tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-311896502024-03-07T09:20:27.552+03:00DHDBreannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.comBlogger192125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-23946544341510000642012-06-26T15:57:00.000+03:002012-06-26T16:00:16.876+03:00We've Moved!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Dust, Heat, and Dreams has moved.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Come visit us at <a href="http://jerrybreanna.com/">jerrybreanna.com</a>!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We'll be there to meet you, with cookies in the oven ;)</span></div>
<br />Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-1522124023561783422012-03-13T16:44:00.001+03:002012-03-13T16:59:09.265+03:00New Addition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHDeji-k8MZDfhExdN_hrFo8-SfTReyeAdsVn4HSgNVu3cd9tLFje1b1EqFwragcWEDOGtv5zGtuPlBBXpmDePNkzIivsH4QQ1ehJaBOFIS5ZWmog043G-K6BI28FS5nunsRZ/s1600/IMG_2220" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHDeji-k8MZDfhExdN_hrFo8-SfTReyeAdsVn4HSgNVu3cd9tLFje1b1EqFwragcWEDOGtv5zGtuPlBBXpmDePNkzIivsH4QQ1ehJaBOFIS5ZWmog043G-K6BI28FS5nunsRZ/s320/IMG_2220" width="320" /></a></div>
It seems like EVERYTHING has changed since our last post, but in a very good way.<br />
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We are excited to welcome into our family John Harrison Daniel, but we're just calling him Jack!<br />
Because of complications, we flew back to the US late February and Jack entered the outside world on Leap Day.<br />
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Thanks for your earnest prayers for him and me. We are putting his story and updates on a <a href="http://jerrybreanna.com/jack">new website</a>, with the hope of giving thanks to God for how he has already worked in Jack's life.<br />
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Please feel free to come over and sign the <a href="http://jerrybreanna.com/jack/guestbook">guestbook!</a>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-14386205778858202772011-12-10T00:30:00.000+03:002011-12-10T01:08:09.758+03:00Three Pilots<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The white shirt sports blotches of brown and a black line along the back of my neck. Despite washing it in the sink last night on the UN compound, it lacks the brilliance of the other pilots on the gravel ramp. I watch as four pilots open the pod doors of two caravans, and a line of seven UN and Red Cross land cruisers slowly advance to retrieve the supplies. I sit down on my main wheel tire, next to the “baby airplane” the 206. A full load sits behind my pilot seat, ready to be flown, then carried on four-wheelers to our drop zone. Sacks of grain, beans, and lentils, a box of supplies for expectant mothers, a nutritionists supply set, bottled water and boxes of soap all wait with me for the “OK” to depart.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As the caravans unload, I realize this ramp is the end of the line for them, but for me it’s the beginning.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thirty five nautical miles away thousands shelter under trees, wanting to escape the violence their own country inflicted on them. Last week our airplanes brought the four-wheelers as close as possible to the refugees. A team from our partners, Samaritan’s Purse, a Christian international relief organization, hit the ground and rode in to meet and begin caring for the war weary people. Many were tired, drinking brackish water, and boiling leaves and grass for sustenance. They grouped together under the trees living on the little they brought. The relief effort initially consisted of survival. Our partners drank the same water and lived on crackers until additional food could be arranged.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In two days they cleared a drop zone. Meanwhile, several of our team DC3 began practicing air drops with the DC3 near our main base at Nairobi. After good results, they rushed to the drop zone. Over the next four days they dropped over 40 tons of food, shelter material, and cook ware.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I met up with them on their second to last day. Our partner organization wanted to slash out a new airstrip near the refugees. I guessed this was to deliver various supplies (water bottles don’t survive air drops well), and provide better evacuation options. Once I landed, I would jump on a four wheeler with them and explore the options.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I asked questions about the airstrip idea, and it seemed daunting, to say the least, and the reason for the airstrip was not clearly defined. They wanted me to rotate out a couple staff members, and bring one in.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I left my bags in the small metal box of a room on the UN compound that I was sharing with the SP guy there. Several staff members with the UNHCR wanted to talk to the Samaritan’s Purse guy. They had discussed amongst themselves how many refugees had arrived, and also debated how much food SP had dropped. We smiled at the thought of these guys sitting in meetings debating the work SP had down. Most of the HCR staff was eager to get in, but were waiting on travel arrangements and permissions.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the staffers looked at me and told me “We looked at flying with you guys, but after talking to Juba, they said we aren’t allowed to.” I shrugged. No need to tell him we serve only the mission and church community. I thought it was interesting the UN also prevented it from being an option.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You know, there was heavy bombing in the area today.” One of them said.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“How far away from the drop zone?” I asked</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“About 25 kilometers. In the world of aerial bombardment, that’s not very far.”</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had heard this earlier today, but was not sure how accurate it was. I began pressing for details. Finally, I decided to send a text message to our operations in Nairobi. It started a chain reaction, and several international calls were made back and forth to determine our next step. I went to sleep under the AC unit in our box, and wondered how the next days would unfold.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was told early the next morning that none of our airplanes were cleared to fly and wait for further advice.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We loaded the three tons of bags into the DC3 so it was ready for its first run that day, and then readied the 206 for its flight. And we waited, talked on the phone, and waited. At one point the local army said the bombing was insignificant and was not a problem for us. It’s been going on for weeks. It looked like we would be able to go soon. Then, another phone call changed that. Another army division commander said we needed to stay on the ground RIGHT NOW. So we went back to waiting.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While sitting inside the DC3 fuselage, we talked about the Russian made bombers who had wreaked devastation on the darker citizens of this country for decades. One of our pilots said he had seen some of their pilots: all were from eastern Europe doing the bombing runs as a job. I thought of the Russian crews that fly for the UN, in Russian made hardware, and wondered if they knew these bomber pilots. Even worse, if they had done both jobs.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next phone call told us we should unload the DC3. I needed to take the 206 up near the drop zone and rotate the staff members, so one of the guys up there could fly out on the DC3. I received a long text message spelling out the conditions that must be met before I could fly. The trickiest was communications with the other airstrip. They relied on Sat phones, and our cell phone coverage fluctuated constantly. I finally got through, got an update on their airstrip, weather, and situation on the ground, then explained the signal I needed for “It’s safe to land.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went with the staff member in the 206, and scanned the skies constantly for other aircraft. When we arrived over the airstrip, I established communications with the guy on the ground. My instructions included: “You cannot get stuck!” I thought of Pieri a few weeks ago, and the frustration of being able to get airborne because of the patches of mud on the runway. I landed softly, let all three wheels roll for about 50 meters. The 206 barely decelerated. I powered up and went around. After the next landing, I shut down, unloaded, swapped out passengers, and ten minutes later headed skyward and back to the waiting DC3.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After landing, I turned into the parking area. As I shut down, the DC3 right engine began to start. I let my passenger out so he could make the run over to the waiting airplane. As I secured my plane, I watched as the massive tailwheel airplane began rolling out of the parking area. I realized suddenly I was alone, doing something I barely knew any details about, in a new place, and my colleagues were strapped in together, in the mighty beast rolling down the runway.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The rest of the afternoon I stayed with the 206 at the airstrip, waiting for word to do the next flight. While waiting, I have seen a lot of different caravans come and go. Most are flown by very cautious pilots, abusing their aircraft and making good money while wearing spotless shirts. Some of the older aircraft are flown by less than sober crew, also making good money. I watch as they talk on their cell phones as dozens of people unload food, medicine, and sanitation supplies from their airplane. Their hearts don’t seem to be in it. I guess we are all here for different reasons.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Then I think of the screaming marauder a few dozen miles north of us, dropping incendiaries on unarmed and starving people. I imagine those pilots are also well paid, and have some how justified their job to the remnants of their conscience.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After explaining that we should not worry about what we wear or what food we eat, Jesus made a pretty conclusive statement: “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” I get up off the 206 tire and try to tuck in my muddy brown shirt, while stretching my legs. A brilliant shirt seems petty in light of the large group barely surviving 40 miles away. I’m not sure what treasure may be waiting in heaven, but I do hope I can meet some of the refugees there one day. That’s the best pay anyone could ever fly for.
</span>Jerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12994909427533346771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-28392089585689084792011-09-27T10:00:00.001+03:002011-09-27T10:00:42.938+03:00Washboard<p><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400" height="267" src="https://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&captions=1&noautoplay=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=https%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2FJerryBreanna%2Falbumid%2F5631074079685194145%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">Turning left past Lodwar, I exhale. The trip becomes easy. Smooth roads and three hours of high speed driving will take us to our home, at least our home here on Earth.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">Racing into the setting sun, I silently run some numbers. It is 3:15 pm, so we should arrive in Loki before 6:30. Sunset is probably around 6:50, so we should have time to make it before dark, even if we have a short stop along the way. I settle into my seat, slip my used crocs off my dirty feet, and press harder on the gas pedal.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">My clothes sport a fine coat of dust. The same dust clings to my face, collects where the skin around my eyes crease together and add to the discomfort of hot dry air around us. Air conditioning would be nice, but whenever I hit the button, the engine shudders and an overwhelming groan rises out of the pounding steel and aluminum in front of me. Still, with my sunglasses on and a fake Indiana Jones hat on my head (father's day gift), I feel great on this homeward stretch.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">Home! It seems strange to drive to Loki and equate it with returning home. But it's true. The thought rings in my brain "Where is home? I guess it's a place I have never seen."</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">The needle rises above 100 kilometers per hour, and as it rounds near 110, the car lurches. I let off the accelerator, the engine picks back up. I must not have felt that. Did I feel that? No way. I fixed that problem already.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">FIve minutes later the problem reoccurs.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">Do we head back to Lodwar? We just can't turn around. I can't imagine the phone call telling everyone we will be delayed again until we sort out the issues with the car.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">On the other hand, if the car dies between Lodwar and Loki, there aren't any comfortable sleeping options. Plus, roving bandits may take it upon themselves to help lighten our Land Rover's load considerably, hopefully leaving us unharmed. But they sometimes shoot first and take things later.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">As we speed on, I think about the previous four days.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">Before we left Nairobi, Breanna sent me a text message saying the car wouldn't start. I called her while away on a retreat. It seemed a mystery. The glow plugs that heat the engine before it can start only turned on for a split second. Also, the starter didn't even turn. However everything else electrical worked. I asked her to call an AIM AIR mechanic, Nate, who lives in the neighborhood. He couldn't figure it out either.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">When I return to Nairobi, I try in vain to repeat the problem. I check all the connections on the battery and the starter. The shop washed the engine the same day Breanna had the problem. So, I decided the contacted must have had moisture in it, preventing it from powering the starter. The problem refused to reoccur, and I figured we could still travel without a starter if it was absolutely necessary. So, we scrambled to get ready the next day. We hadn't packed, planning on a day to fix the car.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">We left in the afternoon, and drove into the night for our first stop. Three hours from Nairobi, as I inched over four small speedbumps, the car died and refused to start. This time the starter turned but extremely slowly. I popped the hood, and began looking for problems. I flagged down a passing car and asked for a jump. Still, the starter turned slowly.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">It began to rain. The good samaritan said my jumper cables were bad because they did not create sparks when we attached them. I wasn't sure. My battery seemed completely charged, and therefore, the cables did not arc when connecting the two batteries. The eager helpers removed the battery from the other car (after untying the long pieces of timber tied on the roof and over the hood). They held their battery delicately next to our battery, connecting them with two end wrenches. Still no sparking and the starter barely turned the engine. We tried roll starting, but even as fast as we could push it, it would not turn the engine. I realized something serious had happened that prevented the engine from turning. Breanna called our host for the night and asked if he could come get us.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">He arrived, but did not bring a tow rope. We unloaded everything from inside and on top of the car, then loaded it into and onto his car, in the pouring rain. We arrived at our cabin around midnight, then I went with him to tow the car in. It rained most of the time.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">The next day I tried starting the car. As the starter turned, a squealing noise began. We isolated it to the alternator. I removed the serpentine belt, and tried cranking the engine again. It turned over quickly, like a champ.