Friendly Planet News

Kamina

2012-02-11T09:56:00.001-08:00

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

2012-02-09T07:04:00.000-08:00

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

2012-02-06T04:36:00.000-08:00

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

2012-02-04T21:37:00.000-08:00

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

2012-02-03T01:32:00.001-08:00

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

2012-02-01T10:23:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-31T08:56:00.001-08:00

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

2012-01-30T02:13:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-27T04:22:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-22T05:56:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-18T18:18:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-18T04:38:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-16T06:14:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-14T01:59:00.000-08:00

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!

2011-12-08T06:07:00.000-08:00

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

Busy Day at FPM

2011-11-01T07:56:00.000-07:00

UM/Indiana Delivering Roofing Sheets to Village Clinic in Kabumbuli

Things are hopping along the Congo River!

The El Dorado Nursing School has opened classes in its new building. Friendly Planet Missiology Team Leader Nurse Mary Kabamba has met with newly arrived women students, who are on FPM scholarships, to help them with orientation and to let them know that they will do better than even the men students. After that meeting, Mary has headed for the port of Malemba to meet our boat, the UM/Indiana, bringing cement for the maternity wing of the nursing school. The UM/Indiana is returning from its mission to take vaccinations for children to the Kinkondja Health Zone.

FPM Team Leader Pastor Joseph Mulongo has arrived in Lubumbashi and is meeting with FPM Team Member Pastor Maloba Mulume, the Treasurer of the North Katanga Conference of The United Methodist Church. Pastor Maloba has just finished sending Bishop Ntambo Nkulu (Chief Patron of FPM) off to the U.S. for the meeting of the Council of Bishops. (Bishop Ntambo will be preaching at the Duke Divinity School Chapel on November 10.)

Pastors Mulongo and Maloba are busy communicating with Zambikes in Lusaka, Zambia, to coordinate the border crossing of our first five mountain bikes from Zambikes. This is important and exciting, as these will be much stronger bicycles than we have been buying, and they will carry a local label.

Mulongo will also be picking up the first FPM motorcycle. This will give him dependable transportation from the village of Mulongo to Lubumbashi and back, a very difficult journey over the Mother of All Mountains. (Seriously, that's the name of the mountain.)

Stateside, Debbi is in San Diego (her home) growing FPM's social media network. Sarah is in Broad Ripple (that quaint Bohemian uptown neighborhood in Indy) creating a new catalog to get to you by Christmas. Emily is busy telling everyone at UIndy her story of Congo adventures. Taylor is in Washington, D.C. counting down the days until the birth of the first of our family's next generation.

Friday night, the United Methodist Women of Plainfield United Methodist Church hosted an evening to celebrate the completion of 175 straight days of Risk Taking Mission and Service as the Plainfield Church celebrated its 175th anniversary. During the meal, Mike, the Team Leader of the Fondo d'Congo, handed me a check for $1,500. This brings the total for the Fondo to $5,000. Thanks Mike! and Thanks PUMC!

Oh, and I'm neck deep in a very messy and still unreadable manuscript for a book that I'm calling, "La Route Rouge," or maybe "The Heart of Darkness Revisited," or maybe "The Last Missionary." Maybe its a trilogy.

Bob

El Dorado Nursing School: Video Album

2011-10-18T14:14:00.000-07:00

El Dorado Nursing School

2011-10-18T10:23:00.001-07:00

First Wing Finished with Roof, Doors, Windows, and Paint

The El Dorado Nursing School was initially the dream of Dr. Ivan Mulongo. As the director of the British Brethren Missionary Hospital in Mulongo, Katanga Province, Democratic Republic of the Congo, he was dismayed at the lack of training that nurses had received during the devastating war in eastern Congo. Nurses were given just a few weeks of training and sent into the villages. Much damage was done by these under-qualified nurses. The shooting part of the war is over, but the diseases left behind have kept the death rate at the same high rate as during the war. Nurses are the front line of this “war after the war.”

Dr. Ivan, a United Methodist lay person, established the United Methodist Nursing School at Mulongo, based at the British Brethren Missionary Hospital. From the beginning, it was the intention that this nursing school would serve all and work cooperatively with all denominations, as well as with government health care agencies.

Dr. Ivan has since been elected to the national Parliament in Kinshasa. He remains involved in the hospital and nursing school, but has been followed as director of the hospital by Dr. Serge. Dr. Ivan, Dr. Serge, and United Methodist District Superintendent Joseph Mulongo began the project of building a campus for the nursing school. Dr. Ivan recruited Denver and Robin Thornton of El Dorado, Arkansas, to help fund the construction.

The Rev. Joseph Mulongo brought Friendly Planet Missiology to Mulongo to help with community development. Friendly Planet Missiology teaches communities to identify and leverage the assets of the community, so that the community is deeply invested in the project. As an FPM team leader, Pastor Joseph Mulongo organized the community in making bricks and providing volunteer labor to build the nursing school. Through sweat equity, 80% of the cost of construction has been provided by the local community.

Women Nursing Students

Denver and Robin have not only generously given for construction, they have also funded scholarships for women attending the nursing school. This is a cutting edge social issue. In the past, nurses have all been men. With most health issues in the villages being women’s issues, there has been a grass roots demand for women nurses. The El Dorado Nursing School has been created with the extra mission of specifically recruiting and training more women as nurses. The school’s goal is to have classes of 50% men and 50% women.

The Rev. Joseph Mulongo

“Mulongo from Mulongo” It’s a bit confusing keeping track of the Mulongo’s. Dr. Ivan Mulongo is the doctor and congressman responsible for beginning the nursing school. The Rev. Joseph Mulongo is the United Methodist District Superintendent who has led the project of construction. The two are not related. Mulongo is also the name of the village and the district. Again, no relation to either doctor or pastor. Confused?

Mama Teri

2011-10-13T06:19:00.000-07:00

Three American college students insisted on having their picture taken with Teri in front of the coffee shop in Edinburgh, Scotland, where J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter. The young woman with the backpack is texting friends that she just met Teri Walters.

It would be easy to say that Teri Walters is the backbone of Friendly Planet Missiology, citing the fact that it is Teri’s school teacher salary that has kept the family afloat while her husband and daughter have passed up paychecks in order to cover operations and project expenses. (It’s not that they don’t want to get paid; we’re just not there, yet.) When you add together how much she has donated out of her own pocket and what her husband has stiffed her by walking away from a guaranteed fat income, she is soon to be FPM’s first quarter million dollar donor.

It would be easy to say that, but that would not be enough.

Teri is one of the most respected and loved classroom teachers in central Indiana. She was Plainfield’s 2000 Teacher of the Year and a finalist for State Teacher of the Year. She has been featured on WRTV news for her fun and creative classroom atmosphere. When her teaching methods were attacked by a so-called Christian group at a school board meeting, her community reputation for the depth of her own Christian character gave the attackers no room. Methodists, Mormons, Catholics, and Muslims stood by her. (“I am Spartacus.”)

Back in 1996, Teri toured with Bob and (not yet bishop) Ntambo in southern Congo (then called Zaire). It took her no time to make friends and fall in love with the people. Over the years, her quiet support has been known and celebrated by Congolese colleagues. In 2008, the general conference delegates who visited Indiana presented her with a brass hand gently cupping an egg in recognition of her care and hospitality for them while they were in a strange land. This award sits on the table next to the chair where she grades papers every night.

There’s a new church in the Kabongo District called L'Eglise Methodiste Unie Mama Teri. When women in leadership is the community hot topic, Teri’s picture is on the wall. She is a rock star and a legend.

Wafwako, Mama Teri!

Fondo d'Congo

2011-10-04T04:56:00.000-07:00

8:00 am Start of 50 Mile Ride

From Biking Bob:

Last Saturday was the first annual Fondo d'Congo. A fondo is a non competitive community bicycle ride. The word is Italian. So, add to the languages we're having the fun of learning, one more, Italian. The idea of a fondo is to gather hundreds of bicycle riders in a huge festival.

Mike Gilbert and his team of community developers did just that. Making full use of the incredible Plainfield park system and green ways and county roads, they put together rides of varying lengths: 50 miles for the serious cyclist, 25 miles for those who thought 50 sounded a bit obsessive, and 10, 5, and 2 mile rides in and around the parks. Bikers in racing kit, families dressed for fun, hot dogs, BBQ, popcorn, balloons, frisbees, fire trucks, and fire fighters. Fast road bikes, park cruisers, hybrids, mountain bikes, tandems, recumbents, children in buggers, dogs in baskets.

Guilford Township's Hummel Park, the largest township park in the state of Indiana, provided the big, new, beautiful Charleston Pavilion for the day. Fun and food. Gear Up Cyclery came to help with pre-ride maintenance issues. (Some of our riders were getting their bikes out of the garage for the first time in years.) A whole list of local businesses signed on as sponsors.

The Fondo is one day in Plainfield United Methodist Church's commitment to 175 straight days of risk taking service and mission. This is how they are celebrating their 175th anniversary. No central plan and only a large calendar in the narthex for coordination, members have created and are delivering a different service or mission project each day for these 175 days. Mike Gilbert decided that his contribution to the project would be to organize a fund raiser for Friendly Planet Missiology. He did that and so much more. (Mike will be the first to modestly object to receiving this much credit.) The team delivering this event was huge, enthusiastic, and super competent. In addition, as the Friendly Planet team keeps discovering, God had already prepared our success.

Yes, it was a fund raiser, and yes, many bicycles will be purchased for church and community leaders in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, but as our Congolese partners will testify, the biggest contribution an event like the Fondo d'Congo makes is the building of a connected global community. Friendly Planet Missiology now has an annual ride in the Congo and an annual ride in Indiana. (Maybe next year, we can have a Congolese rider at the Fondo, and maybe there is a Hoosier rider who would like to ride with us in the Congo.)

The Fondo d'Congo will happen again, same time next year. For members of the bicycle community of central Indiana, it can be your warm up ride for the Hilly Hundred. (Our 50 mile route has some vertical challenges.) It can be the last ride of the summer or the first ride of the fall. For families and friends, it is an opportunity for wholesome fun in the park. For those who think a lot about the suffering of people in far away places, it is a way to connect and participate in their struggles.

Ride on.

Biking Bob, aka Captain Spaulding (African Explorer), aka the Vicar of Amitydale.

Just a few more photos of riders:

Mike Gilbert (right)

and Free Popcorn

Snapshot from the Road

2011-09-22T12:59:00.000-07:00

I've been holed up in Panera's Bread every morning now-a-days with friend and mystery writer Tony Perona. He's working on his 4th novel or a screen play, I don't know. After exchanging morning greetings, we don't talk. Just write. He writes his mysteries and I continue to write a story about riding a bicycle through the war zone of the mountains of eastern Congo.

Blogging my daily pages got problematic. I decided that it's not a good idea to annoy all my readers before publication. However, here's a small snapshot from the road.

The team is up and on the road before daybreak. We get to the bridge over the back side of the falls just as the sun broke the dark. Beautiful morning.

Our riding team has grown by two. The district superintendent of the Mitwaba District and another pastor have joined us. The fresh morning air, good hard sand road, and good company. Perfect. The team is singing and telling stories.

About 5 kilometers out of Kyubo, we stop at a church. I’m impressed. This church has been built entirely by local labor with available resources. In other words, no cement and no tin roofing. But it is striking in its newness. Newly baked red brick walls and newly woven green grass roof.

There is an energy here. A breath of fresh air to match the morning. The congregation has a sense of self sufficiency that I haven’t seen in other places. All churches here worship with a enthusiastic gratitude directed toward God, acknowledging their dependence upon God’s gifts, but this congregation projected a sense of self-actualization in addition to their gratitude to God.

Instead of pitching a plea for help to the visiting missionary, they were showing off their work with a deserved pride. It was clear that the district superintendent was proud.

Frankly, when we had pulled into the church yard, I was annoyed that we had made this stop. We had just hit a good pace for the day. If traveling through the Mitwaba District was going to involve stopping every five kilometers to visit each and every church, it was going to be a long and painful day. But I was wrong. This stop was worth it.

In the coming rainy season-dry season cycle, the weather is going to take the church's new look away. The rain will wash and the sun will bake and the worms will eat the grass. The tragedy is that this is not a people with no ambition or work ethic. This is a people whose ambitions and hard work are not respected by the natural world they struggle against.

Peace,

Bob

And you thought I was done...

2011-09-20T07:31:00.000-07:00

[from Emily]

... to be honest, I did too! I did not think there would be much to "blog" about after returning to the United States. But as Bob and Taylor (and others) probably predicted, my "journey" is just beginning. The "trip" to Congo was really just "one small step" in my larger Congolese journey. I now think of EVERYTHING through the lens of my time there and my experiences. I'm writing a lot right now-- creative non-fiction pieces that I will be submitting for publication in literary journals soon (which feels really good, by the way... it's been a really LONG time since I had the "drive" to write creatively, and even longer since I played the submission and publication game... but if you really want to know and ask nicely, I'll share some of my previously published work with you....), and writing for the newsletter, and speaking my mind about my trip and my experiences.

To wit, I wanted to share two things on here that really "touched" me lately, and will probably seem totally unrelated to Congo, but for me were quite salient. The first is an article about "Terror Management Theory" which I am really into... I think it says a lot about how people respond to horror in the world, and the ways and reasons we react as we do, and the value of treating lightly and using hope as a motivator instead of scare tactics. That article is here:

http://science.howstuffworks.com/environmental/green-science/doomsday-scenarios-climate-change2.htm

The second is last week's "This American Life" poscast, their own 10-year retrospective on 9-11. Though I really loathed all the media coverage of it, and in a lot of ways feel that it is insensitive to those we should actually be honoring, this podcast was AMAZING. you should listen to it for that reason alone. But, beyond that, the first "act" is about a young man who has been living in Afganistan since being a teenager, and how he viewed his "transformation" as a result of living in such a politically tumultuous climate. It may seem tangential, but it reminded me A LOT of the Congo. It is here:

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/445/ten-years-in?act=1

Signing off for now...

Emily

Introducing Emily

2011-09-20T07:01:00.000-07:00

Welcome Emily Johnson, the newest member of the team!

(Read Emily's adventures on her blog: http://emilyindrc.blogspot.com/)

An Open Letter to FPM Supporters from Team-member Emily Johnson

Dear friends,

Many of you have been “introduced” to me through the Friendly Planet newsletter and through the website, as we documented my recent (first!) trip through the Katanga-region of the Congo with Mary Kabamba. However, now that I’m back in the United States, I wanted to take this opportunity to introduce myself formally, to thank you all for all of your support, and to write briefly about my unique experience as a female graduate-student-hoping-to-become-a-psychologist as I traveled in Congo.

First of all, it is our great hope and aspiration that more comprehensive “biographies” will be forthcoming on the website for all team members, but for those of you who don’t know me or who have just “met” me, here is a little background on my “journey” that led me to FPM. I am a 26-year-old female graduate student in the doctoral psychology program at the University of Indianapolis, in Indianapolis, Indiana. I recently received my Master’s Degree in May, right before I left for Africa. I live in Indianapolis with my husband and a house full of pets. I love and have always loved working with kids with developmental disabilities and autism, but I also really enjoy counseling individuals (children and women, especially) who have suffered sexual or physical abuse. I am a member of the small but active and socially-justice minded congregation at Lockerbie Central United Methodist Church. Bob has frequented Lockerbie from time to time, speaking, or just attending. Last October, he visited with DS Joseph Mulongo, and they spoke about the work of FPM.

Having always wanted to go to Africa but never having been, I an invisible “pull” on my heart after he spoke. I did not know what I would do, or how I would do it, or how I would afford it, but I approached Bob about going to the Congo over the summer (2011). I felt a little crazy coming up with the idea, given that I had NO specific training in the area, and NO African travel experience. I think that we all felt a little “crazy” about the idea of sending me over with no real history with FPM at all, but it seemed to be a God-driven “crazy” idea (as most of our FPM ideas are) because things naturally unfolded after that. When Bob and I sat down to talk, we were shocked (well, I was shocked) to discover that our liberation-theology based philosophies were remarkably similar. That combined with my experience working with psychologically traumatized women and children and (some) knowledge of French, pretty much sealed the deal.

I don’t think anyone really “knew” what I would “do” while I was there, or whether or not it was a good fit, but it became increasingly apparent both to me and the rest of the team, that God had planned for me to be there, and I fit right in—from my (usually) laid-back and flexible attitude to the harrows of Congolese travel and willingness to try new things to my desire to really know what the women’s issues were. If you read my blog at all, you are familiar with many of my experiences and unfolding revelations about being in the Congo for the first time. If you haven’t, I encourage you to go back and read it, if only to get an understanding of our most recent expeditions. But as the new memories, knowledge, and understandings begin to coalesce in my head, I really wanted to share a little bit about that with all of you, and how the trip has changed me.

The week before I left Congo, I sat down with Mulongo to talk about all that we had done and seen. I will never forget what he said to me— “Many people know that we have had a war here. But you have come and seen the war after the war.” He was referring to the post-war condition of the country, the fact that the “war” itself, which was often ill-defined and brought (and still brings) random explosions of violence and destruction to the cities and villages, had completely decimated the infrastructure and stability of the country. The tangible result is that for a lot of people, life in the Congo now is as “dangerous” and unstable as it ever was during the war, resulting in the same amount of illness, psychological trauma and death as there was during the actual war. This is the “war after the war”. This is the state of being that I found the country in, in which villages with a population of 300 lost 60 children last year due to illnesses related to lack of clean water. In which almost every woman I met who had not fled during the war had either been raped or pressed into military service. In which I often felt that I was in a post-apocolyptic novel due to the surreal lack of men, entire villages made up almost entirely of a population of women and children because many of the men had been killed or had fled. It does, still, feel like a “war-zone”. I struggled with the knowledge that even my experience was “tempered” by the fact that I could not go to the more violent and “active” war-areas, which are still too dangerous for travel. The damage in destruction in those areas is (I have read) often 10-fold that of even what I had seen.

However, amidst the destruction, there is hope. FPM is so unique in the approach we take, giving the “power” for change over to where it rightfully belongs, in the hands of the community. In a country where foreigners can be regarded with skepticism, due to a long history of subjugation and abuse, people trusted me because I was with Mary. They had seen, first hand, FPM is not an organization that swoops in and then leaves, with unfulfilled promises in its wake. I was often not viewed as a stranger at all, and was welcomed into people’s homes and lives with such openness. And really, it was only because of Mary that all of this was possible—I always viewed (and still view) my “job” as just to listen, record what I saw and heard, reflect on it, and distort the truth as little as possible. That is what we do as FPM team-members, and unbelievable as it may seem, there is incredible healing in that. The message that we communicate by doing that is that we really believe that the community has the capacity to change and heal itself. This is, also, very similar to what I view is my role as a therapist—when my client’s come to me, I believe that they innately have the capacity for change, and my job is to support and not get in the way of that innate capacity.

This is my FPM story, but it would not be possible without the support of all of you. I encourage you all to read Bob’s blog and forthcoming book, and all of the “writings” we put out through the website and the newsletter, and find your own meaning in it. Because we believe that you have the capacity for growth and change as well. We believe that you can find and see the hope in FPM without us needing to tell you it, just by viewing what we put out, and that each one of you will find your own meaning in it, just as I found my own meaning in my trip. And that’s how this beautiful machine works. All of us are unique, beautiful creations and tools of God, and just by reading this, you are part of the team—we do this together. And I thank you all for letting me be and become a part of that team.

God Bless,

Emily Johnson

Sad is Happy for Deep People

2011-08-16T06:18:00.000-07:00

My mother passed away. It's been a couple weeks now, but I'm still having a struggle getting back into the writing of this book. Mom always wanted to become a writer, but never did. I seem to have inherited her gene that makes one want to be a writer, but unable to put pen to paper.

Our niece reminded me today of a Steven Moffat quote that I used in Mom's eulogy: "Sad is happy for deep people." The simple point I was trying to make was that our sadness in remembering one who has lived long and loved well drives us deep into our memories, memories of our deepest happiness. That is why tears and laughter go together in a funeral.

