Kamina

Kamina from Wings of the Morning plane, 2011

You go to London to see the Queen.
You go to Kamina to see the Bishop.
Sometimes the Queen isn't in London.
Sometimes the Bishop isn't in Kamina.

We're here, but the Bishop is still tied up in Lubumbashi.
Don't know how long we will wait for his return. Have a boat to catch in Kizanga.

In God's great fun of making me eat my words, the UMCOR Director of Missions for DRC was in Kamina today, staying in the next room at the guest house. Nice guy. From Kenya. His office is in Lubumbashi and he promised to take me out for a beer when I get back down there. (He's Catholic.) I'll put all this in The Book, but short story: I've made some good friends in the most out of the way places. (Did I ever tell you of the Liberian, whom I first met in Lubumbashi, that I ran into at the Foreign Coorespondents Club in Pnom Penh in 2005 on my birthday?)

It was raining this morning, so we got a late start, but had a full day of visiting in two districts: Kamina Cite and Kaminaville. If you were to drop into Kamina fresh from the U.S., you would be impressed by the needs here. However, coming out of the bush, this place looks pretty good. Most of the projects are what I would call next generation: health centers that desparately need expansion, 20 year old construction that needs renewed, schools that need to be added on to, wells and pumps that need to placed closer to the need. (Kamina has pumps all over the place.) This is the place that threw Dr. Paul, the Minister of the Health Zone in Mulongo, into a rant directed at me. "UMCOR calls us all to Kamina to tell how important good water is and they dig wells all over Kamina, but they don't come to Mulongo!" (Dr. Paul is also a good friend now.)

The great disappointment of the day was that I was told that Kamina Methodist University's distance learning program was operational, so I could Facetime Teri in Plainfield. The wireless guy still needs to set up the wireless. Bumbed beyond belief. Going to go to the Vodacom office Monday and see if they can install some of their software on my Macbook Air.

Tomorrow is Kipendano (United Methodist Women) Day. Therefore, I get to go enjoy a lot of great singing and dancing and expect to hear a good sermon from one of our women leaders. Last year in Mulongo I heard an excellent sermon delivered with passion and humor by an 80 year old woman. BTW I'm paying much more attention to the ancient ones here, the ones who have lived through it all. They didn't know David Livingstone, but many of them remember Bishop Booth. They don't move so fast, but they are a tough as old leather.

Bob
Kamina

UMCOR at Kibula

We're in the village of Kibula, a railroad station community about 75 kilometers from Kamina. It has three cell towers and electricity. UMCOR has been here. There's a well with a pump that is always busy. Children carrying water in all kinds of containers.

I happen to be sleeping in the small brick building (with a metal roof) that houses an UMCOR soy milk project. It is the coolest thing! The machine that turns the soybeans into mash is pedal-powered. The boiler looks a lot like a still. Wonder how much conversion would be required for processing corn mash?

The well is immediately paying off. The soy milk machine may take a little community development to get to being a game changer.

The complaint we hear, though, (at Mulongo, for instance) is that such projects only come to villages like Kibula, easily accessible. There are hundreds of villages not that far from here that will never see an UMCOR project. I'm not saying that UMCOR should or could provide projects like these for every village. They can't and they shouldn't.

What we're trying to lift up is that we do have people in every village around here. They are called United Methodist pastors. We're trying to get this kind of technology into their hands, so that they can drill wells and provide creative nutrition solutions in every village in Katanga.

Just one of the things that I see riding a bicycle.

Bob
Kibula

Next One Up

It's quite a climb out of Bukama, but the mountain top view is stunning. This is not technically rainforest, but I think that we can call this patch "jungle." We can hear the waterfalls, but can't see them through the vine covered canopy. Out in the distance are stands of palm trees that give variety to the forest below. We're on top of Africa.

Not denying the grace that has given us this pure gift, we earned it today. It rained through the night, so was a lot of water in the road, hub high in places. But, the rocks! Up hill and down, rocks. and the heat! Scorching African sun. I shredded a tire on the rocks. It was replaced by a new Kenda Small Block Eight from Bicycle Garage Indy. (shameless product placement, always looking for sponsors.) Elephant changed the tire, while I enjoyed a Coke. (shameless, again) Yes, I can change a bike tire, but as long as Elephant is here, this is his bicycle to maintain.

