Saturday was full of drama around our house.  David woke up and unlocked the doors to find our guard, Mr. B so sick he couldn’t walk. David took him to a colleague who used to be a nurse. She recommended he be taken to a local clinic for further examination. After trips to two clinics, David was able to find a doctor who knew what he was talking about. He then returned home to have lunch.

After lunch, David went to several pharmacies to fill Mr. B’s prescriptions. When he returned, I went out to open the gate for him and heard our two year old neighbor screaming. His grandma said he put his hand in a pot of boiling sauce. She wanted to know if I could help them. I had no clue about treating burns, so I ran inside and called our colleague. She came over right away and showed me how to treat a burn.

Now the toddler comes to our house every day at 4 o’clock for treatment. I am getting better at cleaning and dressing his wounds, but my hands still shake when I have to pull dead skin off his little hand. He should be totally healed within a week or two, and Mr. B will be well in a few weeks if he takes all his medicine, too.

I’m grateful for opportunities like these to reach out to those around us. It’s fulfilling to share the love of Christ in a tangible way. It also gives me hope that they’ll be more open to the Gospel when my language skills are sufficient to share it with them.

Just a few minutes after 8, gunfire could be heard all around our home. David quickly ran in from the office, bringing the computer with him. We turned on our two way radios so we could be in contact with our colleagues, turned off all our solar lights so we wouldn’t draw unnecessary attention to our home, locked all the outside doors and retreated to our bedroom on the back side of the house, the furthest room from the street. We prayed that a stray bullet wouldn’t hit us, our car, or our solar panels.

As we waited for the gunfire to stop, we watched a recently borrowed movie. About half way through, an extremely loud bang came from the office building that sits just beside our bedroom. “What was that?” I asked. David paused the movie, turned, with wide eyes and said, “I don’t know, and I’m not going to look.”

At about 11 p.m. the shooting stopped and David was able to go to the office to call his mom for a birthday chat. He opened the office door and saw that a stray bullet had come through the tin roof and landed beside his office chair.

It was later reported that soldiers were firing into the air to both to honor the late president, and to celebrate the fact that the new president is a military man.

We were thankful there was no serious damage to anyone or anything, and we were able to reschedule David’s party for the next day.

Personally, we feel safe for now.  Living seven hours from the capital has its advantages.  In our city so far, life goes on.  We haven’t gone out much, but when we have, we haven’t seen many signs of change.  Shops are open, people are buying and selling, people are going about their daily lives.  We appreciate your prayers during this uncertain time.

Last Tuesday at the invitation of ‘John’, our home owner, we visited Gar, a village we had never before been to. Gar sits just outside our city and is only a few minutes away by car.

When we entered John’s family compound, we were welcomed by all and immediately given a platter of freshly roasted goat and sheep. I always pray that God will do two things when I find myself in situations like that: 1. That God will help me to swallow the food I eat, and not throw it back up and 2. That I won’t get Montezuma’s revenge from eating raw and undercooked foods.

After a short visit with John’s family, we were escorted to a large compound beside the mosque where all the men sat ready to share a meal. I asked where the women were, to which John replied, “This gathering is only for the men of the village.” A boy brought us two of the four available chairs on which to sit. I felt very uncomfortable and, taking the seat given to me, I pulled it back away from the men to indicate that I wanted to honor them by not joining their group. John told me I must sit and eat with them, and after trying to refuse several times, I accepted. I didn’t want to offend our host by refusing his hospitality.

Maffe tiga, a traditional dish of rice and peanut sauce was served. John, another man, David, and I sat on the ground around a common bowl and ate with our hands. John asked if we needed spoons since he knew we usually don’t eat with our hands. “We brought spoons with us,” we said as we held up our right hands, cupped like a spoon. Everyone laughed and settled down to dig in.

When we finished eating, the same boy who brought us chairs brought us soap and water to wash our hands. I sat back to watch the men. It seemed like a holiday gathering in the States. Everyone talked, laughed, reflected on who built a new home, who moved away, and who died. Some younger men snuck around to the side of the house to smoke cigarettes. We sat just in front of a large, new hut and John said we would stay there the next time we come to visit the village overnight. We agreed.