How does that connect with our missiology? It is a key understanding. I have been noticing all the literature on church growth and watching our leaders respond to the crisis of the loss of membership and vitality in American mainline denominations (like United Methodists), and I'm seeing a deep, and apparently invisible to most, flaw in our thinking.

Our leaders are running away from pain. Growth is associated with positive emotions, decline is associated with negative emotions. We're trying to "happy" our way out of decline.

Here's the thing: The power of the cross was not that Jesus defeated evil by numbers or strength. (How's the song go? "He could have called 10,000 angels") He "beat the devil" (I'm thinking of an old Kris Kristofferson song here.) by taking into himself all the fear, hate, anger, and rage of his world.

The remarkable numerical success of The United Methodist Church in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (according to Interpreter Magazine, 254% membership gain from 1999 to 2009, the war years) was not due to any evangelism campaign or certainly not a slick marketing plan, but to the pastors and lay leaders staying with the villagers as they were over run by marauding armies. When all other community leaders were fleeing, they stayed and endured the full brunt of the war. We lost many, and many are now maimed for life. These lives given were not combatants, nor were they innocent victims. They were those who could have run for their own lives, but for the cause of Christ and the sake of the people they were sent to serve, and in obedience to their bishop, they didn't.

We've spent the last two years intentionally wandering the war ravaged villages in the mountains and along the Congo River in the Katanga Province. We sit and listen to their stories and receive their pain. We sit long enough for the village to drive their pain deep enough into the soul until a true, deep, and abiding happiness is found.

The problems of this world, Congo or Indiana, are not solved by slapping a new tin roof on a bombed out school building or producing a new marketing plan, but rather, they are solved by intentionally embracing people's pain and fear in all its ugliness and conflict, and holding the people in safe and dependable arms as the community discovers, names, and works through its deepest issues. It's what Jesus did and what his disciples are called to do.

BTW Damn the numbers. (I can brag of doing 310 baptisms this year, so I'm not looking for a theological excuse for not being held accountable.) Remember that resurrection is a gift of God. Hold the Church accountable to the task. God will take care of the numbers.

In the meantime, sad is happy for deep people.

Shabana and Prospere

2011-07-08T07:17:00.000-07:00

Shabana (fist pump)

Shabana showed up at the Methodist Guest House. He brought his brother Prospere.

Taylor had met Shabana back in 2005 in Kamina. That year, she had graduated from American University in Washington, D.C., with a master’s in international development and moved to Kamina where Bishop Ntambo appointed her the Director of Community Development for the North Katanga Conference. Two doors down from her house in Kamina, Shabana and his siblings lived. His father is a pastor serving in a remote location. There are orphans whose parents are dead. Then there are orphans whose parents are dislocated from the family. The Bishop allowed Shabana and his brothers and sisters to live in an old house once occupied by missionaries.

Shabana has a degree in English from the teachers college and will serve as translator and language coach. Prospere speaks less English than I speak French, so he just sat and smiled. I liked him instantly. Something about his smile.

I had no plan, except for the idea that I wanted to ride my bicycle a total of at least 1,000 kilometers into the remote districts. At this point I was completely clueless as to what I would find, how I would survive, and who would go with me. Before I left the States, I had received an email from the Rev. Joseph Mulongo, the district superintendent of the Mulongo District. He said that he would meet me in Tenke and ride with me the whole way. I knew from that email that regardless of what we ended up doing, the trip was already a success. When Shabana and Prospere showed up, the team was almost complete.

I offered Shabana and his brother soft drinks. Mama Odia kept bottles of Coke and Fanta in the guesthouse refrigerator for sale for 300 Congo Francs each. Taylor had taught me the trick of saving the bottle caps in a small bowl on the dining room credenza to keep track of how much I owed her. She also made and sold the best beignets.

We sat drinking our Fantas and planning the trip. First thing was to get ourselves to Tenke where we would meet up with District Superintendent Mulongo. We needed to find bicycles for Prospere and Shabana and Mulongo. Tomorrow we would shop for bikes and find a way to Tenke.

Prospere

I gave each a one hundred dollar bill as an advance so that they could buy what they needed for the trip. Prospere was delighted, but Shabana asked if I could pay him the full amount I was planning to pay him so that he could settle his debts before leaving town. I agreed and gave him four more $100 bills.

US$100 bills are the currency franca for travelers in the DRC. However, they have to be new and flawless. I carry my money in those little bank envelops, $1,000 per envelop. Some system.

The next day, (I don’t even know what day it is.) Shabana and Prospere arrive around 10:00 am and we go shopping. In a bustling side street we find the Taqwa bus company. The bus for Kolwesi leaves every morning at 8:00 am sharp. $50 each. We buy three tickets.

Next we find a shop that sells bikes. The bikes we want, made in India, name brand Kinga, model 4X4s, are $100 each and come in a box of four. For ease of handling and in case we pick up another rider, we buy the box of four bicycles. The bicycles, however, are at the warehouse and we’ll have to come back for them in about an hour or so.

Shabana has errands to run, so we agree that I’ll go back to the guesthouse to get my bicycle and we will meet at the bus office at 4:00 to arrange for the bikes to travel as cargo to Tenke. I had originally thought that I would assemble my bike in Lubumbashi and ride to Tenke. That would take two days. But the road to Tenke is busy with heavy trucks that make riding a bicycle a life risking exercise.

We just got the box of new bikes and my bicycle case to the Taqwa office just before they closed for the day. We paid for their transport, another $50 for each case, wrapped them in packing tape, and left them to be preloaded as freight on the bus. The bus goes all the way to Kolwesi, but we’ll be getting off at Tenke. Our bikes are well marked to get off at Tenke.

The next morning Shabana, Prospere, and I board the bus to Tenke. And it departs promptly at 8:00 a.m. Unlike the minibuses, this bus has assigned seats, one to a seat, except for small children, who are distributed around the bus on laps. The interior is a bit worn, but not uncomfortable. The windows open for fresh air.

As is the custom, we have church on the bus as we leave town. A pentecostal preacher leads us in singing, reads scripture, preaches, takes an offering, then gets off at the edge of town. Actually, not a bad sermon and everybody on board appreciates it.

In about 6 hours and a handful of stops along the way, we arrive at the bus stop for Tenke. Actually, the town of Tenke is another 7 kilometers off the road. The stop is a small strip of make-shift shops on the side of the road.

We are met by Boy Scouts who load our luggage, including bicycles, onto their bikes and lead out toward town. We follow on the footpath.

About halfway to town, we are met by the United Methodist Women, singing and dancing in uniform. (Yellow headscarves, green blouses, and kikwembes with the United Methodist print) It’s singing and dancing the rest of the way in.

United Methodist Women of the Tenke District

London-Lusaka-Lubumbashi

2011-06-23T05:50:00.000-07:00

We're back on the river. There are a couple hundred kilometers yet to go to get to Kabalo. The current is with us. The 25 horse Yamaha outboard is barely breathing. We're headed north, but downstream. My head tells me that a river should flow south. But the Congo makes a long coil around the Equator. I read somewhere that there is an equal volume of water in the Congo north of the Equator as is south. Physics of a spinning planet or coincidence? or made up?

It's March of 2011, but this trip began back in February of 2010. Well, actually, the beginning is in September of 1991, but that's too much to tell.

For now, let's do London, Lusaka and Lubumbashi, 2010.

Brought by Faithful hands

over Land and Sea

Here Rests

DAVID LIVINGSTONE,

Missionary,

Traveller,

Philanthropist,

Born March 19, 1813,

AT BLANTYRE, LANARKSHIRE,

Died May 1, 1873,

AT CHITAMBO’S VILLAGE, ULALA.

For 30 years his life was spent

In unwearied effort

to evangelize the native races,

to explore the undiscovered secrets,

to abolish the desolating slave trade,

of CENTRAL AFRICA,

where with his last words he wrote,

“All I can add in my solitude, is,

may heaven’s rich blessing come down

on everyone, American, English, or Turk,

who will help to heal

this open sore of the world.”

London

When traveling alone, my favorite route to Africa is British Airways from Chicago to London, London to Lusaka. Back in the 90’s it meant a packed Boeing 747, sitting in the back of the plane on a ticket called "missionary class." It’s just forward of steerage.

In London, I will go to Westminster Abbey to see David Livingstone. If it’s not Sunday, I’ll stop in at Harrod’s to buy Teri a gift and if it’s not Saturday night, I’ll have lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe. It’s also the last chance for a MacDonald’s. (Don’t hate.)

On the plane, we’ll see British TV shows, “Mr. Bean” and “Absolutely Fabulous,” and for a movie, it will be whatever Hugh Grant is in that week. And I read big books, like Dominic Crossen’s The Historical Jesus and Peter Senge’s The Fifth Discipline and Jarrod Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel.

In February of 2010, I retraced my old route, but this time in a more comfortable 777 with an individual entertainment screen with too many choices. I found an old Hugh Grant movie to watch and read Erhard Gerstenberger’s Theologies in the Old Testament.

London was cool and foggy this time. (That must sound cliche, but I've usually enjoyed sunshine when visiting London. Just God's favorite, I guess.) It was not great weather, but it was comfortable. Riding the underground into the city felt so familiar, as if I were simply a commuter off to work. I had enough time to give the Abbey a long visit, but not enough to do anything else. At the airport I had exchanged a $50 bill for pounds sterling. That was enough for the tube ticket, the entrance fee for the Abbey, and a hot dog and Coke from a rolling stand on the street. Money well spent.

All the other tourists in the Abbey seem to be listening to a recorded tour on headsets and looking up. I look up. The room is impressive, too much to take in. I have no idea what they’re being told. I’m looking down at the markers on the floor. And delighted when I see a name I recognize: Wilburforce, Gladstone, Capt. Cooke. I walk slowly, reverently, prayerfully. There is an order to the parade of visitors, like walking a labyrinth. I stay in line mostly, and am careful not to disturb others. But they are interested in royalty, stopping frequently at the giant ornate tombs. I’m interested in the more common folk who happened to have made some mostly forgotten mark in history. Their small plaques are in the small niches or on the floor. By following the given order, I’ll find David Livingstone at the end of the tour. No need to rush. Before the nave, Poet’s Corner. A new find: Rudyard Kipling. As a prayer, I repeat the lines of If that I can remember, “If you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same. . .”

Finally, moving into the open nave, I find him where I left him last. On the marble floor, in the middle of the nave, among the poor and honest folk who got there by some curious act of Parliament when the Church and the Crown weren’t paying enough attention, there he is. David Livingstone, Missionary, Traveler, Philanthropist. His heart is buried in Chitambo’s Village in what is now Zambia. Been there. His body brought back here.

Why do I keep coming here? I’m drawn to him. There is a connection. I must learn what that is. The secret to understanding my call is somehow hidden in the life of this African explorer/missionary.

No one else seems to see in him what I see. Progressives now reject him because he is the prototype colonial missionary. Evangelicals reject him for his heterodoxy. But the paradox of his fighting slavery while enjoying the safe passage of Portuguese and Arab slave traders has the feel of our pastors' preaching peace and befriending warlords. There is something here to learn that is being ignored by modern historians and theologians. My brain is bubbling with a full seminar on David Livingstone and his complicated missiology.

Before leaving the Abbey, I light a couple candles. One for Teri’s Dad. The other, for pastors in the Congo.

The tour is over. I walk out the front doors of the Abbey and turn to see the 20^th Century Martyrs, King, Romero, Bonhoeffer among them. I was here on that day twelve years before when these statues were unveiled.

Then a hot dog and Coke from a street vendor.

Lusaka

15 minutes out of Lusaka the sun is coming up. We’re still at 37,000 feet and the cloud layer looks to be at about 25,000. To the east, bright oranges and blue greys paint over the black and white world in stripes. Out of the west side of the plane, the light is slowly over taking the darkness in shades of blue, white, and grey. The day is dawning and I’ve moved now from cold wintery Indiana to hot rainy Zambia.

Like the underground in London, the tarmac at the Lusaka airport is familiar. The heat and humidity are familiar. The routine of customs and immigration is familiar.

All my bags made the trip. They had all been opened and searched by TSA and British Air. I was carrying my new Cannondale touring bike in an oversized hard shell sports case. In another hard shell case, I had racks and panniers, two laptop computers for a pastor at Mulungwishi, and a prop governor for the aviation program. A sigh of relief when all bags were accounted for.

Taylor and Stuart picked me up at the airport. It’s comforting to know that the vice consul at the U.S. Embassy is your son-in-law. Taylor is my partner in our new venture, Friendly Planet Missiology, an attempt to redefine how the Church does missions.

The weekend was spent visiting an environmental park and Sunday we went to church in the township of Matero. As worship began, the pastor asked if I could preach. This is not unusual and as Mr. Wesley ordered his preachers, “Be prepared to preach, pray, or die at a moment’s notice,” I was ready.

I preached on the text Revelation 2:8-11: “I know of your poverty, but you are rich!” This is the text we have been using in the Congo since 1995, but for the Zambian congregation, I needed to switch illustrating stories to match their social/economic setting. I told the duck story that I ripped off of Kierkegaard and 8 young adults responded by coming forward for a special blessing. I laid hands on each of them as I pled with God for something good to happen in their young lives.

Monday, Jeff and Ellen Hoover, missionaries in Lubumbashi, who were in Lusaka to pick up David and Lori Persons, missionaries in Mulungwishi, arriving from the States, offered me a ride to Lubumbashi. Having no better plan, I took them up on the offer.

On the way north we overnighted with Delbert and Sandy Groves in Kitwe and dropped some luggage off at John Enright’s in Ndola. Without planning to do so, I managed to touch base with almost all the United Methodist missionaries in Zambia and Southern Congo.

We crossed the border at Kasumbalesa. The crossing went without major incident. One of the border guards is a prominent United Methodist lay leader who ensures that we are not unnecessarily hassled. Although travel in and out of the DRC, and within the country, can be confusing, intimidating, and at times, dangerous, we have United Methodist friends everywhere, who step up to speak for us and smooth the way.

What is overwhelming at the border now, though, is the number of transports. Huge double trailer tractor/trailers crowd the road for ten kilometers either side. Cars snake their way through the stalled line of trucks. Goods of all kinds are moving from South Africa into the DRC.

The road from the border to Lubumbashi is all new blacktop. Chinese built. Along the way Jeff complains that the signs for towns are all misspelled. Jeff picks up a police officer at the border who has asked for a ride to Lubumbashi. The speed limit along this new road is 40 KPH. Jeff was stopped and ticketed last trip, so this time he obeys the speed limit. The police officer asks why he is driving so slowly. Probably the speed limit is meant to be 40 KPH through towns and higher on the open road, but the signage is so confusing, the enforcement so random, and the fines so high ($300) that Jeff just feels he can’t risk it. Jeff and Ellen have been here through all the regime changes and appear to have taken on as their personal battle the inconsistencies of the laws and law enforcement, a game they seldom win at.

Lubumbashi

I have grown to hate Lubumbashi.

Not like my wife hates it.

Teri hates it for its rudeness. In the villages people are polite. Hospitality is the rule. In Lubumbashi young women in blue jeans make contemptuous remarks to her face.

And not like our daughter hates it.

Taylor hates it because it is noisy and dangerous with traffic. Even we can remember when there were few cars and the town was quiet. It’s also expensive. Room and board can eat up all your reserves as you wait for the train or plane to go north.

I hate Lubumbashi for what it means to the young adults trying to get ahead. People are flocking to the city from the villages with their dreams of making big money. It’s our local brain drain. But in the city they find that renting a place to live is beyond their means, $50 a month for a small room in a slum. No money for transportation. No paying jobs. School fees they can’t afford. The system of relatives that sustains them in the village becomes the system of relatives that scams them in the city.

On the positive side, there are plenty of friends in town and I can usually find them downtown at the Methodist Center, an office building that houses both the Southern Congo Conference offices and the dislocated offices for the North Katanga Conference. Although the conference center for North Katanga is in Kamina, the lack of a working banking system means that an office in Lubumbashi continues to be necessary.

While at the Methodist Center, it is a treat to be greeted by Mama Louise, a 90-year-old Swiss missionary who is content to finish her days in Lubumbashi. She runs the restaurant there, and even at 90 is pretty spry. Teri and I remember her from the road trip that we all shared with Ntambo, driving from Kolwesi to Lubumbashi back in 1996. She was old then, and thought that that trip would be her last up country.

I want to spend as little time as possible in Lubumbashi. Our Congolese hosts do not understand this and seem to conspire against me on this point. This is why we have made Tenke our base of operations. It is accessible by road. The hospitality is the kind that makes one feel welcome with no strings attached. We stay in the home of the district superintendent, a house built with money provided by churches in Indiana. There is electricity and a nearby cell tower. There’s no running water, but the outhouse has a cement floor and is always clean.

I want to get to Tenke as soon as possible, but must wait for travel documents. In the DRC you must travel with your passport and a document from immigration that states your whole itineration. If a town is not on the document, you don’t go there. Getting this paper may take several days.

The days and nights in Lubumbashi are spent at the Methodist Guest House. I've been staying here since 1991. Mama Odia is a gracious host. She keeps Cokes and Fantas in the refrigerator and makes fresh beignets. Sabana shows up with his brother Prospere. They are set to accompany me on this yet to be defined adventure. The three of us go shopping for bicycles for the team and arrange for bus transportation for ourselves and the bicycles to Tenke.

Bob

On the Lualaba

2011-06-16T06:22:00.000-07:00

In the villages of Katanga, daylight and darkness rule equally. When the sun sets, there is still a lot of living to finish before sleeping. Cooking begins at four in the morning and will not end until midnight. Fishermen have been on the water since before dawn and do not return until it is too dark to fish. Nets need mending. Farmers will often spend the night in their fields. Life takes all day.

It is a magical time when the sun goes down. The air cools a bit and the pressure of life relaxes just enough. The moon and stars provide the necessary light, augmented by a charcoal fire or maybe a battery powered LED. It is a time of children playing and laughing. It is the time when church choirs practice and families sing for their own entertainment. It is a time for old men to argue politics, loudly.

The telling of our story begins on a boat, the UM Indiana, on the Lualaba (the Congo River), somewhere north of Ankora. We’ve tied up along the shore and will spend the night. Our boat has no lights for night navigation on the river. We won’t move again until first light.

We’re on our way from Mulongo to Kabalo to find Pastor Jacqueline Ngoy Mwayumba, the district superintendent of the Kabalo District. This is the virgin voyage of the UM Indiana and the greatest adventure to date for the team we call Friendly Planet Missiology. Pastor Jackie serves a district that has suffered greatly in the wars of eastern Congo. She has been sent there to help rebuild the community. We’re going to visit her to make sure she doesn’t feel abandoned, and to open up a supply line.

The team is led by the Rev. Joseph Mulongo, District Superintendent of the Mulongo District. This is the joke that never ends. He introduces himself, “I am Mulongo of Mulongo.” The joke keeps getting better. There is also a Dr. Ivan Mulongo of the Mulongo Hospital.

The Rev. Daniel Mumba is the district superintendent of the Tenke District, where this expedition began. It is home base, safe and comfortable; no running water, but electricity from the railroad station. Mumba’s special interest in this trip is that he began his ministry in the Kabalo District and hasn’t been back since the war.

The Rev. Floribert Kora, Africa University graduate and lecturer at the Kamina Methodist University, is on the team because of his experience in the war zone. He is one of the heroic pastors who remained in their appointments as the war swept through their districts. He is also one of the brave pastors the Bishop sent to talk the warlords into coming to the peace table.

I’m the missionary and lead missiologist. As missionary, I provide a link to the outside world. As missiologists, our team is constantly diagnosing and tweaking our mission delivery system. We use these expeditions as traveling leadership development seminars. Mulongo, Mumba and Kora are building their own leadership skills through cycles of application and reflection as we visit from district to district. They, in turn, are teaching what they are learning in the villages along the way.

Elephant (accent on the second syllable) is the captain of the Indiana. He has a real name and I’ve written it down in my journal somewhere, but he carries the name Elephant proudly. It is carved into his fishing pirogue. (dugout canoe) He and I do not share a common language, but we seem to have a special telepathy. He does not know French and seldom speaks Swahili. His language is the language of the village, Kiluba. I know only a handful of words in Kiluba, those he has taught me.