Speaking of Elephant, he'll be leaving us in Nyembo to head to Mulongo to ready the Indiana and bring it to Bukama, where we will board on our return from Kamina. Next One Up. Local Pastor Kasongo is Elephant's replacement. Younger by a bunch, but just as strong, and just as enthusiastic.

The Colts need to learn from us. We've lost our star quarterback to General Conference pre-conference meetings in Harare, but District Superintendent Mumba has stepped up, and we're still winning games. Now, Elephant is leaving us, and Kasango is stepping up. Joseph Mulongo and Elephant have defined our team, but the next generation is already getting off the bench and into the game. (Mulongo and Elephant will rejoin the team in Bukama.) BTW Who won the Super Bowl?

This year's team roster:
Daniel Mumba, District Superintendent, Tenke District, Team Leader, ZamBike Bicycle.
Junior Banz wa Nbuya, Pator, Tenke District, ZamBike Bicycle.
Bob Walters, Missionary, Cannondale Bicycle.
Jean Kipanga wa Ngoy, Lay Person, Mulongo District, ZamBike Bicycle.
Jean Kabiwe wa Kasongo, Local Pastor, Mulongo District, FPM Motorcycle.
Elephant Ngoy wa Kasongo, Lay Person, Mulongo District, Motorcycle.

The question our team has to deal with in every small village we pass is "Why does the Mzunga ride a bicycle?" The answer that seems to satisfy all curiosity is "We're United Methodists." That explains it.

Bob
Kabondo Dianda

Water for Kisamba

Yesterday's visits of rural villages was going to be so routine, that I was going to blog on the misadventure of crossing the Lualaba (Congo River) on the railroad bridge and trying to ride along the tracks. FYI the steel rail ties have date stamps as early as 1945 and as late 1956.

We were having a normal check-in with the village of Kisamba, with its small, weather-worn, grass-roofed church building, and its neatly stacked brick pile waiting for construction; typical. Then the chief showed up, unexpectently. He invited himself to our meeting. The chief has very little power, except for his powerful presence. He gets things done by holding court. His primary function is to provide for the welfare of the village. He is also the one who assigns land use.

The chief wanted to talk about the need for clean water. Cholera is severe in the Bukama Territory. However, he had very strong opinions on what kind of pump will not work, and what kind is needed. He knew the depth of the water table and could speak the language of an engineer. (Mumba was translating from Kiluba into French for me.)

When he had made his point on the need for a water well, he offered to the United Methodist Church a large land consession on which we could build a new church, parsonage, school, foyer, clinic, etc. (He let us know that he had made the same offer to the Catholics. Chiefs often play the Catholics against the Methodists. There is enough need, that a bit of friendly competition is good for all.)

This is where we want to be: in a place where local leadership owns the problem, has researched it, and makes leadership decisions. When you drop out of the sky with a water well, good things happen imediately. The health and prosperity of the community goes up, so much so, that the population of the village swells. Then the well breaks, and it will break. All the good collapses and the only hope is for someone from outside to return to fix the well. But they're not coming; they've moved on to the next well project.

This is a village ready for a well. And we want that well drilled by a local drilling company who will be there when it breaks. BTW FPM has access to a drilling rig, just sitting in Mulongo waiting to be reconditioned and put to work. It could be transported to Bukama easily on the Indiana.

Bob
Bukama

Bukama

A very quick post from Bukama. No electricity. Running low on battery. Taylor can correct spelling, etc.

First, Bukama is hot. Sitting right now in the "court yard" of a "hotel" the district has put us up in. The "" mean that it's not what you're thinking. Just saying that this is an adventure.

Second, we made the rounds of official visits. Surprise! The territory administrator here is the same person who was the territory administrator in Kabalo last year when we were there. Those who followed last year's expedition know that we had a rough beginning, but a very happy ending. He was delighted today to greet us.

