Tuesday, 2 April: Camarão Grande

Canoe made from the trunk of a coconut palm.

Steve and I had an early morning today which began at 5:30 am. We were headed to Praia Nova (pron. "pry-a nova". New Beach.) with the quest of finding shrimp for the missionary retreat. We drove through a market where the vendors were just beginning to set up shop. Steve wasn't quite sure of the way so he stopped a couple times and asked, "Camarão?" (pron. "cam-are-ow". "Shrimp?") We continued driving into the market. The road narrowed until it was just big enough for us to fit through. We drove until we came out on the beach where you could see a bunch of fisherman in their dugout canoes. We know we were in the right place so we parked the car.

We got out of the vehicle and walked around, but none of the fishermen had anything yet. We stopped by a group of fisherman preparing to launch and Steve asked when they would how shrimp. They said to come back at 2:00 pm. We thanked them ("Obrigado") and headed back to the car. We drove back into the city and headed up the coast to check another spot.

On the way, Steve drove past the Grande Hotel. The Grande Hotel was a 5-star resort which was built in 1953 and was the premier resort on the entire eastern coast of Africa. It featured the only Olympic-sized swimming pool in all of Mozambique at the time. The business went defunct for a number of different reasons (you can read about it here) in 1963, only 9 years after it had opened. It was then used as a military base during the Mozambican Civil War. Afterwards, it was abandoned. Now thousands of squatters are living in the hotel in slum-like conditions. The Grande Hotel has been stripped of everything of value down to the concrete walls by its new residents. This once extravagant luxury resort designed to attract the wealthiest whites is now ironically home to some of the poorest in Mozambique.

The Grande Hotel today.

We continued up the coast and parked at the end of a street. To get onto the beach, we climbed a small set of stairs up the sea wall. Trash was strewn all over the beach. The smell of the trash combined with the fish drying in the sun was a pungent, but a normal odor on the beaches in Beira. Steve and I walked along the waters' edge until we came to a group of fishermen consisting of mostly young boys. They had a bucket of fish and some shrimp. Steve negotiated a price of 50 meticais (pron. "meta-cash". The metical is the official currency of Mozambique. Meticais is the plural form. Roughly 30 meticais is equal to $1.) for a small bag of coconut shrimp plus a few muito grande (pron. "moi-to gron-day". Very large.) prawns that were 6-8 inches long. He also bought two flounder for another 50 meticais. We still needed quite a bit more kgs (kilograms) of camarão grande, but at least we had a start.

The fishermen told us they would have more camarão around 10:00 am. We walked back to the car through the groups of tiny fish lying on the sand to dry. When we got back to the house, we ate breakfast. Then Steve left for attempt #2 at getting his vehicle licenses renewed. He returned successful! He was near the front of the line when the office opened and when they saw his white hair, they brought him to the front of the line.

Around 9:45 am, Steve and I headed out in search of camarão again. We returned to the spot where we had some success earlier. This time we parked close to a rusty relic of war, an old naval gun. Unfortunately, the fishermen didn't have any camarão grande so we settled for the smaller coconut shrimp. When Steve went to pay for the shrimp, I got to experience the art of haggling, which Steve has down to a science. The fisherman set the initial price at 500 meticais by writing it in the sand. Steve got the price down to 400 and handed him the cash. Then the man threw a curve ball and asked for 50 more meticais. Steve calmly "fumbled" through his wallet and produced a 20 meticais bill. The fisherman couldn't help but laugh as he handed over the seafood. We returned home with a plastic bag full of camarão and a realization that getting enough shrimp was going to be trickier than we had planned.

After lunch, Steve and I went to the airport to pick up John and JoLene. We loaded up their luggage and brought them back to the house. Then Steve and I took John to Praia Nova to try to buy more shrimp and to give John a true Mozambican experience.

Good ole SAA. I highly recommend using this airline if you're traveling anywhere in Southern Africa.

Steve went a different way than we had gone earlier that morning. We ended up turning down a wrong (well, technically it wasn't a wrong street, just not the one we thought it was) which meant we had to drive through the slum that’s beside Praia Nova. As we drove, the people glanced curiously at the "lost" white men. Eventually, we made it to the beach.

On the beach we saw a group of people huddled in a circle. This was our clue that a fresh catch had just been hauled in to shore. We walked over and inquired about camarão. They didn't have any large prawns, but said there would be some in about an hour (though at first one man told us to come back tomorrow) so we decided to wait.

A fresh catch!

To pass the time, we decided to walk down the beach. We came to the beach adjacent to the slum we had driven through. At one point, we had to cross through some runoff from the slum. These pools were full of water turned green and brown from the sewage. It was pleasantly warm between my toes, but the smell soon brought me back to the stark reality.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but they'll also build a house.

