they hid out with many others in the jungle village. There was little to eat except nature’s mango trees, yet they remained there for three months where they married and began a life together in the midst of war and terror.

Finally, they headed back to Steven’s hometown of Uvira. For two more years, the fighting continued and every night they would hear gunshots and screams from those who were being killed and/or raped. They said, “Every day we lived knowing that our time might be up and that during the night we would be the ones being killed.”

Peace was finally restored in their region in 2002. Now, seven years later, it is remarkable to spend time with Steven and Angel, to see the way that God has blessed their faithfulness to Him, and to see their passion for sharing God’s message, care, and provision with others.

Women’s Lives Changed

Angel works daily with other women to help them out of poverty mindsets and to equip them to change their own lives. She described to us the way she effectively empowers women:
I begin by debating with women that I meet.  I ask them, “Why do you think that I have some financial resources and you do not?”  Women often see themselves as inferior to their husbands and not able to get ahead.  So I have to challenge them in ways that will make them think.  I have to help them see the opportunities that they have around them to make something and sell it or to learn a skill that will help them support their family. “If I can do this, then you can do it also,” I tell them. I sometimes speak strongly to them, “Yes, you are going to have to work hard, but it is worth it. If not for yourself, do it for your daughters so that you will have enough money to put them through school and they can then have a better life than yours.”

I try to provide them with training in simple sewing skills or other crafts they can make so that they can see that they are able to do small things to get ahead.  I also show them that God's principles, when applied to their life, lead to success and strength.

Churches Multiplying Among the Poor

Steven’s work is equally amazing.  After starting a church in 2006 he felt that his influence in this needy country was limited.  He contacted us looking specifically for ways to multiply his effectiveness so that more Congolese could be reached spiritually and practically. He is now becoming a church-planting trainer, starting over a dozen churches during the past year and, with our help, is now training over 20 new church-planters. These leaders are working in bigger cities like Uvira, in smaller villages that are still reeling from the impacts of war, in prisons, and among unreached tribes (such as the Pygmy people). Wherever churches are started, ministry to needy people is part of the kingdom message that is shared: the hungry are fed, children are given school fees, widows and handicapped are helped, and generosity becomes a way of life.

YOU Are the Key To All of This

Steven and Angel, along with a host of growing leaders in the Congo, represent some of the most remarkable kingdom-minded, God-loving people we know. Yet over and over they tell us how much strength it brings them to have people come and support them from so far away.  Tears streaming down Steven's face, as we departed, emphasized this.  We feel so privileged to partner with them AND so aware that our partnership with them happens because YOU stand with us.  We are ever so aware and appreciative of this!

Posted via email from rogerthoman's posterous

— Summoned by Congo's Central Intelligence Office

We had been in the Congo for about four hours when the phone call came to one of the conference coordinators. “We want to see the visitors in our office right away.”

The message was relayed to us, “Our head intelligence officer wants to see you.  We must take you to the ‘Security’ office immediately.”

We had already been through the border crossing that morning, met with the city mayor in order to fulfill proper “protocol,” and we had been assured that there were no more hoops to jump through.  So, what was this about?  This is a country that is still reeling from recent times of war so suspicions can still surface and/or corrupt officials can be looking for a little extra personal income.

Our Congolese team leader, Steven, was dealing with conference details so he sent us to the office with another translator.  “Don’t worry,” Steven said.  “This is just a formality.” OK, only a slight rise in the beating of the heart and a quick prayer.

Yet, our hearts did race just a bit more as we were ushered through the front door of a concrete building, guided by two men into a small back-room office where a very serious-looking man sat behind a small desk with a set of handcuffs sitting very conspicuously within inches of his left hand.

I have to tell you, this did not feel like just a formality.

He introduced himself through the translator and explained, in so many words, how important his office was.  He compared his job with, in his own words, “the FBI.”  Brooks and I were both thinking, at this point, that the FBI does not routinely haul people into their office for a chat unless there is something seriously wrong! Our heart rates increased yet another notch.  Our prayer life jumped another level.

