FROM OUR 47 YEARS IN AFRICA

CARS - LEMONS AND MISFITS

2008-10-21T12:30:00.000-07:00

We have made a lot of mistakes with our cars over our many years in Africa starting in 1953 and ending in 2000. The first was the car that we chose to take with us from America. Our Chevrolet Carryall had the appearance of being perfect for poor roads. Mechanically, it was fine and service was readily available, but As South Africans would say, “eina!” (ouch!). There were problems. The first was a minor one. When the car was offloaded from the ship at Cape Town, it had a flat tire. Of course there as no service available at the docks to fix that. A bigger handicap was that it had left hand steering in a country where the rule of the road is to drive on the left side of the road. That meant that we, new to the country, drove from a position next to the left curb. Fortunately, we soon left city driving in Cape Town and started seven hundred miles north to Kimberley. Almost immediately the roads deteriorated to corrugated and potholed gravel. This called instant attention to the next problem. The backs of all the seats were all closed with sheet metal, directly against the springs. They set up a clamor that had to be heard to be appreciated. Again, there seemed to be no dust seals of any sort. We were traveling with a seriously sick baby riding in a car-cot. We had to place a baby blanket over the whole cot and it was soon red with an accumulation of Karoo red dust. The Great Karoo is semi-desert. Before we reached our ultimate destination of Windhoek we had replaced a new tire ruined by sharp rocks, and had spent four days on terrible roads. We drove that vehicle until our first furlough, when we gladly parted with it.

Back in America, we bought a new 1957 Chevrolet sedan. We loved that car. (Wish we had it now.) It is now a classic model. It had been slung in a net and lowered into the hold of the freighter that we traveled on for our return to Africa. A few dents here and there, and the inside had been twisted off, but not so serious. Fellow passengers had “encouraged” us with the tale of a former passenger who had a beautiful new luxury car which they had dropped into the hold from the boom when they loaded it. They did not tell him until he went to claim it after it had cleared customs. Ours arrived, only minus the battery and with the inside rear view mirror twisted off. Phyllis later got her South African driver’s license from the head of the traffic department who personally road-tested her right down town Kimberley, and had her maneuver through the parking area of the fruit and vegetable market on a Saturday morning. He wanted to make sure that she could handle that "big" American car in heavy traffic, particularly because it was also a left hand drive.

Another, was our tiny Fiat Multipla, I don’t recall its age, but it had to be the ugliest car we ever owned. It might have looked like a green cracker box, but it was an absolute pleasure to drive around town. The engine was in the rear, and sat crosswise to the body. The cooling system was totally inadequate. After our only out of town trip with it to go to Bloemfontein, a hundred miles away, we almost seriously commented that we got 40 miles to the gallon of gas, but ten miles to the gallon of water. I literally watched for windmills and water tanks all the way there and back. I used it to drive our children and those of some of our friends, to school, where we were greeted by the jeers of the children in the playground, “Look at that funny looking car.” One stormy day when Phyllis and Annette had gone into the black township for the regular Thursday afternoon women’s meeting, Al and I struggled through the deep puddles of water with the Chevrolet, only to see the ladies returning home through those same puddles crossing them like a happy duckling on a rainy day. They had given up on their meeting because of the intense noise of the rain and hail on the church’s tin roof.

Our Commer van was a very serviceable vehicle. (Picture above.) I bought it second hand from a Kimberley dealer, and asked that he have glass put in the sides of the back. Their driver, taking it to have that done, had an accident at the very door of their own business, so they took it to a Pannel Beater’s (Body shop) instead, and hoped I would not notice. It was later delivered, with the glass and the repairs done, but of course the truth will out. I drove it at night right away, and discovered that the left headlight was shining high up in the trees on my left. That was apparently the side that was hit. We used that van as a church bus and often had it maxed-out with small Coloured children going to church and Sunday School. On one occasion, we had 30 people in it at a road block. The cops never said a word, they just waved us through. On other occasions I went to churches in the surrounding towns to conduct classes. At one I slept in the van at a little camping park near the river. I had placed a mattress in it for those occasions. That particular time it was winter and I nearly froze! It had absolutely no insulation.

Our last left hand drive car, was a Fargo pick-up with a V-8 engine. That carried the shell of our Bible Kiosk. It was terrible to drive in wet weather. The slightest splash, caused the engine to stall out. We still had it when we moved to Johannesburg, and it was there that I determined, “Absolutely, Never again!” I had parked alone in heavy traffic on the left side of the one-way street, and realized too late that I simply could not see behind me to back up and get out of the parking spot. I had to lie across the seat, take a quick look and try to edge out. I did not keep that truck long. When furlough time came, it was out of there and we replaced it, when we returned, with a smaller, newer South African assembled truck. I had once driven downtown Johannesburg in the Fargo, passed a one-way street, and turned at the next street that I expected to go the other way only to find that there were three one way streets together, all of them going the same way! All praises to the Lord for answered prayers, I got out of there, turned around, and no traffic cop saw me, or if he did he took pity and looked the other way. I never drove it down town again.

Once in Johannesburg, I bought a yellow Citroen, very second hand and cheaply. That car was a dream, wonderful to drive. It was so streamlined that it slipped through the air so easily that I actually had to hold it back with a foot on the brakes. Its hydraulic suspension was so cushioned that it could only be described as floating. That suspension had three levels and permitted a ground hugging low, a medium clearance, or a very high clearance for crossing streams, or placing a stand in lieu of a jack. It had no jack provided. You could actually drive it on three wheels by leaving the flat one in the trunk and making sure that the missing wheel was one of the rear wheels. Unfortunately our car had hydraulic problems. That is why it was so cheap. Park it and the engine end dropped first to the lowest clearance leaving the tail end high in the air! The only way I got rid of it at all was that I traded it in on a new 4 cylinder Ford station wagon. I am sure they just wrote the Citroen off. Other than the fact that the Ford shorted out and burned out the wiring on the first trip we started to make; once that was repaired, it gave excellent service. The lemon-yellow Citroen was gone but sadly greatly missed and never forgotten.

“MOTHER,” YOU ARE GROWING OLD!

2008-01-18T08:38:00.000-08:00

I HAVE A DREAM!

The Kimberley Church is considered to be the “mother church” of all the work in South Africa. It was with the diamond mine compounds at Kimberley that the first evangelists started preaching and teaching. As the miners went to Kimberley on contracts for a certain period of time, they came from all over southern Africa, then the men who had become Christians scattered again back to their homes carrying the good news of Jesus back to their families. By the time we arrived in Kimberley the original building there was already very old. It has since been replaced, but very much the same size as it was originally. It is still probably the largest church building the mission has in the country.

It has long been the custom to conduct a general conference assembly by invitaton meeting some where in South Africa for preaching, teaching, fellowship and a certain amount of planning and business. As time passed, the church has grown much larger. When I was printing the church supplies, there was pretty much a standing order for ten thousand baptismal certificates and an equal number of other printed documents. That figure may have changed more recently, but naturally as the church grew, so also did the conference grow. Most ministries followed a circuit system with a central building and the minister’s home was located centrally, with numerous “house churches,” and perhaps some having small buildings, dotting an area spanning, sometimes, many miles around. Towns are often vary far apart.

More recently Easter gatherings, a minister’s and family assemblies, and youth camps have all been added. The result is that often the local church is not adequate to provide space for these meetings let alone house and feed the visitors for several days.

Some years ago one of our missionary brothers bought a large tent and since then, with variations, the committee uses the minister’s home for their meetings, the women use either the tent or the churchhouse, the men use the other, and the back room of the church is used to store the food supplies. The food is prepared in iron pots over an open fire, either in the open or under a tarpolion fr shade. Joint preaching services will be conducted in the largest space available or a nearby church may hire their larger building out for that purpose. The actual serving of meals is nearly always done in the church house itself. As you can see this is a difficult arrangement.

A few years ago, they learned of a camp site for Christians near Barkley West. The story is that a farmer there discovered a diamond pipe on his property and became very wealthy. As he was a Christian, he decided to build a Christian campsite beside the mine and Deo Gloria Camp was established. He felt he needed to share his wealth with others. There are are now two camp sites. These were built during apartheid years so he built one for Europeans (whites), and the other for people of darker color. I have only been to Deo-Gloria, but it is a wonderful facility. It has lawns beside the now closed mine, now a very deep lake, with a large central hall, a modern kitchen with a walk-in cold-room, electric lights, class rooms, instructor’s cabins, dormitories for both men and women as well as showers and toilets for each. There is also a pool, though it has not been available at any time I have been there. Both the longer sides of the building have covered porches and wide sliding glass doors to allow cross-ventilation. Unfortunately it is not large enough for our conference gatherings, but it does suggest a possible solution, were there more sleeping quarters available.

As it can easily be a two day drive for the most distant people to reach a major meeting, and since there is also an Aids problem in Africa with thousands of orphan and abandoned children, and there are many widows and elderly pensioned ministers, there really needs to be something like Deo-Gloria for them. It would need to be located central to the nation, with permanent housing for the widows, orphans, and staff, and visitors, and it needs to be accessable by bus and train, preferrably. The same facility could be used as as a rest and recovery home, where missionaries could build their own cottages if they chose to go there regulaly. Everyone could be fed from the kitchen in the dining space, worship services could use the chapel, and it would be available for short-term missionaries to stay and participate in the Lord’s work in Africa. All these needs could use the one property and care for it. Local churches could still have their own area meetings being less demanding of space.

GUESTS, NOT CITIZENS

2008-01-02T08:01:00.000-08:00

We were unique in that our family entered South Africa with a permanent resident permit and green card from the word “Go”. All the missionaries that I knew later entered with a temporary permit that had to be renewed periodically. Because we were residents and not citizens, I was always very careful to remember that we were guests and were there to do the work of the Lord only. I was especially cautious to steer clear of expressing opinions of a political nature. It is not the place of a guest to criticize his host He canalways be “invited” to leave or escourted out.

On one occasion when a reporter from a local television station, reporting on a major Christian convention in America, saw my display and with a camera-man at the ready, wanted my statements which would quickly become political in nature. I declined to comment. I knew what careful editing and network connections can do with the meaning of even normal conversations. They aired my refusal to comment, with their own comments which confirmed what would probably have happened had I spoken up.

I had entered Namibia shortly after a very politically involved Episcopal priest had been deported. As we had no telephone, so our phone could not be tapped, though it would have been if we had one. We had no congregation as yet to infiltrate, and we had turned away those who came to our door trying to buy liquor, so the only thing left was to send a man who offered to interpret for us. That we were grateful for. He found that we were only teaching Scripture. After all, that was why we were there.

When we moved to Kimberley, it was a completely different story. Our message was the same, but there we did have a phone, and I once commented to a friend that our phone was tapped. When he wanted to know how I knew, I simply pointed out that every day at the same time, when they changed the tape, the phone jingled. We never heard it make that little jingle ever again. I am sure they found it a complete waste of time and effort anyway, unless they were really interested in our calls to the butcher to place an order.

I knew it to be a fact that there were “conversions” in our local congregations that were actualy motivated to provide an inside ear to all that was said there. In the end one man himself reported that this was so, when he truly came to believe and serve the Lord.

After I was asked to serve as superintendent of the mission, two more incidents happened. In that job that had to be totally expected. On one occasion, I was served a summons to appear in court as a witness some 500 miles away. The case had nothing to do with me personally, even my work. An African man had been soliciting money door to door and had used the mission’s name. That make it my job at the time. One means of funding subversive activity was in just that way, so I was called to confirm if he was legitimately collecting money. He was not, but after travelling there, the case was thrown out of court, and the judge gathered up his golf clubs and was away without me ever being heard. Fortunately I had enough time to arrange to visit two churches on the trip or it would have been a wasted thousand mile three day trip. The man had wisely changed his claimed connection from house to house and so confused the evidence that the case was thrown out. Before I even reached home again, he was arrested in another city doing exactly the same thing. That time, he was “permitted to escape” by a greedy guard.

On another similar occasion, perhaps the same man, visited my office in downtown Johannesburg, to solicit money and offered as credentials a false endorsement, supposedly signed by the superintendent of the mission, at the time that was myself! Needless to say, I confiscated his letter immediately. The head of the Special Branch visited me in this connection but he left again a happy man. We can be glad that God does not send us to straighten out politicians, but to preach the gospel.

To this day, I still have my green card and original permanent resident documents. Legally we could probably return to South Africa at any time, but I think we shall now wait until we reach the land of our permanent citizenship where we can spend eternity with our loved ones and friends who happened to live in a far country. We shall all be with our brothers and sisters in the Lord there. We are guests in this world, our citizenship is in Heaven. “This world is not our home, we are just travelling through.”

NOTHING LIKE YOUR OWN LANGUAGE

2008-01-02T07:31:00.000-08:00

Our neighbor and friend was a serviceman working at Stanford’s service station, a very well known garage in Kimberley. Our children and theirs were of a similar age and we often visited with them. I always had my car serviced at Stanford’s, and usually asked for Bing to do the work. In time the city wanted the site and the Stanford brothers sold the business and retired. At that time Bing and another serviceman set up a new business which became the Volvo dealership and service station of Kimberley. Of course I did not drive a Volvo, but I continued to go to Bing for any automobile work to be done, and years later when I went near Kimberley I always stopped to greet them.

Bing once related something that had happened to him. Since he was so well thought of people came to him, even from the adjoining province to have him service their vehicles. We would say “state.” This “boer” (farmer) was a very emphatic that he must be addressed in his own language, demanding that Bing speak Afrikaans with him. Often such persons would simply turn and walk away if one spoke English, but of course Bing knew Afrikaans; in fact he knew the latest technical terms for everything about a car. But, because he was not impressed with this clearly uneducated man’s demands, he said certainly he would use Afrikaans. However the Afrikaans language, not having words for so many technical things, has new words that have been have been created as they were needed. Some are very new. Bing used all the very latest words knew very well that his customer had not the faintest idea what he was saying. As expected the gentleman soon stopped him and said, “It’s all right, I understand English. Use English, please.”

At that time, I was printing quite a lot of Bible study materials, from translations, into Afrikaans. As everything printed in South Africa at the time had to carry an ISBN number and copies had to be provided to the State Libraries of Record. My name became known as a publisher in Afrikaans. I was amazed to open my mail one day to find a gold embossed invitation to attend the opening of an Afrikaans Cultural Museum in Bloemfontein. The featured speaker was to be the State President, and most of the members of parliament had been invited, of course. As I knew I would be like a fish out of water and would not understand much of what was happening, I thought it best to decline attending. The event was being held at Bloemfontein, the former capital of the old Afrikaans Republic, a hundred miles away. Incidentally, South Africa really has three capitals. The capital building and some departments are in Pretoria, Bloemfontein is the Judicial Capital, that is where the Supreme Count convenes, and Cape Town is the home of Parliament. Interestingly, Pretoria and Bloemfontein are in Afrikaans speaking areas, while Cape Town is considered to be English speaking, but has a very pronounced accent all it’s own.

South Africa has ten official languages, plus several more that are not considered to be official. It was when we were able to publish booklets and tracts, working from translations, in all ten of those languages that the demand really blossomed. There were not just thousands, but actually hundreds of thousands of requests, and from all over Africa. We were forced out of mailing free correspondence Bible lessons, when sanctions, closed areas to mail service, postage rates soared, and an acute shortage of staff forced us to change our distribution methods. We retreated to working from a located shop and area, and to stop promoting outside of South Africa. Things may now be changing, for as Greek was the world language at the onset of the church, English seems to be becoming the same in today’s world. Still, there is nothing like addressing a man in his own home language. He may be comptent in English, but he still loves his own home language.

Thinking of that, when the schools opened to all races and languages teahers were shocked to be told that when many of their potential students noted on their application forms that they were English speaking, even though they could only speak an African language. Chaos reigned when class sizes jumped, in the original rooms, from twenty or so to forty or more, speaking a number of different languages, and half of them could hardly understand a word of the teacher’s language. To add to the chaos, many Afrikaans speaking teachers, themselves not speaking English well, were teaching advanced classes in English grammar. The result was that the teacher used such terms as, “We is all going,” or “borrow me your pencil.” Those two illustrations actually were common in our own children’s own classes even when schools were still segregated.

NO ROOM AT THE INN

2007-12-31T14:43:00.000-08:00

Travelling on to the west, we passed through Griqualand, and Griquatown. This was in the area where Livingston had centered much of his work. He met and later marrried Mary Moffat the daughter of the missionary living at the near by mission. I would later preach and teach in this same area and once camped under the trees that surround the Moffat mission.

The area is filled with limestone and asbestos deposits. The result is clearly shown by the many blind Africans who are blinded by the lime dust, and others suffering from breathing problems from breathing asbestos dust. I learned there that "Tiger's Eye," semi-precious stones, are really asbestos ore. A beautiful polished gem that can cause serious lung cancer if you breathe the dust from cutting and polishing it. Water being scarce, the uneducated resident Africans often neglect proper protection and sanitary practices. The result is that they end their lives blind or suffering from lung cancer.

Farther to the west, a mountain of iron ore adds its rusty dust to the air. I understand that magnetic compasses are totally unreliable when flying over that area.

At this point one is travelling parallel to the great Orange River and south of the Kalahari Desert, a waseland of sand dunes, just to the north of the river. I do not have good memories of that area. The road I was travelling was filled with large sharp rocks and my new heavy-duty tires I had fitted to the Chevrolet didn't survive even the first day. We managed to limp into Upington with no spare tire at all, and it was there that I unloaded our heavy trunks and shipped them by the narrow gage rail to my self to be collected at Windhoek. Upington, on the Orange River, is a thriving town, even though the summer temperatures often reach 110 degrees or more. One of their major irrigated crops is the growing of fruits for packing as dried fruit, especially rasins and prunes, but also figs, peaches and other types. The hot dry air is ideal, and the water from the near by Orange River is plentiful. The sheep of this area cease to be breeds used for wool or meat. Instead they are Karakul. The lambs of the Karakul sheep are killed when they are just born to make fur coats from their tightly curled black pelts. If they are not killed very young, they lose the tight curls and they turn to a dull grey. We skipped Augrabies Falls, mainly because we had never heard of them at that time. Not long after that we crossed the border into South West Africa, (German West Africa, now called Namibia). There was no border post there as South Africa had been given mandate over that country by the League of Nations following World War One. From there on, the roads deteriorated until they were simply trails that threaded through the scrubby thorn trees. There was often no pretence of a road being gravel or even having been planned or maintained at all. There were no signs, except perhaps at very obvious forks in the road. This is where we turned north again. Gasolene, called "petrol" was usually obtained from a steel barrel with a measuring pump that was stuck in an opening on the top. That would be standing in front of rare trading store and there might be no sign of life other than the manager of the store or perhaps an isolated farm house. He would certainly not speak English, possibly Afrikaans, but most likely German. They all had one thing in common. They hated Americans. This was 1953! and the Second World War was not long past. Toward evening we came to a small village that had a proper petrol station and a hotel. They also actually had a room available in the hotel, so we could all bathe, scrub the red dust off, and get something to eat, but they had no petrol anywhere in town. Delivery was expected only the next morning.

