Jack That Shit Up

                 

                 “Hey, how much morphine should I give my comfort-care patient?”

                The standard hospital dose for intense pain is 2 mg.

                 “Jack that shit up, man, run it fast, make him comfortable, you know?”

                 I didn’t know, which was why I asked. 

                “Hmmm.” I said. `  

          

                I went back into the room. Right now it was running at 2 mg / hr. while the dying man huffed like a gargling bear.

                I’d bolus-dosed the pump for about thirty seconds then stuck the bag with a syringe, pulled 6 ml and pushed it in the IV fast to cover any breakthrough pain.  Twenty dubious family members silently gave me the side-eye.

                The morphine bolus changed nothing. His limbs remained rigid, gaze locked downward, snoring rapidly through his bubbling saliva.  I taught the family how to suction his mouth then left and found another nurse.  “I just hung a morphine drip for my dying patient, what should I run it at?”

                 “If it was me, I’d jack that shit UP, put ‘em in la-la land”, they said in passing. 

                “OK”, I said and returned to the room, bumped it to 4. 

                The family watched in disapproval.  The doctor called, “How’s it going?”

                 “Fine.  We pulled the tube at 5:00. I started the drip.  Family’s all in there, quiet.  Some crying, not much.  Hey, how fast should I run it, do you think?”

                 “Fast.  Jack that shit up.”

                 “Well, I don’t want to… you know, kill them.”

                “Isn’t that kind of the point?”

                “Yeah, I guess.  I’ll bump it.  Thanks, doc.”

                “Thank you. This was a tough one.” 

                “Yep.”

                I returned to the room, shouldered my way through the mute crowd, turned the morphine to 10.  If 2 was normal, 10 would be pretty aggressive, right?

                It was odd that everyone said the exact same thing, like a standard dark-humor catchphrase when someone was actively dying.  We all knew there was a razor-thin line between ‘comfortable’ and ‘dead’ and no one wanted to put a number on that. All I wanted was a ballpark figure but “jack that shit up” gave me nothing.

                My job was to make him comfortable but the only way to tell the morphine’s effect was if he stopped breathing; if that happened too early in the process the family would freak.  They were irrational but they weren’t stupid.  They would make the connection between me tweaking the pain medicine and their loved one suddenly going silent; if they hadn’t processed their grief stages to ‘acceptance’ they might blame me for killing him.  They looked the type.

                I found my charge nurse.  “We withdrew on bed three.  Morphine’s running.  The order is to titrate for comfort – what should I run it at?” 

     “If I was dying I’d want you to jack that shit up, make me happy.  What’s he doing now?”

     “Breathing like a freight train, 40, 50 times / min., drooling all over the place.  I’ve got the family on suction, gets them involved.” 

 

     “What’s the morphine at?”

     “I’ve got him at 10.”

     “Oh god, turn it up!”

     “OK.  To what?  I don’t wanna just kill him, gotta ‘let nature take its course’ and all. How do I know he’s comfortable without shutting him down?”

     “Well, what’s the standard order if you didn’t have a drip?  Isn’t it a 10 ml bolus every 10 min.?  So run it at 60 and go up from there.”

     “Hmm. You’re right.  Thanks.”

                Shit.  He’s been under-dosed for an hour.  He’s been suffering for an hour! Of course I knew that about the injection dose – so stupid!  I squeeze into the room again.  It’s silent but for the struggling rasp.  My fingers fly over the pump’s buttons and the drip increases to 60.  The whir of the pump rises dramatically. I worm my way out, almost to the door when a defensive voice, tight with mistrust, asks me why I keep coming in.

 

     “What you messin’ wit?” Forty dark, angry eyes skewer me.

      “The pain medicine,” I say with confidence I do not feel. “I want him to be comfortable.  It’s what I would want if I was in his place.”  I smile and touch the questioner’s shoulder, part commiseration, part assurance that I know what I’m doing and while I appreciate his astute questions, he should trust me - I’m a nurse, for heaven’s sake!

                The shift changes, my relief comes.  I give report on the dying patient.  “How much morphine have you given him?” she asks.

     “I’ve got him on a drip at 60.”

     “Sixty!  You gotta jack that shit UP!”

                Sometimes I’m not sure I can do this anymore, that I should do this anymore.  I’ve been doing this for ten years and I have no idea what I’m doing.

My shit is all jacked up.

The Villains

I got so annoyed this weekend at some visitors, an arrogant couple who stood in my way while I worked and treated me like the hired help as they pressed my confused stroke patient for details on how to run his business while he recuperated. 

 The main antagonist was tall, lean, fashionably dressed, sported turtle-shell glasses, oozed false bonhomie, and wore an oily, skeletal smile like Jeff Goldblum. His partner was a dark, stolid woman, silent and brooding, planted squarely in my path. She forced a constant detour while I cared for the man in bed. The pair would have been instantly recognizable as villains in any Disney movie. 

I couldn’t help but think they took advantage of my patient’s condition to shoehorn their way into his affairs.  I worried he’d recover his senses and return to his convenience store only to discover himself bankrupted by this conniving duo.  

Ultimately, I did nothing. I cared for my patient’s immediate needs, threaded around them, ground my teeth in silence, awash in their fetid, unctuous wheedling of him punctuated by their supercilious demands of me. 

Alaska Journal - 1990

Alaska, 1990

Jan. 13, 1990 – 6:56 p.m.  On Amtrak going through Burlington, IA

                Well, we got off alright, cruising on Amtrak and it’s pretty alright.  I spent the night at Dan’s last night and we invited a whole bunch of people over – Glen, John W., Margaret, Mike White, Bev McKean, Drew, Jessica, Dai, Julie Nieves, Amy Davis.

L-R: Me, Danny, Glen Proctor, Bev McKean, Drew Otto

Drew Otto, Me, Mike Burke, & Danny goofing off before departure

 We talked forever about everything and almost got into a fight about racism.  Then Dan & I smoked in peace for a little while after they left, then Bev came back and she and Dan talked in front of the fire, so I went to bed.

Today we saw Drew and talked to him for a while about his sister Jane, who’s in a drug rehab center.  We also spent the day w/ Mike Burke and had lunch w/ the Plueddemann’s, then Shari came home in the middle of it and said she had to break up w/ Brian. Then we left for the station.

Loading up

“All you need in life is ignorance & confidence, then success is sure.” –Mark Twain

I met Mom & Dad & Alta, who saw me off, and we were away!

Alta, Mrs. Plueddemann, Shari seeing us off

                We sat in the lounge car & talked about us changing, then we met these guys from Schaumburg who were going to Denver for a ski vacation.  We went down and played Rummy w/ them for a while.  Their names were Matt, Ted, & Frank.  They were pretty cool.