Third, we made a few parish visits. For one visit, we walked across the Congo River on the railroad bridge. Watch for rusted out holes in the walkway! Very cool views of the river, the boats, and the surrounding villages. Also, a bird's eye view of cholera. So many people living in poor sanitation and without clean drinking/washing water. The churches all have the same needs. Cement and roofing. Everyone is building. No one is finishing the building.

Fourth, we had a good walk through the rail yard, the boat yard, and several markets. A lot of commerce moving through Bukama.

Hopefully on our way to Kamina tomorrow. It's a long stretch. Can't make it in one day, so it looks like we'll be pitching tents tomorrow night.

Bob
Bukama

Dust to Dust

FPM member Emily Johnson's thought-provoking reflection on an experience from her visit to Congo last summer has been published in Hippocampus magazine:

http://www.hippocampusmagazine.com/2012/02/dust-to-dust-by-emily-johnson/

Bicycle Riding in the Congo

A great day for a ride. Lubudi to Luena.

Some of you reading this have taken the train from Lubumbashi to Kamina. This is the section where they cut the train in two, because the engine can't pull the grade.

Some of you have made the drive on this road. (the infamous National Route One) You will recall the marvelous switchbacks, uphill and down, along this section.

It's a great place to ride a bicycle. And we did. All day. 76 kilometers.

It was a fun day. Heard a bicycle go down behind me. Then a laugh. We are carrying a live turkey on one of our bicycles.

You let go on a downhill when it look mostly safe, and run through the splash area at the bottom. Then, get on the power to get to the top so you can do it again. This is a fantasy. It never worked this way. It's rocks all day. When it's not rocks, it's sand. (I hate sand.) Water, mud, rocks, sand. Again. Water, mud, rocks, sand.

Mumba calls out, "Poli-poli!" Slowly-slowly. Sharp rocks cover the road. This is mostly limestone country, but some times, to keep it interesting, there's a volcanic looking rock formation covering the road. Washed out places offer technical riding opportunities. Ride on the crown, drop down and pop up and balance on the next crown. Leave the road on a foot path to avoid the huge water/mud holes, holes big enough to swallow 10 ton trucks whole. (We saw not a single truck on the road until we arrived just outside Luena, and we had a hard time getting around him. Yes, we are faster than the trucks.)

One of those rocks bit my back tire. Blowout. Pas de probleme. Change of tubes and back on the road. Flats happen. In fact, Mumba had a flat while we we stopped for a break. He and Elephant repaired the tube in situ, never taking the wheel off.

We did have a more serious flat yesterday in Lububdi. The tire itself was damaged. We visited the local bike shop. Open air, limited tools, but not afraid of these new high tech bicycles from Zambia.

A big shout out to the good folk at ZamBike. The Amaka Sana (Very Strong) bikes are testing well. We'll send pictures. Also, a shout out to our friends at Fondo du Congo. We're having the time of our lives. Wish you were here.

Also, a shout to our two favorite bike shops back in Indiana. I've been buying and servicing my Cannondales for over 20 years at Bicycle Garage Indy; and the new shop up the street in Plainfield, Gear Up Cyclery, also sponsors of the Fondo du Congo, and great neighbors.

We rode into Luena, approaching the town from above, kinda like seeing LA from the Hollywood sign. Would have taken a picture, but one of our support motorcycles had just had a bit of trouble getting through the police road block. Thought we should just keep moving.

Bob
Luena

Lubudi 2012

Lubudiville congregation members in front the mound of bricks they prepared for construction, 2009

My first visit to Lubudi was in 1998. We were visiting churches in the district. (by bicycle, of course.) All of the visits had a cetain predictability. The worship was always uplifting, but the reports were always depressing. Those were very hard times. It's still hard here, but those years were particularly bad. The churches were all made of locally made, often unfired, bricks, sand for mortor, and grass roofs. A church building seemed to last no more 3 years before the rains took it down. There was no money, few cash jobs, and very little hope for change. The men asked for grain mills to make some money for the church. The women asked for sewing machines to make a little money for the church. The choir asked for keyboards (even if the community had no electricity.) With my limited Swahili, I was able to anticipate the content of every official report, dated and stamped, for the traveling missionary.