Elephant is a fisherman and a recognized village leader. He is often called “chief.” Some inherit the title; some earn it. He has earned it. He is certainly not rich by American standards, but Elephant has taken available resources and grown them into a successful fishing business. He’s an ace mechanic, having once been the driver for a missionary. He owns two motorcycles. Elephant was the logical choice of captain for our new boat.

Elephant has brought four others for his crew. They all wear the teal blue uniform t-shirts of Team Friendly Planet proudly. I’ve given elephant an Indianapolis Colts cap to wear for photos, but I think he prefers his own old orange baseball cap.

Our cargo was 110 sheets of metal roofing. It has already been delivered to a clinic under construction in the village of Kabumbulu Kimbayo. The villages of Kabumbulu form the “Red Zone” of the Mai Mai, the home of the warlord Vwende. “Everything you are hearing in the last, this village was the victim.” (Mulongo)

We are carrying three passengers on this trip. Two, a man and a woman, are being returned home from hospital stays at the Garenganze (Brethren) hospital in Mulongo. They are both very quiet and sleep most of the time. The third is a woman who had begged Mulongo to take her back to her home in Kabalo to complete some family legal business. After telling her “no” three times, Mulongo relented. She has been a real help. There was no stated expectation of her contribution in exchange for the passage, but she has jumped right in and taken charge of the cooking. It is fascinating watching her kill, clean and cook a chicken with no more tools than a pot and a big knife, using river water and a small charcoal fire in the bow of the boat.

The men cook, too. Even Mulongo. Two or three of the crew seem to particularly enjoy the task. There is no duty roster. People just seem to do what they have fun doing. There is an obvious pecking order. Everyone knows his or her place in the social order, but there is also a countering equality, where no task is beneath anyone. The tasks of everyday life are simple and obvious. In the midst of this poverty and struggle, life together is still joy filled. Not only am I having fun on this cruise down the Congo, the whole crew is enjoying it. Sure, the struggles are almost overwhelming, but life on the river is fun!

Besides the cooking, the team sings to fill the hours on the river. I occasionally will know the song (recognize the tune) and can join in. “It is Well with My Soul” sung in Swahili, in harmony, with feeling, by strong male voices, always brings me close to tears. But most of the time, I’m an observer and spend the time reflecting, writing in my jounal and imagining telling you these stories of the days on the river or of 1,000 kilometers crossing the mountains on a bicycle, but mostly what I want to tell you is what I’ve learned from sitting in the villages. I’ve learned a lot about the tragedies of war and poverty, of hunger and disease, but lots of people can tell you those stories. What I’ve learned, that I don’t think you can know yet to its fullest, is about the competency and strength of the leadership in the villages and remote districts of Katanga. The conventional wisdom is still that African leaders are too corrupt, or too trapped in cultural norms, or too primitive and unsophisticated to understand complex issues. And I must add that these stereotypes are believed by Africans, as well as Americans and Europeans. But while these assumptions are often proven correct, they are not necessarily the case. There is sufficient local leadership to solve the problems that plague the villages of eastern Congo. And while, for a time, there is a need to move resources from parts of the Church where there is abundance to places of great need, there is more than adequate resources for the rebuilding of these war torn communities right beneath their feet.

While the message to you is, “We’ve got to get some help to these people, and we’ve got to get it there right now,” the message to the people of the villages is, “Everything you need, God has already provided.” The biblical text our team leads with is from Revelation, chapter 3: “I know of your poverty and your suffering, but you are rich!”

I sit in the boat and marvel that so very few wazunga get to see what I am seeing. To be this deeply immersed in the village life inside the war zone of eastern Congo is a rare, rare treat. You should see this sunrise.

Bob

Petition to General Conference

2011-06-06T05:13:00.000-07:00

Studying in the library at Mulungwishi

United Methodists in Indiana will gather this week on the campus of Ball State University for our annual conference session. I am co-sponsoring a petition to the 2012 General Conference, the quadrennial meeting of The United Methodist Church. The petition is to change the formula for the distribution of the Ministerial Education Fund to include United Methodist seminaries outside the United States. Because such petitions can carry with them all kinds of hidden political agendas, friends are asking me to explain why I am pushing this. Since I'll have just 3 minutes on the conference floor on Saturday afternoon, after most have left the building, to advocate for the petition, it makes some sense that I put the explanation on my blog.

I'm advocating on behalf of the United Methodist Seminary at Mulungwishi and its extension, Kamina Methodist University. Mulungwishi has been doing theological training for 60 years, KMU is brand new. Both of these schools have prepared and are preparing pastors for ministry where The United Methodist Church is not in decline, but is growing rapidly, and where pastors are trained not just to fill pulpits, but to build peace, develop communities, and fight hunger and disease.

These schools receive no funding from the Ministerial Education Fund. (There is a line item called Experimental (reduced from 5% to 3% of the MEF budget), to which they can apply for a grant, but that line is also available to U.S. seminaries for their creative programing.)

Historically, ministries done outside of the U.S. were called missions, and funding was from extra mile giving. Missionaries had to raise money for their own support and for the projects they brought to the communities they served. Now, because of the successful work of these missionaries, Central Conferences, like North Katanga in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, have successfully made the transition from missionary led to fully functional conferences. The question before the General Conference is whether or not the Central Conferences (those outside the U.S.) are full partners in The United Methodist Church, or are they still mission projects.

The 2008 General Conference created several mission projects to help Africa. I see just two problems with these programs. (And this is like attacking Mom and Apple Pie.) First, they have the feel of Us saving Africa. Instead of putting real financial support behind the emerging leadership in the Central Conferences, leadership that has demonstrated tremendous courage in facing down a war that has been called the greatest humanitarian disaster since WWII, we created a new U.S. driven campaign. In a time when The United Methodist Church in the U.S. is fixated on its numerical decline, we failed to recognize the phenomenal growth of the Church in Africa, growth in both membership and in the strength to take on the hard problems.

Second, even using the NBA, the UN, and Pauley Perrette (I'm a HUGE fan.), to sell the programs, our voluntary response has been weak. The North Katanga Episcopal Area, who will send the largest delegation to General Conference again in 2012, has had ONE mosquito net distribution. The war-torn Tanganyika Conference, part of the North Katanga Episcopal Area, has received ZERO visits from the General Church. (unless you count the visit of our boat, the Indiana)

It's time we moved our commitment from passing the hat to putting it in the budget.

OK. I've said my peace, but I didn't answer your real question, which is, "Why are you, a progressive, fronting for the conservative Confessing Movement?"

Yes, my co-sponsor is a leader in the Confessing Movement, and yes, she did ask me if I would put my name on the petition. I know Beth Ann's heart in this, and know that she truly believes that this issue transcends our political differences. (Funny story: I was literally on my way by bicycle to visit Mulungwishi when Beth Ann sent me the request through Facebook. As Paul Simon says, "lasers in the jungle.")

Here's the thing. I read the papers of Africa University students and enjoy robust exchanges on theological and social issues. While delegates from Africa have historically and consistently voted on the conservative side of hot button social issues, the thought process by which they come to their conclusions is different from conservatives in the U.S. Also, there is more diversity of opinion than one might think. And I have noticed a much more generous spirit than Amercans in debate. And one more thing: The Church in Africa has its own special challenges when it comes to human sexuality, the devaluing of women to the point where rape is acceptable being one.

A happy side effect/unintended consequence of funding seminaries in Central Conferences is that the theologians nurtured there can be the ones who help us break the stalemate that has divided and frozen The United Methodist Church in the U.S. into two warring camps instead of sisters and brothers trying to solve the hardest social puzzles with healthy theological conferencing.

Peace,
Bob

Legacy

2011-05-19T08:37:00.000-07:00

We're busy cleaning out the basement for the National Road Yard Sale. This is an annual event for all of us who live on the National Road (U.S. 40) from Cumberland, MD to Vandalia, IL. In the process, we've run across several old files of archived family papers. One gem is a copy of a letter that my mother had saved for me. It is from the Rhodesia Annual Conference of The United Methodist Church to a relative who grew up the son of missionaries and who continues to live in Zimbabwe. Mrs. Lois Murphree is my Mom's first cousin.

The photos of the letter are a bit hard/impossible to read, so we've put them on our Facebook page where they are still hard, but almost possible to read. https://www.facebook.com/bob.walters1?success=1#!/media/set/?set=a.10150274696130609.392974.82422350608

I did not grow up knowing that I had a cousin who was a missionary in Africa, so I can't say that I was following in her footsteps, at least not intentionally; but maybe there was some kind of invisible spiritual influence. The bits of connection are incredible and even fall into the realm of mysterious.

Bishop Muzorewa, who passed last year, and who was not only the United Methodist Bishop of Rhodesia/Zimbabwe, but was also the first black prime minister of Zimbabwe Rhodesia, and who stood against Robert Mugabe, married a young girl who grew up in the Murphree home.

If that is not enough history, the Murphrees were missionaries at Old Umtali, now called Old Mutare. This mission station was given to the American Methodist Church by the British Government in 1907 (Reliable sources tell me that it was in fact sold to us by Cecil Rhodes.) because our missionaries were being killed by malaria in our mission stations further north in the Congo and there was no malaria in Old Umtali. So our missionaries in the Congo were relocated to Rhodesia. This answers my question of why an American mission station ended up in a British colony.

Here's the kicker: Africa University now sits on the property of that mission station. And Taylor and I now have the great pleasure and privilege to work with Africa University graduates serving in the Democratic Republic of the Congo fighting the killer disease of malaria.

What goes around, comes around. Or in today's vernacular: 100 years ago, someone paid it forward.

Don't think that The United Methodist Church just woke up yesterday and decided to take on malaria. We've been playing the long game with this disease and it has been our enemy for over a hundred years. While the big initiatives created by the global church and by international aid programs will certainly play a part, the ones who will finally defeat malaria will be those spiritual great grandchildren of Bishop Muzorewa and missionaries like Dr. Murphree and his wife (my Mom's cousin), Lois.

Peace,

Bob

La Route Rouge

2011-04-25T10:31:00.000-07:00

You all know that I'm trying to write a book on our adventures in the Congo. A few know how hard that has been for me. As my old friend, Ken Callahan, would explain, writing a book is like running a marathon, hard for a sprinter. Here's how such a book might begin. Anyone interested in reading what follows?

Bob

La Route Rouge, the Red Road, runs north of Lubumbashi up into the mountains of the Katanga Province of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Even though it is an important piece of the national highway system, the road is impossible in the dry season and impassible in the rainy season. The road that runs west and east from Lubumbashi to Kolwesi, where the huge mine transports run, is constantly repaired. The road that runs north and south has been allowed to deteriorate to its present state. The mountain passes are rocky and dangerous for the large trucks, but mostly the trucks just get stuck in the mud of the river beds. Passenger cars no longer can make the journey. For personal transportation, nothing less than a Land Rover or Land Cruiser is up to the challenge. The big trucks, carrying every kind of merchandise for the towns up country, are pounded by the road, until they break down. The road is blocked by trucks with broken axles, failed transmissions, and flat tires, trucks buried up to the frames in mud. Detours are cut into the forest to get around trucks that will wait for months for repairs or for the mud to dry enough to get going again. A person with a small business may buy product in Lubumbashi and wait 6 months for it to arrive in Mitwaba or Monono.

The road is called La Route Rouge because it was along this road that the marauding gangs of foreign armies, government soldiers, rebels, and war lords raided and burned the villages, raped, tortured, and terrorized the villagers. The road ran with the blood of the innocents. Coincidentally, the clay-sand mix of the soil makes the road actually red in color.

(La Route Rouge forms one leg of the region known as La Triangle de la Mort, the Triangle of Death.)

In the rainy season of 2010, I set out with a small team of Congolese colleagues to ride our bicycles up La Route Rouge to return to villages I had been assigned as their missionary back before the war. It was a 1,000 kilometer ride up the mountain. We were making a pastoral call on folk who hadn’t been visited by the outside church for twelve years. Despite the fact that they had endured a brutal eight-year war and were struggling and failing at recovery, the world and the church had moved on to other global emergencies.

We went just to let them know that they had not been forgotten. However, there is a major problem created by making such a visit. Whether you say the words or not, even if you deny it intentionally, a visit like this becomes a promise to return with some real help.

This book is step number one in getting them some real help. Someone needs to tell their story to the world. I’m not a good writer. I’m not even a writer, at all. But this is an important story.

I’ve been baffled by the fact that no one is telling this story. Our family joke is that, if Bishop Ntambo Nkulu had had a decent publicist, he’d have won the Nobel Peace Prize. He did receive the 2009 Peace Maker in Action Award from the Tanenbaum Center in New York City. (If the Nobel Peace Prize is an Oscar, the Tanebaum Center Peace Award is an Emmy.) I was amazed, even angered, and Bishop Ntambo was visibly upset as he asked me why no one from The United Methodist Church showed up for the ceremony. The Jews and the Episcopalians in the room were also puzzled by that. (There were a couple of us friends of the Bishop’s who are United Methodist, but we did not have standing to represent the Church.) Maybe they didn’t want to pay out the $250 for a fancy cocktail reception on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, but no United Methodist bishop, representative of a general agency, or even reporter showed. And this was in New York City, the home of The United Methodist Church’s General Board of Global Ministry.

There are two questions that drove this adventure up that particular red road. First, how could a story of a war that killed somewhere between five and seven million Congolese have been so under-reported by the world’s press? Even when it was reported, you never got the sense that the world cared, like it cares about Darfur or Haiti.

The second question, and please don’t quit reading because you’re not United Methodist, or even any kind of church person. This question is important outside the Church, as I will try to explain as we go along together. The second question: How did a major Christian denomination, who is presently convinced of its decline, fail to see and celebrate an incredible story of faith, courage, and peace making? Even when it was reported, the stories came off cute, rather than powerful; interesting, rather than important. Instead of marketing plans to turn around attendance trends, The United Methodist Church could have run with this story and become the recognized greatest force for peace in the world. (It needs to be noted here that the membership of the North Katanga Episcopal Area quadrupled during the war, according to the Mission Statement of The United Methodist Church, making disciples for the transformation of the world.)

Good Friday Reflection

2011-04-22T11:26:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite Doctor Who episodes this last year was "The Time of Angels." In the story, the Doctor, Amy, and River Song are joined by a company of clerics to save the universe from the Weeping Angels. The clerics are dressed in the full combat gear of a modern British soldier and commanded by a bishop.

River addresses the Bishop: "Father Octavius."
Amy: "She called him 'Father.' ?"
Doctor: "It's the 51st Century. The Church has moved on."

It's the kind of fascinating juxtaposition of professions that only the creators of Doctor Who could imagine. But it teases out so many thoughts of war and peace. I think of young Marines giving their lives, fully believing that the cause they die for today is just. They put their own lives between the threat and those they are called to protect. I also think of Congolese pastors who risked their lives (and the ones who gave their lives) to face down warlords armed only with the Gospel of Peace.

The Good Friday exchange of the story comes as Father Octavius faces his own death, giving up his life for the salvation of the others.

Doctor: "I wish I could have known you better."
Bishop: "I think, sir, you have known me at my best."

In the Gospel of Mark, as the Centurion watches Jesus die, he proclaims, "Surely, this was the Son of God." This is the only human confession of faith that Mark honors. (Peter's confession is shown to be misguided.) It comes not from one who was taught by Jesus, or shared the road with him. He was with Jesus when he died. That's all he needed to know, how Jesus died.

While many, many Christians will celebrate the resurrection this Sunday, only a few can identify with Jesus' giving his life for others. Some of those wear clerical collars. Some wear uniforms.

Peace,
Bob

Disclaimer: This is a Good Friday reflection and not an academic argument for either a Just War Theory or for Pacifism. The Doctor would never, ever use a weapon, even to save his own life or the life of a companion. River Song, on the other hand, would shoot the eye out of a Dalek without hesitation.

Mitwaba

2011-04-04T07:31:00.000-07:00

Mitwaba is literally the high point of our ride. It is a high plains plateau with an elevation around 5,000 feet. The ride up to Mitwaba is not that drastic from the south, a couple days of steady climbing. It is the going down the other side that gets scary.

Riding into Mitwaba, I noticed three things different from last year. One, the large number of motorcycles on the one and only street through town. You'd have to get to a city to get this kind of moto traffic. Two, the large number of men smoking, an obvious sign of cash in the pocket. And three, the UN Peacekeeping Post was vacated. I think that is a good sign.

The tin mine in Mitwaba is operating again. A mine inspector (This is the guy who looks at what you dug up today and determines its worth.) told us that he was clearing $3,000 (that's US dollars) on a good day. Besides tin, they're finding copper, gold, even diamonds, and of course, coltan.

However, like mining towns of the old American wild west, the miners' score for the day is eaten up quickly in the high price of everything, and high living. The cigarettes and motorcycles are visible. Guess what else is going on.

Even though the district is named the Mitwaba District, the United Methodist Church has not been able to establish a strong, solid church here. Imagine being the pastor in Tombstone or Dodge City. The one struggling congregation meets in, get this, the local movie theater. It's more of a bar with a video machine. There is a church building built, but it is still without a roof.

A big part of what Friendly Planet Missiology deals with is how the wealth of the mines slips out of the community without impacting the basics of social infrastructure. We spend many a late night meeting sitting with district administrators, land chiefs, and health zone chiefs, listening to their frustration. They know that they are being systematically robbed of great wealth and have to turn around and beg for schools, clinics, and water wells. It's been that way for so long that local leaders have come to believe that development is begging.

We're looking for another solution.

Bob
Back in Plainfield

To Kabalo and Back

2011-03-19T06:44:00.000-07:00

Not since Stanley met Livingstone...
Friendly Planet with Rev. Jackie in Kabalo

Taylor picked me up at the airport in Lusaka yesterday. It had been an adventurous morning getting an oversized bicycle case on board the Zambesi Air fight. Mulongo, Kora, and I arrived at the airport in Lubumbashi around 5:30, as employees were just showing up for work. Of course, the bicycle case had to be opened and gone through. Then the lights went out. So we all set in the dark, until there was enough daylight to continue with check in. The bicycle case had to be opened again and gone through. After paying the excess baggage fee and getting through immigration, I settled into the waiting area and waited. Now the reflection on a long and eventful journey kicks in.

It turned out that our internet connection was never strong enough after Tenke to blog, so there is a great backlog. To remind us all of where we left off: We left Tenke on bicycle for the United Methodist Seminary in Mulungwishi. From there we traveled to Luambo where we turned north to head up country. On the third day, we arrived in Kyubo, where La Route Rouge begins for us. (We were back among villages destroyed by the war.) From Kyubo we headed for Mitwaba. This is up the mountain. Then it was down the mountain and on to Mulongo. We made it to Mulongo in a record 7 days. Not bad on a bicycle.

From Mulongo (the village), Mulongo (the team leader) and I took a motorcycle ride to Malemba to register our boat with the Maritime Commissioner. We got arrested for possessing an unregistered motorcycle and spent all day in various administrative and police offices. All ended well, but the next time we were in Malemba, we made sure we were on the road out of town before the 6:00 am police road block was set up.

The UM/Indiana, fully documented and registered, left the port of Mulongo for Kabalo with overnight stops at Kabumbulu and Ankoro, a three day cruise down (heading north) the Lualaba (Congo River). The Indiana's maiden cruise was a huge success. The dream of making connection with Pastor Jacqueline Ngoy Muyombe and the Kabalo District of the Tanganyika Conference had been achieved, a goal, that three years ago, was a fantasy.The UM/Indiana delivering supplies on her maiden voyage

Along the way, we delivered 110 sheets of roofing to a health center under construction, took two patients home from the hospital and picked one up on our return, and delivered one war displaced lady back to her home in Kabalo. Our team included Pastor Kora, one of the United Methodist pastors who served in villages under siege during the war and who was instrumental in bringing warlords to the peace table in Kamina, and Pastor Masimongo, now District Superintendent of the Tenke District, who started his ministry in the Kabalo District. Masimongo wept when he saw the destruction. He pointed us to a foundation where the district parsonage once stood, described a church that was no longer there, a school that was gone, an empty spot in the grass where the pastor's home was no longer.