Jan. 14, 6:15 a.m., Mountain time – Colorado / Nebraska border.

                Dan & I went to see the movie ‘Field of Dreams’ in the lounge car but it was so crowded that we had to sit way back.  We sat next to an English girl named Lynn. We talked to her for 5 hours.  She is way cool. She rides horses and told us she rode in the Olympics.

                I slept pretty well on the floor and we will be reaching Denver soon.

Jan. 15, 11:41 a.m., outside Granby, CO in the Rockies

                Wow!  A whole boatload of stuff has happened since I wrote over 24 hours ago.  Dan, Lynn, and I (her real name is Linda Cook, born Nov. 13, 1964 in Chesterfield, England) got off and wandered the town of Denver which is a very impressive town.  Since it was Sunday, the town was dead, besides which the Broncos played the Browns in Denver for the championship.  Broncos won.  They play the 49ers in the Super bowl.

                We did everything, met a bum named Ron, tried to go to church but it was closed, had a picnic on the front lawn of the capitol, talked to a hitchhiking prostitute, tried to get into three museums that were closed, went to the zoo, tackled each other in the duck poo in city park, ate tiny microwave pizzas straight out of the 7-11 microwaves and drank a SuperGulp of Mountain Dew together, laughed, wandered, lived, became very close friends and traded addresses. 

Olympian Lynn

Dan & I hugged her on her way out to the bus and kissed her cheek goodbye.  Then, after she was already on the bus, she ran back and kissed us both on the lips. That was cool.

                So Dan & I washed up in the restroom then headed out to make camp in City Park.  All day long it had been about 60 degrees, and as night fell it slowly dropped.  Dan & I laid out bedrolls under separate trees, smoked our pipes and retired. It was a night from hell.  The temp dropped to about 25 degrees.  He only had his poncho while I had a sheet sack, poncho, & kikoye.  It was unbelievably cold.  We both kept waking up.  The ground was hard and frozen, our feet were numb, we kept chattering. It was a hard lesson learned.  But we made it.  We got on the bus to the train station and the driver told us we looked like death.  When we told him we’d slept in the park he looked surprised and told us people get murdered in that park all the time.  We got to the station and made our train to Salt Lake City.

Jan. 17, 10:00 a.m. Somewhere in Idaho.

                On the train to Salt Lake we met a guy named John, who was a Christian.  He liked to talk so we talked for a while, then we met this other guy who races boats. He was way cool.  He had dredlocks in his hair, was drinking a beer and telling us stories about the sea.  Then we went back to our seats and talked to this guy named Gerald, who loved to talk, and had opinions about everything.  He said to remember that success is empty and meaningless.  He’s a millionaire himself, his son is a bum, his daughter is a fat, unwed mother, and his pride and joy was his wife, who looked a hell of a lot like Kristen Allen and only talked about cats.  Then we met Cathy, a beautiful girl with a child whose boyfriend left her.  She was very nice and I got to fill up her kid’s bottle for her.

                Dan & I got off in S.L.C. and called a homeless shelter, the Jesus Saves Rescue Mission, which took us in even though it was midnight.  We slept with the homeless that night and they made all sorts of funny noises in their sleep.

                We all got kicked out at 5:30 a.m. so Dan & I went to the train station to clean up. Then we went gleaning, but just our luck, it was garbage day, so we went to Hardee’s and wrote post-cards. Then we got kicked out so we wandered our merry way up to the capitol building which was pretty boring so we went to Temple Square, where the Mormons hang out.  We were there for about 4 ½ hours.  It was way cool.  They’re very nice people who believe you can be saved by either the Book of Mormon or the Bible, and that you can be baptized for dead ancestors.

                So we left and met Don, a street person, who we took out to lunch.  He was very interesting, and was simple, yet not stupid.  We talked for a while then met Nick, who was trying to get enough money to hop a freight train.  Then we walked to a laundromat and washed a few clothes while I called Aunt Vera. Then we bought some groceries and walked toward the train station.

                Our packs were heavy and painful on our tired shoulders, so we stopped in front of the Wendy’s where we’d had lunch, sat on a sidewalk planter and ate some potato bread & Hi-C coolers.  This drunk guy approached us for cigarettes, but we didn’t have any. He hung around anyway, acting stupid and drinking rum from a bottle.  Then he told us he liked men better than women. I wasn’t too surprised, just kind of revolted and I felt sorry for him too. He had a filthy mouth and kept going on about his sexual fantasies.  So we told him to go ask this girl who was walking up the street for cigarettes. He did, and we felt bad for setting him on her. When she came up to us we apologized, but she said it was no problem. 

                She went and bought some cigarettes and came back to talk to us.  Her name was Cathy, and she’d just quit her job as a cocktail waitress.  She’d been a model since she was 14 years old, and had lived in Paris for a while.  She was beautiful, and she offered to take us out and show us the town, and a few bars. We were hip, so after we talked for about an hour, her mother came to pick her up and she promised to return.

                While we were waiting, this guy named Richard came up to talk to us.  He seemed very nice, then told us he was gay. It was interesting to hear him tell his side of the story. 

                He said we were on the gay strip, so after waiting two hours for Cathy to come back, we decided to move on.  We went to Denny’s, where the waiter was gay.  Ahhhhggg! 

                But, we made our train and are on to Seattle.

Jan. 19, 10:50 p.m.  Aunt Vera’s house.

                It’s been a while.  On the way to Seattle, a pickup truck ran into the train.  I guess he was trying to beat it, then chickened out, only it was too late.

                We made it to Seattle alright, got in at about 11:30 p.m., then had to find the Metro route and find Jenny Gott’s (formerly Jenny MacGuire) house.  We were on our way when we stopped to ask two girls what time it was.  They told us then offered to take us where we wanted to go.  Their names were Narasha & Jen.  Jen was blind.  The drove us around Seattle and we never found Jenny’s house or Aunt Vera’s. By then it was my birthday, and the girls and Dan sang Happy Birthday to me at 12:01 a.m. The girls told us they were activists from Skagway and hated Ronald Reagan.  I didn’t like that.  I don’t know why.  So they dropped us off at a cheap motel, where we spent the night and got showers.

                In the morning, we left the hotel and wandered the streets until we found the docks, where we went boat to boat asking for work, always getting turned down but everyone wishing us good luck.  We commiserated over a bowl of clam chowder & some fish & chips. Then we went to find Jenny’s house.

