WHERE IS MY HEART?

I AM THINKING ABOUT PACKING...

But seem to not accomplish much.... Today seems to be an excellent day to procrastinate.  Petal (our Bichon   Frise dog) and I are enjoying a day of little stress.  She is asleep on my bed as I am typing.  Tomorrow I will have to pack as I will be leaving for the Bay Area on Sunday after I preach at River Pines Bible Church.  

On Sunday when I leave home I will be packed for my trip to Travis Air Force Base where I have an appointment on Tuesday with a doctor who specializes in radiation therapy to kill some unwanted cells in my body.

Hopefully the weather will be pleasant in the Bay Area on Monday because I love to walk across the Golden  Gate Bridge, eat some Chinese food, ride the Cable Cars, look at things which I cannot afford and would never buy if I could do so.

Then on Tuesday it is only about a 45 minute drive to Travis AFB for my early morning appointment  and another adventurousome day.

SOME MUSINGS

I have been reading a book about written by a man who canoed the Congo River with all its hazards.  He reminded me of something which I knew but had given little thought to.  Dr. Livingstone, the famous British explorer, trekked across Africa looking for the source of the Nile River.  In 1873 while traveling in Africa he lost his last great battle to Malaria and internal bleeding caused by dysentery. 

In my distant past while traveling in England, I had opportunity to visit his crypt in Westminster Abbey. It is not a well known how he got his body traveled across Africa on the thousand mile trip to the East Coast of Africa to be placed on a ship destined to take his remains to London.

He had two trusty attendants who carried his body across the country to place it on theship.  After breathing his last, they removed his internal organs including his heart which was buried under a tree.  His body cavity was then filled with salt and with aid of the hot African sun and continual bathing in brandy was preserved for the trip.   With his legs bent back at the knees to make the body easier to transport, off they went carrying his body to the East coast of Africa.  But before the body was placed on the ship, a note was pinned to the body saying, "You can have his body, but his heart belongs in Africa." Eleven months after his death, his body was laid to rest.  

I identify with the simple statement, "You can have his body, but his heart belongs in Africa."  I plan on being there this ssummer.

SPEED BUMPS IN THE ROAD OF LIFE

In 2006, I had a prostate-ectomy.  Following that I had a minor surgery to correct some problems related to the removal of the prostate.  The second surgery corrected the problem, but I was warned that it might have to be repeated in as short of time as two years.    

Not to long ago, I began to experience some minor problems and assumed that the second surgery was in need of being done again.  At the same time I was completing my inoculations for my trip to the DRC.  So I was  combining my trips to the doctor at the Veterans Administration as much as possible as I have to drive 90 minutes to get there.     

                                                                                                                                                   My Urology doctor had prescribed a mild tranquilizer for what he called a spastic bladder.    On Tuesday I got my last two shots, dropped into Urology to see about making an appointment with my doctor because a side effect of the tranquilizers was acid ingestion.   I assumed that the doctor would want to try another prescription.  The Urology Department scheduled me to see a doctor on Wednesday. 

The Urologist examined all of my past records and told me very firmly that I have a renewal of cancer in my body. He was very firm about this and told me that I would need radiation in the area where the prostate had been.  Since then I have talked to a social worker and the hospital at Travis Air Force Base where the radiation will be done. I have an appointment at Travis on the 26th of this month to talk to the doctor and gather information.  Assuming that everything goes as planned then I will have another appointment at this time and  the doctor will mark the area to be radiated.  

Following the second appointment I will be reporting to Travis and staying in a motel on the base for six to eight weeks Monday through Friday. I will be in the hospital for one hour each of the five days. I will be free to leave the base on weekends.  One of the questions which I needed answered is: will the radiation affect my ability to travel to the DRC? At each point I have told every medical professional that I am planning on traveling on the 15th of August to be gone for 60 days.  They have all assured me that this will be no problem. 