We visited villages in that district that had been burned four times. Rwandan troops had occupied Kabalo, while Zimbabwean troops occupied the far side of the bridge that crosses the river. Danish and Swedish NGOs are still clearing land mines so that farmers can return to their fields.

Rev. Jackie was sent to the Kabalo District by Bishop Ntambo because so many of the victims of this war were women, rape being a weapon of this war, and because she has the strength, skills, and training for post trauma counseling. It is her job to lead this district in rebuilding community. It was our job to let her know that she is not doing this alone. By taking the UM/Indiana to Kabalo, we have opened up the Tanganyika Conference to the flow of communication and assistance. She will no longer be isolated, but fully connected.

In the immediate future, we will be providing not only spiritual support for Rev. Jackie, but also some "concrete" support. More than anything, right now, they need roofing sheets and cement. A bag of cement (that can be purchased at Lowes for $4.95) is $40 in Kabalo, if they can get it there. Roofing sheets are more precious than gold (really) in Kabalo.

Poli poli. (step by step) There is so much to be done in rebuilding the churches, schools, clinics, and civil society in Kabalo, but right now, we just need a very serious boat lift of supplies.

Thanks for your support.

Bob and the whole fpm Team

Safe Drinking Water and Baptism

2011-02-20T03:50:00.000-08:00

How did we end up doing so many baptisms? And what does baptism have to do with community development?

First of all, we did not begin with a strategy that said, "The first thing you do is baptize all the children." Quite the contrary. Our method lets go of everything, even that which we hold sacred. I have offended many by saying: "In order to say that Jesus is the answer, one must be first willing to entertain the idea that Jesus may not be the answer." It is easy to identify the things that are not working and quit doing them. Here, we have to go a step further. Because the whole system is propped up by activities that appear to be working, we have to wipe the slate clean, and then watch carefully for what begins to emerge.

What has emerged is a vibrant church life that is incredibly earthy and directly connected to real everyday living. Heaven is not the goal. The goals right now are clean water, women's literacy, and a roof for the church building.

I have been surprised in all our development work how nobody, including the Church, sees church life as central to community development. Organizationally, the two have been separated. One has to do with spiritual concerns and the other has to do with human tragedy. In the United Methodist Church, UMCOR does not work with churches, nor does it use churches in the delivery of its services. There is a donor concerned covenant that serves as a firewall. My observation and complaint is that that sort of separation denies our greatest strength and deprives the world of the very thing the Church is equipped to deliver. Now I've never been an advocate of predatory evangelism, but we are "hiding our light under a bushel," as many of us learned in Sunday School.

It was the idea of the two district superintendents to have these baptismal services. Both districts have had evangelism programs this last year and the baptisms are in-gatherings of those programs. But why the babies? You'd guess adult baptisms following evangelism.

I have a developing theory. I think the two superintendents understand something that they don't know yet. The children are both the problem and the key. Families here have many children, knowing that some, or even most, won't live to be adults. That puts a pall on your love for your children. Flocks of children can be seen unattended in the yard, or even in the road, like the chickens.

Baptism names each child. It claims each child by name. Going a step farther than the dedication of a child, baptism makes the audacious claim that God is in this action. The community now has the God given responsibility, not for children in general, but for this named child.

The pastor asked each parent for the child's name. He repeated it to me. I stumbled over the name, then in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (something I can now do in Swahili.), I baptized each child personally, taking as much time as needed. (At Centre Church where there were 130 baptisms, worship took 3 and a half hours.) BTW, I didn't have a problem with the name Ngoy wa Bob Walters, Elephant's new born son.

Why me and not the pastor? Pretty simple. This was what the pastors wanted to use me for on my visit. They wanted to bring to this event as much punch as they could, and since Bono is not available, I'm the celebrity they know. There is also something going on here that I am somehow a part of that is redefining the relationship of community and missionary. We are all discovering what that will look like.

Bottom line is that by naming these children, each one, in baptism, the Church approaches the issue of clean drinking water with a much deeper sense of responsibility. The vagueness of need has been replaced. It just got personal.

Bob
Mulongo

Water and Rocks

2011-02-15T00:51:00.000-08:00

We've safely arrived at Mulongo. I'm staying with Dr. Serge, the Director of the British Brethren Mission Hospital. (He is Congolese and went to medical school in Lubumbashi.) We have the luxury of solar power to recharge our batteries and an internet connection through Airtell (formerly Zain). I'm working on my more serious missiological reflections; I want to get them right. You'll probably see them in a scrambled order, though. We came through Mitwaba, which has to be the proof case of millions of $ coming out of the ground, combined with a total failure of international aid programs. That will be a blog, as well.

I've posted some photos of our ride over the mountains on Facebook. They are all sunshine and fine looking roads. There are no pictures of when we were bogged down in sticky mud that clogged our fenders, gears, and brakes; no pictures of riding all day in the pouring rain through the high plateau (lion country); no pictures of a five hour descent on a washed out road bed. At those times, the camera stayed buried in the pannier.

The rains turn the roads into river beds, washing away sand and dirt, leaving two kinds of rocks. There are flat rocks that are slicker than snot, and sharp rocks just waiting to cut your tires.

On the uphill the rocks prevent riding. I do have an advantage over my colleagues in that my lower gears allow for me to stay on the bike longer in climbing, but everybody pushes over the rocks. (Elephant often gets off his motor cycle and helps me push. He shouldn't, but I never decline.)

It's the downhill that is the killer. My hands give out holding the brakes. The ride down is technical, bicycle speak for trick riding on top of rocks. I only had two rock related downhill incidents. First, my speed got up too high; I ran out of brake, and had no choice but to take a line straight into a section of limestone running across the road in razor sharp edges. One bang, then a second bang. A double blow out. Fortunately my skill and good looks saved the rims and tires, but the tubes were shreds.

Second incident: In a show of the lack of skill and grace, trying to dismount on the slick flat rocks, I took a fall down the mountain. You don't know how steep it is until you can't stop rolling. In this case, my Navy Seal training saved my neck. (Really, we had a course in hand to hand combat at the Naval Academy taught by a Navy Seal. Remember, Don? Mostly, he taught us how to fall.) The bike was fine, the panniers serve to protect the drive train. I left a little blood on the mountain, but no broken bones. (my biggest fear is not falling to my death, but falling and breaking an arm. Days from medical care, and unable to ride. - Somehow, not afraid of breaking a leg. Go figure.)

All in all, a great way to see an isolated part of the world that few wazunga see, and that those who live here seldom notice. Although you pay a price for seeing these mountains up this close in the wet season, I pity those who only come in the dry season, having to wait until they can get their Land Cruisers up here. To stand on top of the Mother of All Mountains and look across the valleys to peaks level with your eyes rolling out in shades of green you've never seen before (maybe Ireland and Scotland, but not), disappearing into grays and blues; this is a once in a lifetime experience that I've now had twice. (BTW The camera is totally useless in capturing the beauty.)

It also drives you to prayer to know that this peaceful looking landscape was the venue of so much death and destruction.

On the Red Road.
Bob

Why We Go by Bike

Coming Blogs and Books

2011-02-04T00:24:00.000-08:00

Today (Friday) is a day of rest and laundry. We've been on the move since Sunday. I'm preparing a three part blog series to catch everyone up on the work.

Part 1 will be a quick tutorial on our missiology, what we do and the thinking behind it.
Part 2 will be a short telling of the outcomes of the work in Mulongo from last year's adventure.
Part 3 will be about the work in Tenke, especially how we ended up doing so many baptisms.

On top of that, I realize that you receive so little detail of the adventures through Facebook, Twitter, and blogs. I've been writing a book on last year's adventure patterned after Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It is a travel log interrupted by reflections on missionary work in the Congo. The working title is "The Last Missionary."

As soon as I send that book off to the publisher, I'll get started on the record of this year's adventure, patterned on The Heart of Darkness. As in Conrad's novella, our team will be traveling by river boat down the Congo River to find someone, in our case it is Pastor Jacqueline Ngoy at Kabalo.

Of course, there should be a third book for it to be a trilogy, so the third book should be patterned after War and Peace. Maybe not as long, but telling the stories of several families through times of war and peace in eastern Congo.

Bob
Tenke

Be a Pastor

2011-01-31T08:43:00.000-08:00

Baptized Children and their parents at Kisanfu church

Back in 1997, Bishop Ntambo called me to Kamina for a week of new missionary orientation to the North Katanga Episcopal Area. I would be the second missionary to be given an orientation by indigenous church leaders, rather than by other missionaries.

(The first was a delightful young Frenchman with whom I would have bug eating contests. He always won. I never liked the grubs. Termites are pretty good. Spiders are mixed. The legs are crunchy like the termites, but the middles are gooey like the grubs. But that's another story.)

Anyway, at the orientation, one older Congolese pastor looked me straight in the eye and said, "You're a pastor, be a pastor." So I followed pastors on their rounds in the villages and to the morgues. I discovered a whole world only pastors know. I also fell in love with the most dedicated and caring pastors on the planet, doing their work in the most difficult of conditions.

Then came the war. And these same pastors stayed in their village appointments, to continue in ministry to those they were called to serve. We lost many pastors, pastors' spouses and children, in that war, not as combatants but as those who stayed to serve. Those pastors, like our own Pastor Kora, became heroic peace builders, simply because that's what pastors who stay in the village during a war do.

So, when District Superintendent Masimongo said that we would be traveling around his district baptizing, I shifted gladly from missiologist to pastor. The first two days of our six week adventure has been a beautiful adventure in pastoring.

While no one does evangelism better than the North Katanga pastors, these baptisms were more pastoral than evangelistic. Not only did we baptize, but we also served communion, blessed homes, and visited the sick. The theme of this year's adventure is quickly becoming like last year's: Visit those who need a visit.

As Pastor Mulongo prepared me for officiating a baptism in Swahili, I allowed that he should read the long portion that includes the questions to the parents. He insisted that I use Swahili (not translated English) for the act of baptism.

The parents brought the babies and small children. Candles were lighted for each child. The questions were asked and the response: "Ndiyo. (Yes) Then I took the babies one at a time into my arms, stumbled over the name, and scooping up a handful of water said, "(Name), ninakubaptisa kwa jina la baba, na la mwana, na la roho mutakatifu." And all said, "Amen."

As I applied the water to the head of the first baby, the daughter of the pastor, I instinctively gave her a kiss on the top of her forehead. And continued the practice through all the babies. Then came the "stragglers." These were older children, those who had not received baptism as babies, but were still too young to chose it for themselves. (Please, my Baptist friends -Tom and Dick, and most of my family, you know who you are, let go of the theological argument and appreciate the beauty of the moment.)

The families who brought babies for baptism were dressed in their Sunday best. Their babies were clean and shining, in special dresses or blankets. They were easy to kiss. But then, a young boy was brought whose feet and legs were severely deformed. He had to be placed before me. He had not received a bath before this service or maybe in his life. Things were happening very quickly, but I don't think that he was brought by parents, but rather by church leaders. As all those before, I baptized him with water on his head, then bent over and kissed the mud that was now his hair. I could do no other.

It is a beautiful thing to see the church be the church. It is a special privilege to be that child's pastor and also to be pastor to all those families with all those beautiful babies.

Bob
Tenke

With a Little (a Lot) of Help from my Friends

2011-01-26T11:23:00.001-08:00

Monday morning Stuart and Taylor drove Pastor John and me to the Lusaka bus station to catch the early bus to the Copperbelt. (Pastor John is the Lusaka District Superintendent and friends of Taylor's will know him as Pastor Mary's husband.) We missed the first 6:30 bus. It had departed on time. We caught the 2nd 6:30 bus. It was running 15 minutes behind. My over-sized bicycle case, a hard shell suitcase, and a plastic storage box were quickly loaded in the undercarriage, and off we went. John's English is about equivalent to my French, and both of us were more interested in sleeping, so there was not much conversation. I read and dozed. After riding about six hours (with a couple rest stops), we were let out on the side of the road not far from the Kafakumba Training Center. In a few minutes a truck arrived to pick us up, The driver was Bill, a retired Delphi automotive engineer from Kokomo. Small world.

The drive from Lusaka to Lubumbashi can be made in a day, but Monday is the worst day of the week to try to cross the border, and we didn't want to be on the road after darkness fell. It gets dark early here. So we laid up at Kafakumba.

Pastor John handed me off to Pastor Robert Malimba, the Bishop's Assistant in Zambia. I had dinner with his family. Robert's wife's name is Teresa, also. Delightful children and delicious African style meal.

Kafakumba is the life's work of John Enright. During the war in Congo, John and Kendra relocated to Zambia and established the Kafakumba Training Center, named after the pastor's school his father had begun in the Congo many years ago. Standing next to his truck, he and I engaged in one of John's famous political/theological Chautauquas. Mostly John talked and I tried occasionally to say something not too stupid. Bottom line is that international aid is poison. John's goal is that the mission station will be self-sufficient and not reliant upon donors in the States.

Tuesday morning Robert and I took a taxi for the two hour drive to the border at Kasumbalesa. On the way we drove through Kitwe, where I worked back in 1999 as the chaplain at Mindolo Ecumenical Foundation, a community development and peace and governance education institution established by the World Council of Churches back in the 60's.

Kasumbalesa is one of those places where Africa stacks up in bureaucratic chaos. Back in the 90's this was a very scary place. Too many guns and not enough order. Now, the immigration process is fairly reasonable, but the queue of trucks begins 10 kilometers out, lining both sides of the road, and especially in the rainy season, it is an obstacle course getting between the big trucks and all the humanity. The good news is that goods are getting into the DRCongo. The bad news is that some of these trucks will be here a month clearing customs. Unfortunately, the most amazing sight in all of Africa (except maybe for Victoria Falls) cannot be photographed. Pulling out a camera here is a good way to lose a camera and/or go to jail.

District Superintendent Joseph Mulongo was there at the Zambian side. He had been traveling for three days to meet me at the border and take over the task of keeping me out of trouble. At customs, my bicycle case was a curiosity, but no one could find a reason to deny it or even charge for it. Most Congolese officials, when they discover that you are a United Methodist pastor, treat you with respect and welcome you to the country.

Mulongo had rented a van to get us to Lubumbashi. The road from Kasumbalesa to Lubumbashi is all new, Chinese built. No problems.

I'm now in the Methodist Guest House in Lubumbashi. I've been staying in this house, run by Mama Odia, since 1991. A lot has changed in the Congo, but this house has not. Once we have all the official papers and provisions we need to go up country, we'll be headed to the mining town of Tenke.

Bob
Lubumbashi

Westminster Abbey

2011-01-22T04:09:00.000-08:00

It has become my habit to visit David Livingstone at Westminster Abbey in London on my way to Africa. That may not make much sense to those who follow our work, as we often come off sounding anti-missionary. However, David Livingstone is the missionary I most identify with and am over time coming to understand why.

On this visit, I was able to devote enough time to actually do the full guided tour of the abbey and attend two real services: the morning prayers at the Shrine of St. Edward the Confessor and the afternoon Eucharist. A God-given bonus was that the chaplain for the week is a retired Methodist pastor who gave me some extra special attention.

The Shrine of St (King) Edward the Confessor is not open to the public except for the morning prayers. (Very small world moment: Students from Ball State were in my prayer group.) These prayers took me deep into history as I was connected to my own pre-Norman English Christian faith, praying at a wood carved shrine that is more than 1,000 years old. The Eucharist (communion), on the other hand, was as current as today's newspaper.

Of course, I spent time at the grave stone of David Livingstone. His heart is buried in Chitombo's Village in what is now Zambia. I've visited there, as well. His body was brought back to London for burial in the nave of Westminster Abbey. His last written words are here: "All I can add in my solitude, is, may heaven's rich blessing come down on everyone, American, English, or Turk, who will help to heal this open sore of the world."

I noted one epitaph on the grave of someone whose name I did not recognize: "His work shall follow him." (quoting scripture) That epitaph caused me to review all the graves. There it was, all over the abbey, the number one value recognized in all worthy of internment there: Service. Service to God. Service to country. and especially recognized, service to the poor and forgotten. "His work shall follow him" reminded me that most who had served well, did not receive recognition in their lifetimes; indeed, their work didn't really kick in until after their deaths. It reminds me of the Reinhold Niebuhr admonition that "Anything worth giving your life to will take more than a lifetime to accomplish." The reason so many do not receive credit for their good work in their lifetimes is that their good work doesn't really take off until after their deaths.

The problem, however, is that a core value does not guarantee the desired outcome. Many of us serve in self deluding ways. We are convinced of our call and not aware of the damage we do to others in our zeal. Many times, a whole generation gets it wrong. Westminster Abbey is a museum of human service. We are able to reflect on a 1,000 years of the lives of those who served, from kings and queens to common folk who rose to the uncommon. History has turned over several times, allowing us to have perspective on both the good and the bad that has been done in the name of service to God and country. Our heroes are all flawed and incomplete, but they still call us to a greater good.

So add to the evolving definition of "missiology:" A missiologist is one who is called to serve, but who is constantly asking the question, "Why am I here, what good am I doing, and what damage am I doing unawares?"

Bob

The Gospel According to Dr. Who, Part 1

2010-12-29T08:27:00.000-08:00

The holidays and BBC/America have allowed Teri and me to catch up on five seasons of Dr. Who. Christmas Day was a marathon of Christmas themed episodes leading up to this year's retelling of Charles Dicken's A Christmas Carol. What draws Dr. Who to Christmas each year? Is it purely marketing, or is there a theological reason?

For those unfamiliar with this long running British scifi serial, the Doctor is a traveler in space and time accompanied by a human companion. The Doctor is over 900 years old with the ability to regenerate. We are now on the 11th Doctor.

Mostly Dr. Who is a smart distraction, but it does contain distinctive theological themes. I could probably understand them better if I knew more Church of England history, for the series is as much history fiction as it is science fiction. Here is my first run at the Gospel According to Dr. Who:

The Universe is always in peril. Move toward the sound of trouble. Even though the odds are 10,000 to 3, trust your own wits. Beyond courage, enjoy the struggle. BTW Because you are always around when trouble shows up, you will be blamed for being the cause of all trouble.
The Doctor refuses to use weapons, but will often place the future of the Universe in the hands of common humans, trusting in their ability to do the right thing at the right moment.
When given the choice between saving a friend (or stranger, or even an enemy) and saving the whole universe, save the friend (stranger, enemy).
Everyone has a name. Learn it.
Most of the frightening species who threaten us are simply working their own survival plan. Respect others and their right to exist. Work toward a mutually beneficial solution. Be fascinated, not fearful.
On the other hand, there are real enemies, those who play the long game for domination and destruction. Know your enemies well and don't let them make you hate them.
Fixes you put in place will show up 100 years later as the source of a new bigger problem. Your good intentions will invariably back fire.
You can't rationalize slavery or unethical treatment of so-called lesser species.
London is the center of the Universe. The Battle of Britain is the turning point of all history. New York will always be a great city.
The enemy who knows you best is you. Know this enemy well and recognize him/her early.
Get a sound track for your life. The BBC National Orchestra of Wales with Katherine Jenkins will do nicely.
Never ignore coincidences, unless you are in a hurry.
Run!
It feels good to declare, "Everyone lives today, everyone lives!"
Time can be rewritten.

What does all this have to do with our missiology? In short, to paraphrase Churchill, "There is nothing more exhilarating than to walk along side pastors who put it all on the line to save their villages." and thereby save a Universe.

Bob

News from Mulongo

2010-12-20T09:30:00.000-08:00

The foundation is laid. Bricks are fired. Sand, stones, and bricks have been carried by villagers to the construction site. Cement and roofing have been purchased. We hope and expect that Phase One of the Nursing School in Mulongo will completed within a few months, depending upon the rainfall.

The Nursing School is the dream of Dr. Ivan Mulongo and District Superintendent Joseph Mulongo. (no relation to one another or to the village name, that we know of) Major funding has been provided by Denver and Robin Thornton of El Dorado, Arkansas, and Faith United Methodist Church in Indianapolis. Through sweat equity, brick making, and locally available materials, the community will provide about 80% of the total cost of construction. Cash donations from America provide the cement and roofing.

