Oh Africa!

Summer of 2007, I had the opportunity to venture to the great continent of Africa for a mission trip. I should emphasize that it was truly a mission trip in the most straightforward sense. Most trips are more ministry focused; building a well, constructing an orphanage, etc. This trip was 98% sharing the gospel. We went door to door (well, hut to hut) sharing the gospel. We weren’t there to build anything physical or meet a ministry need. We were there to share the gospel. The only reason I don’t say it was 100% gospel is because we did administer medications to those suffering from the varying diseases and infections that were so common in this particular part of the world.

Let me give you some insight to our trip. We arrived in Uganda and exited the plane via what I could only describe as an old metal staircase strapped (not welded) to a much older tractor. Down the stairs we went to a red dirt ground before entering into “customs.” Yep, we were not in Kansas anymore, Toto! We get through that process, which was reminiscent of what you see in a lot of movies when they portray third world countries. Dirty white tile, mosquito netting, filthy windows you can’t see out of, a rickety old metal fan attempting to oscillate attached to the wall. It was an outrageous diversion from what we experience in the States at international airports. It was perfect!

We spent the first couple of days on the mainland learning to work with interpreters. For most of us, this was our first time working with people that spoke an entirely different language than we did. I thought it was silly to practice at first, but then I learned the value of it. My interpreter partner was named Hope. That wasn’t her real name, of course. But, that was the English name she chose. She had to learn how to keep up with my million-words-a-minute speaking pace. I had to learn to slow down and annunciate. By the end of the two days of training, we had it down. And, she had been teaching me some of her language too, Busoga. Funny story for another time, during this training, we ended up in a medical facility. In fact, we accidentally wandered into the tuberculosis ward without any protective gear on. We were extremely thankful for Hope that day because she overheard a doctor talking and realized what happened. She got us out of there as fast as she could!

Training is over, we head to our mission field; the poorest of the poor islands in Lake Victoria. For those that don’t know, Lake Victoria is that giant body of water in the middle right side of Africa. It is bordered/shared by Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda. We head out on a couple of boats. I use that term very loosely. They were larger than a canoe, but basically the same shape. Oh, and we all had to take turns bailing water out of the bottom of the boat with plastic buckets or we would sink. We remained on these boats for hours as we made the trek to our base of operations, one of the many islands our IMB Missionary partner had established a presence with. There was actually a “church” there. By the way, you’ll see a lot of “” in this post. That’s because they are words we use that don’t necessarily translate to what was actually there, but it’s the closest thing to reference. This church was little more than a wooden room with a metal roof and cutout holes for windows. They had fabric over the windows like curtains, mostly to keep bugs out as much as they could but allow air in. There was a door of sorts. But nothing remotely close to being a secure building. The floor of this building was, in fact, just the ground without any grass.

We had arrived. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. We had no power, no internet, no running water, and we were setting up camp. I literally mean, camp. We lived in tents for the next two weeks. The “church” leader was kind enough to build a great cho, or squatty potty bathroom. It had two stalls, a men’s and women’s side. This thing had a concrete floor, wooden walls, doors, a roof. They had to have spent a small fortune to make it and they did it just for us! The shower situation was… different. They had a gravity bag hanging in a tree. Then a tarp surrounding 3 of the 4 sides. It was facing the jungle, away from camp. But, the natives like to sneak peaks at the Americans, so it wasn’t very private. Plus, they had to boil the water from the lake to make it safe. Which means, you almost certainly had a native helper loading the gravity bag with hot water while you showered. You got used to it.

We set up camp with a full audience of natives. We had to trek through the village to get to where were were camping. It was hard for them to now know we were there. Biggest reason? We were mostly white, Caucasians…or as they called us, Mzungu. That literally translates to “Crazy white man, runs in circles.” They would teach their small children stories about Mzungu coming to eat children that misbehaved. I didn’t believe that at first, until I arrived on another island one morning and the youngest children were screaming in terror. I guess they had behaved poorly and were feeling guilty? The truth is, our skin color allowed us to be almost a circus attraction type of appeal. Many people wanted to come see the Mzungu because they hadn’t ever seen one. It gave us opportunities to have audiences that we might not have had otherwise.

As camp unfolded and we began to settle in, something magical happened. Some of the young ladies on our trip had already made contact with some of the women and children in the village. They were outside my tent window singing and dancing. It was the most magical moment. Here we were, in AFRICA, and we were already connecting with the local culture on day 1. It was like a movie, but in real life. I wanted to go join in, but something held me back. I needed to just sit and watch for a moment and take it in. These people had smiles on their faces, huge, ear to ear joyfulness. They were relishing in all their life had to offer. Since there was a church established here, it’s important to note that these particular people weren’t our missional target. Some of the villagers were not believers, sure, but many were. That’s what made it safe for us to basecamp there. But our people, joining together, worshiping, and just being connected was surreal and just awesome.

Day after day, we’d wake up, eat some sort of food cooked by locals, gather for prayer and assignments for the day and then separate. Our larger group splintered off into multiple other groups and away we went. Some went to other parts of the island we were on. Many went on those fancy boats to other islands. Our mission was clear, share the Gospel. Tell these people about Jesus. So, we did. Every island I went to, it was basically the same. They were poor fishermen. They fished enough to feed their family and trade with others on the island for what they needed to survive. Most people lived in mud-huts with thatch roofs. If there was a really “wealthy” person on the island, they may have a metal roof. Or if they were the super rich, they had a building made out of concrete blocks. It was wild. So different from what I knew back home. This was an eternity away from my norm. And I was there for every minute of it.

Every night, we would return to our basecamp for dinner of some kind. One time, we had a local resident offer up a goat. It was ok. Don’t eat the aorta. Just don’t. After dinner, we would join with local villagers for kickball/soccer type games, sitting by fires and talking through interpreters, and worship. I learned how to sing one of our American worship songs in Busoga, just so I could sing with my new friends. They knew the same hymns we did, just in a different language. That was epic too… singing the same song in different languages at the same time! These people didn’t have a sound system, lights, any of that stuff. The closest thing to an instrument would have been an old coffee can that had some rocks in it. And, it was probably some of the best worship I’ve ever had in my life.

What’s the point? Well, it isn’t that we should all just leave our lives and go live in the simplicity of this African experience. In fact, far from it. Our IMB Partner was very on-point to share that, if God wanted us to live that African life, He would call us to it. But, we did need to learn to appreciate what God placed us in. We needed to understand that, we are to be His missionaries where He placed us. My point in sharing this tidbit of my experience is that, being in the presence of the Lord without distraction is absolutely essential to our lives. It’s hard to do when our norm is just our regular life, with all it’s challenges, and then church for a few hours per week. You HAVE to make the effort to spend that time with Him daily. You must cling to the simplicity of your relationship with Jesus over all else. This seems like a no brainer, but we all struggle with it. When the lawn needs to be mowed, the car needs repaired, deadlines at work, school activities for the kids… It’s hard. But we must!

The reality for these people we connected with in Uganda… they don’t have much besides God. They rely on Him for everything. They don’t have bank accounts to turn to when they have need. They rely on Him to provide for them. They don’t have Netflix or Hulu to watch instead of spending time with the Lord. They spend their time with the Lord. What can you do to simplify your life to make yourself cling to Jesus? No, the answer isn’t to sell everything and live in a van in the church parking lot. Maybe some of you need to go on the mission field. Maybe full time? Maybe just a life-changing trip? Some of you know what you need to set aside. I don’t have that answer for you. But, I will say there are many days when I miss the simplicity of that experience. Of having nothing more to do than to be a gospel sharer without demands of anything else competing for my time and attention.