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 (ESV)
 Rejoice always,
 pray without ceasing,
 give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

Planning my Return Trip to the Democratic Republic of the Congo

As I sit in front of my computer, I am keenly aware of the fact that we have eight orphans assigned to anxiously awaiting families who desperately want to bring their children home from the Congo.

Three of these children are in Kinshasa with Pastor Didier and Mama Angelique jumping through their final hurdles with the American Embassy. They will soon be ready to travel to the U. S. and will be with their forever families. 

Families in the U. S. are buying plane tickets and awaiting their visas from the DRC Embassy in Washington, DC.  For those of you who are in this process the information I want to share is probably too late.  You are too far advanced in your travel plans.  You have already made some of the decision that I was making when I planned my trip to the DRC. 

It seems like it was such a short time ago, that I was praying and planning my trip to Africa.  Now I am beginning to work on my next trip and dealing with some of the same issues but from a different perspective. 

If you are a future adoptive parent and are weighed down with a home study and paper work, you may not be prepared to think with me about some other issues which are important such as passports, visas, plane tickets and vaccinations.

Vaccinations (Disclaimer)

I want to share my history with you in hopes that it might be helpful. I will give my past history and my present approach after having done much research and asked many questions.

First, recognize the fact that you will not get out of the country without a CDC 731 which is an official International Certificate of Vaccination.  You will not get into the DRC unless it shows that you have had a Yellow Fever Vaccination.  This is the minimum requirement to get into the Democratic Republic of the Congo. According to the Center for Disease Control.

Historical Study

Being a student of history and valuing the opinions of others who have had a recent history, I needed to make contact with someone who had been to the Congo. 

Some way or another I was put into contact with a retired policeman—Ray Hill-- who had just returned from the Congo.  He had gone to our Mission: Compassion for Congo (compassionforcongo.org) with the plans of spending forty days there.  He was going to update the electrical wiring on the missions’ building.  A local doctor ordered him out of the country ten days later lest he die in Africa.  Ray was so sick that as he described it, “that I could hardly hold my head up.”  He flew home to recuperate and still has/had some residual problems which his HMO  has not been able to resolve.  He has not had a reoccurrence for several weeks so maybe this is now in his past. 

Center for Disease Control

I love to get free information from experts so I visited their website to find that you can get information about travel to two hundred different countries from the website.  Also they have a 1-800-232-4636 number which put me in contact with a live female voice in Atlanta.  After I explained my plans to travel to the DRC, I was told that I would have to have Yellow Fever vaccine.  It was also recommended that I have Hepatitis A and Hepatitis B; the latter being based on the fact that I might have sexual activity in the Congo.  I decided to not have the Hep. B shot.  The voice also told me that I would need to have some sort of Malaria prevention.   That I listened to heartily since I had read many missionary stories of suffering and death as people labored in tropical areas. Plus having studied the history of WWII and how soldiers suffered from Malaria and had to take quinine.  They said the taste was so terrible that they learned to throw it in a curve to bypass their taste buds.

Research as to Where

I wanted to limit my vaccinations as I learned they were terribly expensive, but also did not want to bring back some lingering disease.  I found that many drug stores and even some grocery stores will vaccinate travelers.  Also those of you who have an HMO may be able to get free shots.  I am covered by the Veterans Administration so I made an appointment with my primary care doctor—a delightful lady who is my friend.  She strongly advised me to not go and when she found that I was going anyway, she almost wept.  I was rescued from her tears by a ringing phone. 

I ended up at a travel medicine purveyor in Folsom, CA where I received my meds and much good advice.  I learned that if I did not have the Hepatitis B vaccination then I should never allow a medical practioner  in Africa to break my skin due to the possibility of a dirty needle.  At that time, my thought were that if I became seriously ill, I would just leave the country as did Ray Hill.  I did not think about the fact that all planes might be filled up for some time or that I might get dropped off in Ethiopia for twenty seven hours as I did on the way home.  I cannot imagine what it would have been like to be so sick that I could not hold my head up and then to have had to go through the process of getting an Ethiopian  visa, being taken to a hotel and spending more than a day in a foreign country.  It was difficult enough for me when I was feeling well. I say all of this to tell you that I am in the process of reconsidering issues as I plan another trip to the DRC.