We waited for the men to cut up and parcel out the goat that was sacrificed that morning. I watched ladies carry water from the well on their heads, chickens ran here and there, a rooster crowed, and children gawked at the two white visitors. At one point an elderly lady tied up a bundle of food left over from what the men had eaten, put it on her head and walked out of the compound. She probably took it to ladies gathered in another home. I was sad that the elderly woman looked so tired and that the other ladies would only get the men’s leftovers.

After our meal, we returned to John’s family compound to eat a second serving of maffe tiga and fresh oranges. The rest of the afternoon was spent visiting John’s family, with a special trip to his mom’s house. We gifted her with what we call “the deluxe tea set;” a box of tea, a bag of sugar, and a can of milk.

We never had the chance to give out our New Testaments to the mosque leader or John’s family, although we were able to give John two copies, one for himself and one for his father.

Each home we visited gifted us with food, which I was able to share with our neighbors when we returned home. Our neighbors were friendly and accepted my gifts of food, although since my Pular is still lacking, one neighbor thought I worked for the electric company and couldn’t figure out what I was doing giving her food, and what she should do with it. The other thought I was asking her to make me dinner. I was able to get a third neighbor to understand and she went to the others and explained!

Pray that we’ll get back to the village and be able to share more. Praise God for helping us to get all the food down!

“We prefer liberty in poverty to slavery in riches.” On these words the Republic of Guinea fought for and gained independence from colonial rule. During the next five decades true liberty has proven elusive as political, socioeconomic, and religious (spiritual) poverty gnawed at the very fabric of individual and national life. 

Sekou Toure from the time of independence unleashed a murderous communist dictatorship for 26 years that left the population timid and docile. By the time he died in 1984, he had used a combination of superstition, preventive detention, and murder of political rivals to quench the drive of the people and make them dependent on handouts for subsistence.

When Lansana Conte took over from Toure, he opened up the country to liberal capitalism but that only allowed an elite few to plunder the wealth of the nation to the detriment of the larger population. . . . His frail and deteriorating health has worsened an already terrible situation as his entourage fight each other in a bid to pole position themselves for his eventual demise. It is so bad he could not be present at the golden jubilee celebrations, his only participation being a radio broadcast on the eve of the anniversary in a faltering voice.

The nation is in a difficult economic position. Many families can barely afford a meal a day. In the last three years, trade union leaders have organized more than 5 successful nationwide labor strikes, the last of which turned violent and bloody, ending in a state of emergency for several weeks. There have been several other strike actions by particular groups including teachers, students, doctors, police, and even the armed forces!

Security is virtually absent. Bandits and security personnel alike openly rob the innocent of their labor’s reward. Most nights are dark in most places; power supply is at a mere 30% capacity at the peak for the past six years. The economic situation has made many of the young people to dabble in nefarious activities. Many young girls practice one form of prostitution or another more out of necessity than anything else. Families have broken up over a plate of rice or a loaf of bread.

Education and health are no go areas. Many children of school going age roam the streets because their parents can hardly feed them much more pay their paltry school fess; admission to tertiary schools is based 80% on bribes and 20% on qualification. Universities are overpopulated while students sleep in semi completed shacks and study under street lights. The most effective section of the hospital is the mortuary. Doctors’ strikes have been mostly because of the lack of facilities and medication.

After all this earthly poverty, barely 1% of the people have any hope of making heaven. Statistics show that while some 90% claim to be Muslims, barely 1% write evangelical Christian next to their names, including nominal church goers.

Over the last 50 years the country has lived out the foundational statement of her struggle for self-rule; the preference for liberty even at the cost of their survival and dignity. Yet the real need of this massively endowed nation - boasting 25% of the earth’s bauxite deposit among others - is true, unconditional liberty.

On her fiftieth anniversary, October 2, 2008, the Republic of Guinea stood at the cross roads of clear and present poverty. When the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do? Christians here declared breakthrough prayers on the eve of Sunday, September 28. The Christian leadership is seeking an encounter with political and social leaders. A new declaration to nullify the poverty infested [declaration] has been proclaimed: “The evangelical churches of Guinea totally reject poverty and declare prosperity on the nation in the freedom that only God can give.” Christian leaders are unanimous on the need to break the cobweb of poverty that has engulfed political leadership and social and spiritual lives over the last 50 years.