We found another group of fishermen that had just brought in a catch. Still no shrimp, but they did have a large stingray. We returned to the spot where the first group of fishermen was. They still didn't have any large prawns. We checked a few other groups of fisherman without any luck.

Our search for the elusive camarão grande was then interrupted by a large commotion. A group of 20-30 men were working together to get one of the large boats off the beach and into the water. They did the Portuguese equivalent of "1, 2, 3, PUSH!!" When they had successfully gotten the boat into the ocean and a loud "Hurray!" went up among those pushing.

Just a bit bigger than the dugout canoes...

As we were reveling in the excitement, a man walked up to us and greeted us in English. His name was Miguel and he was more than happy to test his English (which was excellent) with us. He rightly guessed that we were in missions and Steve gave him his card so he could get more information. He was friends with one of the groups of fishermen so we asked where we could get some large prawns. Miguel told us he would ask his friends and give Steve a call when they had some. We thanked Miguel and drove home passing the Grande Hotel for John to see.

After returning to the house, we decided to take a stroll through the Club de Golfe to go birding (Steve and John are avid birders. Steve set of lofty goal of showing John 100 new species of bird on this trip.). John only saw one new bird on this excursion. I, on the other hand, got to see numerous birds that I had never seen before. The rest of the night was spent relaxing and enjoying the fresh pineapple Steve had bought when he went to renew the car licenses. I went to bed early since the Newcomers were adamant about sleeping on the couches to accommodate John, JoLene, and I in the two bedrooms. 

Gray heron

Lilac-breasted Roller

The perfect end to a wonderful day.

*A special thank you to John Hawbaker for all pictures in this post which are not things that can fly or the last picture.

Monday, 1 April: April Fools' Day

Monday started out pretty well. Chris made a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. After breakfast, Steve and I headed into the central square of the city to meet Youngson at the Café Riviera. Youngson was going to help Steve renew the licenses for his vehicles. We found a parking space on the first go-around of the square on the opposite side as the café.

We arrived before Youngson so went ordered some doughnuts (Steve claims they are the best in Beira, and in my limited experience, I have to agree) and found an empty table in the outside eating area. Youngson showed up a few minutes later along with his wife Elizabeth and son. They ordered, and Steve and Youngson discussed some church business.

Youngson then went to the Mozambican version of the DMV to get the forms needed for renewing the vehicle licenses. While he was gone, Steve checked out some tables a man was selling. He ended up buying three and took one back to the Land Cruiser (he had the other two back at his house).

Steve's Land Cruiser

When Youngson returned, Steve and he filled out the forms. Then Youngson called a friend on the inside to see if they would be able to get the licenses today. They were too busy so Steve would have to return another day. We talked some more with Youngson and Elizabeth. Youngson asked about my boss, Jonathan Lloyd, (they were good friends when Jonathan was a missionary in Malawi) and was glad to hear that I worked so closely with him.

A little while later, we parted ways and Steve and I headed back to his car. The man hadn't brought the tables yet so Steve decided to use the bathroom while I waited in the car. As I sat in the car with the windows down, I noticed two men walking by on the opposite side of the car as me. They were looking at Steve's bag that was sitting in the middle seat. I made eye contact and they continued on their way. A few seconds later, another man approached my open window. He was trying to get me to look at some trinkets he was selling. The first thing was a gold-colored pendant. I politely said não (pron. "now". No.). Something in the way he was trying to get me to focus my attention away from the car made me suspicious. About this time I noticed the same two men who walked by a few moments earlier eyeing Steve's bag. Realizing what was going on, I clutched Steve's bag in one hand. After telling him I wasn't interested in his first item, he then tried to sell me "diamonds" in an old film canister (if you can remember what they look like :) ) which looked more like dirt. Once again I said não and turned to smile at the two men on the right. The man on my left continued to try to sell me things but I sat there refusing to acknowledge him until he finally left me alone.

Notice the roll of TP on the dashboard. This is an essential item to keep in your car in Africa.

Another few minutes (Note: When I wrote this entry, I apparently tried to create a new word by combining another and few to get "Afother", but let's get back to the story.) passed and the man with the tables showed up. Steve showed up shortly thereafter and helped the man load the tables into the car. Then we returned to the house. The tables made perfect end tables for the couches in the living room. Chris made macaroni and cheese for lunch. Afterwards, I took a nap.

I awoke to a dark house with no one inside. I could see people sitting on the veranda so I went outside. Outside I found Steve and Chris talking with Melanie. I pulled up a chair and noticed the somber mood of everyone present. Steve disclosed that someone had just played the sickest April Fools' joke imaginable on them. They had received a call telling them that one of the young pastors had taken rat poison in an attempt to commit suicide. Chris explained that this is a fairly common form of suicide in Mozambique. You can buy small vials of it on street corners throughout the city. Fortunately, the rumor was just that, a rumor, but the damage had been done. Steve was able to make contact with the pastor and confirm that he was indeed okay and had not tried to commit suicide. Despite the good news, the situation was hard on everyone.