Much to our surprise there was petrol after we had breakfast and we were able to continue our journey. This time we were driving between the Kalahari and the Namib deserts. The Namib is famous in that diamonds lie scattered on it's surface in places, but do not stop and pick any up or even look! It is illegal to stop here, or to possess a rough uncut diamond anywhere in South Africa. If you happen to find one, it belongs to DeBeers Mining Corporation, and you are required to take it to them. They will give you a price, a price they set. There are still licenced diggers, as the old licences can be passed down in the will of the original holder to his family members. Because of that, there are still private diggers working in some areas even today, especially near or in the rivers.

We made one more interesting stop on the way. That was at Rehoboth. The residents of this community proudly refer to themselves Bastards. They are of mixed blood, German and Namas primarily. We were warned to count our change and watch our belongings if we had to stop there. We needed petrol, but had no problems, even with the unfamiliar money. There was a wide dry sandy river bed to be crossed. No problem, as long as you kept the car moving and stayed on the right path, but some time previously a heavy truck had been lost in a flash flood there. The owners filed an insurance claim for it's loss, and were refused because that was usually a dry river. In time, the company sent a crew who was instructed to dig the truck out of the sand and recover it. As the story goes, they had the truck nearly clear when the cry went up, "The water is coming." Everyone ran for their lives and all made it with their equipment to higher ground, but the second time they tried to dig it out, the same thing was repeated, and the truck was buried again. This time the equipment was lost as well, and the insurance company paid out the claim in full!

Late in the afternoon, tired and dusty, we rounded a curve, and there was Windhoek, with it's German Castle; one paved street, street lights, and even a stop light (robot) or two. It had two, or perhaps three hotels. We stopped at the very first one. There was "No room in the inn." I know how Joseph and Mary must have felt. We had a tiny baby and no clean bed, fresh water, or supper. They did, however temporarily, squeeze us into a tiny room in an alley behind the hotel. I know now it must have been used for their black staff, but it was clean, we could, and did use the communal bath, and we did get food in the dining room. Praise the Lord. We had arrived at the end of a very long journey. We would have to go "house hunting" immediately.

SETTLING IN TO A NEW ROUTINE

2007-12-31T14:34:00.000-08:00

At the time we arrived there were three other missionary families ahead of us in Kimberley. Each had his own work. Max Ward Randall was the mission superintendent. The South African government required at that time that there be one person who was in charge and with whom they would correspond and hold accountable. Lynn Stanley was in charge of preacher training, Bill Rees was in Chinese evangelism. Alvin Nicholson had already moved to the coast some twelve hours drive away where he worked with the Zulu speaking Africans. He was in charge of Building and Evangelism. As the new commer, though the Mills’ had actually arrived on African soil months ahead of the Stanleys and the Nicholsons, they fitted in where ever there was a need and had no official designation or standing in the group.

The Stanleys, though they had four lively sons, graciously made room for another five in their home. Obviously the first urgent matter was to find a house. Kimberley did have houses for sale or to rent, so after a search a small house on the other end of the block from Lynn and Lucille was found, a deposit put down, and Bob and Phyllis became owners of a home at last. The basic house was square with four rooms of equal size, a porch across the front, and another at the back. The back one had been enclosed to make a small kitchen and a bath room. The toilet was still a bucket down the path, but there was hot water. (Of a sort) A small, perhaps two feet tall cylinder stood beside the bathtub. It had double walls and an opening in the center of the tube. Water was fed into the wall cavity from the bottom. You put sticks in the center and lighted them. Soon it would start to “perk” hot water and steam into the tub in very small amounts. As an experienced user, I suggest you never feed the fire while sitting in the cold water, the steam and water that comes from the tube at the top is scalding. Needless to say, a new proper electric water heater, and a septic system, were high on the priority list.

Bob became the second teacher at the minister's training school, and he and Lynn made many trips out to farms, country churches, and villages where there was some sort of often derelict building. All of them had to be replaced as soon as possible, so the African brothers set up and E. and B. fund for Evangelism and Building. Each member was expected to make a small annual contribution toward this necessary work. Donations from America were also received and Lynn put his talent for building to work constructing basic church buildings with iron roofs and soon these were started in many places. They had one room, probably two doors, and steel window frames. His first project was a four room school building. Two rooms were for bunk beds, one was a library for the books, and one was used as a class room. They all opened into a walled courtyard on the side away from the street and they were not interlinked. There was no heat and there were no ceilings so everyone always rushed outside between classes to gather in a sunny spot on Winter days or a shady spot in the Summertime

The routine became classes during the week, with trips out to visit and preach and teach at churches on the the week ends. Kimberley had very hot Summers, and freezing cold Winters, sometimes with snow, yet no one had either air conditioning or central heating. City Africans usually lived in rented cement block homes that the government had built everywhere. These did not have ceilings either, but the kitchen would have a wood or coal cooking stove, and usually the roof was made of sheet asbestos, before it was realized how dangerous that was. Hail storms often left them full if gaping holes as well. The rural workers often used “braziers” metal tins the size of a bucket in which they burned what ever was at hand. Unfortunately with the innovation of really tight houses, many people were killed by carbon monoxide, and of course the townships were always thick with coal smoke in the winter time.

OUR SAFARI NORTHWARD

2007-12-31T14:23:00.000-08:00

Our “trek” to the north could be called a “safari” with a clear conscience. The scenery was spectacular, reminding us of that which we had seen in New Mexico. We learned later that the area was called the “Karoo,” semi-desert in America it would be called a desert, though there were farms, some times twenty miles apart, or even more. The roads were very poorly maintained of gravel and usually filled with potholes and corrugations. In those days, everyone drove at “safe and reasonable” legal speeds, often somewhere in the vicinity of seventy miles an hour. At that speed the vehicle only hits the tops of the corrugations, and much of the dust is left behind. The dust and the heat are unbearable. Just open the windows and keep rolling, fast! As there were no fences, it was necessary to keep a close watch that there were no sheep or cattle on the road, or even very near. This was particularly important at night when animals often lay down on the road to sleep. Since the only fences were usually at the borders of the farm, all traffic had to stop there to open, and be sure to close, the gates.

Clouds of dust usually announced that a car was coming, so if there were African houses near the gate, there would nearly always be a group of little children who came running to open the gate and beg for pennies. It was several years before these main roads were eventually asphalted and cattle gates replaced the ordinary farm gates. This dust was particularly bad for poor little Ruth’s well being and we were very concerned for her.

As this first leg of our trip was several hundred miles, we stopped at a hotel for our meals and spent the night at the half way mark. We arrived in Kimberley at the end of the second day, and spent a few days in the home of Bill and Melba Rees. It was Bill who was showing us the way. Though there were not too many places one could go wrong. There were, of course, forks in the road which sometimes had no signs. Those signs were favorite tarbets for bored travellers to shoot at. Many were destroyed or the poles eaten away by termites. Termite nests were everywhere and were sometimes several feet tall.

Kimberley, a small city, had two missionary families, the Rees family, and that of Max Ward Randall family. The mission work had originated and spread through the coming and going of the African workers in the mine compounds about fifty years before and it was at Kimberley that the first school for the training of ministers was being established. The Africans considered it to be the "mother church."

Kimberley itself, was the result of diamonds having been discovered there several years before. Of course there was a diamond rush, which drew people from all over the world to rush in and set up a tent city in the old wild-west fashion of America. It was, and is still, rather a cosmopolitan city made up of English, or Afrikaans speaking Europeans, and mostly Xhosa, Tswana, or a smattering of Zulu speaking Africans. To add variety to the mix, there were also the Griquas, the Coloureds, and the Indians, and Chinese. The Chinese were at first brought in to work underground since Africans were not happy to go deep underground at first. The Indians were brought from India to work in the sugar cane plantations near the Indian Ocean coast, because the Africans were terrified of snakes and scorpions. That is understandable, Africa’s snakes are deadly, including black or green mambas, "boom- slungs“, vipers, cobras, and adders, while the python is also common though not poisonous. Black Africans often considered the python to be Satan, and are convinced that it could be there and be either visible or invisible. They nearly always surround their house with a wide hardened and swept area.

The Randall family, worked mainly with the African, Griqua, and Coloured peoples, and the Rees family with the Chinese. The Rees family, later went to China to work in Hong Kong. They spent the rest of their active working lives there.

After a few days recuperation, especially for Ruth, we continued our travel, this time, first westward, then north again after we had crossed the border into South West Africa. Our destination was the capital city, Windhoek. South West Africa, is now an independent nation and has been renamed Namibia after one of the African tribes who live there.

GOODBYE AMERICA, HELLO AFRICA

2007-12-31T14:16:00.000-08:00

Bob and Phyllis, with their one year old daughter, Kathy and her six week old sister Ruth, had arrived in New York City a few days before the steamship, African Enterprise, a combination cargo and passenger ship, was scheduled to sail for Cape Town, South Africa. They arrived there in their Chevrolet carryall with virtually all their worldly goods packed in trunks and cases. The vehicle and most of the luggage had to be at the dock the day before sailing. Fortunately Bob had been to New York City before as a summer intern with the Go Ye Chapel Mission, so finding the dock was not a problem, not to say that there were no problems. There were! This particular ship had been selected because it had a doctor and a nurse on the crew. They would be needed!

Baby Ruth had been ill on the trip, so while Bob took everything to the dock, Phyllis took Ruth to see a doctor. He took one look at her limp,feverish, little body, and said, "She has pneumonia." She should have been hospitalized, but didn't the ship have a doctor, a nurse, and a sick bay? Bob had been a sailor, and even the military ship he had been on had a sick bay and a doctor. Wrong assumption! No one said the doctor had to be a good doctor. This one took one look and promptly said, "I don't know anything about babies. Give her an aspirin." Praise to the Lord however! the nurse walking right behind him, took compassion on us and was very helpful the whole trip. We were eighteen days at sea, but eventually docked at Cape Town safely, but still with a very sick baby.

It had been Bob's first crossing of the equator as the ships he had been on, as a crew member, never went into the southern hemispher, so he was initiated by "King Neptune." This consisted mainly of being blindfolded, daubbed with tomatoe sauce,and ceremoniously tossed into the ship's pool. Being an ex-navy man, it was assumed that he would be used to rough seas, but as the ship neared Cape Town, all were wakened in the night to find the baby crib sliding about the room, and things falling off the furniture. The ship was passing over an underwater mountainrange, that marks the junction of the Indian and the Atlantic Oceans. Strong currents cause heavy rolling and pitching of the ship but as soon as it cleared the breakwater into the bay all was calm. That was good, but sadly the bad side is that Bob's sea sickness, always lasts a good day afterwards.

GROWING POPULARITY RESULTED IN PERSECUTION.

2007-12-31T13:47:00.000-08:00

Our evening Bible studies rapidly grew in numbers, even with our language problems. South West Africa, now called Namibia, was at that time mostly German, Afrikaans or tribal speaking.

As we grew in numbers, we naturally attracted the attention of the school that all of the children attended. Since there was no other choice for them, that put them in a very difficult situation. They were being punished and threatened that they would be expelled from the school if they did not stop coming to our Bible studies.

The few children had grown in numbers as we switched from small evening groups to a much larger Saturday group using the style of the Daily Vacation Bible Schools we had known in America and I had taught in Harlem the summer that I had worked with the Go Ye Chapel ater my first year at Lincoln Bible Institute. We had to improvise and make our own teaching materials there as well. I had, for example, added further scenes to the flannel-graph lessons we had taken with us so that we could teach basic doctrines as well stories. Most of these children knew nothing about baptism. They had all been sprinkled as unbelieving infants. Now they realized that Bible baptism was the immersion of a repentant believer. In anticipation that we would soon need it, we had a baptistry built at the corner of our house. Before it could be used, a teacher from their school moved in across the fence from us, and his reports all but closed us down. The school was German Lutheran run and they had no toleration for these Americans.

Our attendance dropped drastically, so I asked for Nic Qwemesha to come during the Christmas school break to hold a meeting for us and to evaluate the situation and advise us what to do. That happened also to be at the time our lease expired and he really urged that we should move to Kimberley where language would not be such a problem and where I could teach at the Minister’s training school as well. He would be my interpreter. That is what we did.

I notified our landlord that we would be leaving, and as soon as our third daughter, Donna, was born, I put the family onto a plane for Kimberley, and I loaded our meager furnishings into our Chevrolet Carryall, railed some of our things, and I brought the rest over that difficult road never to return to Wundhoek again.

I had always felt that if we had to leave, as Paul the Apostle had often had to do, we would move elsewhere and continue to serve the Lord where he opened a door for us. It never even occurred to us that we could return to America and “lick our wounded pride.” I started to teach a class at the training school and as, we had already turned to the printed page I expanded that. The Bible Corrspondence lessons was certainly the leading of God. Though we did many other things, as needed, the printed page became our main thrust over the years that followed. It opened more doors than we could ever hope to enter. Our first few enquiries grew into a veritable deluge. The more languages we added, the more people responded. We first started printing in other languages as there were educated people to make the translations. They were not always professional translatrs, but they were a real blessing to people who sometimes struggled to read at all, let lone, in their own spoken language However we did have professional teachers and ministers who helped. I just had to type every word letter by letter and then have them read it to detect the errors I made typing to me "unknown languages." I had not had a single lesson in touch typing in my life.

OUR FIRST HOME IN WINDHOEK

2007-12-30T14:46:00.001-08:00

Our first home in Windhoek was a few blocks away, at the other end of the one paved street. It was a larger hotel and it did have a room. There was no check in desk but the manager, with the hotel register, was at his usual position tending the bar off to one side. All hotels in Namibia were like this one in that they were registered as a hotel primarily because a liquor license was always given to hotels, no matter how few rooms they might have. This one was not really so bad, however. They gave us a comfortable room near the communal bath. And a door in the passage just by our room opened onto the beer garden. It was really only used in the evenings, so the paved area with trees and flowers was great for Kathy and ourselves to use when the walls seemed to be closing in on us. There was also a small zoo and park, near the post office, which was only a short walk up the street. Being the city center, that street was lined by a good selection of small stores and shops.

Since the streets were not all named and numbered anywhere other than right in the center of town, we needed to apply for a post office box, and start looking for a proper house as soon as possible. The house search became a matter for urgent prayer and searching. There was an English Newspaper, with mostly Upington news, and it contained small’s adverts. From those, we learned that houses were extremely scarce. Driving around to get the layout of the town in mind, we noted no empty houses anywhere. After a few weeks we were moved across the street to an overflow area of the hotel, where we had a larger room and no bar across the garden, but at the same time we were told that all their rooms were rented a year in advance for the holiday season that was coming up very shortly. We had to be out by then.

We knew we would be happy to leave if we could, because we were not happy with the menu available. All the desserts were laced with wine or brandy, blood sausages featured heavily on the menu and they expected us to order from the bar with our meals. The coffee was so strong we could not drink it. In other words, we were probably as big a problem to them as they were to us.

In our exploring the town, we had driven across the valley to the black community so we were praying for something near there. That was exactly what the Lord provided. One day the paper listed a shop with a house attached. It was a renovation in progress but suited our needs perfectly. The "in progress" stopped promptly we signed the lease of course. The lease was high, well "exorbitant" might be a better word, but it was available exactly when we needed it and it was on the last street with only a dry stream bed that separated us from the black township. That one block long street was lined with trading stores offering very basic foods. Our house was on the corner, with a new porch added on the street side, and a small shop added with that. We had a chapel, a porch, and a study/store room in that half of the building. A separate entrance on the side led to a tiny living room, a small kitchen, and the bath with a cold-water shower over the tub, and a basin. Off the living room were two bedrooms. All the floors were rough concrete, and there was no floor at all outside the entrance to this part of the building at all. Our door had no less than four locks or bolts. A stroll led to the toilet, which contained a bucket that was collected by the municipality occasionally, emptied into the “honey wagon“ and a disinfected bucket replacement installed sometime during the night. The upper yard was littered with builder‘s rubble. and the lower one sloped to the dry stream bed. We would not have believed it could happen, had we not seen a car being swept away in that stream during a torrential rainfall one day. This was to be home for us, the scorpions, and a small snake for the next two years.

IRON BARS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE

2007-12-30T14:44:00.001-08:00

It took us only a few days to learn, what the multiple bolts and locks on the door should have told us immediately. There was a reason that all the windows had heavy, about three quarter inch, iron bars. They were not there to keep someone in, but rather to keep everyone out. It is rather a shock when we awoke early in the morning before curtains could be hung, to see a black face peering through the glass only about three feet away. Our bed was directly under the window. We had a tin of kerosene for the stove, and foolishly left it outside so Kathy could not mess with it. It did not survive the first night until it was stolen as our canvas water bag had been stolen from the car the first night it was left outside the hotel. Strangely enough in those days, no one touched the car itself the whole time we were at Windhoek, and it was parked under a tree on the corner of our upper garden, and immediately by the street. The fence was missing there as the builder had taken it down. He also left a great pile of rubble, the home of many scorpions.

Not long after we moved in and started to use the shop as a chapel, there was a knock at the door and when I opened it, an African man was standing there. He let it be known that he was there to buy liquor. I am confident that he had been sent by the police to see if we were using the building as an illegal liquor store. It was illegal to sell liquor to the Africans at that time, but that did not stop nearly all the nearby shopkeepers from selling it, usually through an open window at the back of their shop, perhaps a kitchen. I remember watching in shock as a pickup truck was used in a raid on the butcher shop across the street. It was filled with bottles when the police left afterwards. To involve us, unaware at that stage as to what was going on, a police lookout had hidden behind our toilet to spy on and report that shop. That occasion did not make for friendly relationships. The manager of the shop next door to us made it a point to turn his back on us any time we went outside. Two shopkeepers, sisters, whose shop was directly across from where I parked our car, and who did not live on the premises, were the only neighbors to treat us with any form of friendship at all. I don't think they sold liquor, but they did sell bread, milk, sugar, flour and other necessities and we often bought those small items from them. It was from them that we learned a few German words and expressions. We did our weekly grocery and meat shopping from shops down town. At the butcher shop we mainly had to point at what we wanted as they had different names for so many things. We wanted hamburger meat, and it took a while to discover that it is called "minced meat" In those days most of the meat was cut from a carcass that was hanging on a hook in the open shop. A cleaver, and a knife were used to hack off the piece you wanted. The grocer had a small shop with counters and all the food was displayed on shelves behind them. The Jewish grocer soon made us welcome and suggested that we come behind the counters and select what we wanted and just set it on the counter.He would take over from there. He suggeste that after we wanted a can of creamed corn, which he knew as a tin of "mealies", never mind that it said "creamed corn" on the label. Fruit and vegetables came from the "green grocer's" shop or from open air markets. In some of the other stores we got a "cold shoulder." The attendant simply turned and walked away as soon as he heard our accent. Our first Sunday in Windhoek, while we were still living in the hotel, we went to the Methodist church services, the only English service we could find and the church was just around the corner from the hotel. We soon learned that even though the words were nearly the same, the tune was often quite different. Even if the people did speak English, they ignored us completely. After that, even in the hotel, we had our own communion service and Prayer and Bible reading. I was reminded of Paul when he first came to Philippi. He went out to the riverside where he found a group of women who gathered there for prayer. Lydia and her staff believed and were baptized. We had no riverside and found no one.