Then, a long dialogue took place between this man and our translator. We were left out of the loop since we could understand neither the French nor the Swahili that they would alternate speaking with. The man behind the desk was pointing to files on his desk, to paperwork he held in his hand, and was clearly lecturing our translator who was making notes. What was our translator writing? The list of crimes we had committed in the four hours we had been there? How many transgressions had we done?

This little conversation went on long enough that we did start to wonder where it was headed and if we were going to leave that room with our hands free or behind our back (ok, so the imagination begins to run a bit when you cannot understand the conversation and the setting is so ominous).

Our heart rates were now at the pace achieved by a good 30-minute run.  Hey, who needs to exercise, just visit the Congo!

Finally, finally, the essence of this important meeting comes to light. In order for this very important man to file the very important documents, he needed $20 from each visitor so that this can be properly done. Our Congolese friends later assured us that this is not an official government fee, just one of the ways that officials find to pad their incomes.

So, yes, we were set free. Not until our translator promised he would return with copies of our passports (the “Security” office did not have a copy machine), the very important forms properly filled out (no need to take this official’s time to do it right there), additional photos of the visitors (none of us could figure out why the passport photos were not sufficient), and, of course, the requisite forty dollars.

Such is the system in the Congo and, indeed, in many African countries.

For our part, the intimidation worked quite well. We would have gladly paid forty dollars and much more just to get out of that small office, away from the “FBI agent,” and to stay clear of those handcuffs!

Thankfully, our hearts are no worse for the wear. At least I am fairly certain of this. Today, several days later as I write this, the pulse in my neck is now only partly visible.  Oh, and our prayer life?  Much improved still and much gratitude for all of our praying friends back home!

Posted via email from rogerthoman's posterous

— Poverty

Poverty

What does it mean to be without?  I wanted to buy a few things before I left home.  Funny, now I can’t even remember what they were or what I wanted them for.  They seem pretty insignificant now.  We went from the U.S. straight into Bujumbura, Burundi to Uvira, DR Congo. Each move was a huge transition in our world’s economy.  Anyone could see the difference right away from one place to the other without even stepping out of the car:  the roads, the houses, street signs or lack of, markets, schools, vehicles, dress, etc.  Could it get worse?

Unfortunately, yes. Sunday we took the long drive, but short distance from Uvira to the village of Makobola to go to the church that meets at the home of the blind twin sisters.  We had the luxury of being in a four-wheel drive Land Rover to drive the dirt and rock, one lane road out there.  All the way there were many people walking the four hours to reach the village to buy things at the market to haul them all the way back to Uvira to sell them.  Yes, many carrying them on their heads or balancing them in huge bundles back and front on their bicycles.  I couldn’t help but wonder if one pair of tires would even make it for the long trip back and forth with all of the rocks on the road.  Even many of the women had small children walking alongside of them as they strolled along in the mid-day heat.

When we finally reached the village, there alongside the road were many mud houses with thatched or tin roofs, some with doors, many without.  We were led into a tiny, dark room and there on a blanket sat women—women who had obviously been waiting for us for a long time.  The two sisters sat quietly side by side with other women closely gathered around them.  This room and one other is their home and where they meet for church every Sunday.  Remy, a church planter, came to this village, shared the gospel with the sisters and they received Christ.  They have shared with others and now there are nine of them who meet at their home.  None can read or write, but Remy or Stephen come often to teach and share with them.  They were so humble and so sweet as they led our time together with some songs they had learned, with smiles on their faces as they sang about Jesus.  Remy shared some Scriptures with all of us and then we discussed them.  When we were sitting there, I believe God gave me the Scripture “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”  These women had NOTHING, but they had more peace, more joy, more hope than any women I’ve ever seen.  Roger prayed over them and it was pretty awesome, but gotta tell you, I’m thinking those girls should have been praying for us!

As we left these women, we went to meet with the chief of this village.  He was working hard in an outside kiln with a few other men making bricks for houses.  He led us into his small home.  With sweat pouring off his face, embarrassed, he apologized for his small house and said he had been working hard to make more bricks to rebuild all the houses that had been destroyed in the war—the war when the rebels had killed over 700 of his people.  The pain was etched on his face as he spoke and I thought he would start to cry—or I would.  The war happened eleven years ago and the pain and misery and destruction is as obvious today as if it happened this morning.  Over six million—that’s million—people have died in DR Congo since 1996. It’s inconceivable.  It’s unimaginable.