Sunday, 31 March: Discipleship Class

Later that afternoon, the Newcomers and I headed out to the discipleship class that Steve leads on Sunday evenings for Mozambican pastors in the Beira area. The group meets at Mennonite Central Committee (MCC) headquarters on the 4th floor of a building on the outskirts of town. When we got there we noticed there was no electricity. Fortunately, they came back on before it got dark.

Slowly, 12 Mozambicans funneled into the room. Among them were Keith and Youngson from Mascarenha. They were the only BIC pastors present. Normally there are two others who come, Lazaro from Mascarenha and Raimundo Simango from the other BIC church in Beira. Also in attendance were two other Westerners, Melanie and Lisa. Melanie is the head of operations for MCC in Mozambique. Lisa runs a programs where orphans are housed together with house parents.

This week's study was a continuation of the previous week's lesson. The theme was "What can we learn from Jesus's last week of ministry?" Steve began by asking the question, "What are the things we can do while we're on earth, but not in eternity." Some of the answers were evangelismo (evangelism), being able to have relationships with other people (it was decided that this was unknown in eternity), viver pela fé (pron. "vee-ver pay-la fay". To live by faith.), and to suffer for our faith. This segued into talking about what Christ did during his la semana antes (pron. "la say-mon-ah an-tesh". Last week before.) being crucified.

Steve started with Jesus being anointed at Bethany in Simon’s house by Mary. He contrasted this story with the story of Jesus being anointed in Luke 7:36-50. The point he wanted the pastors to learn was that when studying the Bible we need to be careful to check the details of similar sounding stories closely to find the differences instead of assuming they are the same story.

The next day, none of the Gospels mention anything, so we assume that Jesus observed the Sabbath. Even though Jesus knew it that his time on earth was limited, he still showed the importance of resting and worshiping. Steve then talked about Jesus entering Jerusalem and cleansed the temple. He explained the layout of the temple and why Jesus did what he did and why his anger was righteous.

We were running low on time so Steve skipped ahead to the Last Supper. He explained the ordinances of feet washing and communion. He finished the lesson with the three trials of Jesus before the Sadducees, Pilate, and King Herod. Steve emphasized Jesus's non-resistance during the trials and how he didn't try to defend himself. Steve also talked about the crowd's change in attitude from Palm Sunday and why it's so important we only worry about pleasing God and not people.

One of the last principles Steve explained was pacifism. This was a new concept for many of the pastors in the group. He explained it in the following way. If I am a Christian fighting a non-Christian and I kill him, I essentially have condemned him to hell. If I am a Christian fighting a Christian and I kill him, I have killed my brother. One of the pastors asked what he should do if chosen to serve in the army. Steve explained that in the United States we have a thing called conscientious objection, but that in the history of the BIC, people have chosen imprisonment over fighting. Steve said it was a hard choice for someone to make. I was really impressed by this logical explanation of pacifism. As someone who is not a pacifist, Steve's explanation has caused me to reconsider my beliefs on the issue.

Chris closed with prayer and everyone was dismissed. Back at the vehicle, I noticed some birds flying around in the tree in front of the car. This seemed strange to me because of the time of night and how they were flying. Then it hit me, these weren't birds at all. They were giant fruit bats!

We gave Youngson and a few others a ride to their homes. Driving at night in Africa should be avoided when possible. People drive the same as they do during the daytime, but at night there are more people in the streets and many cars have at least one headlight out. Steve almost hit one boy who was walking down the middle of the road and didn't see him until we were only 10 feet away from him. By the grace of God, he looked up and saw us at the last moment and was able to jump to safety.

Youngson

We made it home safely and had a late dinner of steak, potatoes, and green beans. After a long day, I was ready for bed at 9:30 pm.

31 March, 2013: Easter Sunday at Mascarenha

I had no trouble waking up almost an hour before my alarm thanks to a spider on the wall. It wasn't a terribly large spider, but large enough to do the trick. Breakfast was served and we ate it on the veranda while it was still relatively cool.

At 9:45 am, we left for Mascarenha BIC Church (pron. "mash-car-rain-na". Another unrelated point I'd like to mention: spell check keeps telling me I've misspelled Macarena.). To get to the church, we drove on the Beira Corridor, the main east-west highway from Beira to Mutare (pron. "moo-tar-eh"), Zimbabwe. On the way, Steve and Chris taught me some basic Portuguese:

Bom dia! (pron. "bone dee-ah") "Good day!"
Obrigado. (pron. "oh-bree-god-oh") "Thank you."
Como esta? (pron. "como esh-tah") "How are you?"
Bem. (pron. "bane") "Well."

