Christmas Shopping On The Sun!

It seemed only slightly less hot than the sun when Alecia and I headed into town today. Both vehicles still broke down, we set out on foot. I was carrying a box of Christmas gifts to be sent to my family in the States and she was carrying the Banana bread I had baked for the hospital. For the longest while, we couldn’t get a taxi or a bus, so I figured since they would charge us the same as if we hadn’t walked this far, we might as well walk all the way to the hospital. Big mistake! It’s about a five or six mile walk with three large hills to climb.

After handing out banana bread, we headed towards town, stopping at the market to pick up some fresh produce for Christmas cooking. At this point, our clothes were literally wet with sweat! I now have a sun burn on my neck, minus the end of my bandanna and the back pack straps that have softened some of the blow. Being so close to the equator makes the sun seem even hotter on this December’s summer day.

We walked a few more miles, headed toward the grocery store, carrying our heavy load up and down the hills as we went. When we finally reached our first stop in town, the sun was so bright I could barely see the faces of the people walking by. The first store we passed had their radio blaring in true Vanuatu fashion (so lout my ears hurt) and I hear in a thick Bislama accent, “and now, here is a very good one, Jingle Bells.” I started laughing hysterically as it began to play and Alecia looked at me like my need for water had finally gone to my head! I finally regained my composure enough to explain: “Here we are, soaked in sweat, carrying tropical fruit, walking from shop to shop (none of which have air conditioning), my first Christmas overseas, and this radio dj has the nerve to play Jingle Bells, which has lyrics saying ‘dashing through the snow’!” Snow! I remember snow! I’ve seen and felt it! I know what it is to be cold!

We did eventually get some water and continued shopping for several more in the heat. When it was finally time to go home, we waited for a taxi! I learned it is a small price to pay in this heat!

A Christmas Party

We received a letter on Saturday to join our church in a special party in which they were honoring all of their pastors and missionaries. At the time I did not link together that this was in fact a Christmas party. Upon arrival at the church, all doubts were set aside. They had removed the speakers from the church and had Christmas music blaring in the front yard loud enough to be heard blocks away!

I was already excited about a time of food and fellowship with everyone, and with the excitement in the air, I knew this was a special night for them. All the Momma’s (the women’s ministry) and the Missionette’s had prepared a special meal and presentation.

The women were scurrying about, each one busy with some task, many carrying food or plates, some fanning to keep flies away from the food, other wrapping boxes. After offering to help and being promptly turned down (they were honoring us and wanted to do everything for us), I decided to play with some of the little girls who were making up hand movements to go with the Christmas songs. I remembered when I was a little girl I would do the same thing - some things just seem to cross all cultural boundaries! In fact, as I watched the women working, it brought back memories of our American church Christmas parties. There were no assorted sandwiches, no eggnog, or pumpkin pie – in its place were lap lap, rice and a banana cake. However, the women were scurrying about in the same fashion as us American women would and I suddenly felt a sense of home!

Of course, had I been home I would not have started walking to church, and ended up catching a ride in the back of a pickup truck. Nor would I have been sweating all day in December, thankful for the sun to finally go down! But none the less, the smiles, the cheer, the Christmas Spirit - it was here on this little island on the other side of the world.

Later, after eating the delicious foods they had prepared, each of the pastors and missionaries were presented with a special gift from the Momma’s. Words cannot express the overwhelming sense of gratitude. These ladies sacrificed their own vatu (money) to buy us two dozen eggs, milk, fruit, cookies and crackers.

This may not seem like much to you, but here, where an egg costs 50 cents and the average days wage is 10 dollars, this was a huge sacrifice! I watched as each of the pastors went to receive their groceries. I struggled to fight the tears. No doubt they had captured the meaning of Christmas. They gave. Not of abundance, but sacrificially, just as the Father sacrificed his only Son to come to earth on that first Christmas. I am so proud to be here among these beautiful people. I am honored and often, I am the one who is ministered to by their love and kindness.

We were thoroughly introduced to a Vanuatu custom in the process of receiving our gift. As we shook the hands of the Momma’s, a few of the Mommas walked behind us, dousing us in baby powder! I am not sure the significance of this, but I do know they had a lot of fun doing it and I had fun watching everyone else do it! Apparently, it is a festive activity accompanied by many of their celebrations. Nathan says he could really see his family getting into this custom!

