Appleseed Travel Journal

— Love Story

…and we’re off…again! East Africa bound.

First stop is the Santa Maria Airport to wait for the airport shuttle van to drop us off in LA. It’s good to start slow and finish strong. By slow, I mean our little airport is very sleepy, with few flights in or out so there’s very little going on. It’s all quite casual as the occasional person drifts in or out of the sliding doors into the terminal. Actually, anything or anyone that moves immediately attracts attention amidst the stillness! I was sitting on a cold cement bench with our bags piled laying all around, when a Honda van pulled up alongside the curb some distance down from me. I couldn’t help staring just to break up the boredom if nothing else. A lady in her late sixties jumped out and walked to the back of the van. At the same time, a man, presumably her husband, got out of the driver’s side to join her as the back door slowly lifted open. He lifted out her ginormous suitcase and set it on the curb…and that’s when the magic happened.

So many times I’ve seen people being dropped off at the airport and it’s a quick good-bye, hasta, see ya and a peck on the cheek. Not so with this couple. They stepped to the curb and the wife with backpack slung over her shoulder reached up with both arms and longingly embraced her husband, who did the same. They just clung to each other – for a very long time. Then she held his face in both of her hands and they kissed and kissed – again for a very long time. Finally, she turned to her suitcase, lifted the handle and started for the airport doors. The husband climbed slowly and reluctantly back into the van glancing back at her every few steps. Just when I thought the scene had ended, the wife turned from the sliding doors, walked all the way back to the curb and stood waving as her husband slowly drove away.

I couldn’t help but wonder who or what called to the wife that she must say good-bye today. When we leave for Africa…every time…it’s exciting, thrilling…even magical, too! Africa calls and we go; we have to! Why? Because we can’t not go!!! We just have to! There are people to see, places to go. Assignments to carry out. But, every time, every single time, I cry when we leave. Because I love. I love my kids, my grandkids, my spiritual communities. Each good-bye brings a tear; a longing to express everything that my heart feels. So, like the wife, we get to take a journey today to someone and something that also fills our hearts. We have come to know that Love simply is, and that nothing, no nothing separates it. No height or depth, or distance or time. It just is. So, dear ones, be loved today as we truly love you.

— Wrap Up from Africa

We came back to Nairobi, Kenya from Kampala, Uganda yesterday. We are always surprised by how exhausted we are from just one day's travel … and that's flying!! It seems it's at least an all-day ordeal no matter how well it goes. For example, our taxi ride from the airport to our hostel took longer than our flight!!!! Nairobi "freeways" are a mix-mash of anywhere between three, four and five self-made lanes, with all sizes and shapes of vehicles vying for the best position in standing still endless lines of traffic. The matatu drivers are considered crazy even by Kenyans' standards, but luckily hawkers pass by every few minutes while you are just sitting still, selling anything from jumper cables looped about their necks to bananas, maps, flags, shirts, or maybe underwear … it's like Walmart on the street … they just come to you. So, we have finally arrived in Nairobi, and are happy, safe and sound and yay for us, we got the room with the awesome shower, even with hot water!! Whohooo!

We are glad for a couple of days to regroup, get some work done, and meet up with two couples who are working here in Nairobi. Then, Tuesday night our flight leaves at 11:30 pm for London, then onto LAX, so after traveling up the Coast, we should arrive home late, late Wednesday night. It's been an incredible two months, and we can barely keep track of where all and what all God has done in that time. I thought perhaps you would rather see a sampling of pictures of where/when/what has gone on than my verbal update. As I reflect on our time, I must admit that it's very challenging not to get overwhelmed with issues, problems, challenges, the needs of Africa, but just for today, let's celebrate all the ways God is working!!!

I hope you enjoy the photos … as always, we so appreciate your prayers for us, for the young men and women working so very hard here under such difficult, difficult circumstances … and for all of East Africa …

We spent time in Tanzania doing trainings that were set up by spearhead and leader Samuel for discipleship movements in the eastern region. 

Samuel

And his very outspoken and radically passionate wife …

Esther

Then we went onto Kakamega, Kenya where John Omondi and Roger trained and worked with leaders specifically brought in who have already planted anywhere from one to 100 churches.