Fortunately, Portuguese is very similar to Spanish which I somewhat know. Unfortunately, the last time I had to use Spanish was my senior year of high school.

We drove past the turn off (which was on the right) and made a U-turn, not because Steve forgot where he was going, but because the road was divided with a drainage ditch in the middle. When we came back to the turn off, we left the paved road and continued down a dirt road. Shortly after crossing a small stream (or possibly a pothole larger than the road that was filled with water), Steve made a right and followed a single lane road. This lane soon turned into a foot path. After a short distance, we pulled into the church compound. Steve parked underneath a tree and we made our way into the church. Rain was falling steadily at this point.

The building the church met in was about half the size of the sanctuary at Mt. Pleasant Church of God. It was made of cinder blocks. There were two doors and an opening in the back wall that served as a window. Recently, a metal roof had been put on, but a storm had ripped the back left corner off two weeks later. The missing section helped to provide some natural lighting. The members of the congregation sat on benches situated in two sections. A row of elders sat in the front and on the left hand side in chairs. Latecomers had to stand in the back or sat on a blanket if they had brought one.

Unbeknownst to me, Steve had stopped to talk with someone as I followed Chris into the church. She introduced me to Pastor Zacarias Maharange, who was the provincial pastor for the Sofala province and also the brother of the bishop of the Mozambican BIC Church, Filipe. Now I realized that I was on my own as Chris had gone to talk with one of the ladies and the elders all got up to greet me. I exchanged Bom dias with all the elders and was directed to a chair in front of the church facing the congregation. Not long after that, Steve came in and sat in the seat beside me.

The service began with a lot of singing and dancing. Being entirely in Portuguese and Ndau (pron. "en-dow". Ndau is the local language of Beira.), I didn't understand a word being said apart from Jesus (pron. "jay-shush") and a few Spanish cognates. One man was especially enthusiastic about the dancing and was trying to get everyone dancing. He even succeeded to get Steve to join in which was quite a sight.

The other thing about the worship that caught my attention was the instruments being used. Unlike what I was accustomed to in Western churches, most of the instruments were played by people sitting throughout the congregation. The only instrument being played at the front of the church was an accordion. The man playing, Pastor Lazaro Magiogio, only played one melody the whole time and varied the tempo to match the song being sung. The other instruments included a drum being played by a young boy and a tambourine played at a fast tempo by a girl. Despite the speed, it blended well with the rest of the music. The strangest instrument had to be a whistle (like the kind a referee uses). This was one instrument that I personally could have done without. The shrillness of a whistle can be very unnerving when you’re not expecting it. I guess if you are worshiping God by blowing a whistle, then He's not going to call a foul.

After the congregation finished singing and dancing, there were performances by the youth and children. Both were similar in format, with the group starting from outside and singing and dancing to the center. It was during this time that I noticed many of the girls wore high heels that dug into the ground with each step. I can't imagine how much harder this must have made the dance, but none of them missed a step.

When they had finished, Steve and I were called forward so he could introduce myself and I could give my greetings to the church. Steve explained that "this handsome young man" was from the United States on his first trip to Africa to learn about the church. Then it was my turn to give my greetings. Youngson Palibendipo, a missionary from Malawi, translated. I gave my greetings and sat back down. Steve leaned over to me and jokingly quipped, "Uh-oh, you're in trouble now." In my haste to get through all the parts Steve and Chris had briefed me on, I had forgotten to say my name! Steve stood back up and made a nice recovery.

For those of you who have known me well, what happened next will surprise you. The previous night, I had agreed to join Steve and Chris in singing a hymn in front of the church. It must have been a combination of the jet lag and not wanting to let my host down. So the three of us and Youngson sang Christ the Lord Is Risen Today for the entire congregation at Mascarenha that day.

Following the applause we received (they were gracious hosts as we were not the most gifted singers as Steve had warned them beforehand) there was a recognition/dedication of those who were baptized that weekend. A bench was brought forward for them to sit on while, Keith, one of the young pastors preached a short message on the importance of baptism.

Next, Zacarias gave the sermon. He explained the Easter story to the church and why it is the most important Sunday. I was only able to catch parts of the sermon. Zacarias was a very spirited preacher and rarely gave Youngson enough time to translate into English.

After Zacarias was finished with the sermon, a bench was brought to the front of the sanctuary for a child dedication. On the bench sat the mother with child, two of her daughters, and the godmother. Absent from the service was the father whom Zacarias made an example of for sleeping in instead of being in church. The rest of his message was about the responsibility those on the bench to raise this child with the knowledge of Christ.