This Time—Good News

I have made two recent trips to the Veterans Administration Hospital and have learned that the VA now considers it to be less expensive to prevent travel diseases than to treat them after the fact.  I have gotten my flu shot and a typhoid shot.  I have had lab work done to determine if I need Hep. B.  My lovely lady doctor has told me that I may have immunity to it.  If I need the shots then they will come in a series of three over a four month time period.  All of the shots are at no cost to me.

The VA has a travel medicine specialist.  She warned me very sharply about the possibility of Malaria in an approximate five minute lecture.  Rattling off information which I cannot remember she said, If you do not follow instruction and take your pills and a certain common mosquito bites you with a common form of Malaria “I guarantee that you will die within 24 hours.”  My Malaria pills have been ordered for me.  A thirty day prescription will have only a very minimal cost. 

Before you leave for the DRC, please see a  travel specialist.

MY LAST SUNDAY IN LUBUMBASHI

The Service started at 10:00 am, but Pastor Didier had been hard at work for several hours. We were combining two churches for this service. Chairs had been moved from one church to another to accommodate the increased number of attendees. Didier drove to the church which he pastors to pick up the university aged choir—probably about 12 young people. Two busses, 7 passenger vans, were hired to bring worshippers from one church to the other. In the Congo the vans may haul 20 people normally, but in abnormal circumstance 30 may be crowded in if it is physically possible. Unfortunately I did not see the vans unload so as to be able to count the arriving group.

Annie had prepared rice, beans and fish for 200 people; the actual number went beyond this. There was over 100 children in attendance. Because of this large number the children they had to meet in a separate building.

At 9:00 I went to the church to just sit and meditate. Already the first university choir was there, soon a high school aged choir was in place. Before the morning was over two adult choirs would be participate also. Keep in mind that the plan for a worship service under Didier’s direction involves one hour of animated singing, plus one hour of preaching. To this we were going to add a communion service.

I preached and officiated at the Communion Table. The service lasted for more than three hours. Then the crowd had to be fed. The children were in the process of being fed when the adult service was over. Didier apologized to me about eating late because he knew I was hungry. While we were waiting for food he decided to move the borrowed chairs back to where they had come from. He asked me to help; moving the chairs involved about an extra hour.

When we arrived from moving the chairs, I went immediately to the church to get my food. I looked at the table and found the food containers were empty. Just before disappointment depressed me, one of the girls from the university aged choir called to me and held up a plate of rice, beans and a partial sardine which she had saved for me.

The choir was seated in a circle, some sang and some were still eating. Singing seemed to be the preferential act as those who had not emptied their plates would stop eating to sing. While I was eating and they were singing one of the young men told me that they were telling me good by by singing. I was very deeply touched by that realization. After the food was eaten and the singing was over, we all stood up and one girl came to me with a short speech. She said, “Pastor Wheatley we love you, you are gentle man.” I am sure that she was speaking for the group.

I replied,”I love you also, may I kiss you on the cheek?” She extended her cheek for my polite and loving peck. Just as soon as she got her kiss, another girl rushed up and said, “Me too.” Needless to say….

I went outside and had countless pictures taken of me with various church members. One was with a little baby boy who was probably very frightened of being held by a strange white man. Tears rolled down his cheeks , but mama still wanted me to hold him for the picture. I co-operated. In their culture to have an older Pastor hold your child is to have your child blessed. I felt like some sort of dignitary.

I headed to the guest house; the choir was following me. I have no idea what they were planning, but Pastor Didier met us and gently discouraged them from following me. I was glad that he realized how tired I was.

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The Last Leg of my Trip to D. C.