Kakamega

Over and over Roger has been told how much the church planting leaders appreciate him. They tell him that he understands and respects them.  Often he invites them to join us so they can teach alongside him.  We know and believe that it's Africans who are the ones who are the best to teach other Africans.

Kakamega

Roger facilitating a role play that always gets a good laugh!

Kakamega

Wherever we are this is usually what our lunch looks like cooking … it takes forever … obviously!!! This particular lunch is rice and beans … and we had it around 2:30. Roger and I had eaten breakfast at 7:30 … I imagine some of these folks had only had a cup of tea since the night before.

lunch

Roger and his interpreter … about half of these particular folks could speak English (in addition to two other languages) very well which was great for us.  Typically in Nairobi everyone speaks English fluently.  We find in the rural areas of most East Africa, especially where the level of education is lower, if at all, people speak their mother (or tribal) tongue and Swahili.  The universal world-wide joke is that you can always tell an American, because they can only speak one language...sad, but true!!

interpreter

The ones who were brought to the week's training in Kakamega...

Kakamega men

And the women that I got to work with, too …

Kakamega women

George, an amazing man and passionate church planter is incredibly knowledgeable in farming, accounting, administration and has a very catching "can do" attitude that's desperately needed here. Here he is with the one acre of sugar cane that was planted last fall and will sustain six families … at the end of three years harvesting, each family hopes to be able to use their profits to lease their own plot of land and grow their own sugarcane, realizing all of the profit for themselves to teach and do the same for others. So far, so good … I am assured sugarcane cannot fail!! It isn't dependent on rain, has a guaranteed success rate with the only challenge being fire. Please pray with us for a very, very successful harvest (they can harvest this field three times from one planting!) This is just one of the projects that we are able to support because of your help!

George

Judith was educated at the small sewing center in Kakamega. She graduated last year. We were delighted to find her, set up in her own rented space on a busy street in town. While we were there, we were interrupted visiting with her several times because of clients coming to her to mend their clothes. She has two children and now is able to support them by paying for their school fees, feeding and clothing them. HURRAY for her success!

Judith

Then we went onto Kitale and a week with Liberty School … since we were there many changes have happened. The orphanage was finished. Metal, temporary buildings have been put up to house the most vulnerable of the older teens who would otherwise not be able to go to school and would continue to stay in very, very volatile situations. The school has been painted, there are two new teachers and there are about 100 more students!!!! Most are not able to pay to come to school, but because of support from you, they are able to get an education and have a hot meal at least once a day.

I spent most of the week working with the kids who have sponsors from home. I was shocked and so happy to see that most of the kids were able to read the sponsor's letters written in English and able to write them back by themselves. Remember, English is a second language for them. Many of the kids going to rural public schools here are not getting as good an education as these kids are … even with many, many limitations in the way of books, desks and children living in extremely challenging situations, they are doing very well, receiving not only an education but love from dedicated, often not paid, teachers. This is Mary. We met her three years ago. She is ALWAYS smiling!

Mary

Because of a sponsor's extra donation, we were able to buy much needed books for these kids. They will be shared by all of the students and kept at school.

books

Just some of the kids who will receive a hot meal today … typically lunch in a Kenyan school is maize and beans.

kids

Classrooms to the right, temporary housing for the older boys and older girls to the left. I am standing taking the photo from in front of the orphanage. (The property is square. There is also a new well, with a pump for clean water.

housing and classrooms

Housing for orphans, Director John Wayonye and his family and also where the baby class meets. (The building in front with the smoke is the new kitchen! I know, girls, it's the envy of us all!!!)

kitchen and orphanage

Also in western Kenya, we spent time with Dawson in Birunda … a small village where Steven, front and center, is starting simple churches. We spent one afternoon where this group meets in a hotel (a restaurant), which is located inside the area with the curtain.

Everywhere we go in rural areas there are kids and kids and more kids!!!!

kid

Roger in Birunda

Roger in Birunda

Then onto Rwanda … some of the women I got to be with. The woman in white is a converted Muslim. Her story is amazing, but due to her safety, I am not able to post it. I'm very anxious to share it with you in person, though!

Rwanda women

Check out all of the folks we got to spend the week with in Kigali, Rwanda. Blue shirt, front row on the right is Behizi from Burundi. This man along with his disciples has planted over 100 churches. It was great that he could come be with us.