                We found it, and met her kid – Jeremiah – and her husband Eric, and we all went bowling.  I cleaned up with a 139.  We slept O.N. there, then called all sorts of companies in the morning, and even locked ourselves out of the house.

                We went downtown and to the Fish Market – a very cool place – and spent the rest of the day at the docks getting applications.  We stopped by Seattle Pacific University (SPU) and found out that Eric Morgan goes there.  Then we had supper at Jen & Eric’s house and came here to Aunt Vera’s where we had a nice chat and will now sleep.

Jan. 26, 8:29 p.m. - Lounge at SPU, overlooking North Seattle.

                About all I can say about the last week is that we looked for jobs hard.  Every day we took the bus from Des Moines to Seattle, all-in-all about a 1 ½ hour trip. We called & went to almost every freaking trawler company in Seattle and it was always the same thing, “Nothing now, but maybe in March”.  We got more and more frustrated.  Eric Morris had some connections but even those didn’t pan out.  We walked & walked & walked & walked.

Finally, Eric gave us some advice.  He said to be persistent, follow up, ‘bug ‘em’.  Then you have the most recognized face when it comes to being hired. So we tried it. And it paid off.  We got hired by the Deep Sea Fisheries on the fishing vessel (F/V) Olympic.

F/V Olympic under construction - Foss Marina, Lake Washington Ship Canal, Seattle, WA

Today was our first day. It wasn’t too bad. But work starts at 6 a.m., so I’d better turn in.

Sunday, Feb. 4, 8:40 p.m. - Galley of the Olympic.

                We’ve worked 10 days now, and hard work it’s been, too.  Carrying, painting, scrubbing, pounding, loading, pulling, grinding, pushing, welding, cutting, climbing, untangling, brushing, walking, getting cursed at, chipping, scraping, balancing… but it’s all been worth it.  We’re in pretty solid with the guys now and since we’re the youngest on the boat, we get all the scummy jobs and do all the hardest work.  We got our first paycheck on Friday for $351.65. I sent it home.

                We moved out of SPU after two hellish nights in the study room, which had a constant stream of people opening the door, then the ironing room, whose floor was hard as rock and was also constantly tried to be gotten into.  We moved to a guy we met on the bus’s house.  His name was Eric and he was way cool.  We stayed there for a few nights, then moved onto the boat.

                Our quarters are tight, 6 men to a room that’s probably 8 x 15 feet.  In it is Merlin, a very cool guy who looks like Robert Redford, Mark – Merlin’s friend – who is very funny. Both just returned from Peru, where Mark’s wife is, and Merlin’s fiancé is.  Then Tim, who’s 27 and looks 20, who’s been working on boats for 6 years. Other guys are Victor and Javier – two Mexicans – and Troy & Alex, a pair a lot like Dan & I, along with some others.  According to Chris, the work foreman, we leave a week from yesterday, or on the 10^th of Feb.

Alex & Merlin

Victor

Happy Javier

Tim, the psycho butcher-boss, on the crane controls

                I don’t really miss anyone yet, but lots can happen in 4 months.  I plan on losing all the fat and gaining some muscle, myself.  Dan & I were praying every night, but no longer keep up the practice in the crowded room.  I have determined not to swear to any great extent, as it would spoil my witness. Dan has taken to it quite readily, however.

Feb. 15, 10:30 a.m.

                The boy had been keeping a very loose journal, only adding entries every week or so, as all that had happened was pretty dull to describe in said journal, and he hadn’t felt up to it, really.  He finally took pen in hand again and proceeded to relate of the toil, or lack thereof, that he and his friend had been through.

                It was painting mostly, as all else was already done or required specialization.

Learning to weld from Pinball Pete (so-named because he kept bonking his head on things)

Painting, and growing terrible muttonchops

Looking astern at the cluttered main deck, our sister-ship F/V Alaska Mist (before it burned) in the background

 They’d had a day off one Sunday, and decided to go to church with their friend, Eric.  The boy hadn’t been to church in a while, and wasn’t at all sure he wanted to go.  Once there, however, it was a good thing for the boy, and he enjoyed it immensely.

                He and his friend then proceeded to walk down the sidewalk in the University district to see what they would see.  They stopped in several used record & tape shops, and even purchased a few, had lunch in a Mexican cantina then moved on to the bus stop to get to the mall where the boy received his first mark of manhood. After his ear was pierced, the left the mall and went back to their ship, to gloat over their day’s adventures.

                Ah, what a grand time these two were having. Sometimes there was no work, so they wrote letters home, and to friends, or just went into town.  There were no parents, no rules, and they did as they pleased.

Doing as we pleased, which did not include showering

Underway for sea trails on a misty Seattle morning

The finished product

F/V Olympic heading out for sea trials, derelict ship in foreground, taken from Ballard Bridge

March 15, 9:06 p.m. – Exactly one month later.

                We’re 4 days out of Seattle, on the Gulf of Alaska, where rollers toss our 450-ton ship like a cork.

Dolphins keeping pace

Off the Canadian coast on the Inner Passage

Through the San Juan Islands

 I’ve been a bit seasick, but Dramamine and lack of work will chase it away.  Mostly we string bait jars, tie knots, sleep, eat, or watch movies.  It’s very easy.

                I took out my earring today, as it was so infected that it was swollen 4 times over, and had literally swallowed my gold post.  A bit painful and disappointing.  My tattoo is healing well, though, and looks very cool.

                We eat like kings, and I have put on a few pounds, 5 or 6, to be lost during the next 4 months.  I get along pretty well with everyone, better with Troy and Joaquin.  I’ve learned a bit of Spanish, and a few knots, which all comes in handy.

Merlin, Danny, Victor reviewing knots

                I’m already looking forward to getting a motorcycle, going home, going to Taylor, and seeing the gang. The Lord has blessed us beyond comprehension and while I don’t often acknowledge Him, I now formally thank you, Lord Jesus, for your guidance and help in our ventures.  Your praises cannot be sung loudly or long enough.  You are without comparison.  We deserve nothing, yet have everything. Praise the Lord Jehovah!

Sunday, March 18, 7:03 p.m.

                I hear Randy broke up with Michelle.  I suppose he’ll spend more time at home now, or perhaps they’ll get together again.  She was his life, everything he did was centered on their relationship.  I feel pretty badly for him.  I can only imagine how dejected he must feel.  Ah, Randy.  I wish I could spend some time with you, let you know I care.

                Today, I feel great.  No waves.  Yesterday was hell.  After 5 days of holding my guts together, last night they unraveled and let fly.  To be followed by the anchor chain clanking against the wall next to my head on every wave, all night.  The waves were very high, and Dan felt bad too.

