January 8, 2013
Usually about this time of year, we’re
getting ready to head to the CBC family camp at Cresta Del Mar. This year we had a little family camp of our
own in Guinea. Apparently it’s our team’s
tradition to spend New Year’s camping at the beach. So a couple days after we had gotten back
from the mountains, we packed up our things again, tent, water jugs, and all,
and headed to Sobane Beach.
To
get to the beach, you take the main highway towards Conakry and then turn right
when you spot the Bel Air Hotel sign.
This is the only beach hotel on the coast which means it’s too expensive
for missionaries. Still the signs are a
nice guide. After driving about twenty
minutes over rolling hills and vast stretches of prairie and savanna, you turn
off the road (in the opposite direction of Bel Air), pass a couple of tiny towns
with mud huts and thatch roofs, go down another dirt road, and then dead end at
Sobane Beach.
Similar to Panama’s beaches about eight
years ago, Guinea’s beaches are totally undeveloped, leaving you with vast
stretches of nice white sand, palm trees, and hardly anyone around. The only buildings in sight are three little
shacks, one of which we
rented out for our stay (nothing more than an outdoor kitchen and storage room). Oh, and our tents.
One of the
interesting features of this beach is its tides. At high tide the waves crash onto the beach
as you would normally expect, but only about a foot or two in height, and you
can practically walk about a half mile out past the “surf.” At low tide the water recedes about ¾ miles,
leaving behind a few tide pools and vast stretches of sand mixed with a grey,
clay-tar substance. The kids had great
fun caking the mud on themselves and having mud wars. But the adults all have various speculations
as to what the mud actually is. Some say
it’s swamp mud, washed in from the streams.
Some say it’s natural clay. Some
think it’s tar deposits from ships.
Nobody knows for sure what it is or whether or not it’s completely safe,
but seeing as no one has felt any ill effects from it, they continue to let the
kids play in it, and make sure everyone takes good showers before bed. Speaking of showers, there are none, except
for an open-roofed, thatch-walled enclosure with shells for flooring and a
bucket for water. It’s quite freeing to
bathe under the stars with palm leaves as the only thing guarding your privacy. Still, I felt a little like Adam having just
eating the forbidden fruit, only I had done nothing wrong; I was literally in the clear.
After a few days of camping and swimming
at the beach, we finally returned home for some true rest and
recovery. Why is it that we love to go
on vacation to rest and relax, but always come back more tired than when we
left? And now we are back in school,
plugging away at semester number two. We’re
also in the middle of discussions with our team as to when the school year
should end. Both the Galvez and
Snetselaars will be going on furlough next term, so we’re trying to all figure
out when, and where we should go. There
is lots to consider for each family involved, and we’re all somewhat dependent
on the other to make the decisions. So
we’re fervently praying and asking the Lord for direction. As usual his answers seem slow and faint, like
a whisper floating on a gentle breeze.
We all wish God would speak and reveal Himself through clouds of smoke
and pillars of fire, yet we know our faith is better exercised when we practice
being still and waiting on the Lord.
In the meantime we’re seeing more fruit
come from the long-term ministry that’s taken place in Correrah. The Snetselaars have been bringing various
individuals to church with them each week, including the young gal, Dalouba. Andres and Diana continue to discuss Jesus
with Simakan, Bangoura, and others. And
Jennifer and I are continuing our attempts to minister to our neighbors, the
soccer team, and Calissa, the bread guy.
The other day I was even invited into the house of one our neighbors, an
elderly gentlemen who will soon be getting married. For Christmas I gave him a bag of cement so
that he can fix up his house to get it ready for his future bride. He’s also invited me to his wedding at the
end of January. His wife is part
Landouma, and part Jahango. The village
will be held in a Jahango village fairly close by, and the man asked me
if I could drive him there and back.
This isn’t so much because he needs a ride, but because it would make
him look good to arrive with a white-man as his chauffeur. I’m not exaggerating. He even told me that he would tell everyone,
“C’est mon blanc!” Translation: “He’s my whitie!” I told him I hope he would say, “C’est mon
ami—He’s my friend.” He nodded his head
and said, “Oui. C’est mon ami.”
Lord, please continue to bless and protect us while we’re here. Give us strength, health, wisdom, and love to
carry out your purposes in this part of the world. Please guide us in terms of next year’s
plans. And please grant us to bear fruit
from the labor we’ve performed this year.
We continue to ask, Lord, that you would do great things and show us
your glory. May your Kingdom come and
your will be done, here on earth as it is in Heaven. Amen!”
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