In a previous posting, I have told you of my extra day spent in Ethiopia. At 10:15 pm the plane departed from Addis Ababa for Rome where we refueled and changed the crew of the plane which took about an hour. I was seated next to a 29 year old Ethiopian graduate student who lived and studied in Kentucky. She slept most of the trip, but it seemed like every time I would fall asleep, she would accidently jab me in the ribs with her elbow. One time in my sleep, my body drifted to close to hers and I realized how badly we both probably smelled.

At about 7:30 am we arrived at the Dulles airport. Remember we had flown north to Rome and then had crossed the Atlantic by so doing we were chasing a setting sun. This makes for long days so I don’t know how many hours we actually traveled.

Clearing customs was no problem; no one was interested in opening my bag. It was just a matter of patiently waiting in line, sliding my passport through an electronic reader and a friendly greeting. Before long I was in a taxi headed to my daughter’s home. On arrival I found a hidden key and headed straight for a shower and a shave. I was soon calling home and Sharon wanted to know if I took a long shower. Actually I could not take a long shower without feeling guilty over it. I am still living with the realization of how much I have and how little some people have.

On Being Re-Americanized.

I drank milk for the first time in more than three weeks. I drove a car. I am in Starbucks drinking coffee, I had a bagel with creamed cheese. Wow! I did not realize how culturally deprived I felt until I got re-exposed to the wealth of America. Soon I am going to go Costco to develop some pictures which I will take to Hannah’s school. I hope to be able to share them with her class and maybe another class where I know the teacher. I will fly home on Monday.

I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT I ATE WORMS AT ONE MEAL WHILE IN THE DRC.

BLOGGING AT 37,000 FEET (On Monday 10-3-2011)

As I write this I am on the Ethiopian Air flight from Lubumbashi to  Addis Ababa via Lilongwe, Malawi.  I think it is a little more than four hour trip to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.  

Last night I did most of my packing.  Much of the personal things which I brought were left behind:  long sleeved shirts, Vaseline Hand Lotion, my last MRE, and part of my heart.  This morning I was up about 6:15. Quickly finished packing, for breakfast I had two slice of bread, Laughing Cow Cheese, and an apple.  I found some iced tea mix which I mixed with warm water for my caffeine fix.  About 7:45 hot water was delivered to my room so I topped everything off with hot Via, but no creamer or sugar.

Everything being in place I went out to watch the morning happenings in the bush.  While in place in my usual chair in the breeze way, a little boy came pedaling along on an elderly bicycle.  On the back of his bike were two little boys, I assume that they were brothers.  I waved them over to me so I could take their pictures.   When the picture was taken the three little boys each had big smiles on their faces.  The bike was soon headed back down the road, but before it left the one who empowered  the bicycle called to me, “Papa, I love you.”

About 9:00 Pastor Didier came to get me so I could  take gifts to his wife and Mama Angelique.  He had warned them that I would be bringing gifts and taking pictures so they were beautifully dressed.  It was my great pleasure to tell them how much I appreciated their hard work taking care of the children and then to give them material for clothing which Didier had chosen. Needless to say they were thrilled. 

I had to have some good-by time: pictures and holding the orphans.  Little Matthew who adores men began to cry.  Pastor Didier said that he knew I was leaving. I had to pick him up and comfort him.  Then I transferred him to Annie’s open arms and left.  Matthew will soon be in the Layton’s  home in Shingle Springs, Ca.  He will have an adoring family.  He is so cute. 

Didier took me to the Airport and got me on the plane safely without any problems I am writing now from Ethiopia where I spent the night as my flight out was cancelled.  I had a night without mosquitos, and plenty of hot water all courtesy of Ethiopian Airlines.  

…UNTIL YOU CAN NOT SEE TO READ YOUR BIBLE ANYMORE. (Tuesday 10-27-11)

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Yesterday I found that I was going to be preaching at Pastor Peter’s Church which is  on the mission’s property.  Today I asked Pastor Didier what time the Service started.  He told me that it would start at 5:00 pm.  “How long am I  to preach?” I am sure you know what his answer was. 