                When I woke up I felt great, ate brekkie, washed the dishes for Sharmon, the only girl on the boat.  She loves it when I do the dishes for her.  After lunch, I did the dishes again, and she said, just within range of my hearing, “I think I’m beginning to like this guy!”  Not only that but she touched me!  She doesn’t touch anyone, usually, but she placed a hand gently on my shoulder and one on my back, and she said “John, I love it when you do the dishes for me, but where the *&#% do you keep putting the measuring cups?” It could only be love.  I do do a damn good job in the kitchen; it comes from my Honey Rock training.

                I was tooling around with Dan up on the second deck, learning the Lover’s knot and the Bowline, tossing a braided rope around like a Frisbee, cruising on a very sunny day through the Aleutian Islands when Kim (the skipper) spied a couple of pot buoys off in the distance.  He decided to swing by and pick them up. So we cruised over, snagged ‘em, pulled up the pot and found 8 or 10 cod. 

Cod - we ate it fresh every day and also used it for crab bait

We put the grabber on 3 and chucked it back in.  Joaquin gutted ‘em and Victor & Big John filleted them. We’ll have fish & chips tomorrow.  It was way exciting.  Tomorrow, we reach Akutan.

Akutan Island, Alaska

March 20 - I wrote a letter and story to myself and mailed it home, to remind me of the experience.

                

Dear John,

                 Tomorrow is Dan’s birthday and you get to give him that card you’ve been toting around since Jan. 9.  Today is Tuesday, your laundry day, and you really don’t have that much to wash.

                You’ve been away from home longer than you’ve ever been away before, a little over two months, and while you miss some of the people at home you really aren’t ready to go back yet.  When you do, you’re thinking, it will be in style, on a brand-new motorcycle.

                You took your earring out because it was badly infected.  As soon as it was out, your ear healed in about two days. It was goofy.

                You got seasick and puked, but didn’t tell anyone, so no one really knew but Dan.  Being seasick is the pits.  Your eyes ache, your head pounds, your stomach roils, it’s the worst.  But as soon as the rolls stop, you feel great.  It’s like a switch is thrown.

                You’re looking at the next four months with expectancy, and a little despair, because 4 months is a god-awful long time. All you can do is wait and see.

                Something is starting to dawn on you, a thing that is seeming to be extremely important, and something that you should pattern your life after.  Dan lives by it and you should too: anything that is worth having is worth going after 100%.  That means anything.  It has to do with your goal setting, also.  A motorcycle is worth having. French & Spanish are worth having.  A relationship with God and knowledge of the Bible are worth having.  Good friends are worth having.  Go get ‘em, Ace.

                                                                                                                               Your friend,

                                                                                                                               John Morris

                It wasn’t so much the fact that he was four thousand miles from home, nor was it that he was in the center of the Aleutian Island chain on a 187 ft. crabbing boat while an icy wind blew over the calm waters of the Alaska Gulf.  It was, he supposed, as he stood on the upper deck watching the sun set over the island mountains leaving a burning trail across the waves, it was the fact that he was not there.  He could have been rowing a sampan in China and he still would have felt the same; that feeling of want, of a fierce longing that fills your guts with an ache to be quenched only by immersing yourself in past memories, savoring them, then moving on to the next, and on, and on, like an old man in a nursing home who has nothing but his memories and a cold bed pan.  Only the old man will never again be able to create memories, while the boy knew that in just four months he would again be with the gang, spending the rest of the summer making memories, the same memories he would relive when he was old, if indeed that ever happened. 

                Still, with spring coming on and that vibrant expectancy of summer, which is always the best, he shivered in the cold of the coming Alaskan evening and longed to be with the gang, all on a ski trip, or maybe camping, huddled around a merrily popping campfire, laughing and telling stories under the stars, forming that special bond of a special moment, knowing it will never last but not caring; that’s what growing up was all about and that’s what the boy missed. Sure he was growing up, and fast, but it was always so much funner with a lot of close friends to do it with. 

                He wondered what was going on back in Chicago, who was going out with who, who was going where, who had something new in their life.  The funny thing was, he knew, they were all jealous of him and his friend because of the wild adventures they were having.

                “Keep moving”, he muttered, and turned to go.

May 19 ?

                This venture of ours has treated us well.  The first trip was tough, working 18 hours straight, sleep 6, up again, for 20 days.  But Dan & I both made about $1700.  We really got to know everyone well, and Dan & I made the shit list for not working hard enough.  Kim threatened to fire us if we didn’t work harder. Our bodies craved only sleep, blessed sleep, all else didn’t matter.

                I learned a lot of different music, all of it played very loud.  There was Eric, the guy everyone had it in for, who got canned at the end, John, a big fat guy who hurt his back on the 3^rd day and lay in his bunk the rest of the time, occasionally coming out to pack, me doing case-up (which I hate), life was a bitch.  But we did it.  We made it.  Don’t think. No past, no future, only NOW. Just Do It.  You. Bust. Your. Ass.

                Our feet turned numb and started to fall apart from jungle rot, we got saltwater sores on our wrists, snot dripped from our noses, our hands turned white & pasty, we went to bed damp every night but didn’t care, woke up still damp, not enough time to dry out, the hydraulics going constantly, 25 foot rollers, the stink of dead, rotting crab underneath the butcher stands, puking on the floor from the smell of the cookers.  Off-loading onto the Marlin, busting ass all day, ‘Maxi-Stow John’ – that’s me – earning respect by hard work.

                Then the second trip, 4 new faces: Jeff, a huge bear from Las Vegas, Matt, a chinless dough-boy who’s lived in London and thinks more than you’d give him credit for, Troy Sutor – Sharmon’s brother – and his girlfriend Mindy, a short, petite, pretty girl of 22 who has a child, rides a motorcycle, shows horses, and is not meant for this kind of life.

                The second trip lasted 25 days, not much work, mostly sleeping.  I’m about 15 lbs. heavy from the rich food but also much stronger and bigger than when I left.  This time we offloaded our one freezer full in St. Paul, a small island with numerous shipwrecks on its rocky, barren shores.

A barely-visible shipwreck on St. Paul Island

We offloaded onto the Yellowfin, a huge freighter with only 9 people on it.  A pretty neat set-up.  We lost Mindy, as she returned home to Idaho – for the best.