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">A mechanic helped me remove the alternator, and we took it into the small town. We were in a rural area. In fact, we planned to stay out here and relax for a mini one day vacation before heading back home. The one day would probably not be enough. In town we went to a small shop. More like a closet, actually. The alternator repairmen shared the closet with a shoes salesman, and a leather worker. I wondered if my alternator would come back with the same parts that it had to begin with.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">The repairman disappeared for hours. He eventually returned with alternator rotor removed, and the problematic bearing off and in pieces. He struggled to remove it, and in the process chipped part of the rotor. I bought the "nearly same size" replacement bearing from a nearby shop, then insisted a welder fix the chip in the rotor. Finally, the repairman "delicately" tapped the bearing into the alternator housing.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">"How long will this last? Could I make it to Mombasa?" I asked.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">"Sure, it will go," he replied.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">"And South Africa?"</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">He smiled… "Oh… no that is too far!"</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">With my repaired alternator, under a questionable warranty, we returned to install it in the car. Everything ran fine. The alternator charged the battery, and engine turned normally. I had a brain wave: Drive to Nakura National Park, like we wanted, look at animals, and test the repair of the car at the same time!</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">So we packed a lunch and loaded up. The sun shone brightly, the road carried us smoothly, and I smiled widely. Half way into the hour drive to Nakuru, the car hiccuped. It became frequent, until, about 15 minutes from Nakuru, it died. Grace immediately started wailing. She has a ways to go to becoming a true Land Rover kid, apparently.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">I figured this problem must be fuel related. However, fuel spurted from the pump just fine. We limped into Nakuru, and I called a mechanic I trusted. He listened to the symptoms and instructed me to replace the fuel pump. I decided to ask a local mechanic to find a fuel pump and fuel filter and save us time hunting them down. It was almost closing time, and I didn't want to risk being stuck because we went to the wrong shop.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">Together, we found replacement parts. He installed them for me, and it ran again. However, as he finished, part of the manual primer for the pump fell off. He showed me, and said we have to replace the pump… again. That means coming back tomorrow.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">I sighed.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">Another test drive, I guess.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">The vehicle ran great. The next morning we left early, drove the hour to Nakuru and then drove around the game park. We saw wonderful sights. A lot of flamingoes, a lot of zebra, cape buffalo, and rhinos. As we headed out, we saw giraffes. Everything was going well again. Then we drove back to the mechanic for the replacement pump to be put on.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">The car ran well the rest of that day, and almost the rest of the trip. Early the next morning we packed up, cleaned up, and headed north for Turkwell Dam. After a night there, we drove across the roughest road of our trek and towards Lodwar.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">The road from Kitale to Lodwar continues to deteriorate. It offers the choice of a ribbon of tar in the center laced with small craters, or wide sandy shoulders sculptured into a washboard that pounds and pounds at any speed over three miles per hour (5 kph). The washboard becomes bearable again at around 30 miles per hour (50 kph), but the sand shoulders have eroded through time, and worn deep ruts into the edge. You usually see the rut just after the point you can practically slow down on the washboard.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">The two younger kids loved this road, and I'm still not completely sure why. It had to do with being tossed in the car on a wild ride and not having to stay in their seats like on the high speed highways of the US.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">Up front it was more like a 50's era black and white comedy, with dry humor and no laugh track:</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;"><em>Breanna (with a vibration induced vibrato): </em>So, what do you think if we paint the walls first, then invite people over for dinner?</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;"><em>Continuation of sounds of gravel hitting the side of the car and tires pounding on the sand</em></span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;"><strong><em>Bang!</em></strong></span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;"><em>Jerry: </em>Ahh! I hate that!</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;"><em>I gear down and ease out of the hole we just rammed through.</em></span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;"><em>Jerry (speaking slowly, while focused intently ahead): </em>Sorry, I can't really hear you. What did you say?</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">And after Lodwar, the washboard ended, and as I already described, our problems resumed.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">I tell Breanna my plan…</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">These symptoms are different than the fuel pump problem. (Although, in my mind I am angry that I may have bought a counterfeit fuel pump that already died). I think we probably picked up bad Diesel in Lodwar (actually sounds like a good rock'n'roll song title). We have an extra fuel filter in the spare parts bag. If this problem persists, I will change out the fuel filter and see if it can get us to Kakuma, at least. It's a town made famous and large because of the nearby refugee camp built for the lost boys and others from South Sudan. </span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">I pray fervently for God to take this problem away (I forget to add 'not my will but yours be done').</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">Five minutes later the engine dies, and we coast to an agonizing stop. I expect one of the girls to wail about more car problems, but instead it is silent except for tires crunching over gravel.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">"Why are we stopping?" Grace asks</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">"Something isn't working with the car, and Daddy's taking a look."</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">The something of course, would be our engine.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">We are just outside of a small village, so at least civilization is close. I disconnect the fuel line to the fuel filter, and decide to crank the engine. Instead of the starter turning, it is completely silent.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">This isn't a fuel problem.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">With my back to the sun, I ask Bre to turn the key. I try to listen to the click of a contacter. Instead, I see it. A faint wisp of smoke rising behind the engine on the firewall. I look at the source up close. A wire had been added by someone in a hurry, and they secured it a cooling hose and also to an angled piece of metal on the firewall. As the cooling hose vibrated, it moved the wire against the angled metal. The insulation had worn through, and the bare wire now made contact with the electrical ground- a short circuit. The smoke and hot wire gave me evidence of that, and I guess the wire was added with the alarm system by the previous owner. It disabled the engine, even though the engine never had a computer controlling it, the alarm must turn off the fuel solenoid and turn off the glow plugs.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">I rejoice quietly and thank the Maker of all. He chose instead of a smooth ride, a way forward through the bumpy challenges. I move the wire away from the offending metal, then secure it. I ask Breanna to try starting it again, and sure enough it runs immediately. And it runs for the rest of drive to Loki. I now have an alarm system to get rid of. Oh, and an extra fuel pump that I now realize worked fine the whole time.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">Irony strikes me thick and heavy as I realized the washboard pounding prevented us from being stuck. That wire was probably shorting out quickly, then bouncing away before it could shut us down, and we never even noticed, not until we hit the smooth road.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">Obviously, we prefer the smooth roads, smooth flights, smoothies (or Sonic's cream slushes during their happy hour from 2-4 are an acceptable substitute), and all our favorite things. However, I've seen God use the washboard ruts on a hot sandy road to lead us where he wants us to be.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva;">So here we are, wiser with regards to our vehicle, and ever more dependent on His plan. And thankful just to be home … this side of Eternity.</span></p>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-21348737942690583422011-06-02T08:25:00.003+03:002011-10-29T22:06:18.588+03:00Reposted without permission<p>One of my fellow AIM AIR pilots put <a href="http://www.ngkilloren.com/wp/archives/3855" target="_blank">this on his blog</a>. It's well written and worth pasting here:</p><p>On slight addition I have to throw in, I understand that when the LRA was started, they were told if they followed the ten commandments, they would be invincible. How they justified their barbaric actions in light of this is beyond me. But it's always amazing how any group of people trying to satisfy an old Law can justify their sinful actions and believe they deserve a reward for doing so.</p><p>Also, last year, two of our pilots <a href="http://jsmundy.aimsites.org/2010/08/" target="_blank">attended the first graduation of seminary students</a> from a Bible school in an Ugandan refugee camp. Because of the LRA presence, citizens have relocated to refugee camps to be protected by the Ugandan defense force. While their lives remain on hold, they decided to start a Bible school, and the first four pastors graduated last year.</p><p>(You can read more about the US troops coming <a href="http://defensetech.org/2011/10/14/u-s-sending-combat-equipped-troops-to-africa/" target="_blank">here</a>).</p><p>OK, here goes. Sit down and enjoy:</p><p><span style="color: #262626; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; background-color: #ffffff;"><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;">In the wake of Rush Limbaugh’s bone-headed characterization of the Lord’s Resistance Army as Christians fighting Muslims, I thought I would present some basic info on the history of this group. AIM AIR (out of our Entebbe base) does a considerable amount of flying for organizations working in areas in northern Uganda, DRC, CAR and South Sudan that are consistently terrorized by the LRA. A while back, I spent three days in Congo as <a style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; color: #000000; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; margin: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ngkilloren/4042496221/in/set-72157623479461215" target="_blank">we delivered tons of relief supplies</a> to villages that had just suffered the horrors of LRA attacks.</p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;">First and foremost, the LRA is not a Christian organization. It is more correctly a militarized Satanic cult. The group began as a rebel group made up of northern Ugandans fighting oppressive regimes of the main (southern) Ugandan government. The group ended up being led by Alice Lakewenya, best described as a witch doctor, who told her followers she had cast certain spells that made them invincible, which was shortly proved false as they were utterly defeated by Ugandan forces. The group then became led by the now infamous Joseph Kony in the late 80′s. At best, Kony is insane, but I suspect he is possessed, with some of the defected LRA soldiers still being convinced he has special powers.</p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;">The LRA’s technique of gaining foot soldiers by abduction, usually of small boys who are often immediately forced to kill their parents, has been going on for over two decades now. This as well as other horrific things take place routinely to the people in these villages that are completely unprotected by their own governments, which all cannot control these far corners of their countries. The result is a huge area in the heart of Africa where death and horror has become common place. The spiritual oppression in some of the villages I was in was almost palpable.</p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;">Obama recently offered the help of military ‘advisers’ to try and capture Kony and shut down these LRA cells (which is why Limbaugh made his ignorant claim). The US has tried to help before (shutting down Kony was a personal goal of the Bush administration). However, the operation was botched by bad weather and bad timing and Kony escaped after potentially being tipped off as he monitored his short-wave radio. It is hard to image just ‘advisers’ can turn the tide against a wild man who has lived in the bush for almost 30 years. The troops of the countries involved are under-trained, under-armed and often ill-motivated to fight such a notorious, and elusive enemy. I’m not sure what prompted Obama to act now or in this way, but I guess we’ll see how effective it is.</p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;">Please keep this part of the world in your prayers. Pray that the Church would be a bright light in this overwhelming darkness. Pray that evil will be thwarted and the suffering of all of these people will end.</p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;"><strong style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; margin: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;">Resources:</strong></p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;">Below is a tracking map that gives an idea of the scope of these attacks both in time and geographically:</p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; text-align: center; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;"><a style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; color: #000000; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; margin: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;" href="http://www.lracrisistracker.com/"><img class="size-medium wp-image-3856 aligncenter" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: auto; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; height: auto; max-width: 610px; clear: both; display: block; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;" title="Picture 2" src="http://www.ngkilloren.com/wp/wp-content/uploads/Picture-21-300x140.png" alt="" width="300" height="140" /></a></p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;">Also here are some links to more info on the history of the LRA:</p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;"><a style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; color: #000000; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; margin: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;" href="http://www.enoughproject.org/files/publications/resources_lra.pdf" target="_blank">Great overview by Enough Project (.pdf)</a></p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;"><a style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; color: #000000; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; margin: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;" href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/3462901.stm" target="_blank">BBC profile on the LRA</a></p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;"><a style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; color: #000000; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; margin: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;" href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/3514473.stm" target="_blank">BBC FAQ’s about the LRA</a></p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;"><a style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; color: #000000; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; margin: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;" href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/newsweek/2009/05/15/hard-target.html" target="_blank">Extensive Newsweek article on Kony</a></p><p style="margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;"><a style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 12px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; color: #000000; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; padding: 0px; margin: 0px; border: 0px initial initial;" href="http://www.voanews.com/english/news/africa/decapua-lra-prendergast-24oct11-132463473.html" target="_blank">Enough Project questions effectiveness of only ‘advisers’</a></p></span></p>Jerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12994909427533346771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-589993583876145122011-06-02T08:25:00.002+03:002011-06-11T03:03:24.010+03:00Breaking Free<p>An apology, but not really, an anecdote, and a confession ... and why not? I can't sleep anyway.