Kigali

My wonderful interpreter who is a pastor in town. She volunteered her time and at the end asked if she could even have my notes! YAY for that!!!

interpreter

Steven surprised us by bringing along his wife Angel and their new baby, Moses to join us in Kigali, Rwanda. It was so great to get a firsthand report from Angel about the work in DR Congo. Great things are happening not only in the center she started in the city of Uvira, but from that school, one lady has been raised up who on her own is traveling some distance to go to a village where the women are illiterate. She is discipling them and training them how to lift themselves up. Because of the fundraising done for women this year, we will be able to help 25 of these women who are wives of church planters in that remote area start businesses of their own raising pigs.

Moses, Angel, and Steven

And lastly … we went onto Uganda. Here are just two of the women I got to work with. Left is main church planter in that area Henri's wife, Oliver. Right is a young 20 year old Irene, PASSIONATE about reaching her nation, particularly eastern Uganda. These women live hard, hard lives in remote areas where poverty is a way of life … yet they are smiling and such an inspiration!

Uganda women

Here's the gang in Kampala …

Kampala

Roger and his interpreter … we are ALWAYS so, so appreciative when God provides a really good translator … when they are bad, it's so, so disappointing … This trip God has really given us great ones! This young man is only 24, speaks three languages fluently and was a genuine support and help to us in so many ways.

Roger and interpreter

Dawson joined us again where he and Henri did some of the teaching, along with a couple of key leaders from the northern region of Mbale town …

Dawson

… and Henri and one of his guys …

Henri

As I said, this is only a sampling of who and what you all have supported, prayed with and for over the months, particularly the last two. We feel God has encouraged and strengthened the work going on here because of all of us standing with them, believing with them for transformation of their homes, their communities and their nations. Great things are going on; many, many times they have told us to greet all of you. They appreciate so much what you do for them physically, but truly they also feel there are people in the US who also believe Jesus is the answer for the problems and challenges in their nations. Often they ask us to not only greet you, but that they also pray for you.

Thank you once again for traveling with us. We love you; we appreciate you; we can't wait to see you!!!

— Meet Susan

Meet Susan. She was in my small group today. During my times with women, I often ask each one to share a testimony from their lives of how they have experienced God. I am consistently surprised by the women's stories and how they have encountered the Living God in real, life-changing ways. I used to think that I was a pretty good listener and that there was nothing anyone could tell me that would shock me. That was before I started coming to Africa. The stories, the traumas, the horrors are certainly more than anything that I've ever experienced. I teach the women that even though our skin is a different color, the foods we eat are different, the homes we live in are constructed differently and even our cultures and ways of living are completely different, we, as women, have much in common as women. We share the same emotions and feelings and concerns. We hold in our hearts the same love for our children, our worries and concerns for them. We have fears about our futures and worry about finances and security and safety. Relationship with our husbands is important to us and concern for older parents can consume us. They all nod their heads in agreement, and I hope that some preconceived thoughts about White, American women is dispelled.

Susan began to share her story. I wish I could tell you it's the worst I've ever heard, but alas, it is not. Susan was the eldest of many children living in a small village close to the city of Kampala (Uganda). Her family was "poor, very, very poor." Her father was a drunkard who came home many times beating her, her brothers and sisters, and her mother, even so angry at times, that he would declare he would kill them all … screaming that he would cut off each of their heads. Eventually this is exactly what happened. In a stupor one night, he came in angry and yelling, ordering the mother and the kids around, asking them why this and why that. His anger escalated to the point that he did just what he had always threatened. He cut the mother's head completely off with each of the children watching, paralyzed at what was happening. With no place to go and traumatizing his own children forever, Susan was forced to continue to live with this man. She felt responsible to somehow protect the younger children and where would she go? What would she do? The father was relentless in his abuse of her and her siblings, often leaving them behind for days alone without food or clothing or school fees. Even when he was there, food was scarce, money needed for food spent on alcohol instead.

When Susan was 14, her father sent her to an old, old man as his third wife. The custom in East Africa is that the prospective husband must pay the girl's father a dowry of a cow, plus some money or whatever is negotiated. Not only was her father able to rid himself of one of the children, but he also saw a clear way to get some cash as well. As for Susan, she was no part of this decision. The new husband then took her far from the mainland out to an island in the middle of Lake Victoria, where she would live with him in a small village. There she was surrounded by water, terrified because she could not swim, living with a man three times her age with people she did not know, cut off from her siblings and any semblance of life, however destitute, as she knew it.