                Third trip, we’re 10 days into it, no much crab, no ice though, like last trip.  The butchers & packers are getting good and can empty the live tank in about 2 ½ hours.  I’ve gained much respect as a hard worker and am even looked to as a leader in some things.  I’ve worked in the freezer while Sean sleeps and it helps put muscle on my bones, as well as relieve the monotony of processing.  Every day I work as a deck hand at some time or another, whether I want to or not, because they need the help.  It’s good experience, and I don’t mind the work, but I take a lot of shit from the cocky deckhands and I don’t get paid enough to work out there, but I’m the best out of all the processors, so it’s me.  Brad, the first mate, and I are fast becoming friends.  I gained his respect by hard work and my attitude, which is different from everyone else as I try to live out my Christianity.  He’s a good guy.

May 26

                Not much happening, crab coming in slowly, freezers filling slowly, time going by slowly.  We’re very far north, about 30 miles from the Russian border. We’ll be offloading on St. Matthew island at the end of the month.

                I think about home a lot now, and long to see people.  I can hardly believe that Mattie & Cathy & Glen & Kari & Elissa & all my friends will be graduating in a week. I wonder how Mattie liked Colorado? Still a long time to go, it seems, and much money to be made to pay for college.

                I punched my earring back through and continue to clean it. It would suck to get it infected again. Six months is a long time to do this kind of thing, or be away from home.  Home is great, isn’t it?  It’s wonderful.  I surely do miss it. Here’s not bad, it’s just not great.  Home is definitely great.  At home, people love you all the time, you can do what you want, go where you want, talk to people worth talking to, get away from laziness, selfishness, power-trips, every-man-for-himself – surround yourself with friends who want the best for you, making you want to look out for them in return.  I’ve made some friends on this boat, Merlin, Javier, Brad, Victor, Brian, Sharmon – all people who care, are humble, hard-working and fun-loving.

May 27

                I look forward to going to Taylor very much. Surrounded by Christian people, open space, 5 hrs. from home, friends, football, dorm life, studying, writing, exams.  I wonder how long I’ll last before wanting to go somewhere.  I’d like to go to Mexico.  I think I’ll try to go during interim.  I’d also like to do a Wandering Wheels trip.  If I do get a motorcycle I’d like to drive to South Carolina some weekend, to see Cathy at Furman.  Furman!  Jeez, why is she going to Furman?  I hope Elissa decided on Taylor.  We’ll have some kind of fun there together.

                When I get home I’d like to project a seriously fun-loving attitude, with a little impishness thrown into it, be open, frank, honest, sincere, laugh a lot, tell funny stories, let people know how you feel about them, don’t hide your emotions, or be afraid to let your love show.  Just determine when is the right time for these things before you jump in.  Learn to control your tongue, leave some things unsaid, don’t swear, if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything.  When you start something, finish it, be it a job, a conversation, an argument, a thought, an idea.  Don’t ask anyone to do anything you wouldn’t do yourself. Work hard at whatever you do – give 100% - go all out.  Don’t even think about what other people will think of you – 90% of the time you’ll be wrong.  Don’t complain, even if you think you’re getting stiffed.

June 9

                As of tomorrow we will have exactly one month left.  EEEEEYAAAAHOOOO!!

                I’m looking greatly forward to going home, do some camping, swimming, biking, running, weightlifting, music listening, driving, lots of laughing, talking, bonding, and learning. Dan heard about something called Drive-Away, where you are paid to drive a car back to its point of origin.  Sounds like a plausible way to get home.

                We offloaded on the first of June, three thousand 70 lbs. boxes of frozen crab legs.  Troy Bygrave & I stacked every one, as fast as we could.  Boy, was I beat.  Then for a couple days we were on the crab and processing 24 hours a day.  Setting records and filling the freezer fast.  Now it’s not so good, but OK.  All around us are Russian long-liners dragging for whatever, thinking we’re in their territory.  Big boats that all look the same.

A rare calm morning on the Bering Sea 

A couple days ago it was 65 degrees and so sunny that I laid out and got burned a little.  4 more days of crabbing!

June 13

                We are a couple hours off St. Matthew’s.  All of our pots are stacked, plus some we picked up along the way. That was pretty cool, picking up lost pots.  One bag had three pots on it.  Kim came down from the wheelhouse and showed us that he really does know what he’s doing on deck.  Both Brad and Kim want me to come back in January as a deckhand.  I don’t think I’ll miss school to do it, though. I’ll see.

                Yesterday was a long, hard day, with bad attitudes flying. I need to go see some other people, need to get off this damn boat, get away from these same people I see every day.

June 14

                We didn’t process for as long as I thought at St. Matt’s, only about 12 hours or so, as we didn’t get an extension permit.  So we’re on our way to Dutch Harbor, to offload in Akutan.  Lots of people are going home, some of which I’ll be glad to see depart, others whom I’ll be sorry.  Brian, Brad, Alex.  Alex told me the other day that he liked me.  It was cool.  

                                I don’t want to see anyone from home until I lose this fat, makes me sick, I’m 20 lbs. overweight, what a nightmare.

End of Journal

Exploring an abandoned military base in Dutch Harbor

Climbing Amaknak Point in Dutch Harbor with Javier

Fishing trip to Beaver Inlet, Unalaska – the whole crew, 23 people in one truck.

Home

The reward!

Last Letter From Kong Kong and Po Po

My maternal granparents were missionaries in China and took the Chinese names for Grandfather & Grandmother - Kong Kong & Po Po.  This was the only letter I have from them, the last I ever recieved.  I love this letter - it encapsulates everything about them.

Vincent L. Crossett

605 Elizabeth Drive

Lancaster, PA 17601

(717) 394-8622

February 20, 1991

                Dear John,

                                We were very happy to get your letter. It will be great to see you when you can come out here.  We are praying for you every day – more than once as we do for all of our grandchildren.  We’re glad you have chosen Christian Ed. and Physical Ed. major.  That ought to fit you for work with kids at camps.

                Don’t get so serious that you kill your joy of living and your effectiveness in your walk with the Lord. It is natural for you to crack jokes. It is because the world is in sin and pain that we need to show the joy of the Lord in our hearts. “The joy of the Lord is your strength.” Neh. 8:10.  You cannot attract young people to the Lord with a sad countenance. It is true when we see the sin and pain in the world it makes us sad, but showing your sadness won’t help. We have forgiveness and life to offer them – and we can rejoice in the joy which the Lord gives us. We need to show that joy in order to attract others to us and through us to the Lord. It is a real joy to lead someone to the joy that is in the Lord.  It is only the Lord that can save a person – we are the ones who introduce them to the Lord – but He saves them.  We are His tools – His instruments – but the work is His and we can enter into the joy that comes from one soul who receives the Lord as Salvation.