</p><p>Last week I returned to Nairobi. Two weeks of house projects in Loki came to an end, and I fell back into the warmth of my family, and the normalcy of life that could be anywhere, but it must be with them, together.</p><p>I also got back in the saddle: the thinly padded left seat. A first flight that allowed me to remember all I forgot. After all, the past four months I had commanded only a GMC van.</p><p>Reine put me through the paces, reassuringly, as he does best. We turned, and slowed, stalled, and climbed.</p><p> </p><p>"Let's see a soft field takeoff on the grass."</p><p>The grass runway was new to me. I looked it over from inside the Cessna. The northwest end gently rose from the edge of a ravine. Distance markers every 50 meters lay slightly obscured by long grass, and in the distance a fence ran across the far end.</p><p>Soft field technique, as you know, breaks free from the draggy surface the aircraft was slogging through. Once the wheels seperate from the earth, and slowly spin down to rest, the aircraft accelerates easier. It's not ready to fly yet, but if I keep it down near the weeds, it can build speed safely.</p><p>Reine wasn't satisfied that I kept it in "ground effect" long enough.</p><p>"Don't be afraid of that fence!"</p><p>The tall grass below housed a lot of small birds that rose up beneath us. Evidently they weren't alone in the grass. My next departure, I stayed low, slowly milking the flaps up, back into the rear of the wing. In front a gazelle, or was it an antelope, turned down the runway and bolted ahead of us. As we caught up to him, I eased back to clear the fence.</p><p>My base check came the next day. They feel more like an exam, but with opportunities to learn. Once I completed the base check, I could start operational flying again.</p><p> </p><p>We went back to the same airport and the same grass runway. My short field takeoff scared up the same poor grass grazing animal. He looked beautiful running in front of us when I glanced over the cowl.</p><p>I told our chief pilot, who conducted the base check, "I hope he doesn't have a heart attack."</p><p>This past week gave me a chance to discuss public relations. Living in Loki makes it harder to listen to AIM AIR's heartbeat, and then relay that to the rest of the world.</p><p>Last week I looked at the AIM AIR calendar with a manager much much my superior.</p><p>"Next year have more smiling babies and less guns!" he advised me. I laughed, thinking of what to say.</p><p>"I'm serious. More smiling babies."</p><p>I felt a twinge of guilt and a little defiance. When I laid out the calendar, I liked the idea of certain themes for each month. May was about war torn countries. A picture of burned out tanks sat above a close up shot featuring the Caravan throttle quadrant, weather radar, and avionics. Grace took that picture last year on a flight back from Loki to Nairobi. Knowing that makes me smile whenever I see it.</p><p>On home assignment I saw the calendar a lot while visiting people. As I looked at it over their dinner table, I realized a theme of instability and war was probably not the best thing to look at for a whole month. Maybe smiling babies would be better. The previous calendar, which was really great, had a lot of kids in it. That was before I took the helm.</p><p> </p><p>I will always struggle with what to share as a person, and also what to share as AIM AIR. The gritty truth involves guns, but I don't see them as often as I think about them. In the same vein, not all babies out here are smiling. I wrote an article last year during a tough week. In two sentences, it boiled down to: "Are we making a difference? Doesn't look like it, but we must be and I can't wait to see it." The funny thing is I thought the group asking for it scrapped it completely. When I showed up at their office this last furlough, they showed me their newsletter, with the article on front and back pages.</p><p>"It's basically your newsletter!" They told me. I guess it did make it in after all.</p><p>I love to think of us as swift messengers to speed the Gospel. Surely the hope from the Good News needs to be reflected back home. But I also think the Gospel contrasts better against a human reality.</p><p>So my half hearted apology is for the month of May on the calendar. I hope it wasn't a depressing month for anyone, and for <a href="http://dustheatanddreams.blogspot.com/2011/06/breaking-free.html">my last post</a> talking about Sudan's struggles. I find I paint the dark grey backgrounds much more than I paint the shimmer of hope in the foreground.</p><p>I sit up high quite a bit, usually just under the clouds, and well above the trees. From above, when I spot the smiling kids, the rejoicing mothers, the passionate missionaries, and the soulful pastors, I promise to point them out. If I can just get these wheels out of the mire and break free</p>Jerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12994909427533346771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-5518344052442546852011-06-02T08:25:00.001+03:002011-06-09T10:14:57.307+03:00Southern Discomfort<p>Sudan. The name brings strong feelings to many people. For fellow Christians in North America, images and stories of persecution and hardship for fellow Christians come to mind. Sudan has ranked among the highest countries for persecution according to several lists. For those who live in Europe or the Middle East, the memories of Sudan's struggle revolve around oil, resources, and moving the southerners out of the way.</p><p>Many missionaries received a wonderful surprise this January when a historic vote did not turn into bloodshed or signal a resumption of civil war. For AIM AIR, it meant a busier schedule as we support renewed and additional thrusts into what will soon be the Republic of South Sudan.</p><p>But, the honeymoon may be soon over.</p><p>When sharing with many people over the last four months about why we do what we do, I typically mentioned Sudan's bad roads during the rainy season, and Kenya's bone jarring and robber strewn roads in the north. However, highway robbery has hit south Sudan in a big way recently. One tribe in particular reigns with terror over a section of highway from Lokichoggio to Torit. At least two mission agencies do not allow their workers to drive that route now.</p><p>A friend tells me there is increased crime in the cities, like Torit and Juba. Most of the criminals, in a bizarre twist, are educated, most likely educated abroad as refugees, and have returned to Sudan. Perhaps their taste of western culture leaves an empty taste for materials and possessions now that they are back home, and they choose crime to obtain them.</p><p>He told me about a mechanic who used to work in Loki, and now opened up a shop in Eastern Equatoria. While driving, he picked up another Sudanese man. As they drove, the passenger brags to the mechanic that he killed a woman. Not only that, he has a tongue in his back pocket as a trophy. When he pulled it out, the driver stopped the car and beat him within an inch of his life. He hauled him off to the police.Through several days of turture, the murderer told them that government officials in Khartoum had sent 120 people down to the south with instructions to kill randomly any southerners. Unfortunately, most of the victims end up being women.</p><p>Finally, corruption continues to flourish, and finances remain mismanaged, misappropriated, and mysterious. Most government workers are paid weeks late. One government worker clocks in, then rides his motorcycle taxi around all day collecting fares. He returns to the office and clocks out. Eventually he will be paid, but today he needs the fares to make ends meet.</p><p>Other people not even living in Sudan are on the government payroll. Cousins, nephews, and uncles of policemen, government officials, etc. come to visit from abroad, and ask to be paid a salary. The payroll grows to include their names, and they return home to the US, Australia, or wherever.</p><p>My friend jokes, "South Sudan doesn't have social security. You don't need it. They'll pay you for not even working."</p><p>Our fellow missionaries and pastors face unusual and tough challenges. The days of direct oppression and opposition from the north <em>may</em> be over, but new and strange hurdles emerge. Please keep all of us who work for the Good News in this soon to be new country. We need creativity to work around these challenges, wisdom, a sense of humor, and constant reminder that God knows and has a plan.</p><p>Also, the border areas between north and south are flaring up. Certain towns have been bombed, and tension continues to escalate. This month AIM AIR's flights, in partnership with other Christian organizations, included surveying internally displaced people along soon to be border, and delivering relief supplies. Please keep those areas in your prayers, too!</p><p> </p><p>Shukran.</p><p> </p>Jerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12994909427533346771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-86734469676883109192011-04-23T23:34:00.001+03:002011-04-23T23:34:02.333+03:00On the ranch with Izzy and GraceIsaiah: I bet the kids here are never bored. <br />Dad: really?<br />Isaiah: yeah, because them live on a ranch. <br />Grace: You wouldn't want to ask if there is something to do... You know cause you might end up mucking a stall, or something. <br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/04/23/2812.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/04/23/s_2812.jpg' border='0' width='320' height='320' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />- Posted using BlogPress<br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Satanta,%20KS%4037.562555%2C-100.952589&z=10'>Satanta, KS</a></p>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-38267341105727415852011-04-07T15:31:00.002+03:002011-04-08T00:05:11.467+03:00Birthday PlansToday is, of course, Grace's Birthday. She proclaimed everywhere we have stopped "I am going to be 8 on April 7!" It's a big deal, and to celebrate in America is the best part.<br />
Breanna's sister found Grace's birthday plans on the floor of her room, and I asked Grace if I could share these on the blog:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Birthday Plans Front" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjle_VdMTAJnqOcSrNNvdc6-DxmyAvPsIpQNixwoJoTOJrHqMzz4Xh0DhYORcOuCewc4IJovCbBL9Ww7Hhs8Noff3x2kg3hyrmcxUAVWbZnhqXpuek7IGYNdqLtvOAb2bV-cSna/" width="400" /></div><br />
<img alt="Birthday Plans Back" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTiEG1OSvylDROVgwFUe014FwJrkFutbmeIqvQHrzINdjypRv9rHKz3fV5Y3t7uLqUJSJNCtRWXQMgLxpoXCPysriN-Q_2XmA7ZbFNh3u1zeJm4SrmBjK4ZePj8HhURvAfw8Ks/" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /><br />
<blockquote>After careful analysis, the major groups are: Cake, Place, People, Decorations, Wrapping Paper.<br />
Cake is Tres Leches (checked), Cat Shaped (x-ed out)<br />
Place is obvious,<br />
People: Family (checked), Friends (x-ed out)<br />
Decorations: Animal Plates (maybe), Floating Balloons (maybe)<br />
Wrapping Paper: Animals (checked), Cats (maybe)</blockquote>Tomorrow we hit the road again, but today we celebrate 8 years of bubbly life.<br />
Grace told me she thought she would get in trouble for wanting so many things for her birthday. I think she handled these expectations quite well.<br />
Birthday pictures to follow.Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-86790358451596669772011-01-21T15:48:00.000+03:002011-01-21T15:48:10.527+03:00Why we are here<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5b_VBtpeE3gjkwQ_a9K1VcpKd4wNqBBHkWlUBHp388bYc3L61a4_SWIJ-R32JEeUiSGDSUsVpUolMHUp2zeAxfR1RPSM06b3P1YuZjmOMeHsFjRBtOwgc07BPLAqwlKVcURfs/s1600/IMG_0458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5b_VBtpeE3gjkwQ_a9K1VcpKd4wNqBBHkWlUBHp388bYc3L61a4_SWIJ-R32JEeUiSGDSUsVpUolMHUp2zeAxfR1RPSM06b3P1YuZjmOMeHsFjRBtOwgc07BPLAqwlKVcURfs/s400/IMG_0458.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Into later and later hours, our white truck bucked, shuddered and groaned. Dust coated everything inside and congealed in my hair or settled on the floor. Constantly discerning whether the punishment inflicted on the vehicle bore excessive, I pushed on into the rushing hours of the late afternoon. Hostility surrounded us, beating down from a fierce sun, watching us blow past small, dung covered houses and scarce vegitation, and creaping up inside us as fear of the unknown beyond the next hill or curve. <br />
We had a late start because of the catastrophic and unexpected departure of the rear "propeller" shaft last Sunday. When we returned to Loki I began searching for a replacement rubber coupling.<br />
<br />
A missionary friend in Loki had a Discovery II parked in storage. However, he was away on home assignment. I asked Oliver, who was with the same mission group, if I could borrow a part from the stored car. He seemed reluctant, mainly since the owner was away and really valued the vehicle. "It's kind of his Golden Calf car!" Oliver said with a rushed German accent and the start of a gravelly laugh.<br />
<br />
We agreed to just look to see if the parts would interchange between the two Land Rovers, then worry about permission if needed. The parts seemed identical.<br />
<br />
Oliver called around to find information on the owner's location. We quickly learned many Discovery owners carry an extra drive coupling (for good reason). We started arranging for someone's extra part to come up in the morning on the AIM AIR flight. Then Oliver had a great idea:<br />
<br />
"Maybe he keeps a spare also in this vehicle?"<br />
<br />
Sure enough, a search through a cardboard box in the back produced a used but intact part.<br />
<br />
"Wow, this must be God's provision!" Olly remarked.<br />
<br />
I agreed. My euphoria went with me back to the house. I couldn't believe I found this part in Loki. Oliver didn't think the owner would mind me using the spare, and I promised to replace it with a new part.<br />
<br />
We planned to leave in the dark hours of Tuesday morning. That would get us to Nairobi by Wednesday night. We would have two days to take care of immigration issues and wrapping up paperwork to end our first term.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/hs065.snc6/167578_486514152090_617082090_6537136_6297919_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/hs065.snc6/167578_486514152090_617082090_6537136_6297919_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Monday I installed the part. After wrestling all day with the "propeller shaft" (drive shaft in American) and the rubber coupling, I realized the severity of the dry rot in the used coupling. It functions like a universal joint that cushions the jerkiness of the drive train. That means it twists as it makes up the angle between the rear differential and the propeller shaft. Several cracks appeared to grow as they went through this twisting action. I guessed the owner removed the old coupling out of concern it might break apart, but kept it as a spare to get to nearest town.<br />
<br />
The good feeling left me. I thought about it for a long time and decided I didn't want to depend on a part of unknown quality for the long trip to Nairobi. As a second confirmation, on the way to to our own farewell party, I took a detour on to the highway. At high speed heard an ominous rumble coming from the rear of the car.<br />
<br />