As days passed into years, Susan kept looking for a way out. One day she saw her way of escape and seized it … not only for herself, but now three years later, she had a child of her own to care for. In the dark of night, under threat of death, she hid in the bottom of a small boat and made it safely across the lake and then walked the long distance into the large capital city of Kampala. Yes, now she was safely away from the husband, but she had nowhere to go, no aunts, uncles, or grandparents to take her and her little girl in. For a long time she survived living on the streets, begging for money and forever hiding in case the father would happen to see her. At night she would sneak into someone's compound and sleep in their outhouse, just to be out of the rain and somewhere that no one could find her.

Tired and frustrated, scared and alone, Susan eventually got up enough nerve to go to a church and ask for help. There someone took her in and her life began to change. She testifies today that she could not help but believe that somehow God had protected her all of her life. Why? "Because He loves me!" she exclaims. He alone had kept her alive. She repeats it over and over to the rest of us. God is the one who kept me. I am only alive because God watched over and cared for me and kept me safe. "I have been tested," she declares, "and even with all of this, I am clear and do not have AIDS."

To see Susan, you will see only a beautiful young woman, strong and healthy with a beautiful smile. She looks peaceful, maybe even a bit shy, but don't let that fool you. When Susan speaks, she speaks with fire, with determination and confidence. She's angry. Not at the world or even the horrors that have happened to her, but at the tragedies and injustices that people suffer from in this world. Without a doubt, Suan knows in whom she believes and is confident that the God who loves her loves other suffering women as well. Her mission? To tell them all.

Oliver, Susan, and Irene:

Susan

Susan

— Leadership Mapping

Ok, the technical stuff because some (a few of you) like this stuff. And, yes, so do I!

We are introducing a new tool to our teams this year called Leadership Mapping. This helps them to understand the progress they are making and where to put their efforts when it comes to developing leaders.

It is important to understand that developing leaders for a movement of disciplemakers or church planters is unique in that "leaders" must truly become selfless servants and give away everything they have learned by helping others come up to the same level (or higher) of fruitfulness and effectiveness. Leadership is not viewed in a hierarchical fashion; rather it is understood as influence for the benefit of serving others.

By mapping this process, leaders see if they are reproducing themselves effectively and truly giving away all that they can to their disciples.

In short form, we define Levels for the purpose of Leadership Mapping in this manner:

Level 1: A person has gathered disciples and started a church with others who are learning to love God, love each other, and reach out to neighbors with compassion and Good News.

Level 2: A person has started at least two churches and one or more of these churches has reproduced by reaching out to others, making disciples in which a new church is birthed (2+ churches and at least second generation of church reproduction).

Level 3: A person has started or reproduced at least 12 churches with at least three generations of churches.

Level 4: A person has started or reproduced at least 40 churches with at least four generations of churches.

When movements have leaders developing at level 4, it has usually become sustainable and can move into rapidly accelerated growth.

When leaders draw out their "map" they often recognize that they are not pulling their disciples up to their own level as effectively as they thought. For example, a level two leader becomes more fruitful (and will automatically move to level three) by helping his team to develop many level two leaders. This happens as he reproduces himself and lifts others to his own level of fruitfulness. This requires them to grow in their own character and develop a selflessness in their leadership which has been expressed by Mike Steele:

Did God give us a universal principle for leadership? From my understanding of the Scripture, this ideal can be expressed in the concept of "The apostle who is a father." It is embodied in the saying "A weeping father crying out for his sons to overtake him." Mike Steele

Leadership Mapping helps them to see how their spiritual "sons and daughters" are progressing (or not) and how best to support their growth, maturity, and development.

But, just to be clear here … at the end of the day, it really is about another person finding freedom from superstitions, legalistic religion, bondages, inner hopelessness, and lifestyles that are destroying them.