Lubudi was different. First of all, it was blessed with the district's only durable church building, built by missionaries back in the 1920's. Worship was uplifting, as well, including a delightful drama by the youth. The difference came at the reports times. These were uplifting reports, near bragging. Same problems, different response. True, the community had more available assets than the others, but even the others were failing to see what they had. The men of Lubudi were reporting their plans for a grain mill. They didn't have one yet, but they weren't asking for one, either. They had a plan. The women, the same. They had a plan for a foyer (an adult women's school) that included sewing machines. They had a plan. The choir, unfortunately, presented the old request list, including a request for robes. They received the Congolese equivilent of being booed. "We don't do it that way, anymore," they were told. I kept the report open for discussion, and before too long, a suggestion was made that the women of the foyer could make choir robes for the choir.

The most exciting report came from the construction committee. Their church building, even though it was of good construction, was too small for the size of the congregation, and furthermore, there were many people living on the other side of town who would like a church closer to where they lived. A plan for building a new church was presented. It was not to replace this church, but house a new congregation. That was the first time that I had heard about the new Lubudiville church.

Now, I'm looking at this dream church, almost finished. It's bigger than most, but not too big. It is important for this reason: The other "good" churches were built by missionaries in colonial times. This church was built by a new generation of Congolese leaders.

To be sure, we're still helping out on the fundraising side. This church will end up costing around another $30,000 to build, and the local community will provide much of that. It's important to get this building finished, as it is a sign to the congregation and the community of a new "can do" day.

Bob
Lubudi

Elephant Leads the Way

We ride up hill for an hour, then level out on a plateau. The plateau goes on for so far that it's hard to remember that you are on top of the world. It's flat. The tall grass hides the fact that this plateau is not draining well. We find ourselves riding though a sea of grass on a lake of black water. It's not so deep that we can't ride, but this calls for some leadership.

Elephant is our chief mechanic, motorcycle support rider, and all-round strong man. At river crossings or on steep mountain trails, he is my best friend. Everyone calls him Elephant. He spells it the English way, but it is pronounced the French way: El-ee-fant. The name fits. The elephant is known for making the first track through the forest for all other animals to follow. Back in 2009 when I visited in Kalemie, the first UM missionary to visit there since the war, they gave me a carved elephant and said, "You have broken the trail for the others to follow."

Elephant, on his motorcycle, makes the track through the grass and black water and we follow. OK, not the most dangerous part of our adventure, but a great metaphor.

At the next stream crossing, Elephant puts my fully loaded Cannondale touring bicycle over his head and walks on water. (He knows where the rocks are.)

Bob
Kansenya Gar

Tenke 2012

Mulongo and I took the 7:30 am Taqwa bus from Lubumbashi Sunday morning for Tenke. We were met at the bus stop by a troop of Boy Scouts who escorted us on the 7 kilometer trek to Tenke. We arrived just in time for me to give the benediction at the church service.

We're planning a big scouting event in Tenke in 2013 hosted by the Tenke District of the North Katanga Episcopal Area with the program provided by scouts from Indiana. So, although I've made this trip umpteen times, I tried to look at everything with the fresh eyes of those scouts coming next year from Indiana.

I'm excited! They are going to experience an Africa no tourist gets to see. Tenke is a mining town, filled with all the high energy of the new Africa, and we're a short ride or vigorous hike from traditional village life.


Yesterday, we went on a church visit tour. The out and in also served as a shake down for the new bikes. We discovered again that our churches are stuck in their construction because of their inability to raise the hard cash for roofing sheets. It may not be as glamorous as mosquito nets or water wells, but this is what they need right now. I agree. Without the metal roof, the rains take the walls down, and they have to rebuild. The church we visited had rebuilt three times in three years. If they were able to finish the church, they could get to the next level of problems. The church is the community base. From that, they build everything else.

Today we rode out to see Pastor Mumba's farm. It's two and a half hectres inside the mine property. Impressive, indeed. Beans, potatoes, and corn 7 feet tall.