As Guinea turns the corner on 50, her only hope remains the Prince of Peace, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the World, the Lord Jesus Christ. He only can bring true liberty without any strings attached. Yet Romans 10:14 - 15 is emphatic; “How then shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? And how shall they believe in Him of whom they have not heard? And how shall they hear without a preacher? And how shall they preach, except they be sent? As it is written, how beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things.”

So at this point please spare a thought for the nation and people of Guinea. Pioneers Guinea is on the quest to bring Christ to folks here. You are also invited to join the train in praying, in giving to the cause, in taking a giant step for Him.

PRAISE GOD FOR

• 50 years of nationhood
• The dawn of a new era
• The lives of the 1% evangelical Christians

PRAY THAT

• An effective national leadership will take charge
• The resolve of Christian leaders will hold sway
• The light of Christ will shine on Guinea
• The faith of the 1% Christians will hold

In August I ordered 100 small, wooden, hand carved spoons from Amadou; a basket, spoon, and shoe vendor in the market.  I gave him a prototype and told him he could choose a design to burn on the handles.  I intend to glue a magnet to the back of each spoon and give them to friends to hang on their fridges as a reminder to pray for us.

When we returned from our travels in late October, I went to the market to pick up the spoons.  Since David had never met Amadou, he came with me.  When we arrived at his booth, Amadou greeted us warmly, sliding over on his small bench so we could sit down.  He was very happy to meet David and pulled out two tiny spoons he had carved with our initials on them; ‘B’ for Bella and ‘D’ for Daawuuda, our Fulbe names.  They were really nice gifts that he took a lot of time making.  As is culturally appropriate, we thanked him profusely and began counting out our 100 wooden spoons from a bag he retrieved from far under his dark booth.

As I began to count, Amadou gave David another gift; a hand woven, grass trivet that read “Daouda love Bela.”  Again we exclaimed how kind it was of him to make such a wonderful gift for us.  It really was touching.  I continued counting.

Before David had time to hand me the trivet, Amadou pulled out the nicest pair of goat skin and tire- tread- soled shoes I have ever seen.  Amadou said the shoes were a gift for me.  David exclaimed, “Wow!  You’re giving us a lot of gifts today!”  Amadou explained that the last time he saw me; he looked at my feet and wanted to make me a pair of shoes.  I tried them on.  Of course, they were a perfect fit.

I was so very blessed by his no-strings-attached generosity.  Amadou generously gave out of his talents to show his appreciation of our friendship.  I wondered what we had to offer him.  I didn’t buy any gifts in either France or Ghana to share with friends like Amadou.  What could we give that would match his extravagance?  When I returned home, I wrapped a Pular New Testament.  I’ll give it to him the next time I go the market.  I’m sure Amadou’s gifts to us cost far more than our gift to him, but ours has an eternal value to which no pair of shoes can compare.

Ghana is a wonderful country.  The influence of Christianity is very strong here.  On Sunday, we went to a church that had a huge sanctuary.  In all their services, they probably have close to five thousand people who attend.  Ghanaian Christianity is very vibrant and lively.  The influence of Christianity is strong in the community.  As you drive down the road, you see that many businesses have Christian names.  For example, you might find “The Lord is My Shepherd Hair Salon,” “In Jesus Name Car Parts,”  “The Glory of the Lord Shop,”  and many more like that.  It is quite a refreshing change from our life in Guinea, a country that is nearly completely Muslim.

One day this week, we went on a trip to the city of Cape Coast.  There we visited a national park.  The park had a pathway built through the canopy of the trees high above the ground.  We walked on suspension bridges from treetop to treetop.  After that, we toured Cape Coast Castle.  It was an important center for the slave trade in Ghana.  It was sad to see the cells where slaves were kept as they were waiting to get on boats to North America.

During the conference, we met many other Pioneers missionaries.  We had teaching sessions dealing with various missions topics.  We learned a great deal.  We will be staying in Ghana a few more days and hope to see more of the capital, Accra.