Another part of the service that really made an impression on me was the numerous prayers throughout the service. There were prayers by Keith, Lazaro, Zacarias, Youngson, Steve, and myself. The most poignant prayer time was at the end of the service. A bench was brought forward. Steve and I were asked to lay hands on and pray for members of the congregation who wanted to be prayed for. I was amazed at how many people came forward. I prayed over at least 12 people. In fact, so many people came forward that some of the other church leaders joined in to help us get through everyone. This experience definitely took me out of my comfort zone. I had to pray for people who were complete strangers to me in addition to the fact that they spoke a different language than me. In times like these one must have a willing, servant-like attitude to allow God to use oneself to do His work.

A few other comments I'd like to make about the church service are as follows. I got to experience the full range of climates that one might experience in a tropical place like Beira. At the beginning of the service it poured. Soon the rain subsided and the heat and humidity ran rampant. When the people danced, the entire ground shook. Zacarias explained their tradition of dancing and that they don't expect white people to join in the dancing because "you will get tired," but that Mozambicans do not get tired. They dance in church to forget about all the hardships they endure at home. At the conclusion of the service, I joined the pastors and Steve in a greeting line as people filed out of the church. We returned back to the house around 1:00 pm exhausted from the heat and length of service. After eating lunch, we napped on the couches.

Saturday, 30 March: Beira

The plane I took to Beira was very small. It could only hold at most 30 people, but there were only 11 people on board. Even though the flight was less than 2 hours, we were still served lunch. Again I poorly choose chicken (but it was so good!). This time it came with sliced peppers on it and other spicy tidbits in the couscous. I made a final trip to the bathroom after I finished eating and then sat back to enjoy the descent into Beira.

It was extremely cloudy so I peered out the window expectantly waiting to catch a glimpse of the city. The plane seemed to be lost in the sea of clouds. When we finally broke through, I was met with the most spectacular view of the Púnguè (pron. "Pun-gway") River. As the plane banked, I watched as the delta spilled into the Indian Ocean. Seeing this view, I knew without a doubt that this was where I was supposed to be. The plane seemed to bank forever until it finally touched down on the runway.

View of the river delta.

As I walked off the plane onto the tarmac, the heat and humidity hit me. Wearing blue jeans and a hoodie was a bit much for the tropical climate. It was sprinkling slightly as we walked across the tarmac towards Beira International Airport (Aeroporto Internacional da Beira).

Inside the airport I filled out my Immigration form and got my visa stamped. Next, it was off to the baggage claim to get my two suitcases which thankfully had both arrived with the flight I was on. The customs officers only gave me a little hassle over the suitcase I was carrying for Jonathan and Becky Owen, missionaries serving in Malawi. Now that I was through customs, I was officially in Mozambique! Reality check #5 that the Lord wants me in Africa. Now the question is, "What does the Lord want me to learn in Africa?"

As I headed into the lobby, I was greeted with a hug by Steve. We loaded my suitcases into his white Toyota Land Cruiser Prado and headed for his house. I tried desperately to adjust to driving on the opposite side of the road as Steve explained the rules of the road in Beira. Basically, they don't exist. Avoiding the potholes takes precedence.

The airport is outside the city. As we drove, we passed by endless rice fields (except where new construction was happening). Beira is built upon a marshland so most of the open fields are underwater and provide an excellent environment for growing rice. Beira is a very poor city with little in terms of economy besides the port.

There were two things that really stuck out on my first trip through Beira. First was the smell as we drove by the Bay of Mozambique. Combine the salty ocean smell with sunbaked trash and sewage and you can imagine it for yourself. Strangely, this smell seemed to grow on me with each visit to the beach (Figuratively, that is. If it had literally grown on me, I'd probably have a much different opinion of it.).

The second was an abandoned hotel. Steve explained that there are two hotels in Beira that are now abandoned. The one we passed had been stripped of everything right down to the concrete. He also explained that somehow the owner had been able to keep the squatters out. This is not the case for the other one, the Grande Hotel. Thousands of squatters have moved into the Grande Hotel, turning it into a slum. There are many abandoned buildings in the city showing that at one time there was a lot of promise in Beira. But, this was before the Mozambican Civil War, one of the longest and bloodiest in Southern Africa.

Abandoned hotel we passed coming back from the airport.

After a while, we left the paved road (still in the city, mind you) and came to a gate. The guard lifted the gate and we continued into the compound, made a right turn and parked behind a red Toyota Hilux. Chris came out of the house to meet us and we carried my belongings into their house. Walking into the Newcomers' house, the first thing I noticed was the temperature difference. The air conditioning was a welcome relief.

After moving my stuff into the guest room, I was able to take a shower to wash away the greasiness of flying 15+ hours. The shower was a bit perilous as the non-skid bath mats became detached while the water filled the tub. Fortunately, I didn't have any major slips. Feeling clean and changing into a fresh pair of clothes added to the refreshment of the air conditioning.

Steve & Chris Newcomer

I spent the rest of the evening relaxing and catching up with Steve and Chris. An early bedtime of 8:00 pm was much appreciated after not sleeping well on the plane.