Later at home, smelling fresh and still wearing a smile from the nights events, I pondered the kindness of these woman again. How hard it was to accept a gift from someone who has so little. I had to catch myself and remember the scripture that says “it is more blessed to give than to receive.” I remembered the joy that was in their eyes and how important it was to them to give to their missionaries and pastors at Christmas, and said a prayer that God would bless these women and their sacrifice.

Jennifer

Over Mountains and Seas

We have come to the island of Pentecost to work as interpreters and give a hand where needed for a medical team. We are traveling from village to village, setting up temporary clinics offering services from getting a tooth pulled to treating abscesses. We are camping in one spot, moving by day to the scheduled village and then returning back to the camp site by night. We are having great success, seeing souls saved and have even been invited into a custom village where the Gospel has never before been allowed.

I awaken Saturday morning around 4:30 a.m., hearing the busy Ni Van women outside our thin tent wall. I lay in defiance, begging my body to ignore the sounds around me and return to sleep, at least until 5:30. It is not to be and at around five o’clock I am up and getting ready for another day of clinics. At half past six, just before breakfast, I hear the news: there has been a death in the village we are going to, therefore, today is a free day!

I look up at the overcast sky. By this time Nathan is awake (I am convinced he can sleep through a train wreck outside our tent wall) and we decide to take a walk along the beach. The sky looks threatening, but I am in a quiet mood this morning and don’t mind its grey tint or the slightly cooler air it brings.

On our way to the beach, we run into fellow missionaries and friends, Steven and Kara Jaeger. Next thing you know, the four of us are walking the beach discussing plans for the day. There are no stores to visit, no coffee shops to sit in and talk. The island of Pentecost makes our home island of Santo seem like a metropolis. However, for four young, adventurous missionaries, it doesn’t take us long to make plans!

We will climb the side of a mountain and go look at the ruins of a Church of Christ Bible College. Steven and Kara have already checked it out and are baffled that these great facilities are not being used. It still has hundreds of books and commentaries, all molding. It is tabu for the people to read them (the ones who can read) because they belonged to the missionary. Vanuatu culture sometimes tends to see things in a different light than we Americans would, but for missionaries who are working hard to build a Bible college, the thought of seeing one in ruins is a bit sickening. However, out of sheer curiosity, we all head towards the Bible college.

We walk to the end of the beach, to the foot of the mountain and the threatening skies are no longer just a threat – it begins to rain. We take shelter under a tree, discussing briefly the fact that we are all wearing flip flops, no trekking shoes, no walking sticks, but when the rain reverts back to a sprinkle, we head towards the mountain. I am thankful I at least brought an umbrella, although in a hard Vanuatu rain, they are pretty pointless. I will find it useful in other ways a bit later!

Kara is at the head since she is faster than the rest of us and in all our trekking adventures with the Jaeger’s, I have learned it is impossible to keep pace. The guys are in between and I am bringing up the rear. Another thing I’ve learned while trekking, is that I am usually always at the back!

I remember after our first trek, the conversation I had with Nathan. I remember specifically telling him, “I am not like you all. Missions, for me, is about nothing but the people. The adventures of trekking and being in the wild holds no appeal.” I don’t mind going, but I am no Annie Oakley nor have I ever pretended to be! I tend to loathe the trekking parts of missions work and enjoy only the conversation with friends during these times.

The first part of the trek is okay. Someome has installed cement steps going up part of the mountain, no doubt the missionary from the Bible college. Then there is a long, wide (about two and a half feet) section of steps that has broken into pieces as the earth beneath it has moved with the many Vanuatu rains. Next, the sidewalk pieces are at an angle from the earth sliding beneath it. They are tilting down the mountain. My fear of heights is setting in, but I am still in control.

Nathan moves behind me, probably remembering how slow I am and is afraid they may get too far ahead of me if he doesn’t. Now the path is nothing but muddy sod, probably a little less than two feet wide. I am using my umbrella as a walking stick with my right hand while holding onto the strongest branches I can find growing on the mountainside, with my left. I am trying not to notice the jagged edges of the mountain and the rushing water so very far beneath me! We finally arrive safely and I sigh in relief, glad to be there, but dreading the walk back.

We are now on another beach and it begins to pour. We are all soaking wet as we run into the jungle, headed for the Bible college. Running through waist-high, wet grass doesn’t help with the attempts to stay dry, but finally we reach the Bible college and wait in its shelter for the rain to stop. I don’t know if we really noticed the rain stopping as much as the appearance of a small army of mosquitoes, but we decide it would be a good time to head back.