On Tuesday, I told Sammy in Nairobi what the car needed, and he arranged for it to come up on a scheduled commuter flight on Wednesday morning. We packed the car, cleaned up around the house, worked on a few minor problems, then on Wednesday morning I took the propeller shaft off again. The part arrived at 10:30 am, and I installed everything by 11:30. We loaded up the car including our German Shepherd, tied the tarp down on the roof rack, locked up the house, and said good bye to Jon and Ginny, our co-workers there. By 1pm we were driving out of town.<br />
<br />
We hoped to make it to Lodwar on smooth roads, then try to reach a town called Marich Pass that night. It would become dark before reaching Marich, a plan I did not relish. The drive to Lodwar went well, except when driving over broken patches of pavement I heard gravel hitting the front wheel wells. This made sense at the time, since kids like to fill the potholes with gravel and ask for hand outs as you speed past.<br />
<br />
Breanna wanted to pick up Turkana baskets in Lodwar, since they make great gifts. While in Lodwar I noticed the gravel sound continued whenever we went over a bump. While Breanna talked baskets, I rooted around under the hood and around the car, determined to find something loose. I tightened the mount for one of the front shocks, and tightened up the roof rack.<br />
<br />
We left Lodwar later than planned and headed out into the punished desert highway. I knew half our drive would be in the dark, but did not want to arrive in Nairobi any later than tomorrow. As the road deteriorated, the same creaking and pinging sound kept repeating itself over each bump. I figured it must be a cosmetic piece of sheet metal, since everything on the frame had been tightened and checked.<br />
<br />
An experienced missionary described the road from Lodwar to Marich Pass as "a wide enough ribbon of pavement to hold the potholes together." The technique is to drive on washboard shoulders until they become unbearable, then swerve onto the road and avoid the craters up there. You tend to alternate back and forth, attempting to decide whether top or side brings less pain. As the car pounded on, I calculated I needed to average around 60 km per hour to stay on schedule.<br />
<br />
The washboard seemed almost unbearable at 30 km/h or less. At that speed the whole car bounced into the air, my vision blurred, and steering became difficult. Around 60 - 80, everything settled down, though I knew the suspension was taking a beating. The challenge became controlling the car at that speed, and slowing before hitting the ditches or large holes in the road. Usually I could not see them in time, and everything went bang as the springs hit bottom, the load inside shifted, and the wheels sprung back into the car.<br />
<br />
The worst pain on this road, I decided, was knowing what was happening to the car.<br />
<br />
The sound in the wheel well grew worse after each large bump. We stopped at the edge of a small town, and I jumped out to look around for its source. I found a large crack in the thin metal body around the bolt that holds it onto the robust steel frame. Night quickly approached, and I did not know what town would have an adequately skilled welder. So, after two hours of road pounding since Lodwar, we turned around.<br />
<br />
The kids expressed sincere displeasure. The oldest sobbed quietly, coiled in her seat like a seasick landlubber, while the youngest howled and whined like our often hungry pet cat. I think he was copying his middle sister, who did the same performance.<br />
<br />
Invariably, they had picked up on my dour mood and quiet apprehension watching pale headlights pierce the empty landscape. A shadow sometimes was just a shadow, but then a shadow was a cavernous hole that shook the wounded the car. We arrived at Lodwar, tired, worn thin, with a creaky vehicle. We found two rooms to stay in, and soon everyone was asleep. I laid on my bed, mentally planning the next morning. I would find the welder a missionary recommended, and also address a loose bolt in the roof rack and dust cover that fell off a front wheel. We were way behind schedule, but hopefully we could make it to Nairobi late Friday, and still accomplish a few necessary things.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJv7GSMABJYUKRukbSimeeF2GBXMeAhUzqh_yQuuDpnjI6Fh4dmGDJZn9T7W395GUWH_kllg0Wo1FdgtUTxuD7aSJvgspHLM9l-B2n75odjUu5pFKqAZYf38IEuWQZj6BVq5Hy/s1600/IMG_0457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJv7GSMABJYUKRukbSimeeF2GBXMeAhUzqh_yQuuDpnjI6Fh4dmGDJZn9T7W395GUWH_kllg0Wo1FdgtUTxuD7aSJvgspHLM9l-B2n75odjUu5pFKqAZYf38IEuWQZj6BVq5Hy/s400/IMG_0457.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olivia, back on the road after sleeping in Lodwar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>And the kids would be in good moods and enjoy the scenic drive. And they were, and the rest of the drive went without incident. Isaiah and Grace stood up facing backwards and pretended to ride a roller coaster.<br />
<br />
We arrived in Eldoret at night. I took a bypass road that ended up being fairly deserted, instead of the main highway I thought it would be. Fortunately we had no incidents with breakdowns or break-ins. And a house that we thought would not be available became available because a lady found out we were coming. She made up fresh beds for us by candlelight since their power was out!<br />
<br />
We rolled into Nairobi just after lunch time Friday. I set up a time with a mechanic on Saturday to look over the car, then took care of financial obligations and paperwork at the hangar.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVIs14DBVlR0RXR31liguqy5OPg77jcuRKr2N2YoPa7pp5qy98guPHfQj1wef5jK8Fsq3vTHeXPptO02_ydRC88dmhgMb-m2cG6t9gzxt0Th-b3NYfRQ6nM_IHw8gQMkwAf1M5/s1600/IMG_0461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVIs14DBVlR0RXR31liguqy5OPg77jcuRKr2N2YoPa7pp5qy98guPHfQj1wef5jK8Fsq3vTHeXPptO02_ydRC88dmhgMb-m2cG6t9gzxt0Th-b3NYfRQ6nM_IHw8gQMkwAf1M5/s400/IMG_0461.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were going so slow in some areas, Isaiah was able to help me drive</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6u1VpguT2x4D_Aa504ji3nuwhUgsVNJvaGUTEm3McJ3HQMH6Z4QocZoRgy4oj8a7y_iYJw6wlAX-O-twFPvOeu9UB7SxusaAyTGYbldNfc2WjTphDROn3UXiz0wcqBoIhmZG_/s1600/IMG_0460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6u1VpguT2x4D_Aa504ji3nuwhUgsVNJvaGUTEm3McJ3HQMH6Z4QocZoRgy4oj8a7y_iYJw6wlAX-O-twFPvOeu9UB7SxusaAyTGYbldNfc2WjTphDROn3UXiz0wcqBoIhmZG_/s400/IMG_0460.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grace, Kili, and not so good vibrations</td></tr>
</tbody></table>On Sunday, we loaded up again, this time with another family, and headed down to the coast for a week in a house we are sharing. We planned to spend a week away before coming on home assignment to put together a scrapbook and presentation to share with friends in the US. The road to the coast is beautiful and smooth, and we went almost the same distance as the previous drive in six hours instead of two days.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQHFW82P6ihm1NYEl2IocejzxIVMjjmoZ5i0crtDr75sXqX7Oz1WnD7l6J5FEDFRtSyr-IaYGMqN-5zf0o_GEfjKmZkbYBj9EUN4M8ULglnsVhB8-7ZXBG65O7Ugye2MhdVCYK/s1600/IMG_0486.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQHFW82P6ihm1NYEl2IocejzxIVMjjmoZ5i0crtDr75sXqX7Oz1WnD7l6J5FEDFRtSyr-IaYGMqN-5zf0o_GEfjKmZkbYBj9EUN4M8ULglnsVhB8-7ZXBG65O7Ugye2MhdVCYK/s400/IMG_0486.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breanna: Queen of the Scrapbook!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So what do I share with friends, both one on one, or in an auditorium over the next four months? One thing comes to mind, which I told Grace as she bawled and whined that night returning to Lodwar...<br />
<br />
"Do you know why God chose for these things to happen?"<br />
<br />
Grace paused, then said quietly, "No..."<br />
<br />
"I don't know either, but I think part of it is to show us why we are here. The roads are so bad and getting much worse. Think of missionaries who are really sick or need to get to the city quickly, taking these roads would not be a good idea. That's one reason we are here... to help them when needed."<br />
<br />
She remained quiet, but I know it penetrated her thoughts, and I won't be surprised if she brings it up again.<br />
<br />
One of my greatest joys comes when the kids grasp another reason why we live where we do. I hope this trip made it a little closer to their reach.Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-1830918292953994262011-01-16T22:37:00.001+03:002011-01-16T22:37:30.088+03:00Referendum DayWe planned to drive friends from Loki to Kakuma to vote in the South Sudan Referendum. 60 minutes later we sat down on the gravel shoulder seeking shade by the car.<br /><br />The rubber coupling that attaches the drive shaft to the rear differential tore in two. The drive shaft fell onto the highway as we sped along. It scared a group of Turkana women and boys walking along the highway carrying water.<br /> <br />I pulled over, looked under the car, saw the missing shaft, and began walking back. The group met us, one boy holding the shaft in his hand, like a walking stick or a dead animal. He resisted my efforts to take it ... I think he wanted compensation for carrying it, but all I could say was Ajokenoi ... It means hello, thank you, and goodbye.<br /> <br />The group followed us back to the car. They didn't offer to help out. They wanted a lift. We tried to explain the car wasn't going anywhere. I kept saying Ajok. Not much help.<br /> <br />They also asked for our water and water containers.<br /> <br />I kicked myself for leaving tools behind for this "short" trip. I decided to use rope I brought to secure the rear drive spline and limp home using the front drive shaft.<br /><br />As I got the rope out to begin tying, one of the teenage boys indicated he wanted it. Our friend, Chris, remarked: "Turkana road assistance. They come when you break down and ask for things. It's better than in Taposaland (just over the border in Sudan). They come with guns and just take what they want." <br />I immediately felt encouraged.<br /><br />My attempt to drive with the front wheels failed. Even with the centre diff locked it would not move the car. This concerns me even now. Maybe a Discovery doesn't really lock the centre diff?<br /><br />We tried calling our friends. The cell network gave us an error. I kicked myself for not bringing my sat phone.<br /><br />I remembered that sometimes the diff lock takes awhile to engage. So Breanna sat behind the steering wheel, and Chris, Tabitha, and I pushed the car while in gear. It doesn't work. We tried going backwards. Then forwards. I tried to peek under the car while jogging beside Breanna, to see if the spline is behaving itself and not chewing up my rope. I almost tripped.<br /> <br />We stopped. I shot an SMS off to our friends. Help is on the way. We received an SMS from John, another Sudanese friend who just arrived at Kakuma to vote. He reported very long lines at the polling place. <br /> <br />I realized at this point that Kakuma was not happening today. Bre and I wanted to see the crowds and atmosphere as thousands of united Sudanese came together at the refugee camp. They wanted to express their voice for their freedom, by leaving a fingerprint in the SEPERATION box on the slip of paper they were given. But that was not our fate today.<br /><br />Few cars travelled this road. Most who did blew past us without stopping. One overloaded hatch back stopped. I told him our friends were coming. I asked him where they were headed. <br /><br />"Kakuma!"<br /><br />I looked inside. At least five or six passengers sat squeezed inside, all Sudanese, on their way to vote, probably their first time ever.<br /> <br />Tabitha, Chris' wife who is from Sudan, had said "These people are not good. In Sudan people would stop and help, not drive by or try to take things."<br /><br />I told her the last car was going to Kakuma.<br /> <br />"See, they are Sudanese. They stopped!"<br /> <br />A Turkana lad came out of the thorny brush through the shimmering heat towards our car.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/16/1982.jpg'><img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/16/s_1982.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /> Breanna sat against the left front fender reading her kindle. I sat next to her, then Chris and Tabitha on the gravel next to me, by the rear tire. Their daughter, Hope, stood on a seat in the car, dressed in one of her best outfits. She was upset our portable DVD player stopped. The battery died.<br /><br />Breanna has tutored Hope a few days, and often commented about how smart she is. She soon started finding other ways to pass the time.<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/16/1988.jpg'><img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/16/s_1988.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /> <br />The lad arrived at the car. He asked some questions I don't know. The problem with saying "ajok" is that people think I know what they are saying.<br /><br />In Swahili he asked, "Is the car not going?"<br /><br />I said "It is very bad."<br /><br />Then he tapped the rear tire with his walking stick and pointed to his sandals. I guessed he wanted to make new sandals from the tire rubber. I told him no. He walked around the car to see what else he can ask for.<br /> <br />Soon he has left.<br /><br />Then a military truck pulled over. <br />"What is wrong, man?" a Kenyan soldier asked.<br /> <br />I ran over and tell him.<br /><br />"We could tow you to Kakuma if you have a tow strap."<br /><br />I kicked myself for not having a tow rope.<br /> <br />I said thanks and goodbye, then walked back to our lonely car and my passengers sweltering in its shade.<br /><br />"You know, these people here are good people!" Tabitha said.<br /><br /><i>Epilogue</i><br /><br /><center><a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/16/1990.jpg'><img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/16/s_1990.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Our friends arrived in a white Land Cruiser and towed us to Loki. The makeshift tow rope broke twice. <br />John arrived in Loki before us (his matatu passed us on the highway from Kakuma).<br />I focused on getting the car going, which is another post. Chris, Tabitha, and Hope took a matatu two days later.<br />The car problem set us back a day and a half for driving to Nairobi to get ready for home assignment. But we later realized, and thank God, that this was a blessing. The rubber coupling shredded itself before we left on our big trip, and we were at a place where friends could easily come. I now know to look at this Mickey Mouse part often to make sure another shredding doesn't leave us stranded!<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/16/1993.jpg'><img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/16/s_1993.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />- Posted using BlogPress<br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Loki%20on%20the%20way%20to%20Kakuma&z=10'>Loki on the way to Kakuma</a></p>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-11455054140895782672011-01-08T10:46:00.001+03:002011-01-08T10:49:23.440+03:00Urgent: Prayer Needed for Sudan<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="line-height: 16px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We urge you to pray fervently starting now, for the week of <br />
referendum voting for southern Sudan. Pray for peace, for <br />
protection of the helpless and boldness for the Church in this pivotal time</span>. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCCZbe4oWO1UydXy7NvWQYGnVODjBZ-l9pTAAKqjFk5YclnGWGd3jLRXn70jgGVNcJaNCYGZ_agrx1SRzq32KTatiYbjUYneXRYlw0k3Dem9GIr8baHd44Pzx2x-V8GWRyS-te/s1600/sud_geography_464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCCZbe4oWO1UydXy7NvWQYGnVODjBZ-l9pTAAKqjFk5YclnGWGd3jLRXn70jgGVNcJaNCYGZ_agrx1SRzq32KTatiYbjUYneXRYlw0k3Dem9GIr8baHd44Pzx2x-V8GWRyS-te/s400/sud_geography_464.jpg" width="341" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><i style="font-size: 14px;">The great divide across Sudan is visible even from space, as this Nasa satellite image shows. The northern states are a blanket of desert, broken only by the fertile Nile corridor. Southern Sudan is covered by green swathes of grassland, swamps and tropical forest</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Jerry's flights take him into southern Sudan about 90% of the time, so you can understand why this referendum vote will potentially impact our lives, but especially ministry opportunities for the missionaries, pastors, relief & medical workers AIM AIR flies.<br />
<br />
