CARS - LEMONS AND MISFITS

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.

GUESTS, NOT CITIZENS

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.”

NOT FURLOUGH TIME ALREADY !

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!!

CHRISTMAS IN AFRICA

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!

EASTER SUNDAY

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.