We go back through the grass, to the beach, and finally we’re at the foot of the mountain ready to ascend. It didn’t take very long for me to realize this was not the same mountain I had climbed earlier! The excessive rain had turned the earth even muddier and all attempts to create traction in my black Roxy flip flops were met with failure. It suddenly becomes clear that I will have to lose the shoes and use my bare feet to try and claw through this mess.

Watching Steven and Kara slipping and sliding in front of me is little consolation. My legs are shaking so much from a combination of having just climbed a mountain when they are not used to that much exercise, and from sheer fear and dread, knowing there is no turning back.

Finally, the inevitable happened. I slipped! My husband is behind me trying his best to offer a hand when he could, but I am about to hyperventilate and don’t want anyone touching me in my attempts to keep from passing out. Now, covered in mud, I just sit holding onto a branch, thinking “what in the world am I doing here?” I felt like I used to when I would go to a theme park as a child and pray “Lord, if you get me off of this roller coaster, I’ll never get back on again!”

It was a bad idea to sit and rest my shaky legs. It only gave me more time to view the gorgeous scenery of my future plummeting death! The only thing that kept me going was a little pride at the fact that no one else was having quite as much trouble as me and knowing that if I kept going, eventually I would be off of this horrid mountain. The army of mosquitoes was still present as I now crawled on my hands and knees grasping at branches, a human feast for my insect friends who seemed to know that if I swiped at one I would have to let go of the branches.

Exhausted from the depletion of energy it took not to completely lose it, we finally, after many breaks, arrive back at our camp just in time for the locals to see me covered in mud, and no doubt, white as a ghost.

Later when discussing who would be on the team that trekked to the custom village the following day to preach the Gospel, without me even expressing an interest to go, a local man informed us that he didn’t think I was “fit” enough to go! If I had had any pride left, I might have been bothered, but I was too exhausted, so I went to take a nap and said to myself “tomorrow is a new day, and I am just thankful to still be alive.”

Jennifer

Battle With A Centipede!

Most of the time, I love living on a tropical Island. I love the coconut trees swaying in the sultry breezes, the smell of the ocean in the morning, and the markets full of people selling their wares of increasingly familiar produce. Sometimes, however, the local wildlife can make me wish for a safer place to hang my hat.

Last night as my wife and I prepared to go to bed, she sent me into the next room to get a sheet for the bed. Well, this may not sound like a dangerous mission to you, but here, the unexpected is to be expected (yeah don't try to figure that out, it is a headache-inducing way of thinking)!

So passing through the dimly lit living room to turn on the overhead lights, I see something on the floor. My mind just goes to the most obvious and says it's a piece of paper or something that can be picked up tomorrow. I turn on the kitchen light and pass back by the object in question, not really looking at it. As I enter the kitchen, a warning bell begins to go off in my mind and I look back just in time to see the innocent object begin to move across the floor!

A CENTIPEDE!!! Five inches of legs held together with menacing-looking body armor and little pinchers just searching for some available human flesh to torment. I hate those things like a pin cushion hates pins!

(The Enemy!)




Immediately, I go into battle mode, battle cry and all! I race into the kitchen to get the bug spray because there is no way I am getting close enough to that thing to kill it with a kitchen knife. Looking under the sink, I find only an empty can of bug spray. I would go and calmly ask my wife for another can if this had been a Sunday picnic, but it wasn't; it was war.

I yelled to Jen asking her If we have another can of spray, but, she didn't answer in that split second so I had to yell again. By this time, my wife is laughing at me as I go into my version of a war dance trying to get past the centipede who is blocking my way into the bedroom. The creature couldn't make up it's mind where it was going, so I had to leap over it to get to the room where the can of bug killer was.

Returning to the living room, I unleash a cloud of poison big enough to make the Geneva Convention shutter. Quickly, I leave the room, shutting the door behind me just in case anything survived. My wife was still laughing at me, even though I have just saved her life! Then my mind began to wonder just how the thing had gotten in, and not coming up with any answers, I switch to offense mode and begin to spray poison into every nook and cranny in our room, making sure there are more of these creatures lurking about.

Well, I guess all is well that ends well. I fought off the wild life without any outward scars and saved the night. My wife was so proud of me too; I could tell by the tears of joy welling up in her eyes - or maybe it was from laughing so hard. I choose to believe the former.

With the enemy dead, it was another one for the books. I did go into the living room later that night and spray the monster one more time, just for good measure. You say overkill, I say peace of mind is worth whatever you have to do!

(Proof that I won!)





Nathan