As for us personally, we have offered to take newlyweds Chris and Tabitha, he's an Australian and she's from southern Sudan, to Kakuma, about an hour from Loki. The refugee camp there is where Tabitha is registered, along with all the other southern Sudanese refugees in the area, to vote in the referendum beginning on Sunday. Jerry and I are interested in taking pictures, gauging the mood and seeing the Kakuma camp up close for the first time.<br />
<br />
Below are some faqs from <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-12111730">BBC</a> you may find helpful to guide your prayers</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="introduction" id="story_continues_1" style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; font-weight: bold; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">Almost four million people have registered to take part in Sunday's referendum on whether Africa's biggest country - Sudan - should split in two. The vote was a condition of a 2005 deal to end almost two decades of conflict between north and south.</div><div class="question" style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;"><strong style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px;">Why do some southerners want their own country?</strong></div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">Like the rest of Africa, Sudan's borders were drawn up by colonial powers with little regard to cultural realities on the ground.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">Southern Sudan is full of jungles and swamps, while the north is mostly desert.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">Most northerners are Arabic-speaking Muslims, while the south is made up of numerous different ethnic groups who are mostly Christian or follow traditional religions.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">With the government based in the north, many southerners said they were discriminated against and north and south have fought each other for most of the country's history. Southerners were also angered at attempts to impose Islamic law on the whole country.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiej3Kfa13voMbqzREDwpmKLZFvTUhxEAECnWO5dI6x_SOdbgLcF773BM-u1ju2sVCJmxO_qCPXkdU3F4Q3yyJ9-CeuLuFYuXr-dUCN-u2up3eaw3_cySTBInQ6ZA-Y-zNueBki/s1600/sud_ethnic_464.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiej3Kfa13voMbqzREDwpmKLZFvTUhxEAECnWO5dI6x_SOdbgLcF773BM-u1ju2sVCJmxO_qCPXkdU3F4Q3yyJ9-CeuLuFYuXr-dUCN-u2up3eaw3_cySTBInQ6ZA-Y-zNueBki/s400/sud_ethnic_464.gif" width="342" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><i>Sudan's arid northern regions are home mainly to Arabic-speaking Muslims. But in Southern Sudan there is no dominant culture. The Dinkas and the Nuers are the largest of more than 200 ethnic groups, each with its own traditional beliefs and languages</i>.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;"><br />
</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;"><strong style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px;">Who will vote?</strong></div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">Only southerners are eligible to take part in the poll, which means most people think the outcome is bound to be independence.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">Nearly all of those who registered already live in the south - the hundreds of thousands of people who fled to the north during the war seem to have either gone home to register - as they were urged to do by southern leaders - or not bothered.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;"><a href="http://www.ssrc.sd/SSRC2/newsphoto/en-act.pdf" style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px; text-decoration: none;" title="The Referendum Act">But at least 60% of registered voters must take part for the referendum to be valid</a> - with low literacy levels and little history of voting, this may be more difficult to achieve than the simple majority needed for a verdict either way.</div><div class="question" style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;"><strong style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px;">What happens next?</strong></div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">Voting lasts for seven days.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">Assuming that the verdict is to secede, Africa's newest country will come into being on 9 July 2011 - exactly six years after the peace deal took effect. Then the hard work really begins.</div><div class="question" style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;"><strong style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px;">Is Southern Sudan ready for independence?</strong></div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">To be brutally honest, no.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">After years of warfare and being ignored by central government, the country-to-be which is larger than France and Germany combined has hardly any roads and not nearly enough schools or health services for its population of roughly eight million.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">The SPLM former rebels who have been running the region since 2005 have at least gained some experience of governance.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">They have lots of money from the south's oil fields but their critics say they have so far wasted much of it on the military and not done enough to raise living standards in one of the world's poorest regions.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">They have drawn up <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-11019550" style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px; text-decoration: none;" title="South Sudan outlines plans to build animal-shaped cities">ambitious plans to develop their cities</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1NY8gIAKn5Y&feature=related" style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px; text-decoration: none;" title="YouTube video of the anthem">have decided the winner of a competition to compose a new national anthem.</a> The <a href="http://www.goss-online.org/" style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px; text-decoration: none;" title="South Sudan government link explaining the meaning of the flag">south's own flag</a> is already on display across the region.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">Most people assume the new country will be called South, or Southern, Sudan but this has not been officially decided. Other suggestions are New Sudan or even Cush, after a biblical kingdom in the area.</div><div class="question" style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;"><strong style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px;">What will happen to the north?</strong></div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">The immediate priority for the northern government will be to keep hold of as much of the oil revenue as it can, as most oil fields lie in the south.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-2ArTPtFBGi8_8DaWzZUm2DrzKmX3Z8s_q6A-DcMRLkX7DFGP91ijmUC6KCNTv2BFB8_-AebwOjuVRRQGTfD_vsFkajOJlVr6InhWt6ORuCxuumETZDshOiMm1I0XHhnvRvC/s1600/sud_oil_464.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-2ArTPtFBGi8_8DaWzZUm2DrzKmX3Z8s_q6A-DcMRLkX7DFGP91ijmUC6KCNTv2BFB8_-AebwOjuVRRQGTfD_vsFkajOJlVr6InhWt6ORuCxuumETZDshOiMm1I0XHhnvRvC/s400/sud_oil_464.gif" width="341" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><i>Sudan exports billions of dollars of oil per year. Southern states produce more than 80% of it, but receive only 50% of the revenue, exacerbating tensions with the north.</i> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">There is a dispute over one oil-rich area - Abyei - which is to hold a separate vote, possibly later this year, on which country to join. The north may also earn revenue from piping the oil over its territory to Port Sudan on the Red Sea.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">In terms of ordinary people's lives, both sides have agreed to let all Sudanese - in particular the many southerners in Khartoum - choose which nationality to take.</div><div style="clear: left; font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 1.077em; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 18px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: auto;">But President Bashir's announcement that he <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-12033185" style="font-family: Arial, Helmet, Freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px; text-decoration: none;" title="Sudan to implement stricter Sharia">will implement a stricter version of Sharia in the north</a> if the south secedes may prompt even more southerners to leave the north.</div>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-82242897147480571632010-12-12T23:33:00.003+03:002011-01-31T19:52:56.667+03:0010,000 Miles (on the road) in Four MonthsHere it is, where we'll be and when we'll be there on our four month furlough back to America to share with you what our first two years in Kenya have been! <a href="mailto:jerrybreanna@gmail.com">Contact us</a> if you'd like a visit while we're in your area. If we're not visiting your area, we're <u>very</u> sorry, we are concentrating our travel where we have the most folks for <i>this</i> short visit.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSbRKK2nD9YuMN_aNo5sq-UPVh-9AC-vpJjR6dx5F_TB_A9TBPEV9INwwgcGWUOsoo6grW8FGeS4yCaX5gNH1iAP_1iY4wmTkW1__2TEKxwXSgKE5ZpAFNLRt_3CiN8Damq-5n/s1600/road_trip_usa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSbRKK2nD9YuMN_aNo5sq-UPVh-9AC-vpJjR6dx5F_TB_A9TBPEV9INwwgcGWUOsoo6grW8FGeS4yCaX5gNH1iAP_1iY4wmTkW1__2TEKxwXSgKE5ZpAFNLRt_3CiN8Damq-5n/s320/road_trip_usa.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
January 24, 2011: Fly out of Nairobi to Dallas, TX. via London.<br />
January 25: Arrive in Dallas<br />
January 26-Feb.4: In DFW area<br />
February 5-6 in Wichita, Kansas area.<br />
Feb. 6, Sunday at <i><a href="http://www.eastsidecommunity.com/">Eastside Community Church</a></i><br />
February 8-18 in Anderson/ Indianapolis, Indiana area.<br />
Wednesday, February 9 at <i><a href="http://maps.google.co.ke/maps?gl=ke&ie=UTF8&ll=40.113189,-85.603881&spn=0.010453,0.019333&t=h&z=16">Chesterfield Church of God</a></i><br />
February 19-20 in Wichita, Kansas.<br />
February 20, Sunday <i><a href="http://www.westefc.org/">West Evangelical Free Church</a></i><br />
February 26-March 6 Sun City, Arizona at <i><a href="http://www.gbcsuncity.org/">Grace Bible Church's</a></i> Mission Conference<br />
March 7-11: In California, with stops in Idyllwild, Riverside, LA & San Jose<br />
March 12-15: In Oregon, with stops in Ashland, and Portland<br />
March 16-20: In Washington (the state :), 17th & 18th in Sunnyside, WA.<br />
March 24-27: In Worthington, Minnesota<br />
March 27, Sunday at <i><a href="http://maps.google.co.ke/maps/place?cid=7104261024386075977&q=BenLee's+worthington,+MN&hl=en&gl=ke">Journey</a></i><br />
March 29-April 6: in Indiana<br />
April 3, Sunday, at <i><a href="http://connersvilleparkplace.wordpress.com/">Park Place Church of God</a></i> in Connersville, IN<br />
April 7: Grace's 8th Birthday!<br />
April 17, Sunday, at <i><a href="http://www.pacogfamily.org/">Pawnee Avenue Church of God</a>, </i>Wichita, KS<br />
April 22-24: west Kansas for <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Pleasant-Prairie-Church-of-God/51525846713?v=info"><i>Pleasant Prairie Church of God'</i>s</a> mission conference<br />
April 26-29 Dallas area<br />
April 30-May 1 Wichita, Kansas at <i><a href="http://www.mygpc.org/templates/System/default.asp?id=46131">Grace Presbyterian Church</a></i> on Sunday, May 1<br />
May 4-9 Indiana<br />
May 11 Fly back to Kenya!<br />
Phew!Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-71904352895977995742010-12-02T01:29:00.000+03:002010-12-02T01:29:04.630+03:00Same room, 22.5 months later, I stare at a tiny Touchscreen, pushing fake buttons. Last time we were in this room, Isaiah pulled open the bay window curtains and yelled out his enthusiasm for the new African world before him: "Grace, they have a playground!" I wrote e-mails, snapped pictures, then sent them half way around the world. We are here!<br />
The camera died, and the replacement is temporarily out of service... We have to shoot blind :) The MacBook motherboard died last December, and the hard disk last week, with our newsletter hours from completion.<br />
I didn't think I would be here, having to rely on an iPhone to update the blog and send email. But the months in between the stays at Mayfield guest house were the best of my life. We became part of the tight knit family here in Kenya, we made friends, learned the crazy rules of the road, and strange rules of the air. We struggled with new languages, hosted family here for a visit, and moved to a border town. <br />
So, even if the iPhone goes the way of the camera or laptop, I will still say, "These have been our best days. God is still our hope and<br />
provision, and we are honored to serve him with airplanes, school books... And with or without little 3" touchscreens."<br />
staying in touch somehow,<br />
Jerry and BreBreannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-57171341736136714422010-11-06T10:13:00.000+03:002010-11-06T10:13:48.567+03:00Coming to AmericaWe can hardly believe January will mark the second anniversary of our arrival in Kenya!! That means it's time to visit YOU to share what God's been doing in and through us these past two years. It will be a whirlwind 4 month trip around the U.S., January 25-May 10, 2011 but we will try to see as many folks as possible! Comment or <a href="mailto:jerrybreanna@gmail.com">contact us</a> if you want to meet and we will make every effort to do so!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Year One: March, 2009, Kurungu Kenya</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Year Two: August, 2010, Torit, Sudan</td></tr>
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We will be bringing necklaces made by a local Christian Turkana women's cooperative, ANA (their name is an acronym for "Stong Women" in the Turkana language.)<br />
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If you desire specific colors or designs, you may order through us before January 1. They will run about $5-$17 each and directly benefit the women. Many come with matching bracelets and earrings.<br />
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</div>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-78138934235336287162010-11-02T11:49:00.001+03:002010-11-06T10:21:36.846+03:00Once BittenOkay, I wasn't bitten, but stung (Breanna, writing...shocker, I know!). One of the occupational hazards of living here in the desert of northern Kenya is the need to beware of these guys. He was on a towel I had used to dry off Isaiah from his shower 15 minutes before, and Grace was IN the towel the scorpion was ON when he found my right hand ring finger.<br />
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this one, though not very big, managed to incapacitate me for about 6 hours one Monday afternoon, of course, a Monday Jerry had left for a week-long safari flight. These things have a way of happening as soon as my man leaves town!!! When Jerry was in Tanzania, I found myself on a busy stretch of highway in Nairobi with a dead car. His trip two weeks ago was the scorpion sting. This week he had a pilot from Nairobi bring me roses!...but the week wasn't without adventure, of course...we had a malaria scare, was sure Olivia had it, but her test was negative, just the flu.<br />