STRANGE VIEWS FROM OUR BEDROOM WINDOW

2007-12-30T14:41:00.000-08:00

The only window in our bedroom faced the dry stream bed and across the valley the township beyond. Through we learned many different and interesting things. On our first night there had been a death nearby so there was a wake that lasted all night. That is a custom common to all African people. Of course it prevents the very common rats from getting to the body, but it is also a part of the ritual. Later in South Africa we became accustomed to African funerals and learned of the tradition that the widow must huddle in a corner of the room under a blanket until the funeral is conducted, that a candle must be burning by the body, and that the shovels that dug the grave and will be used to cover it must be ritually washed afterwards before the feast that is inevitably served. It was more in curiosity rather than being disturbed that we listened to the singing that continued all night, that first night in our new home. They sang hymns softly, but all night long. This was a first lesson in African culture. Another strange thing was that there seemed to be a lot of activity going on in the open area under the thorn trees at the week ends. Women came and went carrying large tins on their heads. They carried everything on their heads. I remember seeing a woman with spike heeled shoes balanced on top of her head, others with pails of water, and even one carrying a bedstead. These particular women seemed to be carrying something that they had dug up from under a tree. They always replaced it with a full tin they had brought with them. This seemed always to happen at the beginning of the weekend. Then it dawned on us. They were bringing a sweet mixture with yeast, which they buried, in the hole where they had just removed the tin they left there the week before. In this hot temperature, the sugar and the yeast, and what ever else had fermented. This was their "brewery" in action, African style. No one would arrest them for this. This was another lesson in African culture. Never drink just whatever is set before you unless it is a factory sealed cola or a hot cup of tea. On another day we noted, a very strange many-legged "creature" that crept across the horizon of the ridge far in the distance. It was bewildering to see a house, one of the tin shacks really, that appeared to have sprouted legs and was walking away. It was a medium size structure, probably a eight by ten feet, but a group of people, probably men as their bare legs showed from above the knees down, had walked inside, picked it up and were carrying it over their heads to a new space. This was moving day African style.

HOW THE WORK STARTED

2007-12-30T14:40:00.001-08:00

Our furnishings in Windhoek were very few. We had no bedroom furniture at all, and we slept on a folding couch in the living room. The kitchen had a table and four chairs, and I seem to remember an old refrigerator. There was electricity only a half day. We bought everything from a second hand store.

The chapel was a different matter. As soon as we had a few folding chairs, and had accessed our trunks and supplies, we started turning the lights on in the chapel, set up a flannel graph tripod with a basic scene on it, and at the same time each evening we opened the door wide and set a record player out on the porch. Then, African style, we turned it up loud, very loud, with a speaker directed toward the nearest houses. The record was of hymns played on the chimes. That carries and it had to compete with "Mocking Bird Hill" that was blasting from the beer hall a quarter mile away. After the record was finished, we started with our own devotions and prayers. At first, no one came, but we were being heard, and unknown to us, being watched and listened to as well.

We were beginning to be despondent about what else we could do and one evening decided to have our devotions in our own kitchen. When nothing happened in the chapel that night, we were startled to hear a timid knock on the door. And behold there was a small cluster of children there. They wanted to know, weren't we having Bible. The oldest girl, Fredrika Pieterson, a young colored lady and her brothers and sisters and their friends had been listening and watching from the dark street as there were no street lights in the area. This was the start we had been praying for. A few weeks later a school teacher offered to interpret for us and to give us Afrikaans lessons. We were exuberant. From that start, the young group grew and grew so I bought wood and built simple benches for the chapel. We expanded our lessons to include a Saturday afternoon time using vacation Bible School type lessons with handwork. And were learning a little Afrikaans. We met and made friends with one of the African ministers from the area. When the group began to grow, we naturally attracted the attention of others, and the devil got involved. We were being too successful. There was only one school available to these children, and they all attended there. That school was a mission school operated by the Rhenish Lutheran Church. At first they merely threatened the children, but when that did not stop them, they started to beat anyone who came to visit us and threatened expulsion from the school. Our interpreter turned out to be a police spy, as several politically activated missionaries had been investigated and two priests expelled from the country. About that time the shop keeper beside us rented an outbuilding in his yard facing our home to a teacher from the school who moved in there solely to write down the names of all the children who came to our services. They were to be expelled if they did not cease.

Of course, the parents stopped their children from coming to us, and I decided it was time to make a greater effort to contact English-speaking adults who would not be intimidated so easily.

I prepared, and using a hand operated stencil machine printed copies of a basic lesson series of studies. To get them into the hands of English speakers, I placed an advertisement in "Drum" , one of the English language magazines published particularly for African readers. The small single column advertisement did not cost much at all, so I was really surprised when requests started coming in from all over Africa. The only problem was that none of them were from South West Africa,(Namibia) where we were. Another surprise was how long these adverts were still being replied to after the date of the issue that carried them. A year later some of those adverts were still producing mail.

We had letters from South Africa, the Rhodesias, Malawi, Kenya, Uganda, Tanganyika, Nigeria, Ghana and even farther away. Two editions of that magazine were printed each month and they were being read all over the British Commonwealth nations of Africa! As time passed, we received letters asking for us to come to work in Nyasaland, Rhodesia, Nigeria, and Ghana. We could not say yes to them all, but we did keep track of them and it was from those invitations and contacts that new missionaries wereable to open new missions in Nigeria and Ghana. Others went to other places where there had already been missionaries, but more were needed.

This was the beginning of what was destined to become our main emphasis; publishing the Gospel in printed form.

AMOTHER WAY TO REACH OUT

2007-12-30T14:38:00.000-08:00

Knowing that we needed to contact adults, Bob bought a small hand cranked Gestetner stencil printer, prepared a series of correspondence Bible lessons in English, and placed a one column 2" advertisement in "Bona" and "Drum" magazines. I chose magazines because people don't throw magazines away the way they do newspapers. Both Bona and Drum are Africa, English language magazines. Both are very popular all over Africa. What I did not know is that they are published in several editions, depending what country of Africa may be their source of publication. Those two adverts reached out to South Africa, South West Africa, Botswana, Lesotho, Swaziland, both Northern and Southern Rhodesia, Nyasaland, Kenya, Uganda, Nigeria, Gold Coast, and even beyond. Those are all countries of the British Commonwealth sp English is taught in the schools. After a slow start, the requests rolled in, including invitations to come to their countries to work. Two new mission fields actually opened because of that decision. God had led in this! And He had chosen me because of my particular talents and personality.

That was how Bob became a self trained "printer and publisher" for soon the Gestetner had to be replaced by an electric offset printer and then larger and more effecient offset presses; until finally finally there was a "roll back" when he reverted to an electronic Risograph. Actually it was a new innovation to printing. Yes, it uses a stencil but much differently than the old machines and far cleaner, but that is a whole new blog to come later.

At this early stage, Bob invited a man to come from the Minister's Training School in Kimberley, to hold a meeting and advise as to what should be done about Windhoek problems. Nick Qwemesha came during the Christmas Summer break at the school. It had been arranged that he would stay in the home of the minister of African Methodist Episcopal church, perhaps a quarter a mile away from us. He and his family were to be out of town. That was arranged because it was illegal for Nick to stay in the home of a white family. Those were Arpartheid Years and as foreigners, we could expect to be under surveillance. We had already had the experience of the Police Spy interpreter. On the second day, Nick came to the Mission, cap in hand and asked to be allowed to stay with us. He would sleep anywhere! Even the little children were drunk in the township, and I am sure that he was frightened to stay there and walk back and forth to our home. Of course we took him in and made a plan, though there was not even one spare bed anywhere on the property. I think he put the benches together and put a mattress pad and blanket on them. He was happier, and we came to know a literally, life long friend. Many years later his family phoned to ask me to come over 400 miles to preach his funeral, and His widow traveled hundreds of miles to see us when we returned to Africa to be at the wedding of a granddaughter. It would have been a very difficult trip for Gerty in the heat of season and riding in an overloaded car.

Nick was very upset that there was no telephone in this house right on the very edge of the township. When even the tiny ones who came to the meetings had obviously been drinking, He made it very clear that we should leave as soon as our lease expired and come and help teach at the Preacher Training School in Kimberley where he would be my interpreter. Phyllis had our two older girls and by that time Donna had just been born, so she and the children flew from Windhoek to Kimberley and Bob followed by road retracing the route followed two years before. This time he knew where he was going and what to expect. A new phase, a new home, and new friends lay ahead. We were to spend a happy twelve years in Kimberley and the family had many friends there.

OUR FIRST CONFERENCE EXPERIENCE

2007-12-30T14:36:00.000-08:00

Every year the African churches came together at a host church's invitation for their annual conference. This was a time for preaching, teaching sessions, discussion of various problems and such like. There would be at least two sermons each day of which one would be preached usually by a representative of one of the tribal groups, and some by missionaries. After the preaching sessions were completed, the women had their own more or less parallel sessions, perhaps in a borrowed building. Their first conference after Bob and Phyllis moved to Kimberley was an eye opener to them. It was held in a Douglas not far from Kimberley, but there had only been missionaries on the field for a few years after many years with none. The churches had many leadership and spiritual problems because of the lack of properly taught leaders, so the missionaries were called aside to try to deal with these in a short time. What the congregations themselves should have handled was dumped on the shoulders of a few leaders, resulting in many hours of listening to and trying to help in the limited time available. It took years to undo old habits that had grown over the years.

All the missionaries were really new to African culture and African problems. It seemed like endless discussions with no conclusions to Bob. In addition, he was not permitted to contribute as he was the new missionary there and had no official standing. The first year, any newmissionary was expected to watch, listen, and not say anything. Added to that was the fact that Bob did not enter South Africa under the auspices of that particular mission in the first place. He had came from South West Africa and a different mission.

Near the end of the conference, there was a business meeting when each person was confirmed to to continue in his job for the next year. All the others were to continue as they were, but Bob was given the job of being the Railway Concession Registrar. At that time all ministers were able to get a railway discount to go to various parts of their preaching circuits and conferences. That was Bob's first job, in addition to teaching at preacher's trining school, church visitation, preaching an occasional sermon, and of course his own work, the Bible Correspondence Lessons was increasing rapidly and was getting more and more demanding of time.

There was a short time when Bob was asked to preach a few times in a major white church of the city. The Presbyterian Church downtown had, a large building, with a music minister, and a very formal service. Bob was asked to fill the pulpit when their own minister was away. This was the church with a number of leading and wealthy members of the city. After a few times, he asked to be excused as he found that he had to neglect his African work. A smaller Presbyterian congregation across the city also invited him on occasions. Shortly afterwards the Mills' opened their home for house church services each Sunday evening. By that time, the Randall’s had been called to minister to the Polo Road Church of Christ in Cape Town and had moved there, but there were still six adult missionarys and their children as well as several Chinese young people who needed an English language service. This worked well until it was learned that the Afrikaans Language Baptist Church had built a new building and desired to sell their old one. This was bought and it enabled the work to have it’s own building and for both the Chinese work and a growing Colored congregation to form a blended work. Bob added this pulpit ministry to his other jobs, and the Kimberley Church of Christ was born.

AN EVENING VISIT TO A FARM CHURCH

2007-12-30T14:35:00.001-08:00

Visits to the Kimberley area farms for preaching or other occasions never failed to be a blessing, both to us and to the workers on the farm. A farm in South Africa was often much larger than the farms we had known in America. They always had a staff of several black or colored families in addition to the white farm manager or owner. There might be both the owner and a manager or even married children living there. Any visitor was a "special event" to all.

As Lynn had a filmstrip projector that worked from the car battery, one trip I remember was an evening visit. We were expected, but still, we made a courtesy call at the house before going on to the area set aside for the African residents. Two, or three, or more families always meant that there would be a number of children. Of course the farmer would want to know who was on his property, and often he and his family also came, especially if it was a Sunday worship service. For that, someone, the farmer or the black families would have a special Sunday dinner waiting. The farmer also often had dogs that needed controlled. One farm we visited was surrounded by rocky hills and baboons lived among the rocks. That farmer had greyhounds, which drove those away from the planted corn and other foods. Left to roam, the baboons would scatter through the corn patch and rip off the ears as they went. They would take a bite or two and discard that one and rip off another doing great damage to the crop. Unfortunately the dogs also attacked strangers and were very vicious.

This being before television had reached South Africa, we could count on almost every able person to attend and listen carefully to all that we had to say through our interpreter. You might think that using an interpreter would slow the speaker greatly. Not at all, if he is a good interpreter and he knows your manner of speaking. Nick Qwemeshwa not only knew where Lynn or I were headed, but he could anticipate and overlap. He was always my interpreter of choice. In the Orange Free State, we were definitely into Afrikaans speaking country, and the farmers often did not understand a word of English. It also took a brave man to go with us to those particular farms, as the farmers were often very suspicious of strangers. That was another good reason to stop at the house first. Nick could interpret into Afrikaans, Xhosa, or Tswana, from English or in reverse when needed. Many Africans from the Northern Cape, where we lived, were afraid to go through the Free State and often would not even get out of the car until we crossed through and into Natal on the other side, or had returned to the northern Cape.

We had a wonderful neighbor next door to us. Bing was an excellent auto mechanic, and he could speak Afrikaans or English fluently. He told me once of a man from the Free State who had brought his car to him for work and who wanted him to speak only Afrikaans to him. Bing knew that the man was not well educated but he agreed and explained everything using the Afrikaans terms for everything. As there were often no well-known Afrikaans words, it has been the custom to coin new words as technology developed so rapidly. Bing used all the proper new words, and soon the bewildered man stopped him, saying "Use the English words, I understand those." The fact was that he was very against anything English, but at the same time, did not know his own language all that well. This was not that many years after the Boer War between the English and the Afrikaans. The English may have won the war, but they then lost control politically afterwards. Unfortunately the English soldiers had burned the farms to the ground during the fighting because they were supplying their fighters their men with supplies. They had then placed the homeless women and children in concentration camps. Since the food source was destroyed, many people died there. A good friend we knew had lost his grandmother in such a camp. He will never forget, nor forgive that she had died there. Winston Churchill had been a reporter in that war as a young man and was a prisoner for a time.

SCHOOLING PROBLEMS!

2007-12-30T14:33:00.000-08:00

When it came time for our children to start school, our problems began, and they continued until we eventually moved from the Northern Cape to the Transvaal Province. Travsvaal had a far more international culture. When the girls started school, they attended the same girl's schools most other English speaking little girls did. The fact that it was an all girl's school was no problem; not the uniforms, nor the fact that it was a bus ride across town. Our real problems started when the school board hired a new principal. She started cramming children every where. Prefabricated class rooms filled every possible playground space, and there was talk of adding a second floor to the building. Even the entrance lobby was made into a classroom. I think the problem stemmed from the fact that the new principal was through and through Afrikaans and had a totally different idea as to the goals she wanted to accomplish, and what was important.

The newspaper ran a cartoon block block about then that illustrated it perfectly. It pictured a row of children walking into a machine on one side, all were different. They came out the other side, every one identical. We prided our children's individual personalities and talents. She seemed to want them to be robots, and to accomplish that every pressure was used to force conformation. They, and others, clashed with the Afrikaans language teacher who felt that all she needed to do was to read Afrikaans folk stories to children who knew no Afrikaans at all. She also often left them to read Afrikaans language books while she went on errands downtown. Another teacher, apparently felt one of the girls had many of her own personality problems and took exception. She was determined to change that, and sent undecipherable notes to us complaining about our daughter's penmanship. She also refused to accept the way she used the American style of writing 4's and 7's. If they were not changed to her choice, the math was marked wrong. The same child also learned in America to cross her T's. This was totally unacceptable and marked as misspelled. Why? Because the crossed T's reminded the teacher of a cemetery with crosses. She would not grade such a paper. The same child also loved to knit, and the class was told to do a knitted project for the inspector to see. Unfortunately, she did not hold the needles the way the teacher liked which created more problems.

Years later after we went on a furlough, the people who rented our home decided they would like to buy it. When we returned, we lived in a different house. We took that opportunity to change th girls to another school not far from the new home. It was a bi-sexual, bi-lingual school, but was predominantly Afrikaans speaking with one class for English speaking children. Everyone was happier. It had apparently just been the principal and two of her teachers. Eventually we would re-locate to live in Randburg, a suburb of Johannesburg. Things were much improved. A different daughter turned us grey there!

Now that I an look back on it, I praise the Lord that we have four healthy girls who preserved their differences and refused to be exactly like everyone else. One is now a nurse, for some time in charge of a Children's home, one is running her own business keeping the books for small businesses. The youngest and her husband operate their own business. Becky once astounded her instructor when she took an IBM computer course and got a 100% mark. They refused to admit that anyone could do that, but she did. She later came to America for a few years and worked, as a temporary help to teach people with graduate degrees how to use IBM equipment. The other one hated book-keeping in school, but has made a profession of accounting and works for a large hospital directing their accounts department. The Lord uses each of us as only He knows where we are needed most, and what we are equipped to do. We are not all alike. That I ended up creating a job as a printer and publisher is proof of that. Isn't God great! What job did He create you and prepare you for? Be sure that He did. Remember Philip the deacon and evangelist. God prepared him and used him to take the gospel to an African man opening a new continent. See Acts 8.

TWO HUMONGOUS HOLES IN THE GROUND

2007-12-30T14:31:00.000-08:00

Kimberley’s great claim to fame might be said to be its two great holes in the ground, or perhaps it is really what came out of them. Someone else has pointed out that it is the only city in the world with a mile long street studded with diamonds. The tiny diamonds came out of the great holes. The holes are there because diamonds were found in those two volcanic pipes, and the diamond studded street is the result of the crushed stone that was dug out being completely diamond free when it was hauled down the road in leaky ox carts to be dumped in heaps all around. Diamonds, diamonds everywhere and not a one to keep. That is because they are so small as to be for practical purposes at that time, considered to be useless. All uncut diamonds belong to the De Beers Mining Company, and it is strictly illegal to possess an uncut diamond unless you have a digger’s license. New licenses are not issued. The only way to get one is to inherit it from a licensed digger. These still exist; in fact every time a really old building is moved or demolished, a digger will come in with his ancient “washing machine” and he will wash the soil and crushed stone from the original building site and search by hand for any remaining diamonds.

The mines look like a huge funnel set into the earth. They have steeply sloping sides at the top then drop almost straight down to, and far beyond, the water level. They have been heavily fenced to prevent suicides. A fireman has to go down on ropes to retrieve any body remaining on the slopes. If it falls as far as the water, it is blown up, as it is impossible to retrieve it that far down. In our first years living in Kimberley, we often heard “thunder” out of clear skies. Then we realized that what we heard was the sound started far down the shaft when people tossed stones into the open mine. It worked much like using a megaphone. It is now illegal to throw anything into the mine. A museum beside the opening now features the oldest buildings that were still standing in the city but now have been relocated to a street next to the "Big Hole." There are a boxing gymnasium, a bar, a church, a house and more are added from time to time. These actual buildings now stand in a row while, while several individual rooms are featured in indoor displays.

An aerial photo, hanging in my bath room, showing the “Big Hole” Mine, was taken and printed by Max Ward Randall from the same negative as a giant print which he also made for the DeBeers head offices near the mine itself. The picture above is of the second mine, located just on the other side of the down town area.