The Service started on time with just a few people present, but they just kept coming until all chairs and benches were filled.  About fifteen or twenty minutes into the Service more chairs were brought in for late arriving  children.  At 5:25, Pastor Didier motioned me toward the pulpit with a wave of his hand. He stood to my right interpreting the sermon into French. Pastor Peter to my left giving the people the message in Swahili.  I preached for about 35 minutes and then sat down  though I could still see to read. The sermon was followed by what I hoped was warm applause.  Did that mean that they were glad to have me sit down, or did it mean that they really appreciated the sermon?

As Pastor Didier and I hurried toward the car to go to Lubumbashi for unfinished business, he told me that the people wanted me to preach for an hour on Friday night. “The will come one half hour early,” he said.

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Ball-loons

To be an instant celebrity about all I have to do is open the door to the guest house.  Adults stop to visit, even though we can not understand one another. The conversation goes somewhat like this, “good morning” even though it may be mid-afternoon. Next, I am fine how are you. Then we stand there not knowing what to do next.  I usually find a reason to go inside and close the door in a very short period of time.

About dusk I had tossed out a Frisbee for some older boys; needless to say it soon became a game of Frisbee Keep Away.  The older boys were  playing against  the younger.  Little children to young for such activities got balloons.

When it was so dark I could hardly see anything, I went to the door for some now unknown reason.  As soon as I opened the door it was almost like having a quartet singing, “Ball-loons.” Four little boys probably in the five to seven year age group were letting me know what their heart’s desire was. 

I waved them on to the porch where there was light, went to the bedroom shelf and got each one a ball-loon.  Their eyes danced as they each took a blown up balloon from me They squealed with excitement as they ran off into what appeared to me to be an impenetrable darkness holding on to a treasured ball-loon.  

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THE STREET INTO TOWN WAS CLOSED THIS MORNING…

Pastor Didier attempted to buy food for the today’s Pastor’s Conference, but was able to travel only so far and found the street was closed by burning tires.  I am in Lubumbashi in the province of Katanga.  Katanga is a very rich mining area.  Unfortunately the local population sees little of this wealth.  The right to mine goes to an international high bidder.  The soil containing the minerals is exported to another country where the wealth is extracted from the dirt. It is my understanding that China and India are greatly involved in the mining industry.  Apparently there was a dispute between the local government and the mining industry. Which side burned the tires is knowledge which I do not have.

My question is: will I be able to fly on Monday?

MONDAY EVENING 9/26/2011

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OBITUARIES

The Late Mr. or Ms. Mouse

We do not know your date of birth, but probably today is your last day on earth.  This is written anticipating your soon demise. Your accomplishments were few but they led to your sickness and death.

On the night of my arrival, you ate your full of my Cliff Bars which I had carefully imported from the Costco store in Folsom, Ca.  Surely you thought that you had arrived in the land of plenty.  When I placed the bars  on the highest shelf in my bedroom, not only did you climb to there to fill your tummy, but you left a black trail of droppings to let me know that you had overcome my best laid plans to protect my property. 

Your appearances were very frequent.  One time in broad daylight I saw you climb head first down from my highest shelf.  Several times you made notable appearances by running down the hall.  On night I watched you scurry down the hall and go behind the deepfreeze. 

Another time you dared to run under the bathroom door and actually enter the room about six inches before you realized the room was occupied.  How shameful,  you were invading another’s privacy.  You left hurriedly without even saying, excuse me.  How rude.  At that point I realized you must go.  Though you have seniority and surely thought this was your private property, I now have obtained squatter’s rights.  I will prevail.

This afternoon Didier and I went to the local Jambo Market where I purchased Rat and Mouse Killer—a deadly poison which is designed to be very appealing to one like yourself, absolutely irresistible. 

While we do not know your date of birth, your educational experience, the number of descendants produced we do know that you departed from this earthly existence on 9/28/2011.  Adieu.