Now in its fourth year, the school has been meeting in a temporary, borrowed, and inadequate classroom. Their three year curriculum prepares nurses for hospital work as well as village nursing.

Dr. Ivan's dream is to build a network of village clinics supported by the hospital in Mulongo and the Nursing School. District Superintendent Joseph Mulongo's dream is to train more women nurses. Roughly a third of the student body is now female. This high number is the result of Joseph's community leadership and scholarships provided by the Thorntons.

This is how Friendly Planet Missiology works. We go where community leadership is struggling to emerge. We learn their passions and issues. We provide a bit of coaching in how to leverage local assets and connect their projects with donors who share their passion and concern.

As the project moves toward completion, the aim is that the leadership of the community has been strengthened by strategic assistance, not destroyed by well meaning charity.

Bob

Merry Christmas

2010-12-20T08:20:00.000-08:00

Teri, Robbie, and I are celebrating Christmas in the snow in Indiana before I return to Africa for the 2011 Congo Leadership Development Tour. Taylor and Stuart are celebrating Christmas in warmer weather in Zambia. Taylor will be traveling back to Indiana in January while I am headed for the Congo. (We will have a short meeting together in Lusaka.)

Upcoming: Jan - Mar 2011

Mulongo will once again lead our expedition into the remote districts of North Katanga. We will be going deeper into the war zone to assess community needs and give support to pastors and other community leaders. We will also be doing a series of leadership training workshops as we go from district to district. On this trip we will have a boat for navigating the Congo River, as well as our bicycles and expect to cover over 2,000 kilometers.

We need your help. This project is funded entirely by the generosity of our friends.

Please go to the website, www.friendlyplanetmissiology.org, and donate. Or mail your gift to 402 E. Main St., Plainfield, IN 46168. Or if you are a United Methodist in Indiana, give through your local congregation, designated for Friendly Planet Missiology.

Friendly Planet Missiology is a 501c3 charitable organization. Gifts are tax deductible. This is a good time of the year to help your tax return as well as helping develop leaders in Africa.

Thank you for all your support in 2010.
Merry Christmas to all.

Bob

Success and the R.O.U.S.

2010-11-26T06:01:00.000-08:00

“This goes completely against our model,” said the head of SIFAT.
“Ours too,” I said.

It was a recipe for disaster; we’d both seen these sorts of projects crash and burn before, and neither of us wanted anything to do with a fruitless money pit. We knew what most to avoid: top-down initiatives—particularly ones that started with a “great idea” by an American and involving a sudden large infusion of money/resources. Doing so almost always resulted in the community neither taking ownership of the project nor having the political capacity/motivation to effectively maximize the potential of the resources given.

Why in the world, then, did SIFAT accept a group’s offer to help build a SIFAT training center in Lusaka, and then Friendly Planet Missiology agree to help make it happen?

I’ve been procrastinating addressing this question directly hoping that I could find an academic way to articulate what we both had intuited. After all, I do seem to be pulling a missiological version of “Do what I say; not what I do” on this one.

Simply put, we agreed it felt like a force more powerful than us had thrust us into this endeavor—assuring us that we’d been cast as actors in a grand plan. Plus, despite all the reasons why it sounded like a very bad idea, it appeared to be the way forward.

This week I realized that I already knew what to say to such questions. When our wise leader Westley was told “We’ll never succeed.” he responded,

“Nonsense. You’re only saying that because no one ever has… We have already succeeded. I mean, what are the three terrors of the Fire Swamp? One, the flame spurt. No problem. There’s a popping sound preceding each. We can avoid that. Two, the lightning sand. You were clever enough to discover what that looks like. So in the future we can avoid that too.”

“Westley, what about the R.O.U.S.s?”

“Rodents of Unusual Size? I don’t think they exist.”

I think that about sums up how I feel about the realities of trying to build a SIFAT appropriate technology training center on United Methodist land in Lusaka despite the limited capacity/size of the UMC here and that none of the leaders here knew anything about SIFAT until they were informed by their bishop in DR Congo that the center would be built.

Is this risky? Yup. Can we succeed? With the dream team of SIFAT, Friendly Planet, Bishop Katembo, our new Assistant Bishop, and many local leaders, of course we will. After all, we managed to overcome many of the dangers thus far. And I’m failing to mention the challenges I know to be ahead? You betcha. Should you try this at home? I wouldn’t recommend it.

However, if you do find yourself stuck in charge of a problematic mission project [Pastors and mission chair folks: I’m especially talking to you], I’ll say to you what my family always says to me: Have fun storming the castle!

Family, Food and Collapsing the Cake

2010-11-25T06:03:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

As I write this, twenty-six of my relatives are gathered at Grandma Lois’ house. They’re eating chicken noodles & pumpkin pie and later will take over a few rows at Terre Haute’s cinema; my guess is they’ll pick Harry Potter. Stories and jokes will be retold and pictures will be taken. I figure tomorrow they’ll joyride on the “Mule” and cousin Billy’s ATV before starting their long drives back to Alabama, Michigan and the Carolinas. With the loss of Grandpa Jim this summer (our remaining patriarch on Mom’s side), it seems ever more important to keep the family traditions alive.

Since childhood, this is the day I’ve put out the antique Christmas village on Grandma’s dining room hutch. It’s a shabby looking old thing with its cardboard houses with beads glued on top; I doubt it would even sell at a yard sale. And yet, it is precious to us. Concerned that the hutch would be bare this year, Great-Aunt Marji suggested that I fulfill my duties via Skype. She’ll hold each piece up to the camera and I’ll direct her where it should go. You see, this will be my first Christmas not spent in Indiana (Stuart doesn’t get holiday leave this year), and it grieves me deeply. As hard as I try to create the illusion of being all places at once, Skype is a sad substitute at times.

Not having my matriarchs around this season, I have been thinking more about baking from scratch (i.e. me finally putting theory into practice). A good cook knows the importance of patience—that sometimes the best thing to do is step back and wait. If you stir or knead too much, you get mush or tough dough. If you keep opening the oven door to check progress, you can collapse the cake. [Do you see where this is going?] The same is true of ministry. If your goal is the development of individuals and the community, it is counterproductive to interfere too much. This wisdom can be hard to follow—especially when I am anxious for notable progress. Stepping back and doing nothing requires that recognition that there are times when our actions not only aren’t necessary, they would be detrimental to achieving the greater goal. [Frazzled pastors and helicopter parents: Do you hear me calling you out?] Mary Poppins, Pete’s Dragon and the old Circuit Riding Methodist Preacher system were onto something: when we make ourselves too necessary, we undermine people’s ability to do things themselves. We deprive people of pride of accomplishment, of building a sustainable system of problem solving (i.e. one that doesn’t require us).

This is one of the reasons why Friendly Planet Missiology is on the move. Dad divides his year between itinerating in Congo and Indiana. He gives time for the catalyst that he tossed into the mix to do its thing before passing through that community again. I take a “hands-off” approach to my ministry in Lusaka (much to the disappointment of those who wanted an old-school missionary to sweep in and ‘fix’ all their problems by throwing my American weight around). There’s no point in starting something here that would collapse without me. Even preaching in or simply visiting the congregations too often is risky business. Church attendance may increase with me around more often, but are those new members coming for healthy reasons, and how will their presence impact congregational power dynamics? And what about the mess I leave the appointed pastors (whose authority has been inadvertently undermined by my leadership) when I leave town next year? [Try explaining that to the Board of Ordained Ministry when they ask how many weddings, baptisms, funerals, etc. I performed this year]

So here’s my Thanksgiving and Advent advice to all the caregivers out there: Step back and enjoy the holidays. Appreciate the joy of breaking bread with those you love. Let the recipients of your care fend for themselves a bit more while you rest. It might feel uncomfortable at first, but remember: that soufflé must rise on its own.

Taylor

Build Week and Being a Good Friend

2010-11-13T07:05:00.000-08:00

Build Week

My last few weeks have been engulfed in the “big build” here in Lusaka. The heads of SIFAT, the Southeast Jurisdiction’s VIM coordinator, a big team from Trinity UMC Birmingham and others flew into town to start putting up buildings on The United Methodist Church’s plot of land. They worked alongside a couple hired professionals and a team of volunteers including several local pastors, pastor’s wives, lay leaders, UMW members, youth—even the Bishop’s Assistant and a representative from the bishop’s office in Lubumbashi came down to help.

The Americans and many of the others have gone home now, but the work is not yet complete. A small local team is pushing to get the caretaker’s home in move-in condition (i.e. walls, roof & doors; electricity and running water will come next year we hope) by the end of the month. I’m taking a break for a few days and leaving it to the local leadership to carry this phase of the project to the finish line.

Other phases of construction will come as the funding is raised, although the Lusaka District won't sit on its hands waiting for another American team to arrive next summer. They’ve already put together their own fundraising plans: crushing & selling stones from the plot’s rocky land and putting in a sweet potato crop come planting season. In addition to the planned SIFAT appropriate technology training center, long-term proposals from Lusaka district leaders include expanded farming, a poultry project, a sanctuary, school, parsonage, clinic, and an orphaned/abandoned children’s center.

For those who have engaged me in lengthy off-the-record chats about my thoughts on various forms of “mission trips,” you may find it odd that I have become so active in a project that involves Americans spending well over $50,000 (per workteam) to fly to Africa and volunteer on a construction site for a few days. Frankly, so do I. It is God’s quirky sense of humor, I suppose that all of this fell into my lap. Or, perhaps, I was chosen because my ambivalence kept me focused on how to make this the start of an empowering relationship that will bear much fruit on both sides of the Atlantic.

Taylor

For those interested in some of my missiological reflections from this week, then keep reading below. ☺

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Being a Good Friend

It happens to all of us: Someone we love has a problem, and we rush in to “fix” it. Is this being a good friend? Sometimes yes; sometimes no.

Sometimes what our friends or family members need is an extra set of hands to lighten heavy burden of an overwhelming task. Sometimes they need our expertise on a subject. Sometimes they need to borrow our power tools. Sometimes money is needed. Sometimes, they could just use a shoulder to cry on.

Other times, however, our help is not only not helpful; it enables unhealthy behavior. Many who have lived with persons with addiction issues or even physical or developmental challenges understand this problem very well. Thus, the acts of giving our labor, advice, objects, money or even shoulders can help our friends or reinforce the underlying problem and ruin an opportunity for transformation.

When my father and I needed a name for our ministry, we choose Friendly Planet Missiology partly because TheoPraxis had already been taken, but mostly because it highlighted the core of our missiology: we assist in the transformation of communities by being good friends to those whom God has called to serve in them.

Much of the logic of how to be a good friend can be applied across the planet. So here’s a quick quiz for you—Which of the following domestic and international “mission projects” are examples of being a good friend and which are harmful?

a) Physically building and/or repairing a house/clinic/school/church/etc.

b) Donating food & supplies for homeless persons/schools/clinics/orphanages/etc.

c) Funding the purchasing of toys/mosquito nets/wells/Bibles/bicycles/boats/etc.

d) Sponsoring a child/school/congregation/orphanage/etc

e) Funding a scholarship program

f) Leading a Vacation Bible School in a poor community

If you answered “It depends” to all of the above, then you are correct. To discern whether an action would be helpful, one should start by studying not just the problem but asking if the solution really requires our assistance. Doing something for people that they can do themselves is rarely helpful unless both parties view the act as an expression of love--not charity. Even this is treading on thin ice when the giver is financially wealthier than the recipient. It is much better to focus on the building of relationships and wait for appropriate opportunities to be a good friend to emerge.

When it comes to being good friends to our colleagues serving in DR Congo and Zambia, the ways in which we could help seem overwhelming at times. They are up against enormous challenges; it is tempting to rush in with every ‘solution’ that we know. However, the roots of these problems are deeper than lack of cash or objects. No amount of bank wire transfers or containers filled with supplies will fix the problem just as $10 million from Bill Gates would not solve the problems in your congregation. Sustainable solutions are messier than that; in every corner of the planet they require the transforming of hearts and minds.

We are striving to be good friends to the folks serving in the trenches who are making disciples for the transformation of the world.

Thank you for being our friend.

Taylor

A reflection/discussion exercise:

Think of one of your very best friends—someone who is the wind beneath your wings. What is it that s/he does that has made the difference in your life? What has s/he refrained from doing that has boosted your confidence? When this friend helps you out of jam, what do you appreciate most about the way in which s/he offers assistance?

Now think of the well-meaning person in your life who deflates those wings. (If you can’t think of anyone, count yourself lucky—and perhaps reflect on if you are that person) Do they give you help or advice that you never asked for, assuming that you aren’t capable or smart enough to handle things yourself? Do the presents they give you make you feel more ashamed and/or resentful than joyful? Would you have to “swallow your pride” if you ever had to ask this person for help?

What do your experiences suggest about how to be a good friend to people in your community and across the planet?

Play Well with Others

2010-11-10T10:57:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow I'm flying to NYC to attend a cocktail reception on Manhattan's classy upper east side to celebrate Bishop Ntambo's 2010 Peacemaker in Action Award given by the Tanenbaum Center. Social class wise, this is way over my head. What to wear? I'm trusting that a black preacher suit with clerical collar will excuse my obvious poverty.

The Tanebaum Center recognizes leaders who find interfaith solutions to human conflicts. Bishop Ntambo is receiving this award not only for being a peace maker, but for working with Catholics, Pentecostals, Muslims, Animists, and secular groups for the cause of peace.

I've seen Ntambo in action in community meetings. He shows tremendous respect for a local chief or the one we have called "witch doctor." He treats Catholic bishops and Pentecostal church leaders as brothers. He is always first to respond to women as peers at the table. Even though the Islamic community is small in Kamina, Bishop Ntambo prays and works for the success of its Imam.

This is the same pastor who, as an evangelist, has started over 150 United Methodist churches himself. Under his episcopal leadership, the United Methodist Church in North Katanga has quadrupled in membership. (during a war) Yet somehow, there is no competition in his manner. He is happy for the success of all in the community and will give money to a Pentecostal preacher to drill a well in his village or metal roofing sheets to the Imam for the new mosque.

Bishop Ntambo has taught his pastors and church lay leaders to be proud to be United Methodists. The cross and flame is painted boldly on church, school, and clinic signs. But the Bishop has taught us something else. In North Katanga, a distinguishing mark of a United Methodist is that we play well with others. We pray well with others. We work well with others.

The payoff has been that the Bishop became the trusted leader of the community. When he called for all faith leaders to come together, they came. Again, no bait and switch. It was genuine.

When the war in eastern Congo heated up in late 1998, and The United Methodist Church evacuated its missionaries, Bishop Ntambo decided that the Church would stand fast. He continued to appoint pastors to dangerous appointments inside the war zone. He asked them to stay when others were fleeing and some gave their lives to do this. In many cases, the United Methodist pastor was the only pastor left in a village. They became the pastors of all the congregations, not just United Methodist ones. The conference continued to build new churches and parsonages, schools, and clinics. In the midst of panic and chaos, The United Methodist Church established stability and hope. In a war where machete and rape were the weapons of choice, United Methodist pastors stayed in place to be ministers.

The United Methodist Church didn't grow because it had a slick marketing plan. It grew because it became the Church it was called to be. Counter logically, it did not practice a competition with other faith traditions, but prayed with and worked alongside all.

I am puzzled though, with all the studying going on within The United Methodist Church on why we are in decline, it took a secular peace center of Jewish roots to recognize what one of our bishops has done. If I wanted to know how The United Methodist Church might transform itself, I'd ask the Tanebaum Center.

Bob

House upon the Rock & Explaining Friendly Planet Missiology

2010-10-20T12:43:00.000-07:00

A nursing school Friendly Planet seeks to support

The push this month has been to get the ground leveled and the foundations properly poured before the American team arrives in Lusaka to start phase 2 of building our UMC/SIFAT/Friendly Planet training and conference center. So, I’ve been catching myself humming the old VBS song “The wise man built his house upon the rock…” and this got me thinking about a better way to explain the function of Friendly Planet Missiology:

People state-side love financing tangible development projects. We love knowing that our money bought a bicycle, a mosquito net, a cow, a clinic or a water-well. Like a house, all of these things are intrinsically good. The issue, though, is whether these projects are built on a firm foundation or whether we are being fools building on the sand. When we talk about Friendly Planet making leadership development its #1 priority, what we mean is that we spend time and resources making sure the local leadership has the desire and capacity to support a project before we start pouring money into it. Yes, the projects on the ground that we advertise may sound similar to what other organizations are doing, but the projects we ask you to finance are unlikely to collapse because they are being managed by inspiring local leaders whom we know well.

Building strong foundations can be expensive. It requires site visits, salaries, training, and follow-up. This is what we mean when we talk about calculating the total cost of a project. Advertisements that promise that “100% of your donation goes directly to purchase an X” may sound appealing, but stop and ask yourself “Where is the money coming from to make sure the X that I donate gets from point A to point B and that it works once it gets there?”

Friendly Planet cannot and will not make you “no admin costs” promises. Instead, we promise you that the funds you donate will be used to develop strong local leadership and to finance the projects of these leaders. We are very excited about the projects of the Congolese and Zambian leaders whom we have the privilege to call colleagues, and we hope that you will help spread the word about this ministry.

Taylor

The Countdown is On

2010-10-20T12:40:00.000-07:00

The countdown is on here in the Lusaka district. The SIFAT execs are arriving this Friday and a large delegation from Trinity United Methodist Church of Birmingham, AL arrives next week. They’ve come to assist in the building of a United Methodist/SIFAT training and conference center just north of town. As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, this project is a big deal and has required a large team effort:

With the blessing and remote supervision of Bishop Katembo (based in Lubumbashi, DR Congo), Lusaka United Methodists have dealt with the headaches of purchasing land, getting permits, researching logistical questions, supervising work, guarding the property, etc. SIFAT is taking on the fundraising for the construction expenses (including obtaining significant donations from B.L. Harbert construction). Students in University of Alabama’s Engineers Without Borders chapter have drafted building plans and plan to return each year for a work-week (the university gives them academic credits for this). Trinity United Methodist Church is joining the effort both in fundraising and visits. And me—I find myself serving as the “middle-woman,” passing messages back and forth across the globe and doing the legwork that others cannot due to barriers such as language/distance/transportation/contacts/lack of internet/etc.

Keep the countdown in your prayers; I’ll be blogging about how the visit goes!

Taylor

Discovering Northern Indiana

2010-09-21T07:25:00.000-07:00

The whole feel of the trip has changed as I move north. The temperatures are still high, but the early harvest has changed the scenery. Fields have the look of fall. Many are already cleared. The roads are straight and flat, square one mile blocks. The corn and soy bean fields are of a grander scale than the fields of the south. I share the county roads with farmers in air-conditioned combines. Rather than as with the coal trucks of southern Indiana, the roads are dangerous with large, fast grain trucks.

(I'm hoping Mulongo will get here soon. I so wanted him to see harvest time in Indiana.)

The big difference, however, is that southern Indiana is familiar. I know the towns, the churches, the people. Riding in the north is pure discovery.

I met a cyclist in the park in Montpelier. When I introduced myself, he said, "I go to a United Methodist church." He gave me helpful advice on how to get out of town and on to a bicycle friendly road north. He also gave me a bottle of water and two snack bars. Random, radical hospitality.

As I rode into Zanesville, I saw a large church tower up the hill on the right. As I arrived at the entrance to the parking lot, I saw by the sign that it was a United Methodist church. I stopped. Pastor Tom Watt was there to greet me and hear my story and tell me the story of this church, a church that refused to die in a demographic trend. They built a new gymnasium that is filled all winter with basketball playing children and youth. When the church decided to start a Wednesday evening adult program, they had trouble finding space. Tom is truly happy in his appointment and proud of his congregation.