Diamonds are the life of Kimberley. I once took a tourist friend to a working mine a few miles out of town. It is hard to realize the tons of blue stone that must be crushed, put through large washers to separae the heavier stones which are then washed across grease tables where the diamonds stick to Vaseline. They remain dry while the wet stones are carried away with the flowing water. A week’s recovery of diamonds is hardly a good cup full, and most of those are only of industrial quality. At intervals the Vaseline is scraped off the sloping table and put into an ordinary frying pan and then warmed so that the Vaseline can be poured off and used again. Under camera supervision, we were each handed a large stone to examine it more closely. I am told that you can no longer visit the mine itself. Instead you must now go to the sorting plant near the head office. I have been there as well. There, you now see the diamonds only through plate glass, and on the second floor which has locked heavy oak doors at both the top and the bottom of the stairs. Workers can be seen hand sorting by color, size, and quality, at their tables behind a plate glass wall of one side of the viewing room. They are constantly being watched and work under camera. A friend who started working at that job, says it is utterly boring work. He was eventually transferred to the head office and given challenging job. The last time I saw him, he had advanced high in the company.

All sorts of wild schemes have been tried to steal diamonds, and some of them have worked in days past. They usually involved the workers in the mine itself and living in the dormitory housing. Workers are now scanned as they leave the premises. There is a special branch of detectives in the police force that specializes in this type of crimes.

All this, and yet the most precious gems of them all are the workers themselves. They come from all over Africa as contract workers who return home after completing their contracts every few months. The mission started and grew through some of these workers who became Christians while they were at the mines. When they returned to their homes they carried their new faith back to their families at home. The same thing happens at the prisons. Our correspondence Bible study booklets featuring topically arranged Scripture texts have been spread by the many thousands through those two avenues as well as through the scholars living the countrys many boarding schools. They also return to their homes, sometimes in other African countries. At the end of the term. Some of these actually fly back to Europe for school holidays.
Jesus said, "as you go, teach all nations, baptizing them..." Matthew 28:19.

THE KIMBERLEY CHURCH HOUSE

2007-12-30T14:29:00.000-08:00

With the passing of time, our small living room because too small for the young church to be comfortable in it, so we were delighted to learn that the Afrikaans Baptist congregation had built a new building and were looking for someone to buy their old building. Brothers Stanley and Rees investigated this and agreed on the price so we came to have a much larger place of worship. While it had only three rooms, the sanctuary and two dressing rooms, large enough for small classes to use, it was also blessed by having a baptistery. We all set to and with a lot of work; cleaned and repainted the interior. The pews had been left behind so seating was no problem at all. The piano was moved from our home to there to provide accompaniment for the worship services. By this time I had bought a Commer Van so we we began operating a "church bus" as another of our jobs in addition to my filling the pulpit and teaching a Sunday School Class. However, it was not long until pressures from The apartheid policy of the government began to be a problem when bringing the students from all over South Africa to Kimberley to be trained for ministry. Since brother Stanley was the principal of the school, he dealt with these problems and decided to follow government advice and to move the school to a predominately black area near Port Shepstone, on the coast. He privately purchased a portion of a sugar cane plantation at Umzumbe. One boundary of his property was divided from similar land only by a single lane cane road from a large area in a black Zulu homeland. Brother Nick Qwemesha, bought a small portion on the other side of that road. The two of them went to work and built a home for the Qwemesha's and a dormitory for the men on the Zulu side of the road, with a church/classroom building on the other side. Later other buildings were added. A building for the visiting nurse to use as a clinic, a women's rondavel residence, a utility building, and the last was a kitchen and dining room. Nick ministerd to the congregation of that church and continued to teach and interpret for the school. It was a good plan, except that the students were not happy in that they were expected to help with the garden to grow their food and help maintain the road as part of their tuition expenses. They regarded this to be beneath their dignity, even while they were students. Unfortunately the road to the school was only a cane track for the heavy trucks to collect the sugar cane to take it to the mill for processing. They made it almost impassable in ordinary vehicles. The last mile or two, was also used by the other residents, and was simply "a dirt track". Large stones, deep ruts, and a high center ridge with weeds and grass made it almost mandatory to use a pick up truck. At least one visitor driving a small car knocked a hole in his fuel tank on that road. After that he refused to drive over it at all. That was after he drove over it in daylight and saw just how far down the steep slope of the mountain fell away!

We did not move to the coast as someone was still needed in the huge Northern Cape area which had many black churches, so we stayed on as the only mission family still in Kimberley at that time. That was the last of Bob's teaching regularly in the minister's training school. He ministered to one of the churches in Kimberley, visited the black churches of the Northern Cape to preach and teach when possible, particularly on Saturdays, and coped with the growing enrollment in the Correspondence Bible Lessons with a monthly news letter to them. Those were being mailed to thousands scattered all over Africa's many English speaking former British colonies.

A BAPTISMAL SCENE AT CONFERENCE TIME

2007-12-30T14:20:00.000-08:00

This particular blog reminds us of the reason why we went to live in Africa for all of our working life. We went there in obedience to the Lord's command, "Go ye therefore and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." (Matthew 28:19,20)

South Africa is a land of many languages, though those in the picture are mostly English, Afrikaans, Xhosa, Zulu or Tswana speaking in their own homes though some of them can converse in several of those major languages. Our daughter, Ruth, in the foreground of the picture, married a South African gentleman. Now, many years later, is in America to assist her daughter at the time when Nickie's first son is to be born. Nickie married an American. Our eldest daughter, Kathryn, a nurse, lived in South Africa where she managed a home for abandoned and aids children, has returned to America to be near three of her children. The two young boys in this picture are Larry and Duane Stanley.

We began by publishing Bible tracts and booklets in the five basic languages used in the mission's members but, gradually added more as translators came available. By the time of our retirement, we had 33 languages represented in our web site, but since our retirement from Africa, this number has continued to grow until there are nearly fifty languages at the present time. All thanks and praise to our Lord Jesus.

THE NEW TESTAMENT DOCTRINES

2007-12-30T14:18:00.000-08:00

Blog 19

After they had moved to Kimberley, the basic Bible Doctrines lessons by correspondence really began to bear fruit. The first English version booklet was printed commercially in Kimberley as the hand cranked Gstetner stencil machine simply could not cope. Soon Bob located a tiny Multilith offset printer, but this one had to be hand fed and required two people to operate it. One person fanned small stacks of about fifty to a hundred sheets of paper and handed them to the operator who using a rubber finger-tip fed them a sheet at a time into the hopper. Soon it was apparent that other languages were needed so Bob was printing, processing the returned booklets, typing the material for new languages as the translations were available and preparing tracts and a monthly newsletter to accompany the returned materials to the students. When other languages came on line, the distribution mushroomed.

The small printer was sold and a new A.B. Dick Offset Printer was bought. This machine was a great improvement. One person could operate it with a greatly improved output, but now it was necessary to add dark room equipment to prepare the metal printing plates. This learning process was not entirely without problems. Bob was learning as he went, and one finger of his left hand has to this day a damaged nail where one of the paper strippers penetrated the base of the nail. This was, fortunately, an injury during the clean up process when the machine was being rotated by hand and not by motor.

The mailings became huge, as there had been literally hundreds of thousands of packets of lessons mailed out and were many to be marked and returned as well. They were being mailed in large quantities to boarding school children as well as to prisons and others who simply learned of them by word of mouth or through the magazine advertisements. They could only be handled in the many languages because they were almost entirely of Scriptures with brief comments.

Praise to the Lord that three other countries opened their doors and people askd for missionaries to come and work there. Through them also at least three excellent black ministers in South Africa attended the Minister's Training School after completing these the introductory lessons and being recommended to continue their study in the classroom. They would never have known anything about the New Testament Church had they not received those lessons.

It was at this stage that Bob was granted the Restoration Award plaque, reading "Fifth Annual Lincoln Christian College Alumni Association Restoration Award, presented to Robert S. Mills for Outstanding Service in Christian Missions, March 6th, 1970" but it wasn't Bob, it was the Lord's Word that did it with the His blessings.

Read the Word.

II Timothy 2:15s.
Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.

CAMPING AT CONFERENCE TIME

2007-12-30T14:16:00.000-08:00

Blog 20

During our early years in Kimberley, we went to conference gatherings in various host churches scattered over South Africa. At first a tent was sufficient for the family, or in some places where the town had a campground, we sometimes hired a "Rondavel" such as the one in the attached picture. I think this picture was taken at Graaff Reinet in the Karoo. Monkeys played in the trees and we could never leave anything accessible to them or they would carry it away. We were not used to this, as there were no wild monkeys at Kimberley.

As the mission printer we not only had to carry our camping supplies, but also the mission's printing, and the minister's supplies which were distributed there. We also made available Bibles, hymnals, and any tracts or study booklets that had been prepared that year so that they could be used to teach the members of the churches. At first I bought a small luggage trailer, which had a water-tight seal around the lid, to carry these things. It did not last long! First, it was not large enough as more and more items became available, but it also had to be disposed of as people used it as a seat at the gatherings and they caved in the lid. After that of course, it was no longer dust or water tight. The rain or dust damaged what ever was on the inside.

We made a series of changes as the family grew, and eventually when there came to be six of us, we either planned to hire a camp cottage, stay in a trailer camper, or as a last resort, to go to a hotel. Hotels were still affordable at that time. Eventually I bought a "kiosk" and mounted it on the back of a pick up truck. When I was traveling alone, I could sleep over the cab in the extention addition that I had added to it. Even though it was not adequate to display the 400 different publications that we eventually published and carried in stock in the bookstore. We never attempted to carry other publisher's materials with us other than Bibles from the Bible Society, and hymnbooks. At that time the Black churches normally used the Methodist Hymnal and we bought those from the Methodist Publishing House in whatever language we needed. All the Christians carried their own Bibles and Hymnbooks. None of the churches left those in the building for use in worship. We also stocked Bible and Hymnbook covers as they usually covered both. Even so, they suffered damage as most books were also used as an improvised "tambourine" since the people sang without any instrumental accompaniment of any sort. This was simply a practical choice, and not doctrinal. The churches could not afford instruments. Even if they could, they could not safely leave them in their buildings which were usually used as school classrooms during the week.

A PROBLEM SOLVED

2007-12-30T14:13:00.000-08:00

The printed Word in the language of the people is vital, and delivering it from press to reader can be accomplished in many ways. Today as I browsed through a scrapbook of our monthly newsletters of the time, I came across two with drawings of our Bible van. I had forgotten that we gave it the nick name of "turtle" as it was comparatively slow, and especially so if there was a head-wind, as there seemed always to be on a long trip. But it had wonderful blessings to bestow as well. In another blog you saw a picture of the first trailer that we used to carry all our supplies. We now move forward several years to 1989 and see the how very differently we handled the books and Bibles distribution. This was practically a traveling billboard. People saw it, on the highways, and they responded positively. It was truck mounted, with had a side serving hatch, and absolutely no one sat on top of this one like they did with the small luggage trailer! I did walk about on it when I mounted the sign for our first Bible Shop. At first there was terrific wind resistance, but after I designed and built the bunk over the truck cab, the air flow was much better. That was another problem solved. As the original box had been mounted on a trailer, and was designed to be a traveling Hot Dog Stand, I occasionally got a ribbing that someone wanted ice cream or a hot dog with mustard and pickles. I used it at the preaching conference, and at the minister's week. At the Barkly West adult camp out I was able to park it in a space absolutely adjacent to the covered outside walkway around the main kitchen, lunch hall, and assembly building. The walls facing it, were made of folding doors that were pushed open all day every day we were there in order to catch the breeze. When I visited African churches to preach, I drove it by choice, as I could carry lots of materials in the language that church normally used, and everything was always visible, while no set-up time was necessary. Not only that, but my lodgings were right there with me, so I could eat with the congregation and could park it anyhere.

Back in Johannesburg later, a Flea Market opened on the big show grounds near Soweto. I drove the van there every Saturday. It was like being at the State Fair and on the main drag. The management gave me free parking and a reserved spot. Unfortunately that venue closed after they went bankrupt. Those were troubled days and too many people were afraid to be that near to Soweto and to leave their cars in the open parking lot outside the fence, even though there were armed horseback guards there, and probably half or more of the people in attendance were carrying weapons. I understood why, as I had been issued a permit to park in down town Johannesburg, adjacent to the African railway station terminal. That would have been a prime spot just outside the police station, but was still near to the European terminal. That station was a target for bombers, and thr whole area was definitely "high crime" rated. I am afraid I felt my face was the wrong color, and considering the times, that was not the place to park all day long. Instead I hired an office in a building across the street for a while, and set up a publisher's show room there, and travelled in by bus. A building next to the station and across the street from our office was bombed and for a while it was thought that it was damaged beyond repair and would have to be torn down.

Now that I am in Texas, every time I see a huge "Horse" Trailer being towed by a pick up truck, I think, "Under the right circumstances, I would love to have had something like that available in South Africa to adapt with fluorescent lighting, greeting card type displays on both the very long sides and a dropdown tail-gate with an awning over it. I wouldn't need a shop at all! People could come right in. Some of these vans I have seen are actually already fitted with factory installed sleeping quarters over the truck bed. The Scripture says something about old men, "dreaming dreams." At my age, that is all it can be and particularly as South Africa is even more troubled today in many ways than it was before. The country is going through the "carpet bag" period after the turmoil.

NOT FURLOUGH TIME ALREADY !

2007-12-30T14:12:00.000-08:00

During our forty-seven years in Africa we took many trips back to America on "furlough". There are many reasons to take a furlough. Some climates are so unhealthy that it is recommended that the family take a break from them to return home for their health’s sake, and they may do so every three years or so, or it may be a requirement that an annual trip be taken to someplace other than where they are working for a complete change. Malawi, for example was for many years considered to the virtually a cemetery for missionaries, because of the heavy toll from Malaria and other diseases. I understand that in India many take breaks in the mountains during the hot season. That was not true of South Africa, however.

In South Africa, because of the apartheid laws for many years, most the time of our residence there, except for day visits in African areas, we were required to stay in European (white) areas at night. We frequently spent the day, even late into the evening in the villages or townships reserved for non-white residents, but we slept in hotels, camping sites, our own homes, or those of friends or other missionaries. Our breaks were usually for a conference gathering, a missionary retreat, a minister’s retreat, a Christian Youth Camp, or very rarely an actual vacation break to a game park. When our daughters were young, we often picked them up after school during the summer months on a Friday afternoon and drove the eighteen miles out to Kimberley’s waterworks and resort campsite in the Vaal River. One could fish, swim in one of the pools, play on the playground equipment and prepare a cook out or picnic. They also had large aviaries with parakeets, and other colorful birds and a large area with huge land turtles. A weir across the river made it wide and deep enough so there were boats and water skiers to watch. Not many people swam in the river because of the danger of Bilharzia, though the danger is really on shore as part of it’s life cycle is by way of snails that live in the damp foliage. I don’t know of anyone who had that disease, but there were caution signs by most waters that swimming is not permitted.

Where we lived in South Africa, the climate was much like Dallas, Texas so it is not particularly uncomfortable. Few houses had air conditioning, and probably even fewer had central heat. The ceilings were high, and I know we suffered more from the cold in the winter than from the heat of the summer. Everyone wore warm sweaters and used a lap robe in the evenings along with portable heat of some sort. Most churches did not even attempt to have night services though we tried with poor success in winter. Evening small group Bible studies worked better then as a small room could be warmed easier than a large auditorium, especially as no window or door was ever free of drafts. It did not help that the building codes at that time required a small grid covered opening above every window for ventilation. Most of us taped a paper cover over those!

It was not because of the weather that we took furloughs about every five years, depending on our work load, the availability of someone to care for it, and when the other near by missionaries were taking theirs. That was our routine for most of our time there, except for the fact that after we opened the Bible bookstore, and became so involved in ongoing projects, publishing, and a local congregation, we took much shorter trips back, but at the same intervals. We first chose three months as they were easier to handle and we could re-visit all the churches that supported the work in that time and report back to them first hand of the work. At the time we first did that South African Airways was offering a big discount on three month round trips and some of the American airlines were offering very favorable prices for more distant places, but always linked and with no back tracking. I was able to use that one furlough, but most of our travel had to be by car. Loan vehicles or rentals were the only choice. Buying a car you are only going to drive for three months and buying insurance and licenses is totally out of the question.

Furloughs are clearly necessary, but are far more difficult than staying put in familiar surroundings and in familiar routines. Especially when they were young, our children suffered through the many hours in the car and among strangers, not to mention hearing dad say much the same thing over and over; even finding a place to live that will accept four small children and with no lease. Putting them in a new school if it happens to be during the school year. I recall one such stay when we were living in a basement apartment, which had few windows. One Sunday, they were all tired and Ruth cried to "go home." We assured her that we would be home soon, thinking of the apartment. When we arrived back, she took one look and began to sob over and over, "I want to go home!" It is heart breaking for a small child to give up everything to live in a car and out of a suitcase. She is one of the three of our four daughters who married and is truly at home in Africa. Two of her three children now live in America and the situation is now reversed for her. Her oldest son has a boy and lives in Cape Town, and her only daughter is now married and presently lives in Oklahoma, while the younger son has an American girl friend, and also lives in Oklahoma. Our fourth daughter married a Scotsman and they are "home" in Dallas: so much at home that Jim has taken out American citizenship. One of Becky’s children lives in England, one in Botswana, and the youngest plans to go to England in a short time. They all pretty well bring an end to any thought of a "family reunion!" It is a fact that we have not seen any of our great-grandchildren, though the next one soon to e born, will live in Oklahome, at least for the time being.

On our return to Africa there was always the period of getting back into a routine. Problems caused by the absence have to be dealt with. In one case the church had disbanded, and my signature on the funds account was forged. I have no idea what happened to the money. Things can no longer be found. In one case, we had a postage franker to cope with my large mailings. The mail had accumulated and was months old, and the franker had not been taken to the post office for setting the whole time. In fact the whole meter was gone. Real troubles! Another furlough, we could not balance the books for the shop at all, and had to simply close them and start over. That was not intentional. I am sure, he just didn’t notice. Added to all this is the small adjustment to driving back to the left side of the road, once having found a car to drive again.

Not furlough time again so soon! Please!!

CROSSING THE OCEAN AGAIN

2007-12-30T14:10:00.000-08:00

Even though, or perhaps because I was in the Navy, I am not a fan of ships. Our first crossing was, aside from being long and with a sick baby, was only a real problem when we came to the Cape Rollers, near our destination. I arrived surely with a rather greenish complexion, and remained so for a full day after putting my feet back onto solid ground.

A few years later we took another ocean trip, this time 0n a Mail Ship. This one followed the coastline up Africa stopped at the Canary Islands, then crept on to South Hampton, England. This was truly a passenger liner, though very old. It had served as a troop carrier in World War One as well as in World War Two. Here we had our first taste of British elegance. Phyllis and the girls were booked in a small compartment with two sets of double bunks that had nets over the open side so you could not fall out of the upper bunk. Ruth was ill again and we were quarantined as they felt she had measles. She didn’t. She had an allergy reaction to the fact that our bath water was salt water and in a copper tub. She has an intense reaction to most metals, even gold, so her wedding ring and any jewelry she wears has to be silver. We did not know that then of course, so the quarantine remained in place.