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So, I thank God for all those prayer warriors that cover me and the kids while he's away, and for his safety while he flies. I thank God for our co-workers and friends, Jon and Ginny Hildebrandt, that came to my aid when the scorpion stung, medicated me, and killed the scorpion, that I had left locked in the bathroom, in such a way I could still take its picture for this blog :) Ginny even made our supper! We are truly blessed!Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-22073273628238466152010-11-01T09:22:00.000+03:002010-11-01T09:22:41.406+03:00Advanced timing<div><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafjDdBfvJd0-aAyR1XZi_91Zyi84XrEzQ5AHR0PgtATiE6UyrItX4_iL3sq59KsQXJOeTp1kSg5KXe_6gRmewBTijAZNrC1GOt0NKvm2UagXD6BDFySTgE7JQM-wkH78bss64/s1600/DSCI0610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafjDdBfvJd0-aAyR1XZi_91Zyi84XrEzQ5AHR0PgtATiE6UyrItX4_iL3sq59KsQXJOeTp1kSg5KXe_6gRmewBTijAZNrC1GOt0NKvm2UagXD6BDFySTgE7JQM-wkH78bss64/s1600/DSCI0610.jpg" /></a>Not regarding magnetos or ignition coils, but God's weaving of events. I was on a three night safari flight a while ago. This one left me with a lot of time on the ground, but still miles from a home. I had torn apart Olivia's bedroom wall, promising to replace it when I return. Then a scorpion stung Breanna my first day away from home.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq1X4R58WCtmiOKmSwGy-hoFEAOZVojFracr4TgKJ_AoOwdfTf2Vp7r_10xMaAXO1gUauw7qokAmZk0AbUkrlH5ZpIwldqQjLVCxlIENIW3Ws8VgMy4ou2evGQn7L6kbal91hn/s1600/DSCI0627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq1X4R58WCtmiOKmSwGy-hoFEAOZVojFracr4TgKJ_AoOwdfTf2Vp7r_10xMaAXO1gUauw7qokAmZk0AbUkrlH5ZpIwldqQjLVCxlIENIW3Ws8VgMy4ou2evGQn7L6kbal91hn/s1600/DSCI0627.jpg" /></a>However, day two held the unexpected for me.... Jon, the other pilot based in Loki, called and asked if I could go fly to Duk Payuel. It sounded a lot better than sitting around, and since they just needed a short flight to Bor instead of Loki, the schedule worked perfectly. The airplane was already in Sudan, and they would not have to pay for the miles to come from Loki.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKjWVH07Cp_MvRjr47AvHZlq6jIUswpyHMLIh-AelNKif951tBkWYCVjBR7asWnh7SQDxOaLFfw35mrMi8ygnI03RAg5_JEYD1NYW5pF0VlqVA06yOunKnSTqbPPKwTZgJitPP/s1600/DSCI0632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKjWVH07Cp_MvRjr47AvHZlq6jIUswpyHMLIh-AelNKif951tBkWYCVjBR7asWnh7SQDxOaLFfw35mrMi8ygnI03RAg5_JEYD1NYW5pF0VlqVA06yOunKnSTqbPPKwTZgJitPP/s1600/DSCI0632.jpg" /></a>As an aside: When I approached Duk, I saw an older man grazing his cows by the runway. I kept an eye on them, since nothing seperated them from the runway. While about 50 feet above the ground, one of the bulls bolted onto the runway. I came up with the power, but kept the airplane near the ground, and passed around ten feet over the wayward animal. That seemed to work, and the cows gave me lots of room. On the ground, the herdsman had words with the clinic, but I don't think it was anything new.<br />
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Tom, one of the administrators for the clinic, told me there were two mothers who needed to go the hospital, and their foundation had a fund that would pay for emergency medical flights, much like our <a href="http://aimair.org/support/wings-of-the-dawn">Wings of the Dawn</a>. I told him the timing could not have been better. Here is an e-mail they sent back to the US, and then forwarded to me....<br />
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<blockquote type="cite"><div dir="ltr"><div class="gmail_quote">---------- Forwarded message ----------<br />
From: <b>*************************</b><br />
Date: Tue, Oct 12, 2010 at 5:25 AM<br />
Subject: flight took off safely<br />
To: ****************************<br />
Cc: ****************************<br />
<br />
<br />
<div dir="ltr"><div>Dear ___________, </div><div></div><div>On behalf of the mothers, Elizabeth and Martha and the clinic staff, we thank you and the Eastern Hills Bible Church for your support of this new initiative.</div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3KKZUJ7MHhAhb-9RaMWLYqDdeUQCTw0KwsIoVPZmhvVdwt0M6FCdzQziMTLd441wYnR4qjwg7b8tLAktzWM9AtGlVOFPZkhuGvDn4jivd6YJDAvzpdJQ88LVf07dbCgUro7HE/s1600/DSCI0611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3KKZUJ7MHhAhb-9RaMWLYqDdeUQCTw0KwsIoVPZmhvVdwt0M6FCdzQziMTLd441wYnR4qjwg7b8tLAktzWM9AtGlVOFPZkhuGvDn4jivd6YJDAvzpdJQ88LVf07dbCgUro7HE/s1600/DSCI0611.jpg" /></a>As most of the members of your church were still sleeping or just waking up this morning, in the small village of Duk Payuel in Southern Sudan, a plane from AIM AIR was landing on the dirt airstrip there. This plane landing in Duk was made possible through their support, and as they were asleep, these mothers and caretakers got on the plane headed for the nearest surgical center, more than 100 miles away. Even during the dry season, the trip on the dirt takes 6 hours, and now, during the rainy season, the trip is only possible by plane. AIM stands for African Inland Mission, a non-profit aviation organization. With a team of volunteer pilots, they serve missionary and church-based groups throughout the region, providing air travel in places many commercial flights either won't go or for which charge a high fee.</div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzT_yrtntbvxk96dXCs72kM8BhwF8_PvQsyVKxs3CrU6R2L1MlW40zGj7dwBOVTPvJRTBwCs0oZTJKGPfVtj4R5DADwzQKnkYaXURZ-rdULHsRk8xHiiTwMAncIPkkdLcC4SO4/s1600/DSCI0637.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzT_yrtntbvxk96dXCs72kM8BhwF8_PvQsyVKxs3CrU6R2L1MlW40zGj7dwBOVTPvJRTBwCs0oZTJKGPfVtj4R5DADwzQKnkYaXURZ-rdULHsRk8xHiiTwMAncIPkkdLcC4SO4/s1600/DSCI0637.jpg" /></a>As these things tend to just happen by Divine intervention, Jered, the pilot today, said that the plane happened to be available and sitting in Rumbek, just a hundred or so miles from Duk.</div><div></div><div>One mother had come walking through knee-deep standing water for more than 25 miles to come to the clinic. She had already six deliveries, four of whom died, miscarried. She was now pregnant again, and came to the clinic hoping for something, trusting in the clinic staff and services provided here--the best for more 100 miles around. She was having pro-longed labor and needed an emergency c-section, a function for which the clinic is still unable to provide. The other had come from just a few miles away, and unfortunately, the child had already died in the womb. Still, without surgical capabilities, the mother's life was in serious jeopardy.</div><div></div><div>They'll go to Bor Town, the state capital, where there's a hospital that can perform the simple operation (a C-section) they need to save their lives, and, hopefully, the life of the child in the womb. All made possible by the dedicate act of generousity made possible by generous people 5,000 miles away who they'll never meet.</div><div></div><div>The members of church should also know the effectiveness of the mosquito nets for which they donated--since the rainy season began in May, the clinic has only received a few cases each month of malaria, amazing considering the thousands of mosquitos which plague the area. The nets can also provide protection against kalazar, another potentially endemic disease that is affecting the areas surrounding the Duk.</div><div></div><div>We do ask the members of the church one more thing--for their prayers for these two mothers. We'll try to check in on the status of them, though communication here can take a little while for messages to get through.</div><div></div><div>Again, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you for this. No mother or child should die from childbirth, and by the will of God and the help of some generous people, we're working to ensure that.</div><div></div><div>Blessings,</div><div></div><div>-Tom<br />
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-- <br />
John Dau Foundation<br />
Transforming Health Care in Southern Sudan<br />
<br />
"Impossible is what you won't do" - John Dau</div></div></div></div></blockquote></div>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-24009040765284741852010-10-29T14:50:00.002+03:002010-12-24T11:44:54.736+03:00We are here, we are here, we are here!It took Jerry, and 4 brave volunteers three bumpty, dusty hot days by road to arrive here with vehicle, dog, birds, a water tank and other household items.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Breanna, the kids and cat, made it in about 2 1/2 hours by air!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF5CVIQdDgZG9sXG2WzwQcAYVrz9vXOUu3cMxJFV0PfDj-Uzd346xUj81g_xXygyWw2VcbJ3WjvflSAHj8rOAPoJnTwq7bv4q0fDkPp8XaD5efMr9CFLotgvCg0OvJKgeMhoe7/s1600/Photo+375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF5CVIQdDgZG9sXG2WzwQcAYVrz9vXOUu3cMxJFV0PfDj-Uzd346xUj81g_xXygyWw2VcbJ3WjvflSAHj8rOAPoJnTwq7bv4q0fDkPp8XaD5efMr9CFLotgvCg0OvJKgeMhoe7/s320/Photo+375.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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Where is here, you ask? Lokichoggio, in the desert of northern Kenya, about 30kms from the Sudan border.<br />
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We've come to support the AIM AIR "Loki" base, which operates two small aircraft, a Cessna 206 and a Cessna Caravan, usually into southern Sudan in support of mission work there. Before our arrival, one overworked pilot and his amazing family, Jon & Ginny H, were the only AIM AIR family here.<br />
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We're happy to share a bit of the load, but Jon & Ginny are amazing generous servant leaders and take excellent care of the missionaries in Sudan: buying their supplies, delivering their mail, hosting and feeding them incredible meals when they come through Loki.<br />
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We've lived here two months now and have adapted well. We are finally getting used to the constant heat, sweat and dust. We're enjoying the slower pace of life here "in the bush" among the Turkana tribe, a nomadic herding people group that are still largely unreached.<br />
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Loki is peculiar town, it was once a tiny village with only a mission airstrip and church, but its proximity to Sudan made it a staging area for aid work and hence the town grew. Now that its relatively calm in Sudan, the town is slow again and the establishments catering to foreigners are largely deserted.<br />
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Jerry stays busy flying virtually all the 206 flights into southern Sudan, but being so close to Sudan means we, the family, get to see him more than we did in Nairobi!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil7_K8za0hXNnWfwO3DmvYQ8UBYvN7K-YsILDkoeVsymDhppsY62cOgrHgqXkVeV_4PQQvwy_C6adMbKASbCHZatUSC-wW_L_MiA3h8t19EwNmRAuxgMdcsDIS0H3EYkUATbR7/s1600/P1070803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil7_K8za0hXNnWfwO3DmvYQ8UBYvN7K-YsILDkoeVsymDhppsY62cOgrHgqXkVeV_4PQQvwy_C6adMbKASbCHZatUSC-wW_L_MiA3h8t19EwNmRAuxgMdcsDIS0H3EYkUATbR7/s320/P1070803.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Living in Loki means more opportunities for the family<br />
to join Jerry on flights with room! <br />
This airstrip is on a mountaintop in Nagishot, Sudan</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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Breanna fills her days home schooling the three kids, and trying to come up with meals with the limited grocery options in Loki, but need not complain since there are way more choices than the places Jerry flies missionaries to in Sudan!!!<br />
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There is still work to do on the house we live in, though it's comfortably livable now. :) Once most of the house work is done, we look forward to becoming more involved in our community and are praying about opportunities.<br />
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Jerry would love to reach out to the local Turkana men, who are a rare sight in church, he's toying with the idea of meeting them on their turf, under the shade of trees through out town, where they generally play a game called Ajua, all day long, while their children look after their herds of sheep, goats and camels, and their wives haul wood and water for cooking.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSDt3hj-RKVoe7PIlLgYiw9CeTaz1pK9EkR3ORkoh2QoRTn8SBW7wWdL8RoVzTMM5NNc-Tm-aTDSE-mLpLC5ZdWVjroGiXJL4GX_gw2LVk8hyphenhyphenBQyrq3W1ehlNUYQAsJEWqxWA-/s1600/P1080123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSDt3hj-RKVoe7PIlLgYiw9CeTaz1pK9EkR3ORkoh2QoRTn8SBW7wWdL8RoVzTMM5NNc-Tm-aTDSE-mLpLC5ZdWVjroGiXJL4GX_gw2LVk8hyphenhyphenBQyrq3W1ehlNUYQAsJEWqxWA-/s320/P1080123.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhniC9RhDEanXep6aj_ftIQdUh6Kft66PtGeQp9FNUNvxwjKUdtgXwMhTIfOdfoC4OAoYptzYKgqLLejDZ5MPSwDRd-36jI8z5PYobCisehFHdwHnok1K1-9rr-MkFXoLGT-xQO/s1600/P1080125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhniC9RhDEanXep6aj_ftIQdUh6Kft66PtGeQp9FNUNvxwjKUdtgXwMhTIfOdfoC4OAoYptzYKgqLLejDZ5MPSwDRd-36jI8z5PYobCisehFHdwHnok1K1-9rr-MkFXoLGT-xQO/s320/P1080125.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyhtDgKOe7DGjqer5_6H7zX_93wAh7cyxLCI30lcws609SJUHA-Cyv0lJO7edQF6d8Jw2wVopO_sgL6umyrpI_k_JNOEDc1pdw7bUX0emu5EWZCAmecUznoDD3fo8IrRDI2CdL/s1600/P1080131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyhtDgKOe7DGjqer5_6H7zX_93wAh7cyxLCI30lcws609SJUHA-Cyv0lJO7edQF6d8Jw2wVopO_sgL6umyrpI_k_JNOEDc1pdw7bUX0emu5EWZCAmecUznoDD3fo8IrRDI2CdL/s320/P1080131.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaP7v9lkxTIx30GBBvotFZoNhriH-ZmNeyYXqX660hVn1eEoNaQaTxkj-Es5r1rxS3vf5dGCl12sHsbp0BmN7IOG_Kkq_-KzqZS288mk2JGWnaHtIk9R7q5ug2lfB46ytnZxpi/s1600/P1080236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaP7v9lkxTIx30GBBvotFZoNhriH-ZmNeyYXqX660hVn1eEoNaQaTxkj-Es5r1rxS3vf5dGCl12sHsbp0BmN7IOG_Kkq_-KzqZS288mk2JGWnaHtIk9R7q5ug2lfB46ytnZxpi/s320/P1080236.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Breanna's recognizes her primary ministry is the education and spiritual development of our three children, but would love to minister to local Turkana children through their schools or church outreach!<br />
<br />
To see more photos of our life in Loki, check out <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=199135&id=708846405&l=c66fdeca8b">Breanna's facebook album</a>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-54491751090549769892010-08-29T22:33:00.000+03:002010-08-29T22:33:45.939+03:00Loki in pictures<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">can be seen on </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=199135&id=708846405&l=c66fdeca8b"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Breanna's facebook page</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">...</span>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-64962301161425152822010-08-29T22:28:00.000+03:002010-08-29T22:28:16.076+03:00Scattered glimpses of the week.<b>Thursday<br />
</b><br />
<div>9am: Flying over the jade sea in the early morning, I listened to a podcast on forgiveness. The immense lake below set the mood for a message on canceling the debt of others who may have wronged us. The concept seems so easy alone in a cockpit.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>11am: I am a passenger, shooting out over an abrupt cliff. As the Earth disappears out my window, Jeff explains the safe way to depart. This airstrip checkout at Gatab was more exhilarating than I imagined! An hour earlier we were digging up thorn bushes at the lower airstrip, but now we weave a perfect line around the mountain ready to land.</div><div><br />
</div><div>6pm: I rush around the hangar in Nairobi trying to catch people I need to see and prepare a different airplane for the flight tomorrow. It is my first overnight in Nairobi. Kind of strange, since landing in Nairobi used to mean returning home. Now I am again 500 miles away from the family. Everyone at the hangar is extremely helpful, understanding this is my rare chance to be able to take care of issues in Nairobi... Passports, work projects, flight paperwork, labelling items to ship up to Loki...</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Friday</b></div><div>4:50 am: I rush around different aisles at Nakumatt (open 24 hours- definitely Nairobi) checking off things for me, things for the family, and things for missionaries in Sudan.</div><div><br />
</div><div>7:30 am: The Cessna 206 groans down the runway. The cargo pod and cabin are completely full with boxes of medicine - almost half a ton. The seats are out to make more space. My seat, unfortunately places me too far forward in the cabin. That's gonna make for a long day...</div><div><br />
</div><div>9 am: The Tachometer shows 0 RPM. The engine sounds fine, so I know it is a display issue. I call Base on the HF radio and ask for their opinion. They give the OK to continue to Loki. I am hoping the problem is just the flexible shaft came off the tach drive of the engine. But I know it was tight this morning when I checked it, and the inspection putty showed it wasn't slipping. I run my numbers for the day and realize I can only afford 15 minutes in Loki to stay on schedule.</div><div><br />
</div><div>10:30 am: I arrive back home in Loki, but just for a quick turn. As Starline begins fueling, I take off the cowl, and unfortunately the cable is securely fastened on the tach drive. I check the cable attachment to the tachometer and it is also firmly attached. Must be a bigger issue. Well, not going any further today. Jon and I call Nairobi and arrange for parts, then I secure the plane and go home to surprise the family.</div><div><br />