                One thing that is a concern of mine is that you say you rarely have personal devotional times, nor do you pray often.  Get a good devotional guide – “Daily Light”, “Our Daily Bread” put out by Radio Bible Class. Or read a chapter of the Bible each day. Start with John’s gospel, read Acts followed by Romans. 10 minutes – preferably in the early morning is good.  Once you have made it a habit it will be easier.

                Don’t give up your joking – so long as they are not shady jokes. Humor makes life more livable, and takes the tension away.

                Satan will always attack when he can get an advantage – beware of him – but don’t let him get you down.  If you make a mistake – Christ is a forgiving Lord – and He loves you and wants you to enjoy life to the full in all things that honor Him.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              We love you very much,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Kong Kong

Dear John,

                God does have a great work for you.  He has given you special gifts to use for Him. One is your great sense of humor. This is a blessing from the Lord. Being a Christian does mean yielding your whole life to Christ.  Feed on the word, memorize it, pray daily, draw near to God. You will not lose your popularity, you will become a Christian leader, not a weak follower. Set aside time each day for prayer and Bible reading.  Keep that time sacred, even if it means getting up a half hour early, it is important for your walk with God. Don’t be afraid to yield to God and obey Him. “He has showed thee, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God.” Micah 6:8. God will use you to be a blessing.  Look for humor in the Bible. It is there.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            We love you much and pray for you,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Po Po

Burkina Faso Journal

Burkina Faso, Oct. 2 – 18 1989

Oct. 2, 1989 6:20 NY time

                I’m sitting in JFK airport in New York looking out at all the traffic flowing through the tangle of streets that weave around any large airport, made up of taxis, buses, limos and people.  It is wet here but not raining, and very foggy. An airport is a busy place.  My plane is boarding for Paris now, gotta run.

Oct. 3, 3:00 a.m. Paris time.

                Been on this Air France plane for a god-awful long time, and it will be even longer before I get off.  We just ate – it was alright – duck, peas, shrimp & mayo, salad, apricot pastry.

                The lady on the end of our row is very well educated in the school of life.  She knows 6 languages – English, Spanish, French, Mandarin Chinese, an African dialect, and Swedish.  She’s been all over and is actually concerned about world problems and interested in all sorts of topics, with good ideas on all of them. She’s obviously a thinker.  The people behind me don’t speak English; they’re an older couple, and so they didn’t check their dog in, instead they hid him in a picnic basket and carried him on.  Once he barked and everyone looked a bit concerned.  Even the dog has a passport. The people up one and to the left are drunk as we speak.  They were pretty uptight at the beginning of the trip, but after two bottles of wine apiece (there’s three of them) they were much more loose and seemed to enjoy themselves immensely.

                On the flight to NY I sat next to a girl who is a Mennonite.  She was born near Champaign-Urbana, now lives in Waukesha, WI and goes to school in Goshen, IN at a Mennonite school.  But now she’s going to St. Andrew’s College in Scotland (it’s an Episcopal college) just to travel and get away.  Mennonites are pacifists, naturalists, purists, back-to-basics-type people who believe we should live the way Christ wants us to – simplistically, I guess. 

                Everyone just turned off the lights, I see the main movie is on.  I guess it’s too bad I can’t get my ridiculous headphones in the little plug.  Maybe I’ll saw some logs.

Oct. 3, 6:34 a.m. Paris time

                As we speak we are descending from our cruising altitude of 27,000 ft. into gay Paris.  I did catch a few zzzzs and am a better man for it.  We just had breakfast – bread, O.J., tea, and some sort of airplane Jell-O slop w/ fruit inside.  It was decent.

                The guys to my upper left are sleeping it off.  Sleeping like the dead, mind you.

                I’ve been remembering a little more French as we go, and was working very minimally on language relations with the stewardess, who’s cute.  Too bad I keep embarrassing myself, like talking to Jeff about something and throwing my arms wide just when she happened to be walking by – no appendix and lower liver damage there.  Ah well. 

                Safe trip so far, and still some more air miles to go, not to mention land travel in Burkina Faso. Last time I peed was in New York.  Come on, Paris!

                The Lord’s been watching and protecting us with His faithful vigilance (Psalms 121: ? – neither slumber nor sleep … see thy going out and thy coming in.)

                Contacts are kind-of burning – call it quits for now.

8:25 a.m. – Paris

                De Gaul Aero port lounge for all ticket-holding passengers.  I’m sitting here in a chair made of bungee cords, waiting for the restaurant upstairs to open so we can finally dine on sumptuous fare, watching a bank of 3 T.V.s, all showing dif. things.  One is rewinding a tape and has been doing so for at least 10 min., one is tele-shopping, the French Home Shopping Network, one is some French cartoon.

                We landed safely to an overcast French day, but on the way down the sun on the field of clouds was beautiful.  Sure was great to get off that plane.  Yeah, sure, we’ll get on another one, a DC-10, mind you, and will be on for just as long, but still, you get sick of one plane, you know?  The movie last night was some Phil Collins movie – ‘Buster’ – I believe.

                This Japanese guy was just cursing on the phone.  I’ve no idea who he was cursing or what he was saying, but boy, it’s times like that that your imagination comes alive isn’t it? 

                Remind me to take my anti-malarial pills today.  It would be bad to forget.  I’m pretty tired at this point.  Good thing I won’t have jet-lag or anything.  I’m in France – Paris, to be exact, but it sure doesn’t seem like it, because I can’t see a bit of the city.  Ah, well.  C’est la vie.

Oct. 3, 9:55 p.m.? Ouagadougou time

                Wow.  What a nightmare I’ve just been through. First off, disembarking from the New York – Paris leg in Paris, my little travel wallet tripped the metal detector.  I guess it was the zipper.  So, here’s John, like a dufus with his wallet under his other shirt, has to strip down in De Gaul Airport, Paris, France, like some sort of side-show.  It was funny.  Then we sat forever, then went around to all the tourist trap shops with naked mannequins and C.D.s for 360 francs.  We then all got in a line to board our UTA DC-10, identical to the one that got blown apart over Chad 3 weeks ago.  They let us in by fives and searched our carry-on luggage.  We stood in line forever.  Oh, did I mention I last peed at 9:15 a.m. in the Paris airport?  Remember that time.

                We boarded the DC-10 and sat for 1 hr. 45 min.  It’s not like any of us were tired or anything, while they counted the passengers 3 times.  Finally we took off.  Somewhere, two rows ahead, a baby was screaming.  Somewhere, music was playing.  Somewhere, someone’s head was pounding – mine.  I figured if I stopped chewing gum (I’d been chewing 4 pieces non-stop from Chicago), my nausea would go away.  It was a lie.  Oh, did I tell you that before we took off, I had to take a leak?  Remember that.