I was booked to sleep in a tiny space under the stairs in a forward "broom closet" if there ever was one. There were no windows at all. I took one look and simply moved back with my family. The girls were small so slept at the opposite ends of their bunks and we all fitted in nicely. I knew that in that forward part of the ship, there would be a lot of pitching as well as rolling, and I would be seasick, calstrophobic, and bedfast in that closet size room. As it was, I was far better off, though still ill.

We were seated for our meals at a table with a very English sounding couple. Our waiter for the trip was a Cockney speaking fellow. He understood us quite well, but we could only catch a word here and there when we concentrated closely. I thought the others would understand, but by the end of the trip, we were translating for them. It did not really matter at all, in any case, as no matter what the menu said, the potatoes were small, boiled with the skins on, and the meat was roast beef. We just ate what came. There was really no choice.

The children were not permitted to eat with us, so we took them to the children’s dining room for their meals. They weren’t given a menu to choose from, so that was not a problem. What was a problem, however, was that there were flies in their dining room, and the mirror over the buffet became absolutely fly specked more and more as the trip continued, and the floors were not scrubbed so that by the end the chairs were actually sticking to the floor. No one was happier than we were to see South Hampton. We waved with everyone else when the Queen Mary liner on its way out met our sister ship in the channel. Both ships blew their whistles in greeting. Both of them were from the Cunnard fleet.

At the dock, we were soon transferred to a train heading for London, and then to a taxi to take us to the Finchley Mission Home where we would stay a few days until we were to sail for New York City. London was dull and smokey. We were amazed to hear the locals referring to the "beautiful sunshine" one day. What we saw was what looked like an orange trying to peer through the smoggy overcast sky. We were not impressed. Our room was at the top of the stairs. I think it was the fourth or fifth floor, and it was icy cold. There was a coin-operated gas burner in a small fireplace. I had spied a bank about a block away where I bought change for that meter.

We soon learned that the subway was near by. In fact the train passed directly under the building and the vibration was startling every time a train passed underneath. Meal time was another lesson. We knew the time they would be starting to serve, so always started to lead our children down the long stairs so that we would be there on time for the prayer. Every meal, as we had reached a few landings down, the servers banged a huge Chinese gong that stood on the bottom landing, and every meal our girls were so frightened that we always arrived at the bottom trying to sooth them. Ruth was still ill, and one of the other guests, a young lady from Kenya offered to care for her so we could take a bus down town and see a little of London. We really enjoyed walking about there, but soon returned to the home, and went back of it where we found a green-grocery (fruit and vegetables)shop where we bought some fruit to give the girls as they were not eating very well. England still had rationing and the meat was sliced so thin that I really believe you would be able to place it over a printed page and still be able to read the page. Perhaps that is a little exaggerated.

Our trip back to South Hampton was uneventful, and we were ushered into the huge SS United States liner for the last leg of our trip back to New York. There was only one stop, and that was at France just across the English Channel.

At that time the SS United States held the world’s speed record for this crossing. Our cabin was below the water line, so we could hear the water rushing by outside and of course there were no portholes. The weather was cold and rainy with rough conditions, and at the speed we were traveling, there was considerable movement. was very sick and stayed in bed. They saved on my food tab as I survived the trip eating only crisp toast and drinking black tea. The stairway was beautiful, but impossible to climb, so we tried the heavily padded elevator up to the dining room the first day. As soon as I smelled the food, I decided on the tea and toast diet. Phyllis ate alone, and to this day does not forgive me for being sick. A glimpse out the spacious windows of the lounge area showed the weather and the hundreds of huge chunks of floating ice to remember. It was a beautiful ship with a wonderful catering, and every convenience, even in our cabin, but I simply could not enjoy it.

Our return trip back across the ocean to South Africa was on a freighter. Most freighters had room for twelve passengers in staterooms, and they were really very comfortable, though the ships were not fast. You ate your meals with the ship's officers. It was there that the captain asked to deliver the Sunday sermons.

This was the last time we traveled the ocean by sea. As with most missionaries, we traveled by air after that.

WE TRY FLYING

2007-12-30T14:08:00.000-08:00

Our next trip back to America was by air. We had learned a few things, but not enough. This trip we would not be bringing a car back to Africa, never again. Our luggage would be light, that is as light as one can travel with four daughters and clothes for a year. We would have an interesting encounter over that.

To save money important in those days, we booked our trip and paid, including the hotel in Luxemburg, Germany on a discount price airline. Trek Airways was South African registered, and their only plane was a beautiful Super Constellation, with its very neat tri-tailfins. It was packed like a sardine tin. Every seat was filled, with a small child sleeping on the floor in front of a door, and there were thirteen tiny hammocks hanging overhead with babies. The aisles were very narrow as were the seats, but we took off with no problems.

Over Rhodesia at that time, the fire alarm sounded, but we droned on, as this was a propeller plane. The crewmembers came through the cabin and apologetically started pulling up the floorboards. That is when we learned that the luggage was all loaded through the cabin and through the floor. They were looking for smoke, or smell, or anything that would tell them why the alarm had sounded. As they found nothing, we continued on until we came to the first stop where we could land. Because of sanctions, by that time South Africa registered airlines were not welcome over Africa. There, I think it was Entebbe, we were thoroughly sprayed in case we were carrying any insects, then the seal was broken, and we were ushered at gunpoint into the terminal and to a room there where they posted a guard at the door and we could use the rest rooms and wait while they unloaded the baggage and checked the plane thoroughly. Eventually, it was discovered that one water line leading to one of the two restrooms was leaking and that was why the alarm sounded. All was loaded back, and we headed on to the North, with only one restroom available, eventually arriving at Cairo, Egypt. There all our passports were collected and we were again ushered at gunpoint to a room where we were under armed guard. As we returned to the plane one of the women passengers slipped on a pool of oil on the concrete and got oil all over her from the fall. She was ushered into the plane as she was, still under armed guard.

From there, after 32 hours on the way, we landed at Luxemburg where we soon learned that our travel agent had not booked and paid for our hotel room. There was a meal and a night, and we had only $75 in cash to house and feed all six of us. We went to a currency exchange bank to change this; we had even been misinformed as to what currency was used in Luxemburg, and the teller kindly suggested that we not try to go to the hotel where most of the passengers had gone, but to go around the corner to a sort of youth hostel kind of hotel, clean, comfortable and cheap. That is what we did, and our evening meal was a big bowl of onion soup.

We were scheduled to fly on by Icelandic Air to Iceland and from there to New York City. When I stacked our bags for the six of us at the weigh in, the ground crew almost flipped until I laid out our tickets one by one counting them as I did. That was fine. That cleared, Kathy lost her doll, a homemade doll with a long skirt and a head at each end. We eventually found it at a counter, where, without doubt, it had been x-rayed to make sure there was nothing inside other than stuffing. Doll and girl, together again, and tears dried, we waited. It was snowing outside, and they were trying desparetly to defrost the plane. They finally gave up and announced that the flight was cancelled until morning and that we would be bussed back to the hotel for the night. They covered the cost that time. I am not likely to forget that supper included a baked fish, head and beady eye staring at us. Try feeding that to four squeamish little girls. In fact try eating it yourself. By morning the storm had passed and our flight over Scotland was magnificent. The pilot came on the intercom to point out the snow-covered mountains and said that he had never seen them so beautiful before. Scotland was usually covered by clouds.

After flying over the glacier we landed at a military airbase in Iceland for a meal at the hotel and prepared to fly on to Greenland. As the plane raced down the runway, the pilot suddenly aborted the take off and taxied back to the terminal. His only explanation was that he was not happy about something and we would have repairs before continuing. There was a lot of complaining, but I personally was very relieved that we did start over the North Atlantic arctic conditions if he was not completely satisfied. We left later with no problems and stopped briefly in Greenland. From there flew on to Kennedy, where we changed to another airport and airline to continue on to Chicago. In Chicago we managed seats on a small commuter plane to Champaign. We were home!

After that furlough, we returned by the return half of the flight. It started badly from the moment I phoned to confirm our booking. From Luxemburg on was confirmed, but the leg from New York to Luxemburg was not. Taking a chance, since we needed to get to Luxemburg for the longer part of the flight, we flew in to Kennedy and presented ourselves at the counter with our tickets. At first they insisted they could not get us on the flight, but after checking the other connections and perhaps putting their own staff on other flights, they suddenly had seats for six people and we flew out as scheduled. This time we were accommodated at the hotel in Luxemburg and we flew by what they called the "Leisurely Route," flying by day only and staying on the ground at night in a hotel. We loved that. The first stop was to Athens, Greece, where we could see the Parthenon on a distant ridge while we had a leisurely dinner in the roof garden dining area. We relaxed to the string music accompaniment. Early the following morning, we took a bus tour past the Colliseum to the Parthenon, Mars Hill, and a nearby Greek open air theater. From there we went straight to the airport where we boarded and flew to Cairo, Egypt. As it was still early, a bus collected us all and we went to see the Pyramids and the Sphinx. The bus then headed for the markets so people could buy souvenirs, but as we had changed no money for Egyptian money and the bus was stopped by traffic in sight of the hotel where we were staying, we left the bus there and took the children back to our rooms. The airline was hosting us at the Nile Hilton, and they had given us a two room suite because there were six of us. We were told later that that was the only hotel in the city that would guarantee that they did not have bed bugs. Our windows overlooked the Nile River and we watched the boats with their very unusual sails lower the sail to slip under a low level bridge and we gazed at an unusual house boat on the far shore. It was several decks high. Our evening meal was served in the massive dining room facing the Nile, where we all sat together on a reserved indoor balcony. We were served a special menu. It was a very American, delicious meal. Thanks to Trek Airlines. I think we drove them broke, as that was their last such flight.

There were official problems at the airport again, but we were eventually allowed to fly on to Kenya, where we were lodged in a small hotel that made us feel like we were finally back in Africa. Shoes to be polished were left outside the door, and everyone was awakened and served a cup of hot tea before showering and going to breakfast. That is the way it was done in Africa in those days.

This was definitely the last trip of that sort Trek ever did and must have been one of the very last flights over Africa for any South African registered airline for several years. Once we were back home, I lodged a complaint about the cost of the hotel and was promptly refunded that. The airline also changed their agents after that, but too late, they soon folded. After standing unused at an airfield, that plane ended it’s life as a walk through exhibit in a pleasure resort north of Johannesburg. We had learned another lesson, "Always fly by a regularly scheduled airline!"

WHATSOEVER WE ASK, WE RECEIVE OF HIM

2007-12-30T14:06:00.000-08:00

Jesus told us that if we ask believing, he will provide. (1 John 3:22).

Our Bible bookstore and print shop had been suffering repeated burglaries. The ceiling had fallen in. Torrential rains had flooded it when street drainage was upset by road construction. And worst of all, it was being outgrown. In it’s favor, it was ideally situated and getting to be well known. We knew we were on the right track in providing it. Income was just covering expenses.

Just at that stage, a church complex, in not such a good location, but offering every thing else the rented shop had failed to offer, was placed on the market. I asked another missionary friend if he would go look at it with me and offer his advice. Keep in mind that we had not a cent to spare between us, but we looked together and came to just opposite conclusions. This building had a chapel that could seat probably 200, was fully furnished, on a corner site two blocks from a shopping community, and was in good condition. There was even a baptistery with dressing rooms, a cry room and a small office. The attached hall was larger, but not yet completed and had a half basement under the stage and kitchen. Upstairs there were fourteen small classrooms. The big drawback was the price and there would be the need to complete the building as there was not one toilet of any sort in that hall, even with all those classrooms. This was a prayer project and a test! Even my wife sided with our missionary friend.

I had been urgently praying in the smaller shop about our need. Now I became much more specific in my requests. The response was that the building was taken off the market. I still prayed, and a year later it was placed on the market again, but greatly reduced in price. I thought of selling our home to get a down payment, but that was not what our Lord had in mind at all. Just as I started praying again, almost immediately an estate became available. I made an offer, and it was accepted. It paid for the building, and the alterations so we ended up with two upstairs baths, a laundry, and a half-bath in the shop. The bookstore and print shop were spacious, and secure, but to just make sure, we added security gates, steel fenced, covered parking for two vehicles, and an upstairs apartment for ourselves. We did sell our home but only so that we could live over the shop and have the added security of a resident caretaker. That was good as repeated attempts were later made to steal our car and other vehicles were vandalized or stolen from our parking area.

Praise is to God who provided what everyone thought was out of the question, and beyond what we could ever have expected. God is truly great!

CHRISTMAS IN AFRICA

2007-12-30T14:05:00.001-08:00

Christmas in Africa is different by necessity. We soon learned that to plan a Christmas program actually near December 25th is almost an impossibility. School closes for the hot Summer early in the month, almost all manufacturing and building activity closes down then, and people are poised to head for their holidays in a hotel, campsite, or perhaps with family. They will be away from home until school opens for it's next school year again in January.

Thanksgiving is not a South African holiday, the stores will start their hectic Christmas sales activities sometime in November. Yes, they sing, "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" and "Jingle Bells." Many of them came from England or Europe to sunny South Africa to get away from the bitter cold. They want to go to the beach, or perhaps back to England for a few weeks; some to Switzerland to ski.
A favorite part of the season is to sing carols at the mall or in the park by candlelight. Another we enjoyed was the Christmas carols at the Musical Fountains in one of the parks. Either place, everyone took a blanket to sit on, and for the carols, a candle to light on signal. Either place attracted thousands who did not choose to go away that particular year. The fountains danced with their colored lights and different fountain patterns that changed with the music.

A favorite of New Years was a massive public display of fireworks, often from a float anchored off the shore in a lake where they showed at their very best. Alberton did not have a lake so for some few years we were able to simply pull the curtains aside and watch from our sitting room. They boomed almost overhead at times and showers of sparks flowed from the roof of the Civic Center down the front of the building in a massive "waterfall effect" at the climax. Santa's arrival at the Mall by helicopter was almost an anti-climax.

We always planned a Christmas program at the church or a carols evening, but it had to be early as too many of our people would be away. This meant that Christmas Day and Boxing Day (the day after Christmas) were free for us to enjoy an early worship service followed by a big dinner and a family gathering in our home. We always brought in the church's table tennis table, spread sheets over it and decorated it for a big meal. The entire family, eighteen or so of us, often with boy friends and other friends of our daughters, celebrated Christmas Dinner American Style.

As a rule most of the missionaries preferred to celebrate Thanksgiving as more of a family affair, though I do remember one year when we celebrated with Al and Annette Hamilton and their family at their home. We had a turkey which Al bought directly from the farmer. It was huge, and it was alive. Take my advice, buy your turkey frozen and cleaned!

A NEW YEAR TO USE FOR GOD

2007-12-30T14:03:00.000-08:00

The beginning of a new year is upon us. This is a time when we give thanks to God for the year gone by, and resolve to do better in the new year ahead. It is a time for new beginnings, a time for thanksgiving, a time for praise, and a time for prayer.

We look back at the good and the bad.

God has blessed us in many ways. This happened some years ago, but it was a time when things seemed to be routine. I led in a worship service on Sunday, and on Monday through Saturday morning, opened the Bible Book Store every day. Every day meant that I spent hours, between serving shoppers either entering a hand written translation into the computer, setting it up into the correct format for printing a tract or booklet, printing it on the Risograph, or collating and binding the material into finished booklets. It seemed that every day was the same, and I was rather “down.” There were times, when I have to admit, that I wondered if it was worth all the hard work. It was then, that God sent me a little “note of appreciation.” A man whom I knew, as a street evangelist, came in for a visit and some browsing among the finished booklets. He had bought several copies of those that I had prepared and placed on the shelves over the months. This time he had a question. If he brought his people to me, would I baptize them? Of course, I said yes, if I could speak with them first. He expected that and agreed to interpret for me. I did not ask which language he would be using. There are eleven official languages spoken in South Africa. And an agreement was made that he could come after closing time the following Saturday. The time was not really important as we lived upstairs above the shop. Then I returned to my work in progress.

The following Saturday, It was nearly time to close the doors, and I wondered if he would come at all. It was just then that I heard singing, and a group of Africans with him at the lead, came down the street. Right up to the door; they had arrived to be baptized. They had been studying one of our booklets on baptism for several weeks, now they wanted to be obedient to the Scriptures they had been studying. We closed the shop and went over to the chapel where I talked with them a while, and with his help, he went into the baptistery with me, we took their confession of faith and baptized 25 adults that day! God had sent me a reminder, that the word will not return void. I had prepared the lessons in their language, the evangelist had taught them, and now they came to be obedient. It was definitely worth all the hours spent! I really did not need his assistance, but how better to teach him how to baptize. After a few such visits, he now performs his own baptisms. I will only know how many when I go to be with the Lord. On the other hand, I might have needed him, as there was no way to know if these would be small people or grossly overweight. As it was, I was really sore and stiff for days afterwards. Praise to the Lord.

ALWAYS A READER

2007-12-30T14:01:00.000-08:00

I would suppose that it was because one of my aunts was my teacher in a one roomed school for the first five years of my education, that I was well taught in the importance of reading. Her favored gift at any birthday was a book. As a boy, through reading, I travelled the world, but especially Africa. It never occurred to me as I read of Livingstone, that one day I would actually stand under the tree where he preached at Smithsdrift; preach myself in a near by village stone church house, and drink water from the very deep well serving the community. The Northern Cape was my home for twelve years. It was while I was there that I taught myself how to be a printer and began to put into print, in the language of the people, the message of Jesus.

The printed word is lasting. I have seen it survive the violence of African wars, reach into the most remote places, and transform men. Yes, many of the Africans spoke English, but they also spoke several other languages, and it was when we started to print in those that it was clear that they were really being touched. They had their Bibles already, but without guidance they were like the Ethiopian who answered Phillip' question, "How can I except some man guide me?"

The largest African "Church" in South Africa is made up of thousands of persons who have followed leaders who themselves need guidance. It is called the "Zion Christian Church," and is led by untrained men who gather small clusters of followers who meet, and dance, and sing, in the open. Their doctrinal teaching is very basic, a mixture of what appeals to that particular leader. He will have drawn from African traditions, the Old Testament stories, and any religion he may have heard of, including Islam, Judaism, Catholicism, and Eastern Religions.
What blends them into one, is that they have a central African "Chief" type leader, to whom they pay offerings, and attend an annual Easter time feast and gathering at Moriah.

They are ripe for good doctrinal teaching and some very good ministers have come from that background, but without the teaching, it is a case of the blind leading the blind. The printed Word in their language, makes all the difference and can introduce them to a formal teaching program in a classroom..

We used offset printers for years, but it was when a computer and a Risograph printer came available, that we were really blessed. A computer was used to set the type with a lazer printer, and the Risograph reproduced it without needing a dark room, or camera. It was clean and it could be done in a book store without the problems ink and offset printers made. You can not handle new books and serve customers with black ink on your hands!

Our Risograph was imported directly from the factory in Japan. We used master copies from the computer, though it can be linked directly eliminating even the need to do a lazer copy first. I used a lazer printer because I already had one, but I also liked to use paste-ups occasionally.

Most young Africans are being taught to read now, but they still need Christian things to read, and they need them in their own language, whether it be Zulu, Xhosa, Tswana, Sotho, Northern Sotho, Venda, Tsonga, Ndebele or perhaps something else. To each one, his own language is very near to his heart.