Saturday, 30 March: Johannesburg

Now I was officially on the ground in Africa, but you'd never know it from looking at Tambo International Airport. I followed the signs for International Transfers and ended up at the end of an extremely long queue for Immigration. At this point I was glad that patience was one of my gifts and that I had a few hours in between my flights. In this queue, I witnessed one of the things that really irks me—hypocrisy, especially since this instance involved a lack of justice.

While standing in the queue, a group of three Indians, one couple and another man, cut into the line behind me. A little while later, the third Indian man cut in front of the couple. The husband very passive-aggressively explained the point of a queue to the man. Then, not even 5 minutes later, the couple cut in front of me around the next bend of the queue. Not wanting to press the issue, I calmly stood behind them despite wanting to say the exact same thing to the husband that he had just said to the other man.

After winding my way through the Immigration queue, I made a pit stop at the bathroom to relieve my insides of the distress I was experiencing from the airplane food (Note: Any airline food containing chicken will also contain peppers and other spicy morsels which they don't tell you when they ask, "Beef or chicken?"). Once I felt better, I headed to the SAA counter to find out the gate number for my next flight which wasn't on the boarding pass. I proceeded through another security checkpoint without having to reveal the money pouch I was carrying.

Now I was in the airport mall on my way to the next gate. Tambo is a poorly laid out airport (It's actually genius. To get to any of the gates, you have to walk through the entire mall). I breezed by all the shops on my way to find my next departure gate. I still had 4 hours (or so I thought) and had to make another pit stop at the bathroom. I hoped that this trip would clear me out, but I knew it probably wouldn't. Afterwards, I took a quick tour of the mall and then returned to the waiting area for my gate. By my watch, I still had 3 hours and 40 minutes so I opened The Hobbit and began reading.

After nearly an hour, I closed the book and stopped reading because I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I wanted to avoid falling asleep and missing my flight, so I decided to get up and explore the mall for a while. Just as I was about to get up, a white South African man (sadly, I didn't catch his name) came up to me and asked if I was Claude. I said I wasn't and he explained that he was supposed to be meeting a Claude for a job in Beira. He didn't have much information about Claude, but if Claude didn't show up, he would be out the R1,800 (R stands for Rand which is the currency in South Africa. Approximately R9 is equal to $1.) he paid for a one-way ticket.

The man sat down beside me and we talked for a good while. He was an engineer for a South African company that works on fuel lines throughout Southern Africa. I explained that I worked for BICWM in Human Resources and that I was visiting some friends who were missionaries. He went on to tell me how God was doing amazing things in his life. He worked for a brewery almost his entire life, but at the age of 60, God convicted him to leave his job because of all the problems associated with alcohol. Everyone said he was crazy. He had no idea where a 60-year-old white South African male could find work. Fortunately, God was working behind the scenes and he got a job working for the engineering company. His current job paid him nearly twice as much as the previous one and all his co-workers were Christians.

The new job was an answer to prayer, but during his time off he had accrued a substantial amount of debt which included R19,000 (just over $2,100) which he owed to his landlord. Fortunately, his landlord was a compassionate man and allowed him to pay what he could during his unemployment. So despite things looking up for him, he still had this debt looming over him. Then one day, he was looking over his bank statement and noticed a deposit of R1,000,000 (roughly $111,000). He called the bank. "Surely they made an error," he thought, but the bank assured him there was no error and that the money was truly in his account. He immediately thanked God and used the money to pay off his debt. He used what was left over to send his son to a Christian academy in Texas.

Then I shared my testimony with him. This was a completely new experience for me to share it with a complete stranger I had just met. After that we mainly made small talk comparing things like the weather and economy in the US and South Africa. It was about this time that he checked the time and said we should be boarding soon. I looked at my watch. It was only 8:45 am. There were still 2 hours until boarding so I was confused. Just then an announcement came over the PA system that boarding for my flight was beginning. It was actually 10:45 am! The weight of the situation dawned upon me and I thanked God more than I ever had before in my life. If God had not sent this man to talk to me, I would have surely missed my flight to Beira. Reality check #4 that the Lord wants me in Africa!

Friday, 29 March to Saturday, 30 March: JFK to Johannesburg

My flight out of JFK was scheduled to depart at 11:15 am, so I planned an early morning exit from my hotel to beat the New York traffic. This leg of my journey began at 5:00 am and was uneventful minus the stress of navigating NYC traffic in the dark and another close call. This close call happened on I-95N just after entering the Jersey turnpike. There was a U-Haul-type truck in front of me going slow (probably trying to figure out which exit they needed since there about 5 different ones to choose from) and I needed to get into the leftmost lane to get the correct exit. Like the good driver I am, I checked my mirrors to see if anyone was coming. No one was, so I started to change lanes. As I did, a car came flying past me out of the corner of my eye. Had I not taken the time to check my mirrors, the driver would have surely rear-ended me. Thank you, Lord. Reality check #3 that the Lord wants me in Africa.