In fact, while working with a team of leaders in Kigali yesterday, one of the leaders there was sent pictures of a baptism taking place in his absence proving his own commitment to raise up others and allow them to take the lead.

baptism

— Good Times with New Friends

I think it was last fall I wrote about some of the interesting people I meet along the way. It is fascinating who I get to talk to standing in line or just passing by. Such was the case on our flight from Kitale in western Kenya to Nairobi last week. The Kitale airport has changed a lot in the short time since we've been coming to Africa. Where they used to have a cinderblock building of one room, meat packing scales to weigh your luggage and an outhouse about a ¼ of a mile away, now they have added onto the building making an additional tiny room where about 12 chairs are crammed close together for waiting, TSA attendants greet you at the door and slide your bags through a machine of sorts and everyone looks and acts very official. Just a few years ago going through security meant men went with the male airport employee and women went with the woman. Your bags were slung up on a rickety table and gone through thoroughly … by hand, insuring that the hours you had spent carefully situating everything in your suitcase so it would close were now all for naught. Instead, you were left with a huge, jumbled pile spilling onto the table and floor and trying desperately to somehow cram it all back inside the bag again. So, times have changed and with it losses, but also gains.

On this particular trip last week, Fly 540, the airlines we used to use because it was the only one that flew into Kitale, had mysteriously stopped and an airline called East Africa Safari had taken over the duties. Well, most of the duties. They, too, had only one flight a day, but for some reason not on Tuesdays. It seems Fly 540 had gotten quite a few complaints. Some of them apparently had been because if they had picked up extra passengers in Lodwar, the stop before Kitale, then they simply circled over Kitale, checked out the number of passengers on the ground, and if there were too many, they just passed on by. If you were ticketed for that day, no problem, your ticket would still be good for tomorrow. So, as anyone knows, flexibility is the key to traveling, so for today East Africa Safari is what we fly. After all, how bad could it be?

My first delightful encounter this day was in the waiting room where, of course, one could easily make friends with just about everyone just because of sheer proximity. There were a number of us sitting there, but it was hard not to notice the very "smart" (nicely dressed) Kenyan woman chatting away in Swahili on her cell phone. Soon another, very nicely dressed, jewel-bedecked (a gold ring of some description on each finger of each hand), robust woman bustled through the door. With lots of "Oooh's and ah's!" and loud greetings, they embraced each other warmly, obviously very surprised at seeing one another here at the airport. So, the two women pretty much entertained the rest of us during our 20 minute wait for our flight. We all tried to appear like we were engaged in whatever bundle was on our laps, but clearly each of us was listening to the lively sitcom going on in front of us. Even Roger and the other men in the room glanced up from their devotion to the Daily Nation long enough to find out what was going on. I couldn't help it. Every time the second lady laughed, I found myself giggling flat outright just because her laughter was so outrageously contagious. Only later would I find out who this woman really was.

Putt, putt, putt our plane seemed to be landing, so we all stood up and made our way out the door to the six foot waiting area to walk out to the parked plane. That's when the second lady switched from Swahili to English to engage me in conversation. "I think you like my laugh. Is that right? Where are you going and what are you doing? Ah, is this man your husband (she was now standing between us, her with her rather large self and all her belongings)?" As with many Kenyans, her conversation was accented with much shoulder touching and arm holding and big eyes and squeals of delight. We laughed and chit-chatted about things like where we're from and children and grandchildren. She was happy to tell me that she lives in Nairobi but has a farm in Kitale where she grows maize. Quite obviously she was a very wealthy and confident woman. As outrageously sanguine as she was, her friend, who turned out to be her sister-in-law, was equally reserved and quiet, telling me that she, too, lived in Nairobi and had a bee farm here in Kitale that she had come to check on. She sells honey in stores throughout Kenya.

During our little wait, Roger and I kept checking out the plane that had just landed with East Africa Safaris painted across it. Seriously, was this our plane? Our discussion went along the lines of, "Well, it must be our plane. It's got to be the only plane that's going to land here all day, matter of fact for two days since it's Monday." We each reassured each other that yes, we had ridden on such a small, commercial plane before. It was really no big deal. Finally, not being able to stand it, I nonchalantly initiated a little visit with a young woman standing alone waiting with the rest of us. As we were talking, it all became very clear why very few of the passengers had any luggage … just the two dumb wzungus who ended up paying almost the cost of another ticket just because of the amount and weight of ours. We figured this all out by ourselves as a man pulled a metal wagon with our bags (along with a few others) out to the parked plane. There he and another guy stuffed them into small cave openings on the side of the plane, like on a bus, only much, much smaller. Good thing everyone else was traveling light just so there'd be room for ours.