They want to read, but "How can they unless someone prepares the Word for them."

A "HOME GROWN" CHURCH

2007-12-30T13:59:00.000-08:00

I have used the words "home grown" with the meaning that it was of African origin. Some would say It was "indigenous."

When we first moved to Johannesburg, we worked closely with another missionary and shared an office as well. It worked well as he used the office primarily as a parking place for anything he might have use for during the day, and a place where I could answer the phone and relay messages to him when he dropped in. He spent most of the day elsewhere.

I needed the space for my offset press and other related printing equipment and spent my days during the week working with the Bible Correspondence lessons, the mail related to that, and preparing and printing new studies.

One morning he dropped in and asked if I would like to go with him to Soweto to talk with an African man he had met who lived there. Soon, we had driven out to this township and found the home where we talked with the gentleman for some time. After a while he asked if we would be interested in going to a near by tent, we could see from the house, and attending the tent meeting that an African preacher of the Zion Christian Church was conducting. We were both curious to know more of these people, so we were soon there and being introduced to the leader.

He was a very presentable man who spoke English fluently, but the most noticeable thing about him was his highly polished shoes, where the streets were all dirt, the scarlet, velvet robe that he wore, but also the fact that he wore a crown, and that the people treated him with the utmost respect. The tent contained two chairs, a table, and a few benches. There was a bowl of blood, I assumed to be from a chicken that had been killed in a previous meeting, and there were candles, and a few other items that seemed a bit strange, but it was when the meeting started that the difference became very apparent.

Clearly, the people were surprised to see white faces at the front. That there were two of us probably raised more suspicions as that was an area where the people never gave any information to a white person at all. Also, plain clothes policemen always travelled in twos. When the leader entered the tent, everyone but us dropped to the floor with face to the floor, and a mumble of prayers by everyone. The same was repeated when his wife also came in a little later. After a prayer, in which they all prayed facing Jerusalem, each praying aloud with his face to the floor. The service began with bells, drums, candles, and finally the introduction of us. Clearly they had patterned the prayers from the Islam custom, the candles from Catholicism, the sacrificial blood from the Old Testament sacrifices, all presented with their own love for the pageantry of the crown and robes. My fellow missionary was introduced first and he introduced me with the words, "I have brought Bob with me, and he will preach for you! That put the ball inmy court. That was also my first warning. What could I say? I remembered Paul who had faced a similar situation on Mars Hill, just across from the Parthenon. Paul had said to the Athenians, "I perceive that you are a very religious people."

I began with thattext and those exact words. And from there I went on to tell them of the church in the Bible and Christ the Lord. I had no idea how they would receive that message, but I figured I would never have another opportunity and they needed that message. They really were very gracious afterwards and insisted that we must stay and have tea with them, and talk a little more. The tent was set up in the back yard of an empty house. That was where they served us tea. My friend commented later, "I was looking around to see if there was a way out under the sides of the tent." I knew there wasn't. The floor was sewed in with the sides and there was only one opening..

We had met a genuine Zionist evangelist. No doubt the form of worship would vary with each leader, as they have no facility for training their ministers. I too, perceive that they are very religious, and also that they need teaching. This was indeed, a home grown church, one of the more than 3000 according to a not so recent South African census report.

TEST YOUR RELIGION

2007-12-30T13:58:00.001-08:00

Jordan House is actually a cluster of buildings centering on a core-building containing the kitchen, a dining room and a sitting room. There was a ward wing for bed patients, and a circling row of attached private rooms with a covered walk. The garden was well cared for and there were benches, mostly along the walk. A high security fence with a guard at the gate protected the residents and visitor’s motor cars. This was a church run home for the elderly, or disabled, especially those needing care. It was surrounded by a large community of many small homes that housed very many people. In those homes, they would have perhaps a cot in a corner and be expected to oversee and care for all the pre-school children of the family. Their pay would be neglect, hunger and possibly, abuse.

Jordon House was like an oasis in a desert. Here they had friends, good food, care, and love, and their families could come visit them regularly if they so desired. Unfortunately, there were many who never had visitors at all.

Jesus’ compassion for the poor and neglected, was seen by his brother James, the writer of the epistle of James, who wrote, "If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but decevieth his own heart, this man’s religion is vain. Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." James 1:26,27.

The church in Johannesburg had a long time custom of going at least every three months, burdened down with cookies, and cakes or candy. These visits were scheduled with the manageress for Sunday afternoon and a small group would prepare a program, a short devotional talk, and with prayers and a special music they would lead in worship services, Tea would be served with the treats as soon as the service was finished, Some were already drowsy. They were ready for their naps. In any case, as soon as tea was over a group of the visitors would circulate through the wards serving those who were too ill to come to the dining room.

Some of the residents would be sitting on the benches in the shade, and as soon as the gong was sounded they and others from their rooms would head for the dining room where they would be seated at their usual tables with their friends. The visitors would start to prepare the plates that had been lined up on the work table in the kitchen and some would circulate among the residents greeting and visiting here and there. As soon as the plates were ready, the church group would lead in the shortened service and the kitchen staff would prepare tea for everyone. At Christmas time gifts were distributed, perhaps lap robes for cool days and cold nights and other small gifts. The biggest gift of all was just visitors being there who cared enough to come.

WHAT SHOULD WE BE PUBLISHING?

2007-12-30T13:56:00.001-08:00

Because of the number of items that we had published, we were very happy when we received an invitation to attend a Christian Publisher’s Conference at Potchefstroom University. We were printing in about eighteen languages at that time, and were regarded to be a major publisher simply because of the number of different languages, titles, and how many ISBN numbers we had used as we filed the required copies with the State Libraries. None of the individual items was a large book.

This happened at the height of the isolation of South Africa during the apartheid years, so it was surprising that such a meeting for delegates from all over Africa could be successful. It was, after all, not technically possible for delegates from Ghana, Nigeria, Kenya, Malawi and other Northern Africa countries to obtain permits to go to South Africa. Where there is a will, there is a way, so that technicality was overcome by simply stamping their passports on a removable slip of paper once they had reached a country friendly to South Africa. Those slips were taken out when they returned home after the meetings.

This conference, sponsored by the Dutch Reformed Church, had as its primary purpose, to find out from writers and booksellers from those countries just what the churches wanted published for their use. Did they want major textbooks, commentaries, and concordances by well-known authors, or did they want booklets and inexpensive literature? As invited delegates, we were housed in the university guesthouse on campus and our meals were served in the dining room. As I remember it lasted about three or four days. At first, I planned to sleep in the bunk of our Bible van at the campus campsite. It turned out however that I had to ask to move to the guesthouse when the seam between the bunk and the body of the van leaked badly in a driving rainstorm. This was my first time to use it for sleeping in bad weather after I had added the sleeping compartment. We were given a tour of their library, and entertained at a special picnic on the lawn under the trees of the campus, and also attended a special evening presentation by the campus drama group. Our days were largely spent in available lecture rooms and classrooms where representatives from the various countries told of what they really needed where they lived and worked. After these times, we broke up into smaller round table units and in those groups discussed what they had told us. On the final day, the results of those discussions and answers to the questions, were tabulated, and discussed again back in the lecture room. The University later published the conclusions in a book to guide Christian Publishers to have a better, more meaningful, ministry..

Ghana had booksellers who carried "shoebox libraries" of small booklets dealing with the various problems and answers for the people in their country. They did not want commentaries, concordances, or other expensive volumes and added that they would buy those from existing book wholesalers in English. They all came from British colonies so could all speak English. Those were already available. The representatives from each country had come to the final agreement, that what they really needed were inexpensive booklets and tracts in their own languages.

This was precisely what we had been doing from the very beginning. We had specialized in printing translated paperback booklets that were staple bound and single sheet, tracts. The booklets ranged from a few pages to up to about fifty pages, and the first printing was usually for 500 or 1000 copies depending on the demand we expected. This allowed for us to make corrections in later editions and printings, and even to discard the entire printing if the translator proved to be too inaccurate. That actually happened only one time. That time it was a Xhosa translation that was just compltely unacceptable. Of course we did not realize that until readers started to lodge complaints. It was immediately withdrawn, and in that particular case, we did not have another translation made. One learns from his mistakes!

What did they need? And, What did they want? That is not necessarily the same answer. What they needed had a lot to do with what we published.

SNAKES ALIVE!

2007-12-30T13:53:00.000-08:00

I remember as a youth sitting around a campfire while someone one told exciting stories of camping in the woods. If you would like to have a lively time of snakey stories, get your African class to telling you their experiences with snakes. I even have a couple of my own. Of course mine are not as animated as theirs. They firmly believe that Satan still comes in the form of a snake, particularly a python, and that he can slip up on you and you can not see him even if you are looking right at him. That is one reason they sweep a clear area around their traditional homes.

Of course Africa has many varieties of snales, and most of them are deadly poisonous, including cobras, ringhals, spitting cobras which have a black ring around their necks, mambas, both black and green varieties, boom-slungs, moccasins, and adders, Probably the most feared are the mambas and the cobras, as their poison acts on the nervous system and so rapidly that often it is too late to get help. The adder is slower acting, more like an American rattlesnake, but with no rattles. Our daughter stepped on one of those once but it missed her when she leaped aside.

I remember four meetings. Twice with a mamba, once with an adder, and once with a house snake, a harmless small snake that likes to inhabit houses. My wife has never forgiven me for the fact that one evening as I was reading on the couch, she spied a snake in the house and shouted "snake!" My first reaction was to pull my feet up onto the couch and ask where? When she told me where, we spied a tiny foot long little house snake that had slithered behind under the door and hidden under the piano. Using a broom, we quite literally swept it back out the door.

Since the country Africans often live in mud huts with thatched roofs and no ceilings, and may sleep on a mat on the floor, I well understand their fear of the creatures. Twice on our visits to Natal, a sub-tropical province on the South Coast of Africa, I encountered mambas. They are long thin snakes that can move extremely rapidly, and they are deadly poisonous. I had decided to go down to the beach on one occasion and the path led through a thicket that was shoulder high. I heard a snake fleeing from me as my footsteps approached. I was relieved that he fled. They usually do. The other time we were using a large mud hut for church services. It was totally empty, and had no windows and only one opening for a door, perhaps five feet high. We had no more settled when someone noticed that there was a mamba in the thatch above the door that we had just used to enter, and the only way out. We could only wait for him to move away deep into the thatch somewhere else before we could even consider leaving.

My brush with an adder was not so disturbing. Phyllis and I had decided to climb the trail to the top of the Golden Gate, a gold-colored rocky cliff that towers above a National Park camp site. About half way up, I saw an adder hiding under one of the rocks that made up the steps of the steep parts of the climb. You can be sure that we were cautious when we returned that path on the way back down later. From that time on, we were especially watchful when following a trail through high grass or brush.

Yes, Africa has snakes, but one just learns to be cautious, and if you live on the farm, you may keep anti-venom kits on hand, but the one we need to respect the most is the same one Eve had her brush with in the book of Genesis. He later came to Jesus openly, knowing there was no point in trying to deceive the Lord. Know the Word, and use it as Jesus did. Satan will flee. He twice came to us in the dark of the night in our own church building and where our apartment was situated. The coldest chill literally made our hair stand on end. In the name of Jesus, I commanded him to leave and not return. And he did. The same happened to Phyllis on a different occasion. She sent him to the bridge on the path through the park which we walked to go to the Post office. He left then, but that was the place where I tripped months later and shattered my left elbow. Could I have been tripped? I don't think so, but be prepared lest Satan try to trip you up at the least expected moment and place. He is not limited to Africa and being in a church house does no hinder him at all.

JOYCE AND RAYMOND IN APARTHEID SOUTH AFRICA!

2007-12-30T13:51:00.000-08:00

During most of our residence in South Africa mixed marriages were strictly forbidden, so much so that many a couple were arrested in early morning raids. In all the adjoining countries, this was not so. So, I was surprised when this lovely couple insisted that they had been married in South Africa.

Joyce is an orphan having been cared for in a Hindu orphanage. There she met a Christian minister who visited the orphanage regularly and in time she dropped many of her Hindu customs, though not the giving of a gift to her guests. It is a bit embarrassing to accept an invitation to her home as she often insisted that you have a gift when you leave. You had to be careful about admiring anything lest she insist that you have it.

Raymond is from Rhodesia, and Joyce is an Indian from South Africa. She was a widow with two daughters when they met in England where they had both gone on a conducted tour holiday. Their friendship blossomed and they married after they returned to South Africa.

We first met them one Sunday when they came to the church building and asked if they could worship with us as they had not been able to find the congregation they were seeking and it was getting late. Thus began long friendship. Joyce had a serious heart problem, and went through very serious surgery. We made numerous hospital and home visits while she grew stronger, and in time I baptized both of them in our church's baptistry.

Joyce has a lovely voice and is a professional singer, She often took charge of the little children in the nursery during the services.

Joyce and Raymond once invited us to a restaurant and she clearly thought one of her daughters should be paired off with our grandson, Shannon. He was shocked when he saw the young lady eating her food in that restaurant with her fingers,Indian style. Actually, he was not at all interested, but that was the absolute first and last time he was paired off with her. He is now married to a lovely young lady whom he met at church, and they now have a beautiful baby daughter and are expecting another. We now have several great-grandchildren, but they are scattered widely over the world. There are three in South Africa, one in England, one in Ohio, and one soon to be in Oklahoma. So far, we have not actually seen any of them in person.

THIEVES EVERYWHERE!

2007-12-30T13:50:00.001-08:00

Our first venture into a Bible Bookshop opened in a tiny shop in a small cluster of shops all in one building. It was situated on a main street leading into Alberton from the South. Natalspruit Township, (nicknamed, Murder Township), was farther out and much black traffic passed there every day. Later, the city opened a black taxi and bus depot very near by.

Our first shop was the smallest in a cluster of shops and we nestled on the corner between a thriving butchery and a very popular fruit and vegetable shop. The only apparent problem was its size. A 9’x12’ carpet would have covered it wall to wall, but there was room for my desk and behind it a wall of shelves housing Bibles and Hymnals. Every African Christian considers that these are necessities, and in his own language. Also, each church usually has it’s own hymnal, though the Christian churches used the Methodist Hymnal since it was readily available and most of the songs they used were in it. As long as we stayed with only Bibles and Hymnals, this little shop was big enough, and it was in easy walking distance from our home.
Our shop door faced a huge trash bin across the parking lot, and that is where the Green-Grocer threw a lot of his spoiling vegetables and fruit. One cold winder morning shortly after I arrived at the shop, I glanced up, and there was an African lady looking though those discards for something she could eat. She was a squatter from a near by area, but that morning she was wearing not a stitch of clothing. She soon went to the other side of the parking area and sat down in the comparative warmth of sunshine. I picked up the phone and called Phyllis and asked her to send a sweater and some clothing over to the shop as soon as she could, and soon one of our grandsons arrived with the parcel and I then had the problem of how to get them to her without frightening her away. This was solved for me when two young African women who worked nearby arrived with a cotton maid's dress for her. I was able to get them to take my parcel to her as they had already done with their own contribution.

This shop shared an attic with all of shops in the same building including the awning which extended over the sidewalk. This overhang was used repeatedly by thieves who were attracted by the cigarettes, the cola drinks, and the cash of the Green-Grocery and the small lumber yard and hardware store. They broke though the ceiling outside the wall, then took their choice of shops to break in through the ceiling. We never left cash there, but they still took Bibles which they could sell door to door in the township. They also smashed their way in through the plate glass windows and door at times instead of climbing into the attic first.

We soon outgrew that shop. It was later hired by a key cutter, for a while, and then was the office of a dating bureau, and finally remained with one renter when the butcher took it over as a biltong (smoke dried meat) department for his business. That, of course, made it even more attractive to thieves. We moved to a larger shop in the same building. It was large enough to bring our printing equipment there and to offer a variety of Christian books as well as our own publications. Unfortunately, the burglaries continued, and as the windows were larger they were more costly to replace.

Shop lifters were also a problem. On one occasion the manager of a neighboring shop saw we were in trouble as he passed by and he just stepped in and pretended to be browsing. He wore a large revolver openly in his belt. The group who had come in saw that and they just lost interest in browsing.

At that time, the streets were being altered and a new island was placed in the road at the junction. It interrupted the drainage flow so that a heavy downpour brought the water into the shop flooding us. Blocked drainage in the communal toilets caused them to overflow to the point that one really needed gumboots to get there. The final “straw that broke the camel’s back," was when a cat got up into the attic some how and it’s weight, caused a huge panel of the ceiling to fall in on top of everything. We knew it was a cat, because it left footprints on the panel, and claw marks on the wall where it clung as it scrambled back to the attic. Since we were getting short of space to work, we started looking for a larger shop that would not have these problems. We found it on the other side of the malls in a church building and its attached hall. They were put up for sale. They too, had been broken into as the burglars had started little fires in two or three places where they burned papers for light. The carpets were burned and scorched in those places.
However, God is able to bring good out of even our problems. We eventually were able to buy this complex and because it belonged to us, we could make the improvements that were needed. Better security was one of those. We added security gates on the entrances. Another was that we sold our home and moved to an apartment upstairs over the shop so the building would never be totally empty. Still another blessing was that we had plenty of storage space, guest rooms, plenty of space for our equipment, and the Bible shop had room to expand. We had also gained a very nice church building in the change!

Burglars never gained entry, though I did challenge the occupants of two closed vans just as they were preparing to attach a chain to our burglar door and their vehicle. Our bedroom was directly over the entrance, so I was directly over their heads. When they heard me, they dropped everything, jumped into their cars and fled. They thought I was armed when I opened the window and spoke to them. We were not so fortunate in the case of our car. The Nissan Centra, several years old, was broken into six times. Even coils of razor wire on top of the steel fence did not stop thieves. They never took the car itself, but they damaged it by smashing windows and the interior. They seemed to be after the radio, so I took that out and stored it permanently inside the shop. They did not know, but It did not work in any case.

On one occasion, we returned home after a home Bible study, to find a man standing beside our entrance. As his presence unnerved us and he just stayed near by, we rang the bell, and Roland came from inside and opened our security gate. He then engaged the man in conversation while we opened the car storage gate and put the car behind lock and keys. With three of us there, the fellow soon wandered away.

BEAUTIFUL BARBERTON

2007-12-30T13:48:00.000-08:00

Barberton is a "picture postcard" town nestled in a valley at the foot of a mountain range. Its climate is so mild that one approaches through orange groves that border the road. There are two ways to enter. If you are following the Mozambique road, a right fork will lead to a very long and steep downgrade winding to the valley below while the other approach is far less exciting as it comes along the valley. Both have their own attractions. The high road also leads to the Kruger National Game Park, while the lower road passes a magnificent hot springs with its cottages and travel trailer park.

Barberton was the site of gold mines which you can still explore in the foot hills of the mountain. These led to it becoming the first town in South Africa to establish a Stock Exchange, probably trading mostly in gold mine stocks.

My first visit there was to attend a church conference, and incidentally my last was also for another many years later. On the first visit we stayed in small rondavels at the edge of town. We were fascinated by the very high cable way that had been built to carry ore from far up in the mountains of Swaziland across the border to the railway depot just down the street from where we were. These containers carried perhaps a pickup truck load of ore at a time and operated most of the time with the exception of the week ends. Africans often rode the last containers with the ore in to the town to be with their families for the week end. The story is told of one man who waited too long and the container he rode in, stopped hundreds of feet up in the air. He was stranded there for the entire week end, then of course, had to go straight back to the mine where he worked.