I arrived at the airport and dropped my car off at 6:30 am. This gave me plenty of time to lug my two bags (50 lbs. and 70 lbs.) to the South African Airways (SAA) check-in counter in Terminal 4. I caught the AirTrain to Terminal 4 and arrived at the SAA counter at 7:00 am. Since counter wasn't open, I had to wait in a queue outside queue area for the counter until it opened at 7:20 am.

Standing in front of me in this queue for the queue (queue-ception, anyone?) where a mother and her high school-aged daughter from South Africa. From their conversation, I learned that the mother was flying to Toronto while the daughter would be flying home to Johannesburg for the first time by herself. The mother was trying to reassure her daughter by making friends with those around her so she would have people who could help her out if she needed help. At one point she pulled me aside and asked me to make sure her daughter made it on the plane. I assured her that I would.

When the SAA counter opened, I began the actual queue. Because I had an overweight bag, I had to go back to the SAA ticket desk to pay the fee. After that I returned to the counter to pick up my boarding passes. Then I was off to my security showdown with the TSA. I was a bit concerned since I was wearing a money belt underneath my clothes with a sizeable amount of money for one of the missionaries. Fortunately, with God’s help, I made it through the checkpoint without a hitch.

I arrived at my gate of departure with a couple of hours to spare, but I came prepared with the entire Lord of the Rings series including The Hobbit. I sat down and did a quick glance to see if the girl had made it to the gate. I didn't see her, but there was still a lot of time so I assumed she was probably in the airport mall somewhere. I read until the point in The Hobbit where the first movie of the new trilogy ended and decided to take a stroll to get a little last minute exercise before my 15 hour flight.

The secondary purpose of my walk was to see if the girl had gotten to the correct gate. I still didn't see her when I returned from my walk. By this time the number of people at the gate had grown to over a hundred. There wasn't much I could do, but pray that she would make it alright. When they finally announced that we could start boarding the plane, I saw that the girl was actually sitting pretty close to where I was, but the glare from the windows had prevented me from noticing her.

I boarded the plane at 10:45 am. I had a window seat near the back of the Airbus so I had a decent view throughout the flight. The plane was almost entirely full, and a large number of the seats near me were filled with a group of high schoolers from a boarding school in Massachusetts. The person beside me was one of these students. They were traveling to South Africa were a study abroad program for a few weeks. I won’t go into much detail about my flight because it was so long and a lot of it was boring. Instead, I’ll highlight a few of the more interesting parts.

The majority of my time was spent trying to pass the time. I read a good deal of The Hobbit and then decided to watch Lincoln after eating dinner. When I originally wrote this journal entry, I couldn't remember which movie I had watched. I assure you that this had nothing to do with what I thought about Lincoln. I thought it was a very well done movie, but a 150 minute movie on a dark plane after eating a meal at the end of a day when I woke up at 4:00 am seemed to do more to help me fall asleep than to pique my interest.

I was thankful for the two hours of sleep I got after the movie because it was the longest amount I got during the whole flight. The rest of my attempts to catch some good, old-fashioned shut-eye were quite literally just that—me sitting there with my eyes shut. I decided to try another movie and chose a documentary about the history of technological advances in animal filmography. Now you are probably thinking, “Sam, if you couldn't stay awake through Lincoln, how in the world are you going to stay awake through this one?” Let’s just say I had a little help from my friend, David Attenborough. If you've ever watched Planet Earth then you know what I’m talking about. David Attenborough, with his British accent and playful commentary, can make you fascinated with even the most boring topic.

Seriously, I'd pay to have him follow me around and do commentary on my life.

At this point in the flight I thought that it couldn't be much longer until we landed in Johannesburg. I checked the in-flight GPS and was horrified to see that we still had another 8 hours! I chose another movie to watch, Life of Pi. I’m not going to lie; I was expecting this movie to have something remotely to do with math so I was a bit disappointed when I found out it didn't. I don’t want to spoil the movie for anyone, so I just give some general details about the movie. The story is heavily post-modern and deals a lot with à la carte religion where a person picks and chooses pieces of different religions to form their own religion which suits them. The ending of the movie forces the viewer to subjectively choose one of two endings that they would rather believe to be true.

The rest of the flight was long and the fact that I couldn't fall asleep complicated the situation. I was happy when they served us breakfast even though the blueberry “crêpe” was hard to stomach. I was thankful for all my long car trip experiences which helped to prepare me for this. The hardest part of all was when there were 8 hours left since I came to the realization that we were less than halfway to Johannesburg.

My first sight of land. Somewhere over South Africa.