I thought I wanted, even needed something before I left home to come here.  Today, I can’t begin to imagine what it would have been.






See and download the full gallery on posterous

Posted via email from Brooks's posterous

— Traveling Along Through Africa

Coming into Bejumbura, Burundi last week all I could see was miles of desert plains.  Even flying in, I could feel the dirt, dust, and poverty from high above the region...with all the tin roofs and small shed buildings on small, less than acre “farms” and the dirt roads criss-crossing everywhere.  We then road into the city, which was very dusty and trashy, but amidst it all, we climbed out of our taxi with it’s grimy, ripped up seats and followed the driver through a little alley-way into the most amazing little hotel equipped with not only a hot shower and wonderful bed, but internet and amazing French food!  After more than 50 hours of travel this was our sweet reward.  No need to tell you, we were wasted and slept for a good 24 hours, but then were surprisingly refreshed and ready to go…

All that to tell you that I had no idea what poverty looked like.  That was last week and Burundi before The Crossing. Now let me tell you about this week and after The Crossing!  The moment we got into DRC, everything abruptly changed…no more pavement for starters…only dirt and rocks, big ones!  In Uvira there is one main, paved road, even though it’s a city of 400,000, which means everything else is dirt, dust and rocks.  It’s the very beginning of rainy season, so once a day it rains for a while and the dust is subdued for a short hour or so, and then because of the intense heat and wind coming off Lake Tanganyika it quickly stirs up again.

There are three markets in Uvira, and no, I’ve not been allowed to go to one, even yet!  I spied a beautiful basket as we sped along one day that cost a whopping $1 U.S., but the oger I get to travel with put the kabash on that one right away (I think it was the size or something. Yes, the same oger who was all upset about the teddy bear.).  We had hoped to stay in a decent, safe hotel in town and got all settled in only to discover there was no water.  So, after much ado, oh my gosh, so much ado, we were able to move to another hotel, fortunately with water.  The only glitch is that the water is downstairs in the water tank, but no matter, they do help us with bringing the full tub back up the three flights of stairs.  And, the bonus is that when the electricity is working, and when the stars are lined up and the intercessors are praying, then the water system does work!  Well, kind of, sort of.  It doesn’t actually come out of the sink faucet or the shower faucet. It comes out of the bidet faucet, if there was a bidet, so I guess it comes out of the toilet faucet. But, we are THRILLED when it works, which is usually around 10 p.m., if it’s going to work, so we take turns standing in the “tub” and soaping up and spraying down.  Oh, did I tell you the toilet seat is broken, so when you sit on it, your booty gets a nice little pinch?  Both sides!  Nice!  All of this for $35 and, yes, of course, breakfast is included!!

We are adjusting well, though, and have become accustomed to “Bonjour, Madame”,  or “Jambo”, etc., as French and Swahili are spoken here and the fish from the lake is fantastic – and it’s a good thing as it’s the mainstay along with rice and beans and “chips”.   Stephen, our contact, and lead church planter has been incredibly supportive and helpful in every way.  The main conference was very well attended and now we are in the middle of the trainings for his church planters.   The people are warm, friendly, passionate, even though their country has been through more than you or I could ever possibly imagine.   I know I always say this about everywhere I go, but this time I really mean it, I truly do wish I could live here.

See and download the full gallery on posterous

Posted via email from Brooks's posterous

— Great Experiences! No Time for Writing Yet!

Sidenote: pictured above with me is NOT a child.  This is 20-year-old David from one of the Pygmy tribes in the Congo.  Yes, he is 20 years old; he is completing his high school education this year with plans to enter law school so that he can defend his own people in legal matters.  His people experience a lot of prejudice here.
Hopefully Brooks will get some updates out as I have not had time, yet, to write.  We have faced a few challenges in the Congo only because we have not traveled here before.  But our times with leaders and in ministry to a neighboring village has been wonderfully exciting and we are seeing God at work beyond our expectations.
Will write more when I have time...

Posted via email from rogerthoman's posterous

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