For the first time on the trip, I got totally lost. I've spent sections of time not sure, but this was for real lost. I tried to ride from the southwest corner of Fort Wayne to the northeast corner using the bike paths as much as possible. The bike paths in Fort Wayne are not designed for riders with purpose, but for wandering in circles. When I left the paths for the streets, it just got worse. Finally, I headed straight downtown and found a fire station. A friendly fire fighter (Remember, children, they are our friends!) showed me the station's wall map. He sent me on my way. Then about 3 miles from my destination, I asked an older couple, who were out for an afternoon stroll, if they knew Taylor Chapel United Methodist Church. "Oh yes, but you've got a long way to go." I assured them that another 2 or 3 miles would be fine. They pointed the way. When I finally arrived at Taylor Chapel, there was 99 miles on the odometer. I rode around until it turned over 100.

Ann and Bruce at Taylor Chapel hosted me for the evening and pastor Steve Conner is going to take me to lunch with a group of UM pastors today. Program tonight.

Mileage is well over 800 and the horse is smelling the barn. I need to get to South Bend before turning south to Lafayette. Trip is almost complete. Wonderful people met. Stories told. Lessons learned. Right knee is talking to me.

Bob

Halfway

2010-09-14T07:17:00.000-07:00

Pastor Joseph Mulongo Ndala and I at a mass grave in Kyoba

We're halfway through the month of September and at 509 miles toward the 1,000 mile goal.

I'm still saying "we" as if Mulongo were riding with me. He is still stuck in Lubumbashi awaiting the arrival of his new passport. Dr. Ivan is in Kinshasa trying to help. We're hoping Mulongo will be on a plane very soon and be able to finish with us. We're planning on making some rounds in October, as well.

The ride has taken us through southern Indiana in a beautiful time of year. Farmers are in the fields picking corn, and summer is beginning to yield to fall. We've been the excuse for a number of end-of-summer cookouts. There has been only one day of rain, which I rode in anyway.

Presentations have ranged from the whole sermon to 5 minute greetings, but mostly I've enjoyed meeting with small groups in informal settings answering questions. Here's the outline:

Pastor Mulongo and I rode 1,000 kilometers earlier this year visiting remote villages in eastern Congo. We were interested in learning two things: the state of the church and community in districts that were overrun in the war, and the state of mission stations that had been run by resident missionaries before the war.

What we found were deep feelings of abandonment. Often we were told that our visit was the first time anyone had visited them since the war. Of course, a visit like ours implies a promise to return with real help.

We found local church leaders working hard to maintain mission stations, but completely out of needed resources. We found health centers without electricity, water, drugs, and salaries for nurses.

We found pastors and school teachers continuing to go to their appointments, even with no expectation of pay. We found an incredible corps of community and church leaders hard at work, but exhausted. Our Indiana tour is to get some attention for these leaders and some support.

They need our support for the basic necessities of life, and they need to be employed militantly as a tremendous force for peace building and community development.

Bob

A Wedding, a Funeral and other stuff

2010-09-11T02:23:00.001-07:00

It’s Labor Day weekend in the USA as I begin to write this, so I’m reflecting on this whirlwind of a summer (although, technically it has been ‘winter’ here in central Africa). For those of you who don’t follow me on Facebook, I’ll recap:

Shortly after I returned from The United Methodist Church’s (UMC) Indiana Annual Conference session, my parents came to Zambia for a visit. Mom had received a teacher renewal grant from the Lilly Foundation and was excited about having the opportunity to take her first trip to Africa in nearly 15 years. We started the visit off with an extended weekend drive down to the south of Zambia so that Mom could see Victoria Falls and go on a safari in Chobe National Park. We crammed a lifetime of wonderful memories into those few days (see photos on Facebook) before driving back to Lusaka to prepare for the second part of the journey: a family trip to DR Congo to attend the 100 Years of Methodism in Congo celebration in Lubumbashi followed by The UMC’s North Katanga Conference gathering in Kamina.

Sadly, just as we were preparing to hit the road, we were informed that my mother’s father, Grandpa Jim, had passed away. My husband Stuart scrambled into action and managed to get Mom and Dad on the next day’s flight back to the USA; we stayed behind in Lusaka, and I spent the next few days glued to Skype in order to stay connected to Grandma Lois and the family that had gathered back in Indiana. After taking time off to grieve, Stuart and I got in the car and began the long and harrowing drive across the Kasumbalesa border, since people were still counting on (and had already begun preparations for) our attendance at North Katanga’s Annual Conference.

Grandpa Jim Thompson

It is hard to express my joy in being finally able to bring Stuart to North Katanga's Annual Conference. There, he met countless friends and colleagues about whom I had spoken for years, but who lived in too remote regions for Stuart to have met them. He also got to meet the kids at our Methodist children’s home. Stuart was so glad to witness first-hand my ministry in North Katanga. …So here come the confessions:

1) Stuart confessed that up until that point he had never really comprehended what it was that I did during my frequent trips to Congo. My talk about “leadership development” and “transformation conversations” hadn’t computed. Now having seen me in action (meeting with colleagues, making my daily ‘rounds’ to the clinic, orphanage and other ministry sites, etc) it all made sense to him. “Great!” I said, “Now that you understand, would you teach me how to describe it to the folks back in the USA?” Frustratingly, he couldn’t come up with words for it either.

2) Next, Stuart made an observation that cut through the heart. “When you’re here,” he said, “you become a different person—someone who until now I’d only seen in glimpses. You radiate with love for each person you meet; it’s no wonder that you’re so loved here, and no wonder you inspire people into action! …But, if you are capable of being like this, why aren’t you like this all the time?” Ouch. Folks, I stand convicted, and I pray to overflow with love all the time.

Wedding: Since Bishop Ntambo and my Congo family had been unable to attend our wedding in the USA, the bishop declared that he would officiate a traditional (symbolic) wedding for us during Annual Conference. It was wonderful! We even received traditional wedding presents (see below), including a traditional water cooler (pot on far right). Be sure to ask Stuart sometime about the goat (also a wedding present) that kept us up all night on our "wedding night." See more Congo visit photos on facebook

Returning to Lusaka, I got to work on yet another project: helping our District Superintendent John Ilunga and his clergy-colleague wife, Mary start a sewing business (The ‘salary’ they receive from the church does not cover even the basic costs of living: Their malnutrition, lack of school fees for the children and frequent eviction notices inspired me to take action). Check out their photo album on Facebook to see what they have for sale.

August was kept busy juggling Congo communications--including helping a Congolese colleague write a grant proposal for a computer lab for our university in Kamina (I'm very excited about the video conferencing possibilities), Lusaka District tasks, the sewing project, domestic/embassy tasks, writing my lengthy Disciplinary Exam (my new fellow clergy colleagues can feel my pain on that one), and taking a much needed respite in Zanzibar with our good college friends Lou and Ilona, who were celebrating the end of their time as Peace Corps volunteers in Togo.

As always, there is plenty more to share, but I must sign off now to prepare for another round of house guests. Perhaps the guest will be you someday! (Did I mention our house has also become a de facto bed & breakfast for our Congolese colleagues traveling to and from Africa University in Zimbabwe? It seems that when I can't get to Congo, Congo comes to me.)

Much love,

Taylor

So Far, So Good

2010-09-06T04:45:00.000-07:00

The midwesterner in me fears that there will be a payback for all this great riding weather. Days have been warm to hot, but not too hot. No rain, but some wind. Saturday I fought a head wind most of the way to Columbus. The hills have been just challenging enough with plenty of long downhill runs. Steve Walker rode with me the first day, but the rest have been solo. I enjoy the company, but also the solitude. Still hoping that Mulongo will get here to join me.

The hot dry has caused the corn to turn early. Fields are golden brown. Farmers are harvesting early. It's going to be a bumper crop. Deer, dogs, and dragonflies. Have even seen a fox crossing the road. This is the year of the butterfly. Monarchs and every other kind of butterfly are covering the fields and filling the air.

Southern Indiana is beautiful this time of year, and will just keep getting more so the next few weeks. From historic New Harmony through Evansville to Santa Claus to the old capitol in Corydon to all the architecture of Columbus, there has been so much to soak in. You see so much on a bicycle that you miss in a car.

The church visits, the reason for the ride, have all been super, more than I could have asked for. Hospitality has been more than generous, both from those who have been planning for weeks for my arrival, and those who didn't know I was coming. I've slept in homes of pastors and laity alike, one youth room couch, and one fine hotel.

Everywhere, good people with good questions are helping me tell the story better each time. By the time we get to Camp Tecumseh, it should be perfect. The story, of course, is the story of the heroic peace building success of the United Methodist pastors in the war in eastern Congo, a war that has killed 4 to 5 million Congolese and destroyed countless villages.

So far, this bike ride is mirroring our ride in North Katanga earlier this year, where Mulongo and I visited in the villages that were destroyed in the war, checked out the state of our mission stations, and encouraged our pastors in their work. Not only am I telling churches about the work in the Congo, I'm getting a good look at life in Indiana, its churches and pastors.

Bob

First, an Apology

2010-08-31T07:40:00.000-07:00

(The wheels fell off.)

One of my commitments this year to myself and the people I work with is to stop making excuses, including apologies that are really preemptive excuses. So, here is an excuse masquerading as an apology.

When we imagined this 1,000 mile ride, we wanted to publish a map on the web and have everyone following on the map. The day has arrived to begin the ride and we don't have the map up. Nobody's fault but mine.

I hope we can get this fixed before the ride is over.

Also, we had hoped Joseph Mulongo would get here in time to begin with me. The passport and visa process has delayed his arrival.

I hope he'll get here before the ride is over.

For purposes of my own dignity, we are reframing the ride as a test run for next year's big September Ride where dozens of riders will join us and hundreds will follow us on the website and social networks. :)

Ready, Fire, Aim!
The ride begins.

Bob

September in Indiana

2010-08-30T16:08:00.000-07:00

I drive down to New Harmony tomorrow night to begin the 1,000 Mile Ride around Indiana. New Harmony is a historic and beautiful spot in the southwest corner of Indiana. John and Bessie Adams are hosting and 2 churches will come together for a kick off Bible study. The text will be from Revelation and the night will be filled with stories of the terror of war and the heroic actions of the pastors in the Congo. Remembering New Harmony's history, I'll be sure to include Tolstoy's take on war and peace.

The first two days will be around Evansville, including The Turning Pointe, Blue Grass, Old North, and Baker Chapel. In 2009, this district gave $50,000 for church construction. Some of that went to the new west ward church in Lubudi, the rest to help rebuild churches inside the UN Peace Keeping Zone in the Tanganyika Conference.

Pastor Joseph Mulongo Ndala, who was the team leader for our 1,000 Km ride around North Katanga, is on his way from the DRC to join me in the ride. We are trying to mirror what we did in the Congo and get people in Indiana connected with the folk in the villages there.

Big thanks to Colin and Heather Cress in Worthington for coordinating the ride.

See you on the road.

Bob

Bikers for Jesus

2010-08-12T06:30:00.000-07:00

I've had the pleasure of riding with a group that calls itself Bikers for Jesus for 4 days and 280 miles from Lake Michigan to the Ohio River. They are from the Wesley Foundation at Purdue University. Glen and Lana Robyn are the United Methodist campus ministers at Purdue and are avid cyclists. The group is an amazing fellowship of cyclists from novices to seasoned pros. They're raising funds and awareness for campus ministries at Purdue and other schools in Indiana.

The route has ranged from 50 to 85 miles in a day, just about right for the mix of the group. The heat has been record setting. Friendly Planet Missiology provided a tandem to give an occasional easier ride for weaker riders and a different experience of speed and teamwork for stronger riders. It has been a great tool for Pastor Glen to have some one on one time with each student.

Hospitality has been provided by United Methodist churches along the way. Most have been home churches of one of the students, so the welcome mat has been thrown out big time. We have eaten well and not missed a hot shower.

They're still out on the road on their way to Corydon, while I left the group in order to drive to Arkansas for a family wedding. I wish them Godspeed and hope to ride again with Bikers for Jesus.

Will try to have some pictures and reflections on the ride up soon.

Bob

September Ride

2010-06-14T03:39:00.000-07:00

Joseph Mulongo and I entering the village of Kyubo

Plans are in the works for a September bicycle ride in Indiana that mirrors the ride in the Congo.

It will be 1,000 miles instead of 1,000 kms. I'll ride through the districts of Indiana visiting United Methodist churches. We're hoping to bring a Congolese pastor to ride with me. The plan includes Bible studies, like Reading Revelation in Africa, also stories from my book, The Last Missionary, and workshops on Scripture as a Tool of Community Development.

Interested in riding? You can ride the whole month or pick a day or two. We're hoping that pastors and lay leaders will ride along while we're in their districts.

Interested in hosting a visit? or a Bible study? or a workshop? or a good old story telling evening?

Contact Heather Cress at Folsom Memorial United Methodist Church in Worthington. She is coordinating the hospitality. As in the ride in the Congo, our goal is to visit churches and communities that haven't been visited in a long time, to get out on the frontiers of our conference.

Taylor is on her way back to Zambia, and Teri and I are on our way to Ireland and Scotland (Lilly Endowment awarded Teri a teacher renewal grant). We'll meet up again at the annual conference session of the North Katanga Conference in July. You can continue to follow us on Facebook and Twitter.

In August I'll be riding with the Purdue University Wesley Foundation's Bikers for Jesus as they ride from Michigan City to the Ohio River raising money for missions. Last year they gave $2,000 of their proceeds to Friendly Planet Missiology for bicycles at the United Methodist Seminary at Mulungwishi.

Bob

Q&A #3: What's this I hear about a new training center?

2010-06-12T17:13:00.001-07:00

Wednesday evening December 1, 2009 I received a path changing e-mail. SIFAT’s Executive Director Tom Corson and International Team Coordinator Peggy Walker were in town and looking for the Methodists. They had come to see the land The United Methodist Church (UMC) was purchasing in Lusaka and discuss plans for the new SIFAT training center that would be built on it. Sadly, their primary contact in Zambia, Rev. Jean Kalonga (Bishop Katembo’s assistant and de facto bishop of Zambia) had unexpectedly died while they were in route. Jean hadn’t had a chance to share his correspondence with anyone, so no one in Lusaka was expecting SIFAT’s arrival. SIFAT’s SOS e-mail bounced around cyberspace until it was forwarded through the Methodist connectional system to me. They only had a couple days left in town and did not know whom to call. This was a disaster in the making, but thankfully my Internet was working that day.

There are things you can do in The UMC in central Africa that are near impossible in the USA. One of them is rapid mobilization. SIFAT wanted to meet with the district superintendent, key church leaders, the lawyer (real estate agent) and see the land. No problem. I made a few “Cancel your plans for tomorrow cause SIFAT is here” phone calls and texts, picked up Tom, Peggy and Isaiah (who is from Bishop Katembo’s office in Lubumbashi) and we all gathered at the District Superintendent’s house by the next morning. Several routine tasks were taken care of while SIFAT was with us (like kneeling before the chieftainess for her approval of the land deal and briefing the member of the Lusaka District on the project’s timeline). What came next was where it got complicated.

SIFAT was able to build this training center because their connections at University of Alabama’s Engineers Without Borders (EWB) had connections with the leadership of B.L. Harbert, the construction company that won the contract to build the new USA embassy complex in Lusaka. Very long story condensed, Harbert would donate skilled labor, use of heavy equipment, and a large amount of construction materials. EWB students would make blueprints for the facility (as graded class assignments) and come in May 2010 to help start building it. The catch was that there needed to be a piece of land to put the center, and the owners of the land needed to have all their paperwork/permits in order. SIFAT turned to The United Methodist Church with an offer: if the church would purchase the land and take care of the paperwork, SIFAT would have the center built on it. The land and buildings would then belong to the UMC and could be used in a multitude of ways on days SIFAT training events weren’t being held. Sound too good to be true? Well, there was a catch.

It turned out purchasing property in Zambia was the easy part; obtaining an actual title deed is tough and time consuming. Everyone we asked for advice said if we worked hard perhaps we’d succeed by 2011, but we had until April 2010 at the latest or the whole deal would fall apart. From Dec-April, the District Superintendent with the support of district leaders (especially our lay leader’s husband Chris) turned this ‘hopeless’ task into his full time pursuit. As soon as I returned from Christmas and clergy meetings (RIM) in Indiana, it became my all-consuming work as well. I’ve lost track of how many days were spent at the Ministry of Land or the number of road trips made to file forms in regional offices.

At the Zambia Provisional Conference Executive Committee meeting in Kitwe (5 hours north of Lusaka) the end of February, we launched a conference-wide prayer and “who do you know in the government who could help us?” campaign. Not long after this, I finally managed to get a meeting with the Commissioner of Lands who assured me that we would be ready in time for the May groundbreaking deadline. True to his word, our offer letter arrived just in the nick of time.

EWB, SIFAT (along with a pastor of an Alabama conference congregation that had contributed to the land purchase) and Isaiah (representing Bishop Katembo’s office) arrived the second week of May. Together with a large team of United Methodists from across Lusaka, we began the building process. There is still a long way to go on this project, but Thanks Be to God we are out of the tunnel.

Taylor

Build Week Photos:

click to Taylor's Facebook photos here for more images from build week

Q&A #2: What does Taylor do in Lusaka?

2010-06-08T14:26:00.001-07:00

‘Fall’ 2009:

When we first relocated to Zambia in September 2009, I figured that I would be spending most of my time across the border in DR Congo, since that was my primary motivation for moving here. God seems to have had a different plan.

As a protocol abiding United Methodist pastor, I informed the District Superintendent of Lusaka of my arrival as soon as I obtained a phone and his phone number, which took some creative thinking to obtain since no one I initially asked had a clue as to the location of the local United Methodists (minimal signage since they all meet in rented classrooms except for the one Zimbabwean immigrant congregation that still worships in Shona). To my surprise, DS John Ilunga, armed with only knowledge of what neighborhood and street I lived on, rounded up a welcome team and showed up at my gate the very same day I called him. Unbeknownst to me, his family and the church’s leadership team were feeling overwhelmed and had been praying for God to send them someone to help…and then I showed up. [I know how that sounds to some ears; I eschew reinforcing the destructive belief that salvation comes from America/Europe, but what they were wanting was a flesh & blood mediator, and that role is best played by an outsider]

Taylor, DS John Ilunga, and Bishop Katembo

DS John immediately put me to work as an itinerate preacher with the focus on increasing morale and the spirit of unity in and between the congregations. Each Sunday I was sent to a different congregation in the district until I had been to them all—and then circuit rider style I started again. I itinerated with the DS and an interpreter (interpretation is a challenging task in these polylingual communities—even some of our local pastors use interpreters). A few weeks into this Brian, my main interpreter, told me that he was getting strong feedback from congregations. They suspected that he was telling me their secrets since my sermons were directly addressing their specific issues. He got himself out of hot water by explaining that I was following the lectionary and it must simply be the Holy Spirit speaking through me. I suppose that this is true; the Spirit has been shifting my worldview for some years now through profound friendships with church leaders from Congo, Zimbabwe, and Zambia. I have been beginning to comprehend the way in which scriptures and stories resonate with the common struggles here. And, quite frankly, the Biblical stories burst off the page here in a way I had never experienced back in the USA.

In addition to preaching, I am involved in church, district, and conference meetings and training events (even hosted a district clergy/spouses dinner at my house). Co-officiating funerals is sadly a regular honor. [I plan to do a separate blog post just about funerals] The turning point in my work in Lusaka happened in early December right after the death of Rev. Jean Kalonga when I received an e-mail about the arrival of SIFAT. The SIFAT/Friendly Planet/UMC collaboration I'll save for the next post.

Taylor

Q & A: Why is Taylor living in Lusaka, Zambia?

2010-05-27T14:54:00.000-07:00

There are several possible answers to this question. With random strangers, I usually just say that my husband is a US foreign service officer assigned to the embassy in Lusaka.

The long answer as I tell it begins almost 20 years ago. It starts with my father, Rev. Dr. Bob Walters, going on a clergy trip to Zaire (now called DR-Congo) in the early 1990s. He returned with a passion for the region and its people. This passion was absorbed my me, his pre-teen daughter, as he made frequent return trips and our family hosted Congolese in our home (One of Senator Bishop Ntambo Nkulu’s daughters became my highschool roommate in order to get a quality education in the USA).