Finally, we landed in Johannesburg at 7:20 am, but I thought it was only 5:20 am due to the fact that the in-flight GPS had the incorrect time. This discrepancy will play a role later in the story. At the time I was more concerned with getting off the plane and walking around.

Thursday, 28 March: Leaving for JFK

The day started out like any ordinary Thursday. I woke up at my normal time of 7:00 am and went to work. But the rest of the day was far from normal. I went home at 1:00 pm and started packing. At 2:30 pm, my dad and I drove to Harrisburg International Airport to pick up the rental car from Enterprise (It was a Chevy Cruze, which wasn't a bad car. I felt that it sat a little low and the side view mirrors weren't the greatest, but I managed.). After getting the rental, I picked up a few last minute items I needed and returned home to finish packing.

By 6:30 pm, I was ready to hit the road, destination the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Edison, New Jersey. This hotel turned out to be a very classy place, but not too expensive. For about $10 cheaper, I had a choice of staying at the Days Inn with 1-star reviews or the Red Roof Inn with bed bugs. The only other choice of lodging was at the Beauty Rest Motel, which was your typical local, sketchy motel, for half the price. It was an easy choice, but in the future I’ll probably look for lodging in a different location.

The route to the Crowne Plaza was fairly simple: US-15N to PA-583E to I-83N to I-81N to I-78E to I-270E. Google Maps estimated the driving time to be 2 hours 45 minutes. Things went well until I got to the Union Deposit exit on I-83N. I was in the passing lane beside a semi. When I was directly at the middle of the semi, the driver decided that he/she wanted to pass the slow car in front of them. Next thing I knew, the truck was a quarter of the way into my lane when the driver realized I was there and swerved back into the right lane. It was only by the grace of God that the trucker saw me at the last second and avoided crushing my car into the cement barrier. Many thanks to everyone who was praying for my trip. Reality check #2 that the Lord wants me in Africa.

The rest of the drive was rather uneventful (thankfully) besides hitting one bad stretch of construction just before the Jersey border (I’m not sure how far it was backed up on my side, but it was backed up at least 3½ miles on the New Jersey side.). Because of the delay from the construction, I didn't arrive at the hotel until shortly after 10:00 pm.

I was thankful for the nice amenities at the Crowne Plaza Hotel. After the stress of driving from the day and the uncertainty of what was to come, I welcomed the comfort it provided me. I caught a bit of the Indiana-Syracuse basketball game and was in bed by 11:00 pm.

View of my room.

Wednesday, 27 March: Getting Visas

Let me set the background for you. It was day before I left to drive to JFK and instead I was headed to Washington, D.C. to visit the Embassy of the Republic of Mozambique to get visas for John, JoLene, and myself. You are probably wondering, why did we wait until the last minute? We had over a month to do this. Let me introduce those of you who have never been to Africa with a little acronym from the movie Blood Diamond: TIA, This is Africa.

After consulting the local missionaries in Mozambique, the Hawbakers and I planned to get our visas at the airport when we arrived in Beira (pron. "bay-ra"). Early Monday morning (the 25th), I checked my email before heading to work because it was snowing and was supposed to snow a decent amount. I didn't see any emails about work closing or being delayed, but I did see a few from missionaries in Africa regarding the retreat. I didn't think much of it since I was now in the mindset of getting ready for work.

It wasn't until I got to work and read the emails that I realized why there were so many about the retreat. Apparently, Mozambique had been having some trouble with foreigners entering their country and disappearing to stay and work in the country illegally. Because of this, Mozambican officials were refusing to grant visas at the border and even turning some people back at the airports. Since all the missionaries were planning to obtain visas at the border, there was a scramble to try to obtain them prior to the retreat.

It still shouldn't have been a huge ordeal for us. All we needed to do was to go to the embassy with passport, visa application, a letter of invitation, and money to get a visa. But remember, TIA. We needed a letter from Steve inviting us. It so happened that that same day, the internet in Beira went down. Somehow an underwater cable got cut so the entire city was without internet. At this point, I knew I had to give everything to the Lord and prayed, “Lord, if you want me in Africa, you’ll get me there.”

Long story short, Steve made the four hour trek to Gorongosa Adventures where they still had internet on Tuesday and was able to email letters for John, JoLene, and myself. So on Wednesday morning, my alarm went off at 4:30 am so I could beat the D.C. traffic and arrive at the Mozambican Embassy when they opened at 9:00 am. I made it safely to the embassy with only one close call on the beltway. The girl working at the desk was approximately my age, so I did my best to throw on a little charm (or at least the best I was capable of with my Jeremiah Johnson-esque beard) and somehow it worked! I only had to wait until 12:45 pm to pick up the three passports with fresh Mozambican visas in them.

Maybe it was my charm, but more likely it was the Lord. I’ll leave it to you to decide :). Reality check #1 that the Lord wants me in Africa.