Because of the strong up drafts there, Barberton has become very popular with the hang glider fraternity and it is an unusual day if there are not several gliders circling high in the sky. Because of this, the city has opened a second, much larger, camp and cottage site on the other side of the town.

The African people of Barberton are Swazis, and speak a language very similar to Zulu. We always particularly enjoyed visiting them. Two of their ministers had been men who first learned of the New Testament church through our Bible Correspondence lessons. I was surprised on one early visit to hear Simon Mtshayisa introduce me as a preacher with a very powerful voice. I knew that I am rather soft spoken, but he was referring to the fact that he first learned of me through our Correspondence Bible lessons when I was still living at Windhoek in Namibia. Once when I found myself perhaps fifty miles from Barberton and the local minister did not show up to lead me to the place of meeting, another missionary who was with me phoned Simon. Services had already started there, but without hesitation, Simon said, "Come here. We will just sing and preach till you get here." We had a glorious day with these fine people! Sadly, after several years, I was called to preach Simon's funeral. He had a long and successful ministry at Barberton, and I had lost a dear friend.

Following the example of the apostle Paul's trade as a tent-maker, Simon had a professional sewing machine and largely supported his family with it. He also planted a thriving vegetable garden and fruit trees, where ever he served the Lord. More than once Simon had to enlarge the building in which the church there met and worshipped.

Several of the elders of that church worked as warders in the near by State Prison. Our Bible Lessons were very popular in that prison as in several others, but in this one there were elders to encourage and teach the convicts. Most of these men were long-term prisoners. Other prisons that welcomed the lessons were the one in Pretoria, the national capitol, one in Boputatswana, and another in Robertson. These had an exceptionally large enrollments, while many others had fewer.

GOD DOES ANSWER PRAYERS!

2007-12-30T13:45:00.000-08:00

Suffice it to say that God always answers the sincere prayer of his faithful servants. It is those selfish and personal things that we are tempted to ask for that are not granted.

I recall a time when our Bible bookstore desperately needed a larger and more secure place. At that time we were struggling with inadequate funding and every month just barely broke even. I began to pray urgently about the need, knowing that all things belong to God. One day in the middle of a passionate prayer, like Elijah, I heard a still small voice clearly say, “Be still, and know that I am God.” Needless to say, I stopped that prayer and began to praise Him, even though I had not as yet seen anything,

Not long after that, two Church buildings near by, were placed on the market. I looked at both of them and rejected the first because it simply did not lend itself to the need at hand. The other was perfect, though very high priced. It had a more than adequate chapel completely furnished, and a larger attached hall with a second
story and a half-basement. It was one block from the older shopping center of the community and about four blocks from the post office where we had a box.
I thanked the Lord, then he tested my sincerity. It was taken off the market. A year later it was again advertised with the same advertisement, but with a substantial drop in the price. I again cautiously prayed about this particular building and this time, God provided an estate that actually made it possible to pay cash for the building and for the alterations that were needed. The hall, which became the Bible shop, had a very rough concrete floor, the stairs to the upstairs rooms was very incomplete, and there was not a single toilet in this hall or for the upstairs rooms. We added both upstairs and downstairs toilets, a fire hose, and necessary extinguishers as well as security shutters on the entrances and used commercial carpet tiles that we got at half price to cover the rough shop floors.

This is a case where God provided for His work of publishing and printing generously. I praise him for it all.

We sold our home and moved to an upstairs apartment where we would be close to the work and could serve as security guards at the same time. There was never a successful burglary while we lived there, though there was more than one attempt. The poor car parked in a steel and razor wire storage shelter outside was not so lucky. It was never stolen, but it suffered break-ins several times.

About 4:00 a.m. one night I was waken by the sound of a car under out second store window, I opened the window cautiously in time to see a second car also arrive and saw that the first one had backed up to our shop front security shutter. Two men were already starting to fasten a chain to it. Clearly they meant to pull that out with their closed black van and the men from the other car would assist them to fill both cars with our equipment.

I opened the window fully since they were right under me and leaning out a little, the building is a solid brick structure so I was protected by the sill and narrow window, cautioned them saying, “I suggest that you leave here immediately before I start shooting.” They left immediately. I used that line several times and it has never failed to prodice immediate good results, though I have never been tempted to actually do anything. I had no gun. Had that not stopped them, I would have had Phyllis phone the Police Station, which was less than three blocks away. We did have a phone in the apartment. God does answer prayers, and He looks after his messengers.

WE WANT TRACTS TO DISTRIBUTE

2007-12-30T13:42:00.000-08:00

Probably because the Gospel Tract Centre was listed in the Directory of Christian Publishers as a publisher of tracts in many languages, and we did not hesitate to take on short notice the job of printing and folding large orders of tracts in various languages for the cost of materials only, we were often asked to do just that. Our basic tract that we supplied for that type of order was the one titled , "What Must I Do to be Saved?" That being the case, I was not surprised to be invited to set up a table for a one day Christian Conference at one of the Universities in Pretoria. There was a large hall and were many displays of materials that were available. Pretoria is one of the three capitols of South Africa and is not far from Johannesburg. It was a blessed day. The Christian group at the Universities have a custom of encouraging Christian student groups to make trips to the near by countries or homeland areas during College breaks. On these trips they will probably camp in tents and during the day go out to distribute tracts and other materials, coming together for an evening time of teaching, worship and praise. Their enthusiasm for the Lord, and their music usually guarantee a large attendance.

Because we knew about this custom, We were not at all surprised to receive a phone call asking for tracts that they could distribute. They would pick them up, and in this case wanted English, Portuguese, Afrikaans, and Zulu versions. Mostly Zulu and Portuguese. A group was going to Mozambique, and another to Zululand. In total they wanted 17,000 tracts and they wanted them in a week's time. Fine, the Risograph printed copies rapidly, and the folder would make those folds in one pass. I already had the "master copies" done on the computer's lazer printer and stored in my master files.

Another similar order came from an Indian evangelist for tracts to distribute at the entrance of their community just South of Alberton. He wanted English, but thousands of them. What was not distributed by his people at the entrance would be distributed at his tent meetings.

EASTER SUNDAY

2007-12-30T13:38:00.000-08:00

Some African churches hold their annual conference at Easter time, but all of them consider this to be the major Christian event of the year. Most African ministers have the responsibility of leading several small scattered congregations which they visit in turn, but Easter is the one time when they all come together at an agreed site, often also including other ministers and their circuits nearby.

This is not just another worship event. It is a time for feasting, fellowship, and all night preaching and singing. If other missionaries are in the area, say within a hundred or more miles, they too will be invited and often they conduct special classes or workshops, and preach the evening sermon, Friday, Saturday, or perhaps Sunday morning as well. If there are more than one present, they will each preach at least once. Housing is seldom arranged for the visitors as they are expected not to sleep, other than dozing off where they sit during a class or sermon. I have often been assigned the Sunday morning sermon! Keep in mind that everyone has been on the go since leaving their homes in time to arrive for the Friday evening meal followed by a heavy schedule of activities until after the Sunday morning service and communion.

Since the sacrificial death, the burial, and the resurrection of our Lord and Savior bring to a climax the reason , meaning, and end of all the animal sacrifices of the Old Testament, for Christ gave himself as the final and perfect sacrifice for the sins of all mankind, then arose again and established a new and better way, this is the Gospel we are to “go and tell to all nations.” This is the central message of Easter, and also the very heart of Christianity. Our African brothers have it right. This is worth staying awake for! This is, indeed something to celebrate! We must ever be thankful for our Savior and spread the “Good News” everywhere.
“He is risen!” The tomb is empty. He has gone to prepare a home for all Christians everywhere.

CLOSER THAN A BROTHER

2007-12-30T13:36:00.000-08:00

Typically it was Peter who asked the question. "Behold, we have forsaken all, and followed thee; what shall we have therefore?" And Jesus said unto them, "Verily I say unto you, that ye which have followed me, in the regeneration when the Son of man shall sit in the throne of his glory, ye also shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel And everyone that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall receive an hundred fold, and shall inherit everlasting life. But many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first." (Matthew 19:27-30)

Many people expressed their thoughts as we left for Africa with two very young daughters, asking, "How can you take those two little girls to Africa?" Those two were later joined by two more daughters who were born in Africa. Some of them still live there and two of those married there and raised another generation of children who are completely at home there. Several of those are now citizens while one has taken Italian citizenship. There are already great grandchildren born of them. Our going to Africa has touched many nations already. With their partners, they are truly, "International" in nature. There are English speaking european South Africans, Afrikaans speaking european South Africans of Dutch ancestry, Scottish, Danish, and Americans among them.

I was born on a ten acre fragment of my great grand father's farm in southern Illinois. Grandfather split his inheritance among his children and my father lost his during the depression when I was ten years old. God had started to prepare me for Africa. I could never have been a farmer. Looking back I see so many ways He was molding me for His use. I was extremely shy as a teenager; but two years in the Navy changed some of that and also paid for my college degrees. Two years in Namibia would have sent a less determined couple running for home.

But it was in Kimberley that we found what would become our particular life emphases. God had us where he wanted us and doing what he wanted us to do. From then on, that was our goal. Our family had grown up along with that of our, neighbors, who also had children of a similar age. Our home became the neighborhood play center. There were four little boys next door, a girl across the street, another two doors down the street, and a little farther away even more. That is not counting the families of fellow mission workers. The Stanley's had four boys and a girl. the Rees' had two boys and two girls, and for a while the Randall family lived there and they had several. Al and Anettte Hamilton arrived with their children. God had replaced my one living brother, and one who died in infancy, with co-workers who were closer than I had ever really been with him. He lived in North Carolina and I in Illinois.

After a number of years we moved to suburbs of Johannesburg, first to Randburg then to Alberton, where we stayed until our retirement at the tender age of seventy two. One daughter and her Scottish husband had made their home in a suburb of Dallas, Texas so we joined them there. Our printing and publishing, having evolved from Bible Correspondence lessons to Christian Publishing and printing in the meantime. We then handed that all over to a new arrival and we, are now in our retirement, offer an expansion of that ministry on the web. Our Blog Sites continue to expand and grow. There are presently at the last count, about fifty languages available. We praise the Lord for this new medium He has opened up for his message of redemption to use. And, we continue to add new studies weekly.

ALL WE LIKE SHEEP HAVE GONE ASTRAY

2007-12-30T13:33:00.000-08:00

Something I recently read, really took me back to things as they were when we first went to live in Africa. In those days, only the perimeter of most farms were fenced and even major roads were totally unfenced. There was open grazing. We learned, very quickly, to be careful of the farmer’s animals! Cattle will sleep in the middle of the road at night, donkeys will probably refuse to move, but especially watch out for sheep. If they are grazing near a road and even one decides to run across at the last moment, very likely the entire herd will follow! Sheep are naturally followers.

This is the article that caught my attention. “Near the village of Gevas in eastern Turkey, while shepherds ate their breakfast, one of their sheep jumped off a 45 foot cliff to its death, Then, as the stunned shepherds looked on, the rest of the flock followed. In all, 1,500 sheep mindlessly stumbled off the cliff, The only good news was that the last 1,000 were cushioned in their fall by the growing wooly pile of those who jumped first. According to the Washington Post 450 sheep died.” Quoted from Our Daily Bread, April 17th 2007.

Jesus often referred to Christians as being a “flock”, and being followers of their shepherd. He, himself was called the “good shepherd” because he always had his followers and their safety in mind. Even as sheep are followers, so Christians are to be followers of the Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ. Note: Not just any shepherd, for many are “hired shepherds” who have no concern for their flock. Their chief concern is purely of this world, the size of the flock, the wealth they represent, the feeling of power, and on and on.

The flock of our Lord know his voice, they follow him alone. The only way that we can “know his voice,” is to know his Word. Know the Bible, and confirm the message of the shepherd with the Word. Does your shpherd use scripture and explain it in context? or does he rely on the dramatic effect of modern prose? or perhaps poetry? or, having lived in Africa for so long, the hypnotic effect of music, especially the rhythm of the drums? This is why we include a reading guide of the Word as a major feature of our weekly newsletter, "Search the Scriptures with Bob"

Because we are natural followers, let us make certain that we follow our Lord. In Africa it is the custom to place a goat in the pens of sheep to be slaughtered. The goat, like Satan, is there, solely, to lead them to their destruction, while he returns to the next pen for even more followers.

THROUGH THE OPEN DOOR OF THE GOSPEL TRACT CENTRE

2007-12-30T13:30:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, we attached a picture of the open door of the Bible Shop as it was in 2000 A.D. Step inside with me for a visit to the "Gospel Tract Centre." Do not be put off by the odd spelling of "Bibles" on our display window outside. It is spelled correctly in Afrikaans. Our shop is different from the very "Americanized" Bible bookshop in the mall about four blocks away. They must make money there, They are owned by a major Christian Publishing company and stock the very latest and the best available. That is where one would go to find all the latest and most beautiful Bibles, Christian greeting cards, gifts, novelties, devotional and picture books. Most are available in English or Afrikaans. Expect to pay a more! In our shop, you would find the outside walls displaying all our own publications, face out, starting with the English to your right as you browse. We were publishing over 400 different items representing among them all eleven of the official languages of the country and also those of a number others used in near by countries. These, with Bibles and hymnbooks in the same languages, reach around the entire perimeter of the shop. All African Christians seek to have a Bible and a hymn book in their own language, so we stocked those from the South African Bible Society. They have a beautiful warehouse and office building near the Johannesburg International Airport including a self service Bible shop where one can find Bibles from all over the world. We bought most South Africa's major languages, by the case at a time. Since the Bible Society does not deliver locally, we had a small van, used especially to collect our orders from them. Our grandson, Shannon Bright, lived with us and it was his job to make those trips, and since he was a graduate of Nebraska Christian College, and also was very computer wise, he also cared for our computers and sometimes served customers, both shoppers and those with photocopying or quick printing to be done. I did all our typesetting, no matter what the language was, all the printing, and usually assisted visitors.

The center islands displayed tracts, certificates, greeting cards, and a selection of Christian books, commentaries and reference books.

It was our main goal to serve, especially, our black clients, with all their church's printed needs as economically as possible and still keep the doors open. God blessed this, and we never ran into the red. It was a truly blessed "not for profit business," with Him as our Senior Partner.

A TYPICAL FUNERAL IN AFRICA

2007-12-30T13:26:00.000-08:00

Funerals in Africa may vary considerably from our customs.

Among the Europeans, (whites), there is not that much difference except that in the early years at least, people were buried in the cemetery according to their denominational church membership background and not in family plots. The Baptists, the Methodists, the Anglicans, and so forth, were all buried in their particular section of the cemetery reserved for that church, and not in family groups. If the person had no church connection, he would be put into a sort of “potter’s field” area, often neglected and not having any markers.

My first burial service, was that of Johnny Hamilton, the first son of Al. and Annette Hamilton, our good friends and co-missionaries in Kimberley. There was only a graveside service, and the burial was, by permission, in the Baptist portion of the West End Cemetery in Kimberley. There were only a very few of us present. This was a most heart breaking occasion for all of us. He was the first son of the Hamilton’s, and for us like family, it was very difficult. Phyllis had been with Annette when Johnny took his last struggling breath. Over the years, the Lord led us in different ways and our paths led to different parts of the world. Being a missionary, European (white) funerals were the exception for me, though there were several as I preached for small mid-city churches as well. I preached that one, and later also that of one of our missionaries, Ron Whisman, and a few from the young city church I served in Johannesburg.

On the other hand, I have preached at many African funerals, particularly those of ministers, their wives, or other‘s involved in the mission‘s various activities. An African funeral is different. I have preached in the open sun, in church buildings, and under canvas shelters. They all have in common that there is nearly always an great crowd, often overflowing the building; perhaps even the grounds, and there are numerous speakers in addition to the primary one. Many arrive with cash in envelopes which are brought to assist with the expenses involved. Those are opened and noted with thanks during the funeral services. Nearly all African funerals take hours, not including the actual burial and the feast afterward.

From the time of the death, the widow has been in seclusion, usually huddling under a blanket in a corner of the room where the body was or the people had gathered. She, however, is present for the service. There will probably be candles burning at the head and foot of the casket in one room of the home. The casket may be a very simple pine box, or sometimes in the case of the Zulu’s the body may be only wrapped in a new blanket. I have seen, in the case of ministers, that the body was interred in the garden near the family home and the church building. One was actually under the strawberry patch. In that case, a blanket was spread over the casket, and a cement slab was poured on top of a thin leveling of soil, then topped over with more soil and the strawberry plants would be replaced. Often a black ribbon draped portrait photo of the deceased is placed on the casket during the services and it will be kept by the family. The men of the family will sew black bands around one arm of their suit. A widow will wear black for some months, perhaps the rest of her lifeif she is elderly. Flowers are very unusual, not even on the graves. Those gathered at the graveside service will replace the soil afterward, then the shovels may be taken back to the house to be ceremonially washed. A feast will close the day.

Some of the churches we served had Chinese members. I have preached several funerals for them. The funeral itself will be traditional if they were Christians. At one I preached the crowd was so big that they were spread throughout the whole building. In this case, the deceased had been the secretary-treasure of our own congregation. and that had to be the second most heart rending service for me to conduct. She died of cancer, but up to the week before had been in services. That final Sunday, I was asked to bring communion for her. The entire family was gathered there. She died before we reached our home after serving her and leading in prayers.

Probably the largest funeral was that of an elderly Chinese lady. When I arrived, I found the parking lot of the major funeral home, jammed, and I was forced to park in the very far back side far from the entrance. The funeral itself was traditional, but the procession was over a mile long and had a traffic department motorcycle escort. Because I had been forced to park so far into the lot, I was at the very end of the procession and late to get to the grave-side where I also presided. In my hurry, I forgot my lights were on and the battery of my car drained. This funeral was in the Chinese cemetery and there was also an after service at the graveside That was a Chinese religious service, which I was expected not to attend. On this occasion those involved were all taken to dinner at a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown with the family immediately after. They had reserved a large private dining room.

SURVEYING OUR NEW FIELD

2007-12-30T13:24:00.000-08:00

After we had been in Namibia for a few months, we made a short trip to the North to investigate where the various peoples lived, what it was like there, how large the villages were, and more importantly if there were already churches working in those villages. The turning around point had to be the Etosha Pan Game Park. There was only one road going farther north and it crossed the border into Angola and was not open to travel without special permits and vehicles.
I recall only two towns north, and one of those was a mining town and little more. The other was dominated by the Rhenish Mission Church. In South Africa the church would have beent a Dutch Reformed Church built literally on an island in the middle of the main street but Namibia was primarily German and not Dutch. The countryside as very barren, very rocky, and almost desert in nature.