</div><div>7pm: I read an e-mail saying a church in Arizona is very interested in helping us put new solar equipment on this house. This is a huge blessing, since the equipment on the house now is old and barely functional, especially during a period of cloudy days.</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Saturday</b></div><div>9 am: I retrieve vegetables and fruit that were kept cool overnight at Jon and Ginny's, and meet Starline to go back to the plane. The new parts arrive, and after a little head scratching, find the problem with the old flexible shaft.</div><div><br />
</div><div>12:30 pm: I run the engine to test, then depart to Sudan on a two and a half hour leg.</div><div><br />
</div><div>3 pm: Land in Akot, Sudan. The meds fill up a Land Cruiser, and part of a pickup. I smile thinking that all of those boxes fit inside the small airplane. The apples and oranges I bought at Nakumatt made it fine. After refuelling and talking with the missionary couple there, I blast off. I need to be home before sunset.</div><div><br />
</div><div>4:30 pm: Climbing up past 11,000 feet with rain clouds all around, I finally stretch out my legs. Behind me are two bicycles, imprisoned by my cargo net, and a lot of space around them. And a lot of space behind me so my seat can slide back...</div><div><br />
</div></div>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-47032432098457142892010-08-07T00:57:00.000+03:002010-08-07T00:57:17.494+03:00No idea what to call thisWent to embassy to start renewal of kids passports, bought pet food for trip, looked at options for framing AIM AIR group photo, bought 12v fans for Loki, came home to a major leak in upstairs bathroom, took furniture to hangar to go on next available ride, figured weight available for Bre's Monday flight, went to finance, unloaded trailer, adjusted valve clearance on car's engine, took Bre to a movie, bought replacement flex line for toilet, installed line, still leaks, wrapped a ton of thread tape on connection... leaked stopped, wiped up water on floor, came into bedroom, dog on bed, must get him zzzzzBreannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-14304023146152646222010-08-04T01:58:00.000+03:002010-08-04T01:58:19.076+03:00The Days AheadWill today mark the end of a calm? Or instead quieten months of <br />
debate and politics. Tomorrow Kenyans take a simple vote ... yes or no <br />
on whether they agree to the proposed new constitution. A diverse <br />
country where members of parliament, I am told, make more than US <br />
senators, yet the minimum wage starts around $60 / month; that diverse <br />
country will decide on the direction it needs to go and the document <br />
to guide it.<p>Most of the debate exceeds my depth, but the bigger issues are the <br />
trajectory of word changes regarding abortion, exemptions to civil <br />
rights to allow Islamic courts to function, and ownership of land. To opponents the words have become too ambiguous and open ended. <p>Most people I talk to don't feel there will be significant fallout <br />
as a result of the election. Regardless, orders from management direct us to <br />
stock up for the long haul and have everything ready for departure.<p>That's good and bad for us. We leave Nairobi for good this weekend, so <br />
we're ready for departure. What's tougher is keeping our go bags ready <br />
as we scatter stuff throughout the house in the course of hauling and <br />
packing.<p>There is uncertainty. Will the vote go peacefully? If not, the road I <br />
drive to Loki follows a string of refugee camps for displaced people <br />
from the election two years ago. Potential hot spots.<br />
Breanna, the kiddos, and our stuff will follow on an airplane flight <br />
Monday, however our flight schedule is in constant flux as we wait for <br />
the Kenya Civil Aviation Authority to decide whether our US registered <br />
aircraft can fly in Kenya.<p>The days ahead? I wish I could tell you how they will go, but I have <br />
no idea. But I know who holds tomorrow ...<p>When you have a spare minute- pray for Kenya, pray for our move to <br />
Loki, and pray the work ahead telling everyone of a second chance, <br />
grace from failure, and freedom forever... that the work will still go <br />
ahead.Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-44057171730474675022010-07-29T10:12:00.000+03:002010-07-29T10:12:24.751+03:00The forgotten sons of Dodoma<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Two weekends ago I flew to Dodoma, the town of the beggar tribe, the Gogos. At least that's what the people in Dar Es Salaam might say. This was my first time to Dodoma, the third largest city in Tanzania, and 35 years ago a would be capital for the country. Dodoma lies in the center of Tanzania on a high plain with several rocky hills thrust upwards around the city.</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><div style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">AIM AIR rarely flies this route. Missionary Aviation Fellowship (MAF) has their Tanzanian base in Dodoma, and between them and the commercial options, our aircraft are not usually needed in that region.</span></span></span></div><div style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As the captain, it is imperative I know the when and where, but typically on a flight I have very little idea of the why. I planned on a weekend of catching up, but instead, for two days, I raced after Andrea and Dr. James, my passengers, as Andrea gave us a tour at the heart of the city. We saw the children without fathers or mothers in the picture, for whatever reason. Abandoned by the ones who should be caring for them, I could tell not only where these kids living in the heart of Dodoma, but also that our Father's heart was living with them.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=198576&id=617082090&l=4aaecbc1d6" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs220.snc4/39350_416411152090_617082090_5248642_7087071_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Click on the picture to see other </i><a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=198576&id=617082090&l=4aaecbc1d6"><i>photos</i></a><i> from the trip</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><br />
</span></span></div></div></div>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-84358808470225563612010-05-08T15:08:00.003+03:002010-05-08T19:58:14.477+03:00This is Loki Living<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PhOj7VL3YvtQokX7eAiUzRVlRs8EVk2_k0sjM5h9HHXRAb820K0v32NnAA76Gey9pTEfLzwilTvQY-G-sxkjxMrptkSTS64kX9oVJTsmzjm8eWOAveNFPUsJg0UatRLwQQPw/s1600/P1030513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PhOj7VL3YvtQokX7eAiUzRVlRs8EVk2_k0sjM5h9HHXRAb820K0v32NnAA76Gey9pTEfLzwilTvQY-G-sxkjxMrptkSTS64kX9oVJTsmzjm8eWOAveNFPUsJg0UatRLwQQPw/s320/P1030513.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>Day Zero:</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Touch down in a hot afternoon, just before heavy rains. The single engine Cessna shuts down with my family and all our stuff crammed inside. Breanna fights nauseau and illness under the veranda of an abandoned terminal lounge. Olivia waits with her as Grace and Isaiah chase cats around the ramp. During a lull in the rain we load into a Samaritan's Purse Land Cruiser. In under fifteen minutes we are in our new house for the next two weeks.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I nervously look around the house, as Breanna says she needs to lie down. I have visited Lokichogio a lot of times. I told AIM AIR we are willing to move up here. Probably. I hope the family agrees with me. As I make grilled cheese sandwiches, keeping an eye on whining kids, and get ready for a flight the next day, I can't fight the feeling that this was a mistake.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's usually better in the morning. And it was. AIM AIR's man on the ground: Starline, left a pick up for us to use. After breakfast and coffee, I take it to the airport. I fly to the first major town across the border in Sudan... twice. Once to carry a missionary family in so the can return to their village home. The radio remains quiet on both flights. Sudan, the country I fly over, votes for the first time in several decades. Most missionaries left for this period, but my passengers want to go in. I decide to stay at a higher altitude as long as possible and avoid getting close to the ground until the last five minutes. You never know. Thankfully, both trips in and out proved to be routine.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxiASx7ijkhoishKCvozPN80aDoZfjt1pmtAjHF5nM5EUdSMHPlFY8xFy-nnx0GKN32_hdlgA_1_UeazqT9cn-Y1NR6401cQLqjsqSHDXjvxsFbqCTs_HLhuGjKdnLp7c5yAy/s1600/P1030619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxiASx7ijkhoishKCvozPN80aDoZfjt1pmtAjHF5nM5EUdSMHPlFY8xFy-nnx0GKN32_hdlgA_1_UeazqT9cn-Y1NR6401cQLqjsqSHDXjvxsFbqCTs_HLhuGjKdnLp7c5yAy/s320/P1030619.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I return to the house, anxiously. I have heard the good and bad about "Loki." Mostly bad. A lot of families don't want to live here.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As I shut down the car, I see two kids swimming in a kiddie pool we had set up last night. Through the giggles, they look up and yell "Daddy's home." I smile and jump out of the truck. This could work after all.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>Day three:</i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Crammed inside a white taxi, sending up a cloud of dust in Sudan. A motorcycle swerves in front of the car, bouncing over deep ruts. The bike falls over as the rider hops off. Our driver locks up the brakes. The motorcyclist and driver yell at each other. Our driver throws up his hands and turns the car around. A Kenyan pastor in the cab explains that we went through a checkpoint without stopping.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLJVJfbOGXWMuDZ-r-lLmdixj1eeun757Gv0Mf60sWcvbuIOONEOFwBRZRNSxM3XW1dZgsGOZ2j_3vFCh0Rs1PkMchgOA25mJs_hXbW2Sg7Qyj1O_G-NkvNkVQlwTBX6SS2JNK/s1600/Trip-to-Loki-Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLJVJfbOGXWMuDZ-r-lLmdixj1eeun757Gv0Mf60sWcvbuIOONEOFwBRZRNSxM3XW1dZgsGOZ2j_3vFCh0Rs1PkMchgOA25mJs_hXbW2Sg7Qyj1O_G-NkvNkVQlwTBX6SS2JNK/s400/Trip-to-Loki-Map.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We drive back to a bend in the road under two large shade trees. Our sedan stops in a mud puddle, and we spill out of the car. Several soldiers in worn camouflage are moving tables around under one of the trees. The obvious Man in charge sits and waits for us to approach his tribunal under the trees.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Twenty minutes later and the verbal onslaught continues, mainly against the driver. Listening proves to be our punishment for going past an invisible checkpoint. My watch keeps lifting into view. I planned to be on the ground for an hour, and the hour slips by. Finally, the Man wraps it up with a firm don't ever do it again.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Thank you, sir!" A missionary lady says as we walk off.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Sir! Sir! You know what the bible says. No one should have titles. I am not a Sir!" He launches into another diatribe, but it only lasts three minutes.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Our shaken driver starts the car, and with the remaining minutes we have, we visit a new church just outside of town. We gather in a circle with the pastor and the leaders. They share the struggles of the work they are in. As we pray together, I sneak a peak at the men and women who work here in Sudan so a new church grows... even in these uncertain times.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ten minutes later we roll up to the airplane. "I've never seen something so beautiful in my life!" a missionary points out, excitedly. We fly for an hour over valleys and mountains and the Didinga Hills. We arrive in Loki where our ways part. They board another airplane back to Nairobi, still talking about their adventure in Sudan.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>Day Five:</i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Steve Irwin's trademark vernacular comes out of the TV in the corner. We share a good Kenyan meal with Starline and his family. We sit at a long table in a large open room. Next to Starline, John watches the DVD episode on catching deadly snakes with horrified fascination. With excited gesturing, John describes snakes back in his home that can stand as tall as a man. When I ask if he wants to look for them like Steve Irwin, he recoils in his seat, shaking his head and clicking his tongue.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">John's home is near Mewoun... a rugged, "overgrown" section of Sudan. We met him the first day in Loki. Not really sure who he was, I gave him some distance. He told me he was going to high school, sponsored by an AIM AIR pilot. I asked him what grade he was in. He told me he would be in 12th, but Jon, the pilot, told him he needed to repeat 11th since his grades needed improving.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The more I talk to John from Sudan, the more I admire him. Breanna asked him once where his family was. He deliberately; cautiously; painfully described that during the civil war in Sudan many children were scattered from their families. He heard from relatives that both his mom and dad died. He spent a few nights in a house next to "ours," but told me he moved to Starline's house because of loneliness.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As I sit at Starline's table, eating rice and greens, I hear Isaiah and Griffens (Starline's lad) running around the table, Steve Irwin exclaiming about a beautiful snake, and I see John staring at the TV in rapt attention. He doesn't enjoy watching snakes, but I can tell he loves the company. I realize that maybe John has a family after all.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbfEIfLi_7q5088UolhYYOuZxgBcYKECV5XwkXYodSxGFpHzkn_dwm9Wa-hMe342Y69fiDjQGa3AFJ7AcMFKbqQZDxcQf8k-MyxcKeC1m7FrJiOTL-YCkZ2zcxYQO4l5tX7a1/s1600/P1030785.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbfEIfLi_7q5088UolhYYOuZxgBcYKECV5XwkXYodSxGFpHzkn_dwm9Wa-hMe342Y69fiDjQGa3AFJ7AcMFKbqQZDxcQf8k-MyxcKeC1m7FrJiOTL-YCkZ2zcxYQO4l5tX7a1/s320/P1030785.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>Day nine:</i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Children herd chickens through the house to the back yard. A lot of chickens live in the compound. Many of them sneak into the house when they can. We hope they will go into the backyard to devour ticks.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Two dogs reside here at the house. Two dogs and a lot of ticks. Breanna's list of favorites puts dogs and ticks near the bottom, but she spends a lot of time pulling ticks off the restless pups. First we smashed the ticks with a hammer: too messy. So now she drowns them in mouthwash. One dog had at least 300 that Bre pulled off of him. She also pulls them off of the kids. Now its time to bring the fight to the ticks in the yard.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The chickens refuse to go where the bread crumbs and popcorn trail lead. Olivia's new friend, Lucy, grabs one by the legs, carrying the hen through the house to the backyard. Eventually three hens and two roosters feast in the backyard.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I continue working on the maintenance projects for AIM AIR which kept me busy all week. I decide to drink a cold coke while I work, but the first taste is repulsive. It tastes like bleach, not coke. Breanna had complained about the same thing on another bottle. I look at the bottles closely and realize they are a couple of years old. I suddenly remember taking a crate of bottles from a storage container where we worked on the truck. I guess they don't last forever, especially in a hot container. The old cokes would kill ticks, though.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At night it rains and rains. I wait for the rain and lightning to die down before returning the hens and roosters to their roost. I find them huddled on the corner of the patio by the fence. Breanna and the kids hold towels up as a wall to keep them from running. I grab a hen by the legs and throw it over the fence. It grabs the top of the wire mesh and beats it wings. I push on it, hoping to move it off the fence. It bobs forward, squawking, and swings right back up on top. It takes a couple pushes. The next hen tries to peck while I grab the legs. It stops as soon as I hold it upside down. This time I throw well above the top of the fence.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The kids love this. Grace wants a turn holding the chickens, but loses her nerve when they flap their wings and squawk.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXx3v-573R-tjZFiNBpkcyWKubsctc5odWwIQfZaBCFn0Kr5mVoeV2quqOR0vMwviF4YWSKwQDR9Szlffi4uZvWDk3T2PIyd8lpQs-5lobPOhvFYv4eNB1HXg-Tv9FchXNquQo/s1600/P1030651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXx3v-573R-tjZFiNBpkcyWKubsctc5odWwIQfZaBCFn0Kr5mVoeV2quqOR0vMwviF4YWSKwQDR9Szlffi4uZvWDk3T2PIyd8lpQs-5lobPOhvFYv4eNB1HXg-Tv9FchXNquQo/s320/P1030651.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>Day Ten:</i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The sounds of singing, strange and beautiful, arrive with the whisps of breeze through the screened window. Even though Loki is a town, right now it sounds like a village. The voices repeat a chorus following a leader. Other voices trill while the beat pulses out of hand claps and stomps. I can picture the youth in their Sunday evening celebration jumping and swaying in a circle. This morning we went to the Turkana / Swahili church service. We didn't understand much, but the music came across in an unbridled way straight from their heart. I remember thinking "This is the Africa I thought we would live in..."</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As always, I loved working with Starline this week. We discussed a lot of our different perspectives on living up in Loki while polishing brake cylinders. When the conversations ended, he couldn't resist singing.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJoh1b_TH_tXoie-32Xtb5MZCR46ue8KM32gWCd6WvG9I8o3vcecj_21yw4KMSDxjJw9SSWbKYZgFkli3CNn2ctp_tk-NTrtTZbXtYe1RbbknHerZLiG8Zc49BBWuOsrspQUyC/s1600/P1030742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJoh1b_TH_tXoie-32Xtb5MZCR46ue8KM32gWCd6WvG9I8o3vcecj_21yw4KMSDxjJw9SSWbKYZgFkli3CNn2ctp_tk-NTrtTZbXtYe1RbbknHerZLiG8Zc49BBWuOsrspQUyC/s320/P1030742.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isaiah tries starting an AIM AIR generator ...<br />