Tonight, I preach. Friday, we leave for Kansenia and points north.

Bob

UIndy Grad Psych Newsletter

Emily posts:

Hi all! Not that my "news" is anywhere near as "newsworthy" as Bob's, since he's actually IN Congo right now, but thought I'd share this, since it came out last week. Here's the article my department wrote about my trip to DRC in their newsletter.

Congo Mission by Margie Keaton, PsyD

Emily Johnson is a 3rd year PsyD student who had the most interesting experiences in the Congo. She became involved with the trip through her church, and stated, “When I heard about the trauma that women had experienced, I felt like I might be able to help. I had always wanted to go to Africa, and they really needed a woman with some background in psychology who could speak some French. So it was a good match. I went as a representative of Friendly Planet Missiology, which is a missional organization that is very humanistic-based on the principles of liberation theology. We strongly believe that the community already has the power and resources they need to solve their problems, and we go simply to partner with them and help them in any way they might request of us. We never try to "convert" anyone, and half of our team are Congo-lese people living in the Congo, doing the real day to day work.”

When I asked Emily if she had any frightening experiences in the Congo, she replied, “I was there for 6 weeks. I never felt my life was in danger, in terms of violence or anything like that. The biggest threat in most of the Congo is disease and sanitation. The only time I was ever “scared” was about 2 weeks before I left-- I got a parasite and I was starting to feel really sick. I was traveling in a small outboard motor boat on the Congo River, and I realized I was at least two days travel from a hospital with running water, so that was kind of stressful. But, I was traveling with a Congolese doctor who took very good care of me-- once he treated me I felt a lot better. Emily admitted that it was a “really hard trip” and that she was “almost always exhausted.” However, she met a lifelong friend there that was the most rewarding part of the trip. “The most rewarding thing was traveling with Mary, a nurse, who was my guide and companion throughout the whole trip. The most rewarding part was how connected we became, and how I never felt like I was "better" than her, but that we were just partners. She really became family to me, and now I have this family member on the other side of the globe that I can never forget or live without.” Emily said that the all the theories she learned about human development and human nature she saw “in the raw” in the Congo. She stated, “my perspective about life are completely different. Also, it's worth saying that being in a country where "psychology" as a field doesn't really exist due to lack of infrastructure and higher education is really humbling. I learned that being human is far more important in my therapeutic interactions and in my day to day life-- every interaction I had in the Congo was therapeutic. I was a therapist from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed.”

Emily has written an article about her experiences in the Congo that will be published in a February 2012 in an on-line magazine. For more information on Emily’s amazing experience on the Congo here is the site to visit in February:

http://www. hippocampusmagazine.com/

FPM's website is: www.friendlyplanetmissiology.org

Photos of Lubumbashi

Typical street corner in Lubumbashi (from Taylor's collection)

For those who have been wanting to see photos from Lubumbashi, I have some good news and and some bad news, and some other bad news.

The good news is that I was able to get very clever. The Bishop’s office in the Methodiste Centre has a balcony view of the city square. I snapped a few shots from there. It was during the time when all the shops were closed, so the photos lack all the people and traffic that are the real picture of downtown. We’re always looking for that National Geographic money shot, and none of these are the one. Then, the cleverness spiked. I had noticed a group of photographers hanging out around the new Italian fountain (gift of the governor) taking portrait shots of families by the fountain. It was pouring rain, and they were huddled under umbrellas. The street was empty, everyone sane had sought shelter. I approached one of the photographers and asked him to take a few pictures of me with various views of the city as background. However, I wanted him to use my camera. So, we had a photo shoot in the pouring rain. He took a zillion. A couple aren’t bad. I may have a new profile portrait.

The bad news is that I still don’t have photos that tell the compelling story of this city, it’s grittiness: The continuous construction, the streets filled with taxi buses, the broken sidewalks and mud holes, the shops, the people, the energy, the dust followed by rain, the steam coming off the blacktop after the rain, the music, cell phones, the traffic whistles, money changers, shade tree mechanics, crowds of young men always a bit on edge politically, sharply dresses socialites, beggars, the jumbotron screen on the old post office that now houses the Chinese telecom company, the Land Rovers and Land Cruisers of the mining companies, the brand new Toyotas and Mercedes, hundred year old hotels and train station, new banks, hole in the wall dives, Coca-Cola and Simba beer, street merchants selling shoes, and stores where you can buy a new Yamaha outboard motor.