The apex of the trip was the game park, but interesting to us was the fact that we saw the only pair of Cheetah, dozing under a thorn tree still well outside the park. We made a stop at the old German Fort that marks the park entrance. It was once manned by the military who patrolled riding camels, however that time was far past. There was a natural pool there and that is where we had our lunch beside it before crossing the park to the west on the only road. I understand that the tourist industry has since made that fort into a campground for tourists. That particular park was not fenced at that time. It is composed largely of a great pan which fills with water during the rainy season. At the time we were there it was covered with grass and being grazed by many buck, impala, and other grass eating animals. There are also elephants and since there are the bock and antelope, there are also lions. We once foolishly made a brief pause under a cluster of thorn trees that crowned a "koppie" near the road. We now know that lions usually spend their day sleeping at just such places. At night, they hunt.

Miles further down the road, we had a flat tire and had to change it surrounded by three foot high grass. We thought we had left the park by that time, but apparently had not as a truck load of African workers became very agitated when they passed by. Almost immediately after we started again we passed a large sign, telling is to beware of the elephants, and of course the lions. God looks after the foolish people of this earth!

As darkness began to come and we had yet to see anywhere to buy petrol we parked beside the road at the entrance of a farm that displayed a sign that they had petrol to sell. We could see a light in the distance, but it was a long dirt road and we were all exhausted, so we made camp there. It would not have been necessary as it turned out that there was a country hotel with petrol available only a short distance further down the road.

We returned to Windhoek knowing that we were already living in the very best place that there was to start a new work. God had been leading us to it from the beginning.

A few months later, we made another much shorter trip travelling east that time to the only town in that direction. It was at the border between Namibia and Botswana. We camped just off the main road on a trail that probably led to a farmer's home a mile or so away. The next morning, we turned back at the little border town without even really stopping and headed back to our home in Windhoek. The road had deteriorated to a sandy trail, that at times became either very corrugated or very soft sand. Over the border in Botswana it would have deteriorated to be like driving in a sandbox. Francistown was hundreds of miles farther on the other side of the country. After that, we stayed in Windhoek and never ventured more than a few miles out of town in any direction.

BROTHER ROBERT GELDENHUYS

2007-12-30T13:20:00.000-08:00

As his name would suggest, brother Geldenhuys was a Coloured man. he had both white and African ancestors. His complexion and features were more white than African. For a number of years he had the largest circuit in the country with many members, but it was an African circuit and the home church was in the African township across the road from his home in the Coloured township.

Robert had many problems in his ministry, I vividly remember one occasion when several of the missionaries including myself were called to try to straighten things out. I was very impressed by the fact that virtually every man present arrived carrying a sturdy “Knob Kerrie.“ That is a walking stick, made of hard wood and sporting a large knob as a handle, It is actually a weapon thinly disguised as a walking stick. Tensions were so tense, at that time, that there had been threats to stone Robert if he came to that side of the road, and the Township superintendent had told him to please stay away.

I don’t even remember just what the problem was all about, but into this tense atmosphere, the women added their threats. With a lot of flouncing about and shaking of their skirts they placed a "hex" on the church and of course on Robert in particular. They were firm believers in witchcraft and hexes, reinforced by stones if necessary. I don’t recall that anything very good came of that particular meeting. We had to leave with the problems still there. Being the new missionary, I was not asked, but I think a prayer meeting, introduced with Scriptures, would have been far more appropriate and would have given time for tempers to cool somewhat. For a time, the building was padlocked and stood unused, while Robert stayed away.

On another occasion, years later, I was called to come, and they still had problems. I traveled by train that time, and things really seemed to work out better for a while at least. I remember that I stayed at a local hotel, and took my meals with the Geldenhuys’ family, and then took the train back home again. When I boarded the train in the middle of the night there was a problem of finding a men’s compartment and a man and his girlfriend were separated so that I could have a bed in a men‘s compartment. They were not at all happy, but she was sleeping in a men’s compartment and the ticket collector moved her next door to a women’s compartment with no hesitation, and a lecture. All main-line trains in South Africa had compartments with seats that are converted to bunks at night. They usually had either two or four bunks when they were set up. The porter usually made those changes while the occupant was in the dining car eating the evening meal. Meals served in the dining car were very elegantly served.

Brother Geldenhuys had a real talent for using all kinds of folk tales in his sermons. He was an excellent preacher and I really looked forward to hearing his sermons. The African people love that sort of thing so he was a popular speaker. It was not his sermons that caused him problems. There was an interesting time when Mrs Randall in speaking of baptism in her lesson for the women, emphasized that it is a burial and one has to die to sin, be buried and covered over, “burying your sins.” The women converted that basic message to a song and sang it for a long time afterwards, demonstrating it with digging and burying actions to illustrate.

When brother Geldenhuys died years later, I went to his funeral. I was not the major speaker, but both Nick and I were asked to help as two of the six to carry the casket into the church from the hearse. I really felt honored as I don’t recall ever, having seen any missionary being asked to do that at any other time. Robert and I had been friends for many years.

THROUGH THE OPEN DOOR OF THE CENTRAL CHRISTIAN CHURCH

2007-12-30T13:07:00.000-08:00

In another blog we had a glimpse inside the door of the building which we used to house the Gospel Tract Center. This week we shall enter the door of the companion building which was constructed to house the worship services of a church. Since we did not have an existing city church in the immediate area, I served as minister there in addition to the work of the tract center. The building came fairly well equipped The former owners took only the musical instruments with them. We did add a speaker in the cry-room/nursery, and had the interior painted and carpeting added. We also added roll down security gates to enclose the entries. As you will note in attached picture, we made it a practice to light the the decorative windows the front of the building from the inside at night.

To let the citizens of the city know that both the church and the Bible Shop were there, as soon as it was ready for use I stopped in at the funeral service which was in the building directly opposite ours on the other side of the street. They did not have a chapel, so for the rest of our time in Africa, they steered many people to our building for funerals. We were convenient, our chapel could be entered with no steps one side of the building, and we were very easy to find and were nearly always available on short notice.

Those funerals varied considerably. Some used Scottish bagpipes, and one for a member of the motorcycle club, filled our space with motorcycles, but for our purposes, they all brought many people to our address and those who arrived a little early often came into the shop to get acquainted. Since I was not usually, though on occasions involved with the actual services, we also met many visiting ministers, and a few also used our quick-printing facility for their news letter printing.

On one occasion I did preach the funeral for a couple who had been killed in a "home invasion" type of terrorism. Their estranged son came in ragged and holey blue jeans, while a group of his friends arrived appropriately wearing all black. It may have been the first time any of them had ever been in a church building.

It was our custom to have a joint Vacation Bible School with our sister congregations. They were so successful that Phyllis and Rolland added weekly after school classes of the same type, in fact using packets donated from America, as we had also done for the DVBS classes.

THE KIMBERLEY ROAD CHURCH OF CHRIST

2007-12-30T13:03:00.000-08:00

The Kimberley Road Church started in Kimberley and just happened to end up owning a building in Kimberley Road, Johannesburg.

At first our work in Kimberley was directed solely toward the African congregations. The mission’s mother church was at Kimberley with a Griqua church in the suburb of Greenpoint. However, the Rees family had started a work among the resident Chinese, and among the missionaries living there, our combined families had a number of children and we all felt that it would be good to have a congregation where they could have an active part as well. It was then that Sunday evening services began to be held in our living room.

Rees’ had conducted their work in the Chinese club building , but this was not altogether satisfactory and it was often left in disarray by Saturday evening affairs also held there and there were often people worshiping at the Chinese altar in the courtyard. When we started having evening services in our home, they and their Chinese converts jointed us. Not much later a building was purchased, the Kimberley Church of Christ was established and we all worshipped together there. We made it a point to stop for those who lived along our route there every Sunday. I continued working with the Training school, with trips out to teach in African churches, and printing and processing my Bible Lessons by mail until it was the decision was made to move the training School to a coastal site hundreds of miles away. I stayed behind with the church, in Kimberley and Al and Annette Hamilton came to minister there later. He and I taught some classes at the church building, particularly for Roland Joseph Sr. and some of the Ho Chung family.

The Chinese, in particular, sent their children all to University and our young people began to move away to Johannesburg to attend the Witwatersrand University there. Thus, they were scattered. James ultimately went to England, Edward stayed at the university as an assistant to a professor there, Maurine married and eventually that couple moved to Australia, and The youngest son, Henry, ended up living in Canada. Other Christians went to Hong Kong, and other destinations.

During the years before they scattered, Al started driving back and forth to conduct services in Johannesburg for those who had gone there, and in time wisely just stayed there and the congregation began to grow. They met in a store-front building in Beit Street. Beit street was in a blighted area very near downtown Johannesburg, but also near but not really in “Chinatown.”

We turned the work in Kimberley over to Roland Joseph leaving him our Commer van and we moved to Johannesburg. We soon started assisting at Beit Street, which work in time bought a site in Kimberley Road nearby and started a building fund. We assisted in every way we could and I more than once led the congregation for long periods of time, including the difficult times when a new building was under construction. The soil was clay requiring steel reinforcement, the building inspector was upset with us when a former minister called him, not knowing who he was, an “idiot” to his face. That delayed us for many months until he went on furlough and Phyllis bravely went in to speak to the inspector and ask what was delaying everything. His only question was, “What happened to….?” When she answered, “He has returned to America”, the inspector walked over to a set of pigeonholes and handed her the approved plans. At that time we built the hall, the kitchen, a classroom and the ladies’ and gentlemen’s rooms. That used up our reserved funds. After a while. We kept adding to the building fund so that we could add the sanctuary and two more classrooms. It all had to be for cash. With another ministering in between a couple of times, I was again the minister when we decided to start again and finish the building. I put up a “thermometer” to indicate how. much funds we had and we hired a builder and started. He later told me that he watched that thermometer and thought we would never make it many times, but thanks with praise to the Lord and our generous members, we worked on until it was finished. I am so very proud of them for their loving sacrifices. That lovely building stands there dedicated to His service as a memorial of their devotion and faith.

BROTHER MATHIBE

2007-12-30T13:00:00.000-08:00

Over he early years we had some interesting experiences with brother Mathibe. The church where he ministered was the host of the first conference, I had the privilege to attend after I arrived in South Africa. Douglas was on the river and we stayed in a small country hotel on its bank. I remember that the dividing walls between the rooms did not reach the high ceiling so anything said in one room was public news. There was a wash stand in one corner of each room. We quickly discovered that the water was straight from the river. As it has been raining heavily, the river was running strongly with muddy water, and Gladys Randall in the room next to ours went to wash her hands and found muddy water flowing into the basin. We knew then and there that we were in trouble. We dared not drink that water, for the African township was situated on the other bank and there were no toilets there. They quite often used the river or a convenient wall as a toilet. Our drinking water had to come from Kimberley. That was not easy, as there were dips in the road which were flooded by the heavy rains. The guests at this conference were mostly sleeping side by side on the floors of the homes of the church members.

Brother Mathibe was an elderly man even then, and he continued to preach for a good long time. The Mathibe’s had several children, many of whom died one by one of tuberculosis. Our brother had it as well, but he absolutely refused to go to the Tuberculosis hospital in Kimberley. He had the opinion, common to many, that one went to the hospital to die.

Brother Mathibe had little education and could barely read his Bible. He became a minister during the years when there were no missionaries there and came to classes to study now that there were. What he lacked in education, he made up in sincerity. In those days, it was the custom to ask at least one minister from each tribal language to be on the program and every effort was made to, in time, ask all ministers to preach. After a few years he was invited and he asked me to help him prepare his sermon on the assigned subject. I prepared a full outline for him, expecting him to flesh it out with his own words and experiences. I learned then and there that what he needed was a word for word message. He read the outline!

He was to accompany us on one trip to a distant part of his circuit. When we arrived to pick him up for the trip, we found him with the children of the Sunday school. They were in a small hut with no ventilation, wall to wall small children, and they were singing at the top of their lungs, “Lord, wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.” Annette had baked cookies and sent along a big bag to give us something to eat as we traveled. Our brother was the first to be offered some, and he kept the whole bag. So much for our refreshments. He probably thought we all had bags.

He was a great believer in prayer. On one occasion as I was teaching a class in the school, he was in the next room, a dormitory room, praying. He was not only praying aloud, but at the very top of his voice. Until he finished, there was little teaching being done in our classroom.

BROTHER NICK QWEMESHA

2007-12-30T12:57:00.000-08:00

We first met brother Qwemesha when he came to spend a week with us in Windhoek, the capitol of the present day Namibia. He was then the interpreter for the Preacher Training School in Kimberley, and made that trip to assist in our work and advise us as what direction we should plan for our own future.

Nick had been harshly treated by life in that his first wife had died leaving him with small children. His children were taken from him and placed in a government care center where they were badly neglected and some had died, however when he married again, those still surviving were returned to the new family. During those years he worked for the General Motors dealer in Kimberley as a driver. Drivers were sent to the assembly plant in East London, nearly a thousand miles away, where they were given the keys to new vehicles that they drove in a convoy of ten or so vehicles at a time, back to the local dealership.

He later left the driving job and worked at the best garage and service station in town as a pump attendant. I am sure that it was through this and the church that he became the interpreter for the preacher training school. All of our missionaries in town used that station and garage and of course he was a member and knew the church well. At one time he served as the minister here.

While we were on furlough in 1957 we bought a new Chevrolet that we bought with the purpose in mind of taking it back to Africa with us. Thus, we had our second left hand steering Chevrolet in a land where traffic drove on the left side of the road. That didn’t really bother much while we stayed away from big cities and heavy traffic. After we returned to our home there, we made a long trip to the coast for a mission meeting and Nick accompanied me in our car and often drove. As we were passing over the major mountain pass and had just passed the crest and were approaching a steep downgrade at Pietermaritzburg, I awoke to see that we were in a heavy fog blanket. Feeling sorry for Nick, I offered to take over the wheel. He pulled off the road so fast I have never forgotten it. There just happened to be a place to pull over right then and he was battling, in a nearly new car that did not belong to him. Nick took responsibilities seriously.

He was just as conscientious as an interpreter, but he would not translate for print. His spelling was not up it. Nick could anticipate my thoughts and be ready with the translation instantly, and he could do it in any of several languages. He was a Xhosa, with a Tswana wife, and who lived in a community that was a mixture of English and Afrikaans speaking white people. When the school moved to Natal, he lived among Zulus.

Years later, when he died, his mother and son sent for me to come down there to preach his funeral, even though there were several local missionaries present. I felt really honored to assist them. After we had retired and returned to America, we returned to South Africa to revisit the work, our daughters there, and to be at a granddaughter’s wedding. It just happened to be also that Conference was at Kimberley during our stay, so we made the trip back to be there with them. His widow, who is unwell, made the long and difficult trip back to Kimberley, just because she knew that “Mother Mills” and I would be present. She was one of those who came forward and gave us a really heart felt Christian Hug.

We truly left our hearts in Africa.

GOODBYE AFRICA - HELLO AMERICA

2007-12-30T12:46:00.000-08:00

When God provided the beautiful facilities of the Gospel Tract Center, retirement was far from our thoughts, but not of the Lord’s. We had thought in such terms as “one day when,” the Lord willing, and were agreed that we would not continue to live in the same area and become a problem to whomever the Lord should send to take our place. We were thinking along the lines of perhaps after fifty years when I would turn 75, but really had made no financial provision for retirement at all.

God, who knew all, stepped in. The buildings were bought, improved, and totally without debt, thanks to our Lord’s provision, entirely outside our personal budget. The Tract Center Plaza as we called it, provided a home for the Central Christian Church, the Gospel Tract Center, and the Bible bookstore, and also an apartment for our own home. That enabled us to sell the home we had paid for from our own salary over the years, so we set that aside for retirement. We did not realize that it would not even have provided a starvation salary as we had left America many years before, when our “salary” had been a hundred dollars a month for each of us and fifty for each child. That had, of necessity, been adjusted somewhat over the years. Those funds were placed in our personal bank account, and it stayed there until our bank suggested an investment at a greater interest, which advice we foolishly followed. What happened was that the major insurance fund later went bankrupt and our bank took over the management of it and paid out a fraction on the Rand value.

About that time, several things happened in rapid sequence. God was replacing that loss. An aunt I greatly admired died, and left her bank balance and investments to me. The investments were in the form of annuities and had been bought in her’s and my names. One day I tripped on the way back from the Post Office, and shattered my left elbow. Thanks to the Lord, it healed well not even requiring therapy. But it shook me to realize that it could have been my forehead and not my elbow that hit that stone studded concrete foot-bridge approach. I began to think seriously about finding a replacement, and then God took over. The elbow healed, the Lord sent a family whose work permit for Zimbabwe had expired, and I was able to hand over absolutely everything to their care for the Lord.

When I was 73, I officially retired and we flew out from Johannesburg International Airport headed for Dallas, Texas where our daughter, Donna and her husband Jim lived. We shipped one crate of things we really wanted to keep, and with our allowed air luggage we made a completely new start, in a totally new place. I never thought of the Republic of Texas as being a new country, but it may as well have been yet. We had “culture shock” all over again. The prices of everything! We needed everything immediately. And they drove on the right side of the road! We had driven on the left side for forty seen years, except for our trips to America.

A day later we were in Texas, and a week or so later we had American driver’s licenses and an apartment at the Christian Care Center’s Independent Living apartment building, in Mesquite, Texas. We loved it there, and it was just what we needed. Our “non-instrument” brothers accepted our presence with love and we found the Lake View Christian Church only a few blocks away on a quiet side street to the interstate that passed our door. God had sent us there to recover and adjust, but it could not be permanent. I am certain that there was another reason for this exact stay.

It was a requirement that we have an established medical connection that would accept Medicare. This was solved by the proximity of the Baylor Hospital’s Senior Care Centre just up the road. It was those dear people who in giving us a full medical check over, found that Phyllis had a tumor on one ovary, the other was dried up, but this one had grown enormously. The biopsy, after the surgery, revealed that, as our doctor said, “We found it just in time, another six months and it would have turned cancerous.” God knew that when I tripped and fell back in South Africa! It was he who put us where we needed to be at exactly the right time so that it would be found. South African doctors would never have found it in time. We would have been content to stay at the care center permanently, but unfortunately, our funds were being eroded rapidly. Much more was going out than the annuities and the really tiny Social Security checks were bringing in.

A move was necessary. We started a search for an acceptable Manufactured Home community and found one just four miles from our daughter’s home in Lewisville. At the right time, we also found a new double-wide Fleetwood home that we loved and could still afford. It was promptly installed on site 404 in this more than 600 homes community. The Lord provided.

Our church home is now at the Valley View Christian Church, a little over twelve miles away in Dallas, where I am now at 80, on the roster to “Greet” people, usually at the main entrance; I served as the Wednesday morning Bible Study Class; and bring the devotional thoughts at our monthly Sunday school dinner in a private home. We are also volunteers for one of the Lewisville Senior Center’s Senior.net computer classes. Our several blog sites and weekly "Search the Scriptures with Bob" newsletter give us ample opportunities to continue spreading the word via the web. I stopped teaching the class full time when I realized I was loading myself back up like I had done in Africa. We thank the Lord for His leading, and look forward to what He has in store for us ahead. No one ever retires from the Lord’s work. Africa or America, his field is the world. We are presently consdiering selling the Manufactured Home and going to an apartment in an "Evergreen" retirement home nearer the church, the Lord leading. It is much nearer the church, but also near our doctors, dentist, and the Baylor hospital. Now we make several trips back and forth the hour drive across Dallas for those things.