Well, wish you could have seen Roger and me just getting into the plane … me with my "purse" (just a bit oversized) and a reusable grocery bag containing a rather large oval basket, a gift given that I couldn't possibly leave behind, and poor Roger with his tall, longlegged self trying to bend over making himself thin enough and short enough to manage the height of the plane and the narrowness of the "aisle." We were trying to manage ourselves, balance our way up the hanging steps onto the plane, and somehow put the things we were carrying in front of us so they would fit. That's when someone shoved a little brown lunchbag at me, saying, "This is for you." Right there at step one a guy stood with a little cardboard box filled with tiny bags. I didn't see that he was doling one out to each passenger, as is the custom on smaller flights, but really??? Do I absolutely need to carry this, too? Disgusted, I already knew my gift included a tiny bottle of water and a white roll, but took it anyway, just out of pure gratitude and a "in-your face United" attitude. We finally managed to get ourselves seated (no assigned seating I can assure you), but I was thrilled to find that one in-law was seated right in front of me, while the other right beside us (ok, across the aisle, which was literally one foot, Roger and her knees even touched each other). So, the conversing and laughing and comments continued. All at once the pilot interrupted us to say that this was indeed East Africa Safari Airlines and we were headed to Nairobi. He told us all about how it was going to be a great day, nice weather and just relax and enjoy. All of us listened intently waiting for any instructions in case of emergency, but none were given as he finished up his spiel and we all sat in silence. But not to worry, my gregarious new friend loudly greeted the pilot, told him thank you for taking us to Nairobi and how nice it was to be with so many nice people and friends. To which, in my surprise, everyone else agreed with the typical Kenyan nodding of the head and a "Mmm" or significant grunt that says, "I agree with everything that you just said." One guy from the back jokingly did yell out, "Would you introduce the flight crew who will be assisting us during the flight today and tell us the location of the restrooms?" Everyone laughed and settled in, men behind newspapers, women talking and shuffling and organizing themselves. My new friend shoved something across Roger's chest into my hand. Taking it, I glanced down at her business card. She in the meantime was motioning that I give her mine in return (yes, I actually have one … ok, it's not really a business card, but it is a card and it does have my name on it and my contact info). So, here's the shocker, as well as the explanation for her bedazzled, out-going self. On her card was the beautiful green, black and yellow emblem of Kenya. Neatly written underneath "Republic of Kenya, Parliament," her name was formally written in bold black type Senator (Dr.) … . Well, who knew I was going to befriend a Senator today?? Yesterday a little bedraggled, destitute orphan living in a remote village, today a Senator … every day holding its own mysteries and surprises.

Continuing on our flight, we had to fly at a relatively low altitude because of the size of our plane. This made it very noisy and not very conducive to conversing, so I became entranced just staring out the window. It was pretty magnificent to fly that low over the beautiful western mountains of Kenya and then the Great Rift Valley. I could only imagine the elephants, giraffes, hundreds of different types of gazelles, lions and other wildlife that we were passing over … all of them migrating over the vast, vast plains of Africa. And, then, of course, the Masaii tribesmen who tirelessly move their cattle from one area of their land to another were somewhere down there, too. Lost in the sea of what is only in Africa, only once did I wonder about the reliability of our pilot (see photo below). But, there was no sputtering or diving or rattling so I assumed everything must be ok … with him and the plane.

Soon shanties replaced plains and streets replaced roads and finally the tall buildings of Nairobi stood plainly. Our effervescent pilot yelled back to us, "We are approaching Nairobi; it's 25 degrees celsius and clear. We'll be there in about 10 minutes." I didn't really think anything about it as we rolled down the landing strip toward our parking spot in tiny Wilson Field (airport). But, you can be assured that the Senator shouted out, "Good landing, pilot. You've done a fine job today and it's been a most pleasant flight." Either admonished for our lack of politeness or because we really did agree, we all said, "Yes, thank you, asante sana, nice flight," of course accompanied with a few gutteral mmm's which said, "Yes, it was … a nice flight, a nice day!" And, for me, another great experience, living the life, meeting interesting people, and looking forward to reconnecting with some I've had the joy to meet before.

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