                The flight lasted forever. I thought we’d all die of old age before we landed.  But, land we did, after going over some beautiful red dunes on the Sahara desert, with the clouds dotting the sky below us, their shadows coasting silently on the ground.  It was a thing to remember.  By the time we landed, my eyes were floating, I was so full.  ‘Finally’, I thought, as I disembarked into the humid 80 degree evening in Ouagadougou, ‘finally, I’ll find a place and let it all hang out.  And it will feel soooo gooood’.  Yeah.  Another lie.  More lines, this time in the heat.  We had to go into little cubicles where Marxist army men searched our belongings, jabbering away in French!?  Then more lines to have the police stamp it (our passports) – remember, I still haven’t gone to the bathroom – then more lines, plus carrying heavy luggage.  I almost lost it.  Then more lines through customs, where they searched our belongings again and made us leave our solar panels and workings behind.  Finally, I ran behind two empty gasoline storage tanks and let fly for at least a minute, maybe more.

                All these black guys kept asking to take our luggage.  We told them a definite ‘no’, but they picked them up and carried them anyway.  Then they demanded payment.  Ah, well, a man’s gotta make an honest living.  We then loaded the stuff in a pickup truck, which I rode in with a black guy who spoke about 10 words of English to my 10 words of French – we hit it off fine.  There were more mopeds on the road than I’ve ever seen. And all the drivers are either really good, really lucky, or awful, I’m not sure which.  Then we came to the mission home where we will spend the night.  We met Ruth, Wightman’s daughter, and a lady from Australia with a cool accent, and some other people with a million kids.  We had African beef (tough as leather) and potatoes – it was great.

                Now I’m turning in – got to beat jet lag, you know.  At least I’m going to bed with the knowledge that yes, you can hold your bladder for 10 hours, 15 min.  I think that’s a record.

Oct. 4, 3:14 p.m., Ouagadougou time.

                Remember the time I told you last night?  It was an hour fast.  It should have been 8:55.  It only seemed like 9:55. 

                Oooo, some good stories today.  I woke at 7:00 (actually 6:00) with a full bladder.  Weighing my chances of getting to sleep again w/out having to get up, I finally jumped off the top bunk, without waking anyone, freed myself of my burdens and slept again till 10:00 (actually 9:00) when breakfast was being served.  We had bread.  And water.  It was just fine with me.  Then we all walked over to a school, just down the street and across a soccer field made of rocks, showing our white, rich faces for the first time.  We got stared at quite a bit, and I did quite a bit of staring at the goats, the rags for shirts a couple of kids were wearing, the dark holes in the wall that they call a tailor shop and bakery. We went to this school and Wightman got change for some vouchers.  Then we came back and hopped in the van for a little marketplace fun.

                Speaking of fun, driving here is a blast.  There’s at least 25 mopeds for every one car on the streets, and they are all over the place.  We went to the market and it was an instant rush of black merchants vs. rich white folks.  It was awesome.  I just stood back and took it all in, wide-eyed, refusing a trinket now and then, rubber sandals, sacred necklaces, hats.  Then we hit the food section.  Wham!  The smell hit like a fist, only to get stronger.  The combination of dried fish, onions, and excrement was intense.  It was great.  We went all over, with a veritable entourage, mostly the same people all the time.  It’s funny, a person will assign himself to you, being your helper, guiding you along, all innocently faithful to you, then when you’ve arrived where you wanted to go, or are finished w/ your business, they want dough for their services, when you never asked in the first place.  Nothing is given.  It’s dog-eat-dog.

                One little guy attached himself to me, not trying to sell me anything, but actually trying to understand me.  He spoke literally about 3 words of English.  I spoke a lot of French today and it felt great.  I don’t know how well I did, but I sure had fun.  He guided me around, sticking by my side. He was wearing a painter’s hat and I gave him my bandana.  He was very happy about that and went about showing his friends.  They were all jealous.  They all came up to me wanting to trade things for my passport pouch – my Eddie Bauer, $20 passport wallet.  I laughed and said “Non, non, je besoin de”.  Whatever that means, I’ve no idea, but it sure sounded good, and they left me alone. All day I kept saying ‘Non’ or ‘Ne l’argent pas’.  This kid’s name was Accent and he was pure-D cool.  He could hold his own in a fight and come out smiling. When I gave him my bandana he held my hand with a big grin.  We were pals.

                We left that hellhole and went to buy electrolyte for the batteries.  Then we returned home only to leave again to buy lunch.  We had meat on sticks, spicy as hell, and bread.  Tres bien!  While buying the sticks I saw a vulture up close.  Ugly! But they are a protected bird because they eat garbage & dead things.  There were a lot of them circling the market place.  Did I mention that the marketplace looks like something from Chicago?  All glazed rock and cement.  Very nice, not very fitting.

                We’re packing up to leave for Fada N’Gourma now.  Be back soon.

11:20 p.m.

                Well we packed and sat.  And sat.  Then we sat.  I was so bored I started reading Swiss Family Robinson.  Just as it got good, we went to the local grocery store, where there wasn’t even enough room to go in.  Then we went and paid for the room. Paul, he’s the guy that drove me home from L’Aeroport and is getting our things out of customs, came and told us that we could probably get our things tomorrow, for about $400, much less than we’d expected.  Praise the Lord!  We then left for Fada N’Gourma.

                It was a hellish ride.  For 2 -3 hours we were bombarded by the nightmarish quality of the Ruten’s (the people who drove us to Fada N’Gourma, and are missionaries out here) kids screaming, crying, whimpering, shouting, asking questions incessantly – “Dad, do we have our lights on?   Do we have our brights on? What’s that little blue light?  Andrew went pee-pee! I’m thirsty! Are we almost there?  Just a few more ways to go yet, right?”  AAAAAAAAA!

                There was a storm brewing on the south, the lightning flashing, illuminating a few dark, piled cumulonimbus clouds.  It was powerful and gorgeous.  We finally arrived and had supper – bread – it was great.  We saw a gecko lizard on the wall and heard it speaking Tic! Tic! Tic!  Pretty neat stuff.  Then we (Jeff & I) returned to our room, on the way asking Ruth what kind of tree was outside.  It’s called a flamboyant tree and it looks like great fun to climb, all long, smooth-limbed and wavy.  Then Jeff and I took showers and here I am.

                Now, to summarize the trip so far:  traveling a long ways sucks, but the place, while hot and not really sunny, has a certain aesthetic beauty about it, even though it’s all scrub land.