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TUESDAY MORNING 9/27/2011

Yesterday while at the market, we purchased mosquito spray.  I had accumulated so many visible bites that people were becoming alarmed when my arms were exposed.  I just counted the bites on my right arm and there are twenty-two visible red spots where some nightly monsters  feasted on me.  Didier has repeatedly asked me if I am taking my malaria pills and I have repeatedly assured me that I am current. He told me yesterday that there are more people in Africa dying from malaria than from AIDS.

I do not understand the mosquito problem here because I thought that there had to be standing stagnant water for the mosquitos to have a breeding place.  Didier told me yesterday that the mosquito problem precedes the rain.  According to him we are beginning to experience things which precede the rainy season.  There is almost daily a horrible wind and dust storm.  I have almost become accustomed to having grit in my mouth.  The wind so I have been told will eventually bring clouds and then  rain.  The dust becomes mud and the low places become pools of standing water.  And  I hate to think of what the mosquitos will be like.  I have read in missionary reports of “clouds of mosquitos.”  If they are this bad in the dry season, what will they be like in the wet season. 

As soon as we came from the local market with the spray, I went into my bedroom and covered my pillows with the bedspread.  Took my clean clothing out into  the hall and then Didier exhausted the whole can of mosquito spray in the bedroom, walked out, closed the door and told me not to enter for two hours.

  I accumulated no more bites last night, but my room needed to be aired out.  I have been instructed to keep my bedroom door closed day and night and to never open my barred and shuttered window.  This is hard for a fresh air addict.  It is doubly hard when you wake up covered with sweat. 

I am out of After Bite the topical medicine which is advertised as an itch eraser. I found it in Wal-Mart for less than two dollars, how I wish I had bought more. 

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Marriage in the African Culture

As I have previously mentioned in my blog, you do not see Christian women from the mission compound struggling with heavy loads of water each morning.  A member of the Church named Emory starts carrying water to the different houses in the community about 6:00 am.  He is thirty nine years old, engaged to a very attractive women in her mid to late twenties—my estimate.  Their engagement may last for three to five years as he or they try to save enough money to pay the dowry or bride price.

In this culture (pagan) the bride to be is seen as belonging to the extended family.  Her fiancée must not only buy the bride from her father and mother, but also from aunts and uncles on both sides of the family.  He may negotiate the price with the parents, but also must satisfy the rest of the family or a spell may be cast upon the bride by the family.  The spell may involve the wife being barren after the marriage if everyone involved is not satisfied financially.

The price of the bride is unknown for Emory, but Didier told me that for the parents to be satisfied they may want  $600.00.  Then the family may want a refrigerator or a TV.  Someone may want a bicycle, another may want a blanket. It is not uncommon for the dowry to go to $1000.00 or $1200.00. That is probably about what Emory will earn this year.  The Church may help, friends and family may contribute. 

The scenario may change if the bride to be becomes pregnant.  When it is apparent visually that the woman is pregnant then the man takes her to his house and they live together until the baby is born. This is allowed in the pagan society, because to fail to do so brings demonic spirits into the relationship. After the baby is born then things change dramatically.   If the girl’s family is capable of supporting the mother and child they take the new mother  and her baby and the price of the dowry goes up. If the family is so poverty stricken that they  cannot support the new mother and the baby, they may allow the couple to get married without the dowry or a lessened dowry. 

If the girl is not married by the time she reaches the age of thirty, then her dowry goes down because men want a wife  capable of having children. Another possibility is to marry her to a man who has a children already, but whose wife has died.

In the Christian community things are being seen differently as the daughter belongs to God and marriages should be encouraged. Children are a gift from God and are to be protected and loved. 

Didier told me that it was very difficult for him to marry Annie as he was a graduate student when they met.  He took off two years from school to manage a retail outlet for a rich man.  He got Annie a job and they both saved for two years before they got married;  then he went back to school.