At the request of then District Superintendent Ntambo Nkulu, we launched a fundraising campaign so that the United Methodist Church in Katanga (a region of DR Congo) could purchase hundreds of much needed bicycles for its leaders. When I was 15, I and two other teens accompanied my father as he worked with Congolese church leaders and witnessed the distribution of the bikes. The experience cemented my passion and helped me decide on my college studies—a BA & MA in International Development focusing on community development and a M. Divinity. I wanted to be a pastor with a holistic understanding of the dynamics of poverty and prosperity so I could be best equipped to support local leadership in transforming their communities.

The horrific recent war in Congo delayed my return until 2005, when Bishop Ntambo appointed me as both director of the North Katanga Conference’s community development department and his personal assistant (overseeing his e-mail correspondence and developing a conference website). I was based in Kamina, and friends like you covered most of my living expenses. During that year I led many workshops on various community development issues and concentrated my energies on the training of trainers, so that church leaders could spread these concepts in their own communities. In my spare time, I hung out with our fabulous kids at the United Methodist children’s home. I even made trips to Africa University in Zimbabwe (in ’05 & ’06) to help United Methodist Communications train UM leaders across Africa in communication technologies. From this, I’ve started coaching UM leaders from several countries.

Much of what I did could be considered seed planting. I have been enjoying watching for the fruit of my work appear—and it has shown up in surprising places. Last summer, for example, when Dad was in Kalemie (far eastern border town hit by the brunt of the war; I have never been there) he was impressed by project descriptions and proposals local leaders had created. When he commented on this, they told him that they had been trained by me! (The itinerancy system has really scattered those seeds!)

In 2006, my ‘quick visit’ to the USA turned into a two-year separation. Bishop Ntambo worried the shifting political climate could lead to another surge of violence in his conference and asked me to remain in the USA to work on raising public awareness of Congo’s plight and the heroism of our church leaders. I used this period to launch The Kamina Project (www.kaminaproject.org), the precursor to Friendly Planet Missiology (www.friendlyplanetmissiology.org), to study at Wesley Seminary, and continued to work with leaders in Congo via phone calls and e-mails. Once Bishop Ntambo gave the green light, I began making frequent trips back to DR Congo.

In 2007, I married my best friend Stuart Denyer, and he promised to support my call to ministry in Africa. Good on his promises, by mid 2009 (right after I completed seminary) he successfully got a job as close to North Katanga as he could—at the US Embassy in Lusaka, Zambia.

Now I figured Zambia would just be where I lived, and Congo would be where I worked. It didn’t take long to figure out that God had a different plan.

In fact, the District Superintendent of Lusaka and his wife (pictured below) have a very different and shorter answer to why I now live in Lusaka. They proudly say that they prayed fervently for assistance, and God sent them me. (I'll write more about that later)

Taylor

We're in the news!

2010-05-26T08:08:00.001-07:00

http://inumc.org/news/detail/2085

Taylor's Promise

2010-05-22T10:07:00.000-07:00

Recently I reviewed my old blog posts from this and my personal blog looking for a certain story and came to a surprising realization: I never actually blogged about most of my important experiences and activities the past five years. Turns out that while I’m constantly composing entries in my head, I rarely get around to posting them. Among other things, this means that you probably know very little about my adventures in Africa and the fruit that has come out of your financial support of my ministry. For this, I apologize. I have all the classic excuses (too busy, never done perfecting a post, don’t like exposing my inner thoughts and weaknesses so publicly, etc), but the fact remains that the things I see and hear here in the heart of Africa should be shared with the world, so it is high time I get over it and start blogging.

Here’s my promise to you:

In the coming days I will tell you about

a) The amazing UMC/SIFAT training center project that has consumed the past several months of my life

b) The state of the UMC’s Zambia Provisional Conference

c) My reflections from co-officiating funerals here

d) More on what life is really like in Zambia and how in the world I ended up living in Lusaka

After that, I’ll try to start filling in more backstories of my time in Congo (cause I’ve got some great ones). Maybe even throw in some tales of being stranded in Dubai.

Written while sitting on the floor of the Dubai airport,

Taylor

Sorry. Here's What I Meant

2010-05-17T11:00:00.000-07:00

My last blog fell like a scud missile on a lot of innocent people. Sorry.

I realize now that there is a lot of back story that only a few share. When I advocate for the recognition of local leadership in the struggle against malaria, it is not simply an academic exercise in missiology. These local leaders have paid the price with courage and skill. Their track record on the ground has earned them our support.

Here is an excerpt out of the introduction of a book I'm writing. I hope it helps to explain why I get so passionate about our Congolese church leaders.

When the missionaries left, the leadership of the indigenous church stepped up. Bishop Ntambo Nkulu decided that he would not run away and that the United Methodist Church in North Katanga would remain in place. More than that, they continued to build churches, schools, and clinics. While everyone else was fleeing for their lives, they stood fast. The Church provided the only alternative vision to the chaos and hopelessness of the war. Local peace accords were brokered with warlords and with the government's army. The war was stopped 40 kilometers outside Kamina, a key up-country crossroads and the center of the North Katanga Conference.

This was not done without cost. Pastors and lay leaders were sent by the Bishop into the war zone to serve those communities. Many gave their lives. Those who didn't give their lives, gave their livelihoods. They went with nothing to villages that had nothing to give to them, poverty serving poverty, suffering serving suffering.

The United Methodist Church in Katanga grew dramatically in number and reputation. It was the church that knew the secrets of community development and of peace building. When everyone else panicked, they maintained a steady course. When all the others were crying for help, they were the help. It became the church that people trusted.

Bob

We want the nets, but...

2010-05-13T06:08:00.000-07:00

In a very successful and joy filled event, Bishop Ntambo hosted three U.S. bishops in Kamina as a part of the Imagine No Malaria and Nothing But Nets initiatives. United Methodist Communications was there to record the visit. I have seen the video journal that was made and hope that it will be posted on UMCOM's website soon. It was clear from the bishops' reactions to what they saw that they have gained a new understanding of the local struggle against malaria.

Bishop Ntambo communicated our sincere appreciation for these programs, but he also attempted to engage them in the local initiatives of the North Katanga Conference. "You give us nets this year and we thank you. Next year we will return to ask for more nets. But when there is an earthquake in Haiti or hurricane on the Gulf Coast, your attention is drawn away from us. The help we really need is in leadership development so that we can address our problems when you have moved on to help others in need."

Here is a short list of leadership development programs Bishop Ntambo and I have agreed on:

The Bishop's number one priority is a new airplane. The one we have now is too small to carry medical teams and it is too expensive to operate. With a larger, more economical airplane, we can move teams of doctors and nurses (and nets) into remote areas where malaria and cholera are epidemic. The sticker price on this airplane is $1.5 million. That sounds like a lot, and it is, but in the long run it will insure that millions of dollars of donations for nets are not wasted.
My priority is a bit more modest. We need a boat on the Congo River to access the villages that are not accessible by road. We have the pastors, doctors, and nurses trained and ready to deliver nets, medicines, and education programs to these villages. We need the boat. Sticker price: $12,000.
Throughout Katanga the United Methodist Church has established nursing schools and a network of community health centers. These schools and centers are grossly underfunded, in most cases unfunded. The center I visited in Mwanza has a good building, but no water, no electricity, no medicines, and no salaries for the two staff nurses. I've seen these doctors, nurses, teachers, and pastors at work. Support them in their work and they will solve the problem of malaria.

Charity is a beautiful thing. But charity models of mission are not sustainable. We simply ask those who are managing the big charity programs not to fly in one day with thousands of nets and fly out the next to move on to the next charity event. Stay long enough to see what we are doing ourselves.

What we really want is that the leadership infrastructure that is already in place be used to deliver these programs, and that the solutions our local community leaders have developed be supported.

We are on the same team, with the same goals, so I don't want to offend those who give to the big programs, nor do I want to slow their giving, but I simply want to make everyone aware that somebody on the ground in a remote district is going to have to deliver these programs. In Katanga, more often than not it will be a United Methodist nurse or pastor.

Bob

My Friend, the Bishop

2010-05-10T07:08:00.000-07:00

Folk have asked how I came to be in the Congo. The simple and truthful answer is that a friend asked me to come and help.

I met Ntambo Nkulu back in 1991 when a delegation from Indiana went to visit missionaries in what was then called Zaire. I was a last minute addition to the group and Ntambo's home was selected by the missionaries as a place to enjoy a typical meal with an African family. We both can claim that our meeting was an act of God's whimsy. As our friendship grew, Ntambo arranged for my receiving an invitation from Bishop Wa Kadilo to be the keynote preacher at both the North Katanga and the Tanganyika/Tanzania conference sessions in 1995. Between the offering of the invitation and the actual events, Bishop Wa Kalido died. Bishop Katembo, Southern Congo Conference, stepped in to preside. Bishop Katembo liked what he heard and invited me back in 1996 to preach the same sermons at the three different conference sessions of the Southern Congo Episcopal Area. Ntambo was my original translator and we developed the sermons as a team.

(Taylor went with me in 1995 as a 15 year old. Teri went in 1996. Ntambo's daughter Nshimba came to live with us in Indiana.)

Then in 1997, I received a phone call from the General Board of Global Ministries asking if I would take a short term contract to work in North Katanga and Southern Congo in the area of leadership development. In the meantime, Ntambo was elected Bishop of North Katanga. He had asked the General Board to hire me.

Little did I understand at the time that our work together (Ntambo and I) was to prepare the pastors and church leaders for the departure of the missionaries and for the horrific war to come. The sermons we had developed together served as the theological base for his vision for the conference and my practical teaching for the pastors.

The missionaries are gone from the remote districts (although we have access to some in Lubumbashi, the seminary at Mulungwishi, and Zambia) and the war for the most part is quiet. We now have the hard work of rebuilding villages, fighting cholera and malaria, and supporting community leaders. And while the long term goal is to leverage the wealth of the Congo for its people, in the short run, we need lots of help.

Bishop Ntambo has just come off the high of hosting three United Methodist bishops from the U.S. in Kamina as a part of the imaginenomalaria.org program, followed by a meeting of the Council of Bishops in Columbus, Ohio, where his achievements in peace building were recognized by the Tanenbaum Foundation. I've just come off a 1,000 km bicycle tour of the remote districts of North Katanga. We met yesterday in Plainfield, Indiana, to compare the notes of our journeys. With Teri, we told stories of the past and claimed our future work together. A good life's work should be this hard and this much fun, and should be done with people you truly love.

Ntambo will work the big table, the places where policy is argued. I will work the villages, the remote places where local leaders are working hard to rebuild community. Our friendship will bring these two efforts together. We both ache for the suffering in the villages. We both are frustrated by the policies and practices that do not recognize the great local leadership we know and have come to respect. However, we both see significant positive signs that the bishops around the big table are listening and beginning to hear. And we are preparing the local leadership for a time when we will have smart development strategies guiding our work together from top to bottom.

Looking back, it has been an incredible and unpredictable journey of two good friends walking hand in hand. Looking forward, the adventure continues.

Bob

Missionary Go Home

2010-05-03T06:24:00.000-07:00

In cleaning out our basement and organizing old papers, I came across this document from missionary training in Atlanta in 1997. It was written by Bishop Federico Pagura of Costa Rica and provokes the question, "Is it time for the missionaries to leave?"

Missionary, Go home . . . or stay,

If you are not able to separate the eternal Word of the Gospel from the cultural molds in which you carried it to these lands:

Missionary, go home.

If you are not able to identify with the events, anxieties, and aspirations of those peoples prematurely aged by an unequal struggle:

Missionary, go home.

If your allegiance and fidelity to your nation of origin are stronger than loyalty and obedience to Jesus Christ:

Missionary, go home.

If you are not able to love and respect as equals those whom once you came to evangelize as "the lost":

Missionary, go home.

If you are not able to rejoice at the entry of new peoples and churches upon a new stage of maturity, independence, and responsibility:

Missionary, go home:
For it is time to go home.

But if you are ready to bear the risks and pains of this hour of birth which our peoples are experiencing, if you begin to celebrate with them the happiness of sensing that the Gospel is proclamation and affirmation of hope and liberation which are already transforming history, if you are ready to give more of your life in the service of these peoples who are awaking, then:

Stay! There is much to do.

My internal argument continues. The Church in the Congo doesn't need any more agents of colonialism, or globalization as it's now called. However, as we visited old mission stations now run by Congolese church leaders, struggling for resources, I can see that we missionaries left leaving unfinished work. This is our task: to develop local church leaders and resource them in ways that do not perpetuate dependent and co-dependent relationships. We have great local leadership in place! Let's get them the resources they need!

Peace,
Bob

Canals project saving lives

2010-04-19T00:42:00.000-07:00

"People thought Bishop Nkulu Ntanda Ntambo was crazy when he directed villagers to dig out canals in this central African village..." read all about it

Decompression

2010-04-09T05:57:00.000-07:00

It usually takes a couple weeks for me to decompress after a period of immersion in the Congo. This time, the recovery was complicated with an infected leg wound with spikes of high fever.

Teri and I timed my return to coincide with her spring break. We drove down to Florida and relaxed on the beach. That and two different antibiotics seemed to do the trick on the infection. This week has been spent settling back into life in Indiana, from mowing the yard to organizing the piles of bank statements on my desk. You'd think that someone who didn't have an income this last year would have a simple tax return, but not so. BTW, the yard looks great. Just ask our neighbors, Abagail and Kirt.

What's on my "to do" list now?
1. Raise $500,000 for rebuilding community life in eastern DRCongo.
2. Write book. (The number of requests for a book has gone double digits.)

Would you like to help?
1. While the long range goal is to leverage the wealth of the Congo for its citizens, we need your financial help to do leadership and community development right now.
2. There is so much to tell you about what I saw on this expedition. Invite me to lunch or church.

Bob

The Team

2010-03-18T06:17:00.000-07:00

Ride a thousand kilometers together and you become a team. This was our team.

District Superintendent Mulongo Ndala Joseph was our team leader. I knew as soon as he emailed me that he would meet us in Tenke and ride with us the whole route, that the expedition was already a success. He arranged with every community along the way for hospitality and support. We were never more that two days away from the full embrace of the United Methodist Church, safe drinking water, and grand meals. Mulongo set a constant, steady pace up front and kept us on the bikes long after the day was spent. Going up to Mulongo, it was in his best interest to get us there on time. Coming back, he was working for my wife, Mama Teri. (Mulongo is one of 8 General Conference delegates who enjoyed Teri's hospitality in Indiana.) He's the one who had to fend off all attempts to slow us down. Every district wanted just another day. He's the one who was Mr. Cool when the reports came that the bridge between Luena and Lubudi was out and began the process that got us on the train. In the end, Mulongo offered to lead the next expedition.

Shabana Banza, who has worked with us before, served as our translator and language coach. I was a bit concerned that he might not be strong enough for the ride. He had typhoid fever last year and is not the strongest looking young man. We did have to put him on the motorcycle the third day out, but by the time we took our final ride in the Tenke District, he was setting the pace. While at Mulongo, Shabana taught the class on medical English to the nursing school students, many who were just this class short of graduation. Medical English is required because most of the drug instructions are in English. This caused us to stay in Mulongo several days longer than planned, but it was probably the most helpful thing the team did for the community.

Umba Nkulu Prospere is Shabana's brother, the strong one. He was the strongest rider of the team. Prospere was my wingman, always right with me. He also was the camera man and Mr. Fixit. I watched him rewire an iron, a cassette player, and take apart a cell phone battery. He loved tinkering on the bikes. Our bikes were in fine tune. At Mulongo,we got word that Prospere's wife had twins in Kamina, so we released him to go be with his family.

Ngoy wa Kasongo was our mechanic, riding a motorcycle as a safety vehicle and for heavy hauling. His nickname is Elephant. Elephant carried my bike over the deep water and was often around when I needed help pushing up the mountains. After Prospere took off, Elephant became the one who was always right there behind me. After all was done, Mulongo said to me, "Elephant told me that he would be proud to walk with you again."

I would be most proud to walk with this team again.

Bob

Bicycle Garage Indy

2010-03-14T09:49:00.000-07:00

Great blog post by Bicycle Garage Indy about bikes that are changing the world and custom fittings.

http://blog.bgindy.com/blog/bicycle-fitting

Community Health

2010-03-03T12:42:00.000-08:00

The two meetings we had yesterday afternoon got to the reasons for this expedition. The first was with the faculties of the teachers college and the nursing school. Dr. Serge hosted and Dr. Paul, the Ministry of Health's Chief of the Zone, was a key voice in the room. It was a gathering of the brain trust of Mulongo, all of its university trained leaders.

There were the regular lists of things that we need, from buildings to computers. But Dr. Paul hit our generative theme when he pulled out the statistics on cholera (100 cases in 2009), diarrhea (6,154), typhoid fever (413 cases with 31 deaths). All of these cases are from the lack of safe drinking water and poor sanitation.

But here's where it got hot: Dr. Paul had been to Kamina to meet with UMCOR and the United Methodist Church. We were drilling wells in Kamina, a place that, in his opinion, already has safe drinking water. His frustration with the bureaucracy of development aid programs was palpable. I have to agree with him with one addition. UMCOR has now pulled out of Kamina. (Mission Accomplished?)

To be fair, Kamina is the most under-reported success stories in recent years. They are standing firm against the war, local peace accords, construction, clinics and schools, all actions reversing the tide of the war with real hope. The people who give generously to UMCOR and other mission funds should be proud of what their donations have done, but the work is far from complete. The districts that were devastated by the war have received almost no help in recovery. Large villages like Mulongo have been promised much and received little.

In addition, there is a time bomb ticking. There were 87 cases of HIV reported in 2009, most brought into the area by Zimbabwean, Rwandan, and Ugandan soldiers. There is nothing that doctors here can do for their patients and the HIV infected are returning to their villages. The only ones receiving any treatment are mothers giving birth.

The second meeting was more of a celebration. We met with the women students of the nursing school. Female nurses are a new thing here. They are pioneering a major social change. I was inspired by their sense of purpose and their goal to have a woman in charge of 50% of the health centers right now. Getting intentional about training women nurses may very well be what turns this health crisis around.

Bob
Mulongo

Title Deed and the Cavalry

2010-03-01T07:53:00.000-08:00

pictured: DS Ilunga and Bishop Katembo

Taylor here. So while my father, Biking Bob, has been riding hundreds of miles through the interior of DR Congo the past several weeks, I’ve been busy in Zambia with a much less thrilling—although also important—task.

Friendly Planet Missiology has teamed up with the folks at SIFAT, Engineers Without Borders (EWB), The United Methodist Church’s (UMC) Zambia Provisional Conference and B.L. Harbert construction in order to build an appropriate technology training center in Lusaka that will double as our church’s gathering/retreat center in Zambia’s capital city. We are very excited about all that can be done with this new facility.

There is, however, a catch that has become a heavy burden for the church leaders here in Lusaka. The agreement SIFAT negotiated was that B.L. Harbert and EWB would donate all the construction materials and labor if the Zambia Conference could rapidly purchase a piece of property and obtain a title deed for it. The clock is ticking, and the local church leaders and I have been learning the hard way that obtaining a title deed in Zambia is a long difficult process. I returned from my winter visit in Indiana to find our District Superintendent alarmingly thin; his family finances had collapsed partly due to his relentless sacrificial efforts to beat the approaching deadline.

We have refused to give up hope while knowing that in our many visits to the Ministry of Land we have met people who have spent years in their quest for what we strive to achieve in a matter of weeks. It will take an act of God for this project to be successful. Good thing we are witnesses that God is still acting here in Lusaka.

I have hesitated to even blog about this potential heartbreak, but we just gave one more call for assistance, and we’re now told that the cavalry is on its way. Last week at our conference level executive meeting in Kitwe, church leaders from across Zambia pledge to join the effort in pulling every string they can find. This weekend, B.L. Harbert offered to send in their expediter to get things moving.

Taking it to Calvary,

Taylor

The Churches of the Mulongo District

2010-03-01T06:42:00.001-08:00

We got back out on our bicycles today to visit a few churches in the Mulongo District. After a couple hour rain delay, we took on the wet sand and filled streams. Much wading.