An aesthetic beauty

                 The people are friendly, but still, we are white strangers and don’t know their language or customs.  It’s great to be here, and I definitely couldn’t have done it without the help of my friends and family and definitely the Lord.  I haven’t spent a lot of time w/ Him lately.  It seems I’m using Him more as a crutch or a name to hide behind, or only to say a quick thanks and maybe sometimes mean it, maybe sometimes not, or call in times of trouble.

                Au revoir et bon soir.

Oct. 5, 3:36 p.m.

                You know, I just realized that you really don’t need a nice comfortable home, good food, instant, pure water, transportation, entertainment, a cool room, electricity, and a common language to live.  BUT IT SURE MAKES LIFE A LOT MORE ENJOYABLE! It boosts morale, makes you smile more, makes you want less, and makes you not hate your surroundings the way I hate this grubby little room, with its cracked walls and hard beds, a toilet that’s a block away, you want me to go on?  I sure do miss my lazy, comfortable surroundings in Wheaton (but not my job). 

                This place is pretty hot, I’d say about 90 degrees or more, and it’s way humid too.  The bugs aren’t very bad, only the heat, although I’ve felt worse there too.  I’ve taken no pictures yet, but I think I’m about to take a self-portrait in my grubby hellhole.

Stir crazy

                 Paul still hasn’t come with the panels, so work still can’t begin.  I’m going stir crazy.

                We got up at 7:00 this morning, ate oatmeal & bread, then drove out to the Bible school where we will put up our panels.  I’ll take pictures of it.  I got up to stand in the back of the truck, with the wind whipping me at 60 mph, and a few bugs dying as they struck me at that speed also.  I thank God none hit me in the eye.  We spent the morning at the school, poking about.  I climbed a tree and got a spider bite or two on my leg – no worries, they’re not poisonous.  A guy named Andrew, from New Zealand, showed us around.  We then returned, ate a snack, and Jeff, Wightman and I went walking about to find the infirmary.  After several vain attempts at communicating with the villagers, we finally just walked around and came back for lunch.  The lunch, served by some missionaries here, was excellent, tomatoes, cukes, and an Italian dish, then cake w/ frosting.  Then it was siesta time, till Paul came.  Well, he still hasn’t come, and this is the warmest siesta I ever endured.  I think I’ll take a walk.

Oct. 5 11:25 p.m.

                Never took that walk.  I went to help with the cutting and drilling of the frame.  This is a serious fly-by-night operation.  No sophisticated equipment for us.  A 10 cent angled piece of plastic and voila!  We know where to angle our panels. We drilled it, rust-proofed it, and let it dry.  Then I had some time to kill so I tried to climb the flamboyant tree.  I never did get up it.  So I practiced handstands and flips in the yard.  This attracted the attention of several villagers, 2 of whom came to try with me.  It was great fun, and it turned into a contest of sorts, to see who could do the best flips and cartwheels.  Then they left and Andrew (from Christchurch, New Zealand) came over for dinner.  We had peanut stew, a serving of rice with, well, peanut stew on top.  We had salad, & water.  Peanut stew has meat, tomatoes, spices, and peanut butter in it.  It’s great.

                Wight showed Jeff & I a plant called lemon weed.  When you crush it, it smells strongly of lemons.  After we ate we played Rook till 11:00, so it was for about 3 hours.

                Paul came!  With the panels and all.  It was great and lifted our spirits tremendously.

                Got to turn in, breakfast at 7:30.

Oct. 6 6:30 p.m.

                Worked all day today!  We’re almost finished.

Jeff & Wightman wire it up

Tomorrow we wire & put up the lights. Got to take a shower now.

11:01 p.m.

                Well, I’m tired. As I hurriedly stated before, we did get much of the work done on the school, and will finish tomorrow.  I got to speak a little French to the guy that was helping us, but am not very confident as far as rapping w/ someone.

                On the way home from the school, I rode in the back, as usual, (a very fun experience, out in the air, the wind whipping in your face, waving to kids). 

Riding in the back - I could do this all day

                  The sun was setting and the dark storm clouds loomed overhead, and I was tired and it was very peaceful.  Then Jeff hit a puddle and splashed the windshield.  The wipers didn’t work, so I crawled on the roof and wiped it with a bandana, then a glove to stop the smearing.  Then he did it again, so I took off my shirt and wiped it.  It was fun, on the roof of a truck going 60, holding on w/ my toes.

                There are 3 lanes of traffic here.  Bikers & walkers on either side of the road, and cars in the middle.  We ate and it was good.  It’s a dish called saamu and tikpindi. The saamu is a millet dish that looks like chocolate Malto-meal that’s cold.  The tikpindi is a hot sauce that you dip the saamu in.  It was real African food. Then we played Rook again.  Andrew was there (he has the coolest accent – “got a wee bit of a nap this afternoon, did ya?”).

Awesome Kiwi Andrew 

He and I lost big time.  When I left at 10 min. till 11:00, I was 260 points in the hole.

                Well, must rest now, work demain. (Very cool today, very comfortable).

Oct. 7, 7:34 a.m.

                Something very weird happened last night.  I woke up after having fallen pretty much unconscious.  There was something hard under my back.  I retrieved it only to find that they were my shorts!  I had absolutely no recollection of taking them off, and still to this very minute it remains a mystery.  Secondly, it was cold enough to warrant covers.  Strange doings in wild, untamed Africa, my friends.

8:50 p.m.

                Well, well.  A day with ups, a day with downs.  We ate breakfast and headed for work.  The day had dawned clear and sunny, and we were anticipating a short day.

                Actually, I just lied. We didn’t head for work, we went to the market.  It was neat.  We bought nails and hinges and more angle iron.  While in the market we saw some dancers and drummers doing an awesome dance.  They would throw their shoulders back & forth very fast, while lifting their knees high one at a time.  Then we went looking for the right size screw at the woodshop in the market. They had nice things there!  The best was a picture of Arnold Schwarzenegger that was framed.  It was very cool. Then we went to work. 

                Man, the Africans are sure aware of us.  A white face sticks out like a sore thumb.  They’re still friendly though.  Riding in the back of the truck (one of life's real pleasures).

There’s only one paved road in Burkina Faso – this one

                  I always wave to people, and no matter how serious their faces look, they will smile and wave back almost immediately.  There are all walks of life here.  The little kids are very cute, and the old men and women are very ugly.  There are no fat people here!  Yeah!  One or two obese women or policemen will waddle into your vision every now and then, but they are few and far between.  No, everyone is skinny as a rail. 

                We went to work and got hung up on some snags, which made Wight very distressed, impatient and angry, which affected our work.

Wired & ready to mount

                We worked till one, then Wight cut his hand on a nail in a rafter, so we went home for lunch.  We returned at