I’ve asked enough to stop asking for my Congolese colleagues to take some photos for me. They’re not yet comfortable doing it. The days when you would be thrown in jail for pulling out a camera are probably gone, but the appearance of a camera can draw an unpredictable reaction from the mass of people. There’s still a tension in the air. Best not to poke a stick in it.

The other bad news is that I’m not having any luck uploading photos from my new MacBook Air to Facebook, even with the iPhoto app that is made just for that task. I’ve consulted my go-to Mac expert and am awaiting his coaching.

It’s going to take a couple more days to work out getting the boat fuel to Mulongo. It’s not just a matter of buying it. We have to also get it on a northbound truck and pray the truck doesn’t get stuck or break down. Also, we have 5 Zambikes to get to Tenke. Not easy, either. Today, Joseph Mulongo is taking care of all the travel documents we will need. You don’t just wander about the DRC without permission.

That’s the news from Lubumbashi.

Bob

Sermon for 2012

DS Mulongo and Biking Bob meeting with church leaders

I’m lucky enough to only have to write a couple sermons a season, one for here in Congo and one for folks back home, communicating what is going on here in Congo. I can’t really prepare the here-in-Congo sermon until I get here and sit for a while in this very familiar, but always changing world.

If I were a preacher preparing a weekly sermon for a congregation in Indiana, I would begin with the scripture text, usually from that week’s lectionary. Here, however, I begin with taking in all the changes and energies and letting them settle into a biblical story. I don’t have the scripture text yet, but the issue is clear. (I really don’t mind if you jump in and offer suggestions. That’s what we do here.)

The torque of the sermon is taking form. It has to do with the paradox of living totally reliant upon God’s grace for all that we need and the hard work that this moment in history requires of us.

Here’s the central pitch: (Opening with a bit of Christology) Just as the Church has historically affirmed that the nature of Christ is fully divine and fully human, our lives are both fully God-dependent and fully self-actuated. The old saying: “Pray like everything depends on God, and work like everything depends on you.”

As I sit in churches and market places, walk about fields and mines, and listen to the preaching, singing, and political arguing, it is clear that the living in a state of dependence upon God’s grace is fully received and practiced. We should have this kind of spiritual appreciation in America. It is a beautiful thing and worship takes you to spiritual places you can’t imagine. However, these times call for action.

Taylor and I were visiting churches in the Tenke District a couple years ago and came across a community where the pastor had called the church to a week of prayer and fasting, insisting that everyone come every day to the church for an all-day prayer service. One very smart (and smart-mouthed) farmer responded with: “The pastor should call us to one day of prayer, and send us to the fields for six days.”

In Kabalo last year, during a lunch after my sermon, a pastor (not a Methodist) commented that we should pray and wait for God to act to save us. The District Administrator, a government official, laid into that preacher like nobody’s business. “That’s what’s wrong with you preachers! Waiting, waiting, waiting. Now is the time for action!”

Back in 1998, a group of us pastors in the Lubumbashi area were meeting for a Bible study. It was shortly after the fall of the Mubutu government. We were working on the text (maybe this is the text for this year’s sermon) from Revelations 6:9: The saints under the altar are crying out, “How long, O Lord, how long?” Two years before, this same group had gathered, reading this same passage, and all we could do was pray for God’s intervention. It was a terrifying time, and all we could do was cry to the Lord, “How long?” Then, in an instant, the world changed. In this 1998 session, we spent an hour listing all our problems, then one pastor said, “The answer is prayer.” No one responded for several minutes, then another pastor said, “Yes, but when God answers our prayers, we must act.” The rest of the session was a period of confession about how many times God had answered our prayers, but we did not act. God had answered our prayers for deliverance, and now it is time for us to act.

I’m thinking the sermon might be something along this line. What do you think?