but the noise is a concern for him.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I asked a missionary pilot who lived in Loki several years ago if he missed the convenience of Nairobi when he was there. He told me that he actually misses the convenience of Loki. I understood today when I stopped at one of the small auto parts stores on a Sunday afternoon. Almost everything stays open all day Saturday and Sunday, and I can drive to the shops in less than five minutes.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At the auto parts place, I popped the hood on the vehicle we have been driving. It makes a terrible knocking sound when accelerating, a problem I couldn't figure out. I took it to the shade tree experts at the auto parts store. I watched them work, chasing the source of the problem. I love troubleshooting, and these guys did an impressive job of "fencing" instead of "hacking" at the problem. They narrowed the problem to the sensor system on the throttle. One of mechanics ran into the back and returned, armed with a light bulb, a piece of coat wire wrapped around it, and electrical wire terminated in an alligator clip. Following the wire back to a relay, they found the problem... a corroded connection to the relay. After they cleaned it, we went for a test drive. The car ran great: problem solved!</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-W8p3UIrgw0ozZzZ6ghRtFJ4iumdrBxMLt45tGzK_a7iFlKBktqQGyXnWxJ2l13aX3sms165ybeg2MivlWrX8mBCxAv48okNajGiI8aMQ0Jyl8AopZj6FWjEX0HnM64JiswD/s1600/P1030745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-W8p3UIrgw0ozZzZ6ghRtFJ4iumdrBxMLt45tGzK_a7iFlKBktqQGyXnWxJ2l13aX3sms165ybeg2MivlWrX8mBCxAv48okNajGiI8aMQ0Jyl8AopZj6FWjEX0HnM64JiswD/s320/P1030745.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The music continues to drift in through the hot, still night. In Loki we give up blankets and sweat free sleep, but we also traded the sound of Nairobi traffic and matatu stereos for an unintended lullaby.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>Day Thirteen:</i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We pack up the suitcases we lived out of and drain the pool, while listening to the sounds of quiet one last time. Lucy, Olivia's new friend, brings her a monkey as a gift. Lucy and another girl tell us they got the monkey as a baby. A rope lies tied around the monkey's waist. In a couple hours the rope is tangled around the trees. Breanna frees "Rafiki," the name given by the kids, and he follows her around. He loves to hang from her neck, or sit on her shoulder. I can almost see Breanna rapidly softening towards him.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0MI0E8-Cf-lryieyDtwOMIGeyOz59DXBt0xBbgDzwYv-l2PzVDkDLdT_qAjP44PHaTvaG-cEMF_e4_L8SkXlDS-lG4WjtYSK-C2KFY8LQyhbxEeTBxpB1y3gLsbmkHWZmnONw/s1600/P1040026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0MI0E8-Cf-lryieyDtwOMIGeyOz59DXBt0xBbgDzwYv-l2PzVDkDLdT_qAjP44PHaTvaG-cEMF_e4_L8SkXlDS-lG4WjtYSK-C2KFY8LQyhbxEeTBxpB1y3gLsbmkHWZmnONw/s320/P1040026.JPG" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I get close he snarls and runs away. I don't soften towards him at all.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Olivia, Grace, and even Isaiah want to keep him. I tell them he needs to stay in Loki, and when we move up here we can take care of him then. I hope Lucy won't be offended. She had asked for help with school fees, and these past two weeks I thought she had ulterior motives for spending time with the family. I think I misjudged her.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I watch the monkey following the kids around the house, then jump into Olivia's arms. I'm still not happy about him. I turn to Breanna and ask if she could live here. "Definitely," she says. "I would really love to be a part of the ladies co-op that makes crafts."</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhjkSnbcqO8fueCdWMTKY8sTjRZxWr8OMUHWp_AYW6w-rF4Uqf_8_4k8vN3_UBQ0c04GGncdxDxHsa-DVml0EgrRFOXWUs-ih-OCFD8V2IiysCvqNOLmgq9_DXLngThf7fJqv/s1600/P1040032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhjkSnbcqO8fueCdWMTKY8sTjRZxWr8OMUHWp_AYW6w-rF4Uqf_8_4k8vN3_UBQ0c04GGncdxDxHsa-DVml0EgrRFOXWUs-ih-OCFD8V2IiysCvqNOLmgq9_DXLngThf7fJqv/s320/P1040032.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This evening seems worth savoring. John, an AIM AIR Pilot, Starline and his family, and all of us eat at the "Hotel California," a camp and buffet catering mainly for relief workers coming through Loki. Isaiah and Griffens chase each other around, while Starline tells us story after story about the unexpected in Sudan and stories about AIM AIR.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He had asked me earlier if there was a way we could keep living up in Loki.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As I walk outside the front door of the house, looking up at the stars, I hope so.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUey5Rl9OkQxEImdGicuxpay7DSuIHbEgksyyLUPnqMWYCsVdU-CB6o1DFcZonGVDZsfVvLc8vjruT1PDW9FrlI8HxfTMRFbEW0-nSKSYSnq6OJqnwMRfWnA7BcyxhlFZngyvp/s1600/P1040036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUey5Rl9OkQxEImdGicuxpay7DSuIHbEgksyyLUPnqMWYCsVdU-CB6o1DFcZonGVDZsfVvLc8vjruT1PDW9FrlI8HxfTMRFbEW0-nSKSYSnq6OJqnwMRfWnA7BcyxhlFZngyvp/s320/P1040036.JPG" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>Day Fourteen:</i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Running from the airport bathroom, the girls head for the Cessna Caravan. They had waited until the pilot, Dan, was ready to close the airplane's doors before they realized they needed to "go."</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Grace, do you want to sit up front?" I ask. I think she will enjoy it, but I also know it will make Dan's flight interesting.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As we climb out next to southern hills in the valley, Grace says: "I love flying in airplanes. You know, how in the beginning it is really exciting and interesting, then you get tired and fall asleep. I think that is really neat."</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNWnUe4jPziopv8sLvgS7LSbw8hCFFQG4Z7KMVk4IkEyZLTKR2U6IbQHCzWJYvp-JhuIGeaCOcWDoBJ005RfknEJU-9TNOusmB8kVsev1Tjcc251Ft8iZGSm0quKyRDEDzhdaL/s1600/P1040040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNWnUe4jPziopv8sLvgS7LSbw8hCFFQG4Z7KMVk4IkEyZLTKR2U6IbQHCzWJYvp-JhuIGeaCOcWDoBJ005RfknEJU-9TNOusmB8kVsev1Tjcc251Ft8iZGSm0quKyRDEDzhdaL/s320/P1040040.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grace's picture of our pilot, Captain Dan</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_4-VpOE8MNewpRKwH8rsNqvz3fAwusqC1Hz84ANBB4aUj6h-Ru0s4MEHh_moFnKFaZMf_lilFexxJyk_QiVnW807w8G9gTF0-WylQR3URD5A7ivklERLAVikS6cBOxRIiVSXB/s1600/P1030798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_4-VpOE8MNewpRKwH8rsNqvz3fAwusqC1Hz84ANBB4aUj6h-Ru0s4MEHh_moFnKFaZMf_lilFexxJyk_QiVnW807w8G9gTF0-WylQR3URD5A7ivklERLAVikS6cBOxRIiVSXB/s320/P1030798.JPG" width="320" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I think about our two weeks: my initial thought that this was a mistake, the fun I had working with Starline, watching the shade tree mechanics figure out a sensor problem, the adventure in Torit, meeting John, and watching my kids open up to new friends. The first thought that this was a mistake fades quickly in my mind. I realize we won't survive living in Loki. No, we will actually love it. Love the open space, the people, the challenges, the slow pace, and especially the work God has for us there. The future of Sudan may be uncertain, even tense, but as long as people come wanting to care for the orphans, wanting to start bible schools, wanting to spread the news of freedom from law and sin, we will thoroughly enjoy taking them where they need to go!</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>What's Next for Us? There are three main areas that require prayer and support for us to be able to serve in Loki.</i></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">1. Adequate housing for our family. AIM AIR is deciding how best to pursue this. Their are several options, but we are waiting for a decision. AIM international, our mission organization, had a recent change in leadership over AIM AIR and this probably impacts the timeframe for a decision.</span></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">2. I need to complete my New Pilot Status. This is time for me to expand my pilot experience in eastern Africa under close guidance of the training captains here at AIM AIR. Moving to Loki would require I be moved off of New Pilot Status. This means a lot of flying for me in the next months if we are to move soon.</span></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">3. A rugged vehicle. The road from Nairobi to Loki is extremely rough. One missionary told me there is just a big enough ribbon of tarmac to hold the potholes together. He says he will never drive it again. However, for me to feel comfortable living in a border town, I think it is necessary to have a second option to evacuate besides air, and a four wheel drive vehicle would fit the requirement (also AIM's requirement as well). Our vehicle project is at 22% of the funds needed towards this goal.</span></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Please pray during this time that all three things will come together in God's time. For now we are learning to be content in either home.</span></i></span>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com1Lokichogio, Kenya4.2036440513051456 34.3473815917968754.1822440513051458 34.318199091796878 4.2250440513051455 34.376564091796872tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31189650.post-59088190938837921992010-04-11T23:24:00.000+03:002010-04-11T23:24:04.264+03:00Please pray for Sudan, Loki, and us<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji8NpOPiuEVtTvZVT9SAdUjKBnmt0CsdrR-ph77JGx18ZxeMSWIyYX42w1skfBAwINRm4wnSW9w92sSDDA2wTZ-3ZdU0D-pWaRRxJBJ5p_yFh0sD-GxZIreNrRfA9hEmXBOMyI/s1600/P1030388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji8NpOPiuEVtTvZVT9SAdUjKBnmt0CsdrR-ph77JGx18ZxeMSWIyYX42w1skfBAwINRm4wnSW9w92sSDDA2wTZ-3ZdU0D-pWaRRxJBJ5p_yFh0sD-GxZIreNrRfA9hEmXBOMyI/s400/P1030388.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the ground in Doro. Shade provided free of charge by the DC-3. Outside temp was 42 C (108 F).</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today marks history in a sense. The first elections happen today in South Sudan in almost 25 years. Elections signal a time of possible unrest in Africa. This is especially true with the full powder keg of charged politics, persecution, and recent civil war in Sudan that ended in 2005 with comprehensive peace agreement. Next year the south votes in a referendum, spelled out in the peace agreement, which decides whether the south will become a separate country.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJO-iuh-wicwF75TEHYsZb0cDVgXrUZEaQY_UvZGlVfAuOl9XRokZCjDHQYgfhABqVqNa9rVI8KI9lg3pqy6LXf9yw4llHe9mibb3qdnwd2s0VzRsRpDsLSbQFpGSfa2d6Vi34/s1600/P1030395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJO-iuh-wicwF75TEHYsZb0cDVgXrUZEaQY_UvZGlVfAuOl9XRokZCjDHQYgfhABqVqNa9rVI8KI9lg3pqy6LXf9yw4llHe9mibb3qdnwd2s0VzRsRpDsLSbQFpGSfa2d6Vi34/s400/P1030395.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Theories abound regarding tactics of the northern government to destabilize the south by supporting an armed cult driven north out of Uganda, as well as fueling the existing animosity between tribes of the south. Whether these are true or not, most people agree the south is not very unified right now, and peace is tenderly held.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpfJbDvQLzpjQ8JPkZP3iKn9Z3mvBxbvJkAOwzefNh8tDLLrz5aOgnx9ug6CR9nwNSL_C37wsMCJWbkdmP5yiso0ywcqa5CzwMhtzSI1aGPHPlZP2aF4ACNoC2IOodc-v6y1aL/s1600/P1030394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpfJbDvQLzpjQ8JPkZP3iKn9Z3mvBxbvJkAOwzefNh8tDLLrz5aOgnx9ug6CR9nwNSL_C37wsMCJWbkdmP5yiso0ywcqa5CzwMhtzSI1aGPHPlZP2aF4ACNoC2IOodc-v6y1aL/s400/P1030394.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The best thing to do RIGHT NOW: pray for the elections that have started. We hope peace will continue, violence will be thwarted, and the work of the gospel will be allowed to continue.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPIbNL9vp_kRehkEyqzZgAv5pvxsVaEzrx0EbGkht2J7RfigzNIx6Zw5jbJ6fgBKUpniN2YICijOck-y4Y_oiuCMvhHFbvllKvMbbbeCxynLNM5NPkHvneZdvRlmsWkXVHvme/s1600/P1030386.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPIbNL9vp_kRehkEyqzZgAv5pvxsVaEzrx0EbGkht2J7RfigzNIx6Zw5jbJ6fgBKUpniN2YICijOck-y4Y_oiuCMvhHFbvllKvMbbbeCxynLNM5NPkHvneZdvRlmsWkXVHvme/s400/P1030386.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AIM AIR 206 and DC-3 on the ramp in Loki</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">AIM AIR asked us to move to Lokichoggio to serve there. Lokichoggio, a ghost town near the Sudan border in Kenya, stages a lot of our flight ops into Sudan. It is fairly remote, hot, dry, and dusty, but does have its down sides as well. I have visited there several times to fly into Sudan, but never more than several nights. Breanna and the kids have never seen or experienced "Loki." So this week we plan on changing that.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We will fly up together later this week and stay in one of our co-workers houses for two weeks (they are finishing up a furlough, so the house should be available :). This is a trial run for us ... we want to make sure we aren't biting off more than we can chew. I imagine the kids will love the endless sandbox of the desert there, but it does mean giving up the convenience of the city.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Please pray it goes well and we are able to make a good decision on how to best prepare for our new assignment.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Obviously the elections in Sudan, and the reforendum next year, could have a significant impact on the operations in Loki. There has also been a change in our organization that could affect how our part in Loki operation is set up. We are learning once again the need to be flexible.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally, in unrelated news, we found out after church today that a fellow missionary was shot in the knee. An airplane was flown up to their area in northern Kenya to evacuate her to Nairobi for medical care. Please pray for this family. They were part of the AIM AIR team several years ago, then left to help run a bible school up in the rural part of this country.</span>Breannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158800765245042520noreply@blogger.com0