The Musumba Church was built 7 years ago, at least to the roof. They were promised roofing sheets from the conference, but they would have to go get them in Lubumbashi. They raised the $200 for transportation, but when they arrived at the warehouse, no roofing. Stiffed. This church is served by a pastor who just had his leg amputated at the hospital due to diabetes.

The church at Mpemba is the one that DS Mulongo wrote to us about several months ago as he reported the damages of the rain storms. It is mostly collapsed from the water. A rough grass roof sort of covers what is left. There is a foundation for a larger church just across the road that was built by this congregation 20 years ago, but with the change of leadership, it was never finished. An overgrown field hides the foundation of the building of their dreams.

The third church of our morning is across the sand street from the district superintendent's house. We slip into the living room for a Fanta and bananas. Their bookcase is covered with the “map of the world” fabric that Teri had purchased for Mulongo's wife at JoAnn's. Their twins are fast asleep on the overstuffed chair, angels at rest.

Musumba is a daughter church of Mulongo Centre. Its membership is made up of farmers and fishermen, not rich people. But they have managed to grow to 550 members and build a large building up to the roof. Dr. Ivan has contributed the timbers for the roof. The timbers are crowding out the center hallway in the DS's house. The sheets of roofing are still missing. While it was the Mulongo Centre Church that stayed open through the war, it was lay people from the Musumba Church that went there to help make that happen.

While we were there, a mother brought her baby for dedication. Always be prepared to pray for a new baby.

Bob
Mulongo

Mulongo Hospital

2010-02-26T01:30:00.000-08:00

The hospital at Mulongo is a classic missionary hospital. It was established and continues to be supported by British Brethren. It is now in its second generation of Congolese doctors. In recent years, the hospital has grown in expertise and capacity to serve a region of over 200 kms in radius. On any given day, the hospital yard is filled with patients who have walked days for treatment. (The most common cause of death is arriving too late.)

Dr. Ivan Mulongo, a home grown Albert Schweitzer, came from the city to be a village doctor. Beyond the hospital work, he established outpost health centers and trained nurses to serve in them. A United Methodist, Dr. Ivan built a culture of trust between competing denominations and has extended the work of the British Brethren missionary hospital into the greater region through the United Methodist nursing school. Dr. Ivan's dedication, hard work, and innovation won him a seat in the new parliament. He now resides in Kinshasa, but returns seasonally to help out. He is a tireless advocate for village health.

Dr. Serge is Dr. Ivan's hand picked successor. A Lubumbashi native, Dr. Serge came to Mulongo fresh out of medical school in Lubumbashi, wanting the kind of work experience he was not going to get in the city. Six months out of medical school, he was in charge of the hospital. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he sees about 40 patients a day. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he is in surgery, 6 to 10 times a day. He loves the work and is constantly researching the variety of rare cases he sees. (His winsome smile caught him a beautiful wife and now they have a happy baby girl.)

Both Drs. Ivan and Serge represent the kind of professional I'm seeing more and more of in the villages. These are not the Congolese you hear of lining their pockets at the expense of the people they are called to serve. They are not the ones taking their educations to the city or out of the country to cash in on their skills and good fortune. These are of the growing number of Congolese professionals who are taking their talents to the abandoned places of the country. For Dr. Ivan, it is clearly a case of caring about the development of the whole country, not just the cities. For Dr. Serge, it is the pure joy of a day's work, well done.

Bob
Mulongo

Pastors and Lay Leaders

2010-02-25T01:25:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I met with the pastors of the Mulongo District. We discussed all the deeper theological issues of a pastor/theologian leading a community out of war and poverty. When we got to the “how is life for you?” questions, the key issue was how one finds the time to plow, tend, and harvest their own farms and do the work of the Church. Our pastors are sent here. This is not their home. They have no established extended family system to support them. Off the bat, they have to create an income for their families, and at the same time, tend to all the business of the Church. BTW, they tell me that without the farm tools they received at annual conference, their families would have starved.

Today I met with lay leaders. After affirming that the strength of the Methodist movement has always been in the lay leadership, I entered into a covenant with the lay leaders that we would together work to make life possible for our pastors, so that they can be about the work to which they have been called. There was no disagreement. We were all on the same page.

Leadership development isn't usually about convincing people to change their minds or behavior. It is usually about making clear what we all want to accomplish together, and claiming a specific responsibility toward the common goal.

This is a district that is rebuilding churches and parsonages, schools and clinics. It has claimed a special call to community health and expresses that call through a nursing school and outpost clinics. They dream of a boat that can be a floating clinic traveling up and down the river. They want to address the issue of clean drinking water. They are hoping to raise enough money to purchase a hammer mill to mill grain to help support their pastors. They are imagining a school with computers. (Right now, the laptop given to DS Mulongo by the former South Indiana Conference in Bloomington is the only computer in the village of over 100,000 people.)

If I were wanting to help in Africa, and wanted to know that my money was well spent, I'd invest in the Mulongo District. They know what they are doing, and they are working hard together toward their dreams.

Bob
Mulongo

Bicycle Friends

2010-02-24T01:19:00.000-08:00

9 Days, 550 Kms, 2 Flats, 2 Rain Out Days, Lots of Adventures, No Problems.

This blog post is for those who are following our adventures as bicycle enthusiasts, especially Steve at The Turning Pointe in Evansville, and Joshua at Lockerbie Central, and Bill and Frank and the whole shop at Bicycle Garage Indy, and Kirt and John, my Plainfield spinning partners.

Kirt: The spinning has paid off in form and endurance.

Bill: The Cannondale T1 is the perfect bike for Africa. It truly is the bicycle equivalent of a Land Rover Defender. (paint scheme the same, even) Just thinking, do I still get a thirty day check up?

Frank: All choices on set up have been spot on. Thanks especially for the wheel build. I have tortured the rims. Have had two flats, no broken spokes. A lot of sharp rocks on very technical downhills. Couldn't miss them all. Wish I had more spare tubes. One is not repairable. Tires are great. Still on the original set. Racks and panniers perfect. Fenders good choice, except had a couple days of mud that clogged them up a lot. Moved them out as far a possible. BMX pedals great choice! Lose a little on the upstroke for the ability to exit fast. Laid it down in the sand a couple times, but no serious mishaps. Tools just right. Most used accessory? The bell.

My riding companions are riding bikes built in India, brand name Kinga (Swahili for bicycle), also known as 4X4. They're single speed, but very strong. I have the bike advantage, but not by much when we get into the bush. We have a motor bike following for safety and general assistance.

This post is coming from Mulongo, my primary destination and halfway home. Started in mud on the road to the mines. Relatively fast road, but with large truck traffic. The Cannondale is a good climber and a runaway train on the downhill. Once we made the turn off the main road, it was 450 kms over the Mother of All Mountains. (Really, that's what they call it.) I don't know how high we got, but Mitwaba is marked as 1300 meters on my Michelin map, and we climbed for three hours beyond Mitwaba. The uphill was a killer (hot), but the down hill was actually dangerous. Steep, rocky descents, blew out two tires. Got a great picture of a sign, and truck wheel that serves as the bell, that says ring the bell before descending. There's a village 500 meters below that will answer if there is up coming traffic. Most beautiful mountain vistas I've ever seen, and I've been to New Zealand! Spent one night on the top of the mountain. Found my new favorite waterfall (and I've been to Victoria Falls). Had to stop taking photos. Every switchback brought a new “Wow!” Think Road to the Sun in the Cascades.

Once I figured out that I look like a dork in pictures, I started taking pictures of the bike at points of interest, kinda like the Travel Gnome. This Cannondale has been where no Cannondale has been before. (Enough shameless product plugs?)

A lot of village hospitality. Sometimes, I'm in the tent. Sometimes, in a hut. Rains almost every night, but we were only rained out two days. Have to manage my drinking water. Thank God that Coca Cola discovered the bottled water market here. (I do have a filter, if needed.) We see about 4 to 5 transports a day moving goods up country, mostly stuck or broken down, but goods do get up here. I mark the frontier as beyond where you can buy a Coke. We hit a sort of major market about every other day. We carry at least two live chickens at all times and the last couple days, three doves.

You'll have to read my blog “Return to Mitwaba” to get an idea of why, but the doing it is pure worth it.

Steve, Josh: I figure I've got at least three more of these expeditions before I've visited all the remote districts. Look at your Jan to Mar for the next 3 years.

Bob
Mulongo

Return to Mitwaba

2010-02-23T08:11:00.000-08:00

It was in 1998 when the General Board of Global Ministries in New York City decided to evacuate all United Methodist missionaries from the DRCongo. I was in the mountains in the Mitwaba District when the call came on the district superintendent's ham radio. I left.

Now in 2010, I arrived at the border of the Mitwaba District at the village of Kyubo, greeted by a wave of United Methodists. Those who have visited the communities in Africa know what these greetings can look like. This was all that and something much, much deeper personally. These were my people. I was their missionary. (Sorry about the colonial/paternalistic sounding language, but pastors know what I mean.)

Since my leaving, these people have gone through the most under-reported human tragedy since the Holocaust, 4 to 5 million Congolese killed, and I was stepping onto this hallowed ground. As I stepped into the district, I saw the remaining bricks of the burned out church. 85% of the village had been burned. (UN numbers) Then I was taken to the mass graves, marked by three simple wooden crosses.

First the May-May (pronounced My My) came through burning and killing. Then government troops swept out the May-May, likewise burning and killing. The slaughter was indiscriminate and brutal, rape and machete being the weapons of choice.

I'll write later on “Everything I Know about the War in Congo I Learned in the Village,” but keeping it short, when the regular Congolese troops were shown to be no match against the invading Rwandan and Ugandan armies, the May-May arose as the “saviors” of the Congolese people. Think Khmer Rouge. They were saving the people through a reign of fire and death. The name May-May means Water-Water. Spiritually high (and drugged up), the May-May believed that bullets passed through them like water. They were led by war lords who wore necklaces of human body parts (genitalia). They terrorized the land. That being said, when the government troops finally displaced them, the village experienced death and destruction all over again.

With DS Mulongo and DS Mutombo of the Mitwaba District, I had just entered what had come to be known as Le Triangle de la Mort (The Triangle of Death), also known as the Route Rouge (the Red Road). As we rode north, we saw village after village with the same story. Villages that at one time were things of beauty, now looked like the bush.

Here's just another tragedy: I'm the first emissary to visit these villages (and I'm five years late.) I now know why I had to come and why I had to ride a bicycle to Mulongo. It was the only way I would have seen this.

Bob
Mulongo

Worship in Tenke

2010-02-18T12:00:00.000-08:00

The young men's choir in Tenke, where Bob worshiped last Sunday. (this video was taken on last year's visit)

Valentines Day in Tenke

2010-02-15T10:07:00.000-08:00

Warm and sunny, light breeze through the open windows, church was great today! It started at 9:00 am and ended at 12:30 pm. Not a minute wasted on non-essentials. I don't know how churches in America can build community in just one hour. I really don't understand the drive-though 45 minute services. (If you're one of those, don't be offended, I just don't get it.) With four choirs in full concert mode and a weeks worth of hard living to process, it takes at least three hours to decompress.

Things you don't see in American churches: four offerings; a tithe offering, a thank offering, a response to the sermon offering (It was pretty good today), and a special offering to end the service. This week the church was raising money to send the youth choir on tour in the neighboring district of Lubudi. This offering was especially effective. DS Masimango (both pastor of the Tenke Church and District Superintendent of the Tenke District) went out into the congregation and did a direct ask for 500 Congo Francs (about 50c) from members. At first he responded to those who raised their hands, then began calling people out. It was all done in good humor, no one could refuse the youth choir, and no one was asked who couldn't respond. The choir got the money they needed.

Another thing you don't see in an American church: During the congregational announcements, directions on how to avoid malaria were given.

Probably not seen: I presented two orienteering compasses to the Boy Scouts who helped us with our luggage the day we arrived. These were compasses Teri sent along so that I wouldn't get lost.

Sort of seen, seldom done as well: Two babies were dedicated. (Infant baptism is rare here, but baby dedication is a BIG deal.) The Lion King got it right. It is a special time when a child is raised before God and the community. Pastor Mulongo read the words and I held one of the babies. Nothing like it.

The music was outstanding, a whole range of singing and dancing. When one of the choirs launched into an anthem on "love," tracking it through the biblical stories, I knew that I had chosen wisely for the sermon.

I went with the Gospel of John and love. (We did mention the transfiguration.) It was a three pointer: God loves us with our friends and when we feel we have no friends. I told the story of the footprints in the sand. God loves us in wealth and poverty. I talked about living between the thank offering and the tithe offering. God loves us when we are good and when we are bad. God delights in our doing justice and mercy and as we grow as disciples of Jesus Christ, but God also loves us as we are still sinners. Enter the Gospel.

Lunch to follow.

Bob

[photos from 2009 visit to Lubudi and Tenke]

Really Radical Hospitality

2010-02-13T06:01:00.000-08:00

Here's how we do leadership development at Friendly Planet Missiology: We receive an invitation from a church or community leader. We measure the passion behind the invitation. If it is clear that the local leader will move heaven and earth to make it happen, we will respond by creating an exercise that is an answer, but not the answer that is expected. The response we propose will require extraordinary imagination and social courage to deliver.

District Superintendent Mulongo invited us to visit the Mulongo District. They are suffering from cholera and typhoid fever brought on by heavy rains and poor sanitation. There is a new nursing school there that needs start up support. The districts along the Congo River want to build a boat to carry pastors and nurses to villages that are only accessible by boat. The hoped for response is money. The expected response is nothing. Our response is to go visit by bicycle in the rainy season to see the problems at their worst.

When DS Mulongo responded that he would be meeting the team in Tenke and leading us to Mulongo, I knew that the project was already a success.

As I write this blog, two mechanics and several spectators/helpers are on the front porch of the Tenke parsonage, building bicycles for the team. The bicycles were purchased through the generosity of Friendly Planet Missiology donors, at $100 a bike. Watching the task of taking a box of parts and creating a riding machine convinces me of the truth of local genius.

A major bus line runs from Lubumbashi to Kolwesi, a bus large enough to handle our three big cases. My bike was in an airline case. The four bikes we purchased in Lubumbashi were still in their shipping box. I had an additional hard suitcase filled with bike parts and camping equipment. (My clothes are in my backpack, basically the shirt I'm wearing and another one just like it.) Shabana, long time Friendly Planet assistant, arranged for the large cases to be preloaded the night before. That got the bicycles to the roadside stop for Tenke. The next puzzle was how to get these large cases from the bus stop to the town of Tenke, 7 kms away. Enter the local leadership.

We were met at the bus stop by a troop of Boy Scouts in uniform. They handled the luggage, strapping the extra large cases on the backs of three bicycles and walking the bikes to town. The young men's choir provided music for the journey. Singing helps to make a long walk in the hot sun a joy filled event. (I love a parade!) Speaking of the hot sun, a young man with a parasol tried to keep the sun off my un-tan skin. I tried to protest, but my peers just laughed at my bad Swahili.

The scouts quickly disappeared ahead of us into the tall green grass, and the choir took us along the single track bike path as far as the main road into town. There the Kipendano (United Methodist Women) greeted us in full dress: colorfully patterned kikwembes (long, wrap-around skirts), green blouses, and yellow scarves. (Why can't our UMW units have sharp uniforms like these?) They sang and danced us the rest of the way. I've never actually seen Zumba, but I think it's something like that.

In some ways, it feels like a throw back to David Livingstone's arrival in Ugigi or Chitombo, all of the pageantry of a traditional African welcome, something I hope never goes away. If nothing else, my arrival communicates that the larger (global) community knows that the community of Tenke exists and struggles. (The movie Avatar took “I see you,” straight from a Bantu greeting.)

To be continued . . .

Bob
Tenke

[photos: Top--Mama DS of Tenke preparing meals for Bob and Taylor 2009; Bottom---United Methodist Women's Tenke District meeting 2009]

Tenke - Mulongo

2010-02-10T21:26:00.000-08:00

(Photos taken Tenke District 2009)

Lubumbashi, Feb. 11, 2010.

The team is gathering in Lubumbashi and Tenke for a bicycle visit to the Mulongo District. We've allowed 6 weeks for the 1,000 km tour.

Three district superintendents, Pastor Masimango of the Tenke District, Pastor Kazadi of the Lubudi District, and Pastor Mulongo of the Mulongo District are in or on their way to Tenke. I have assembled a team of three young adults in Lubumbashi: Shabana, Prospere, and Kula. they have agreed to, and are pretty excited about, accompanying me on the trip.

The purpose of the trip is three fold. First, I owe Pastor Mulongo a return visit. He is one of 8 United Methodist delegates we brought to Indiana for a visit in 2008. I wanted to visit all those who had come to Indiana in their own settings. This has taken us to some very remote districts in the North Katanga region.

Second, this is a "test" ride for deeper rides. It is becoming a signature act of Friendly Planet Missiology to visit the most remote of our districts to see the actual settings in which leaders do their work. My goal for this year is to eventually get to Kabalo, where Jacqueline Ngoy is district superintendent. Her work is especially critical with women who have experienced rape as a weapon of war. Kabalo was devastated by the war and Jacqueline's job is to help rebuild community.

Third, the Mulongo District, in conjunction with the other districts along the Congo River, is proposing a boat project. While the bicycles have been a great help, there are many villages only accessible by boat. Pastor Mulongo is leading the push to get a boat that can move community leaders up and down the river.

Today, Feb 11, I'm unpacking my bike. (It has fascinated TSA and customs agents all along the way here.) I'll build it. The team will need bicycles, which we'll purchase today. Tomorrow, we'll try to get off early to make it all the way to the seminary at Mulunguishi to deliver laptops. It's 140 kms, which is twice what we'll cover on average, but the road is paved. That will be the last pavement we'll see.

Keep following our adventures!

And don't forget that all this is only made possible by our friends and friends of the pastors and church leaders in the Congo. Go to our website and donate. Thanks.

Bob

Thank you Rev. Bob

2010-02-05T04:48:00.000-08:00

An open letter from Rev. Ilgha (serving in Kamina) to our biking Bob:

Dear Rev. Bob Walters,

Greetings in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. I am writing just to express my gratitude to you, and on behalf of all the North Katanga annual conference pastors whom you donated bicycles last year I say thanks.

It is world widely known that Congolese pastors suffer a lot to spread the Word of God. They walk miles and miles on bare foot to bring the Good News of God to the world. Most of them cannot afford bicycles, motorbikes, cars, or train fare and the train does not get to all the villages of the Congo. They are the people who have accepted to sacrifice their lives for Jesus Christ. Yet, it is often hard to have them noticed and backed up.

We owe you thanks because you have noticed them and your action is out of love. You did it not because you are in abundance, but it is a sacrifice, because you want to follow the path of Christ who says, “Love one another.” And no sacrifice, no love. And love is not love until you give it away. Christ renounced the self for the sake of others (the whole world).

Undoubtedly, we want to acknowledge your spent calories in the trip, your beloved family you often leave behind, lots of expenses you involve in transportation, your time you put to look for funds, and travel in order to alleviate the sufferings of your fellow pastors in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. I understand that you have a sick person in the family these days, but you are determined to go to DRC anyway, just to fulfill your missionary work for Christ sake. And you want to go ride the bicycle for long distances. In fact, when I heard this, at first, it sounded funny. I said that it was just a joke. But when I started pondering over it, at hearing that you even bought already a bicycle to ship to Congo for you to use there, I did understand that you really want to imitate Jesus. He actually identified with the people He loved, those He came to save and die for. I find out that you are in love with Congolese people!

Papa Bob, you are such an inspiration to me and to other people who may admire you too. You love your ministry, and you are committed to it. So, I say thank you for reminding me to love my ministry and be committed to it until my last days too. Thank you also for imparting your love in your daughter Taylor Walters Denyer who never stops thinking of orphans and other people in Congo.

We therefore pray that God may multiply blessings in your family and may He make successful all your projects upon North Katanga and other people He has put under your caring and loving heart.

Rev. Ilgha