Bob

Lubumbashi

First Impressions

Forget game parks or even Victoria Falls, the ultimate African adventure is crossing the border into the DRCongo at Kasumbalesa. Trucks queue up for ten kilometers either side of the border. The road is a too narrow blacktop, unmarked and uncontrolled. Cars carefully squeeze their way though the line of giant transports, pot holes and mud holes adding to the difficulty. Scores of unemployed young men vie for the position of traffic director, hoping for payment for their help. Hundreds of people walking in the road, bicycles and motorcycles weaving around the traffic. Venders set up stalls as close to the road as possible, close enough to add to the push of people and cars. The smell of sulfur from poorly tuned diesel engines fills the air. Back in the 1990’s this was a terrifying place, now it is just an amazing intersection of commerce. Police and soldiers are few, and the crowd is on its own to negotiate its way to the new immigration and customs buildings. Both Zambia and DRC have built new buildings this last year. This seems to have made life easier for the immigration and customs officer, they are safe behind their desks in spacious, air conditioned buildings. I guess this has an indirect positive effect on the masses. The officers are in a better mood.

Here’s a political reflection: The U.S. has exhausted its global assets in waging war, while China has been busy spending its American dollars in far away places like Africa. Chinese construction companies building roads and Olympic sized soccer stadiums, Chinese mining companies taking over the mines, Chinese trucks and cars. Last night I walked downtown Lubumbashi to see the night life. A jumbotron screen on the former post office building, now owned by the Chinese telecom company, was showing American professional cage fighting. We’re getting our global economic butts kicked by the Chinese, and its not even on our political radar.

The DRCongo is still the most broken place in all the world. I am personally overwhelmed by the need. On the other hand, there is a special kind of excitement here. In all of the chaos, there is hope. On the bus to Kitwe, a preacher was preaching his New Year’s sermon on Psalm 104. He said, “You can’t stop a thing, when it is the thing’s time.” He was certain that this year is the time to eradicate malaria and AIDS, the time for those on the bus looking for work to find a job, family relationships to be repaired, and I would add, the time for nations to be healed.

Bob

Lubumbashi

Best News Ever!

Baby Evelyn Grace Arcadia Denyer was born November 28, 2011 at George Washington University Hospital in Washington, D.C. Proud parents are Stuart and Taylor.

Evelyn is the most beautiful child. Tiny and sweet. Even her crying brings joy to anyone who has the privilege to hold her. It is no wonder that in this season when we celebrate the birth of Jesus, we see that same promise for the future in the eyes of every new born, especially in our own family.

Taylor had a long and hard labor. At first it started off sort of comically. We (Taylor, Stuart, Teri, and I) walked the mall (not the shopping mall, the mall with all the monuments) in Washington on Sunday evening. We spent time at the new Martin Luther King, Jr. monument and the old WWI monument. Taylor's contractions were regular, but not close enough to go to the hospital.

At the hospital, the labor continued through the night with no birth coming. As the shift changed in the morning, the decision was made that the baby was at risk and she should be taken by C-Section immediately. Taylor and Stuart were rushed into the operating room. For grandparents, there was a space in time where we knew nothing. Then, a very reassuring anesthesiologist came in and gave us good news.

Taylor and I have reflected as missiologists all through her pregnancy. (not typical father/daughter talks) Our friends in the Congo go through this process all the time, with very little of the kind of health care available to Americans. In some cases, it seemed we were receiving too much information and too much high tech care. We will never know if Baby Evelyn would have survived her birth if she had been born in the Congo, or even if Taylor would have survived.

We love Evelyn for who she is and who she is becoming, and as her grandfather, I would have no problem dropping everything else and devoting the rest of my life to her happiness. Having said that, her birth reminds me of all the babies I have baptized over the years and especially the Congolese babies I held in my arms and bathed with water and sacred words this very year.

Here's the commercial for Friendly Planet: Putting the picture of a baby born into poverty and disease in front of you for fund raising purposes is abusive to both you and the child. However, holding a new born in our arms is a reminder of why we're in the business of peace building and community development. Hold your babies with love.

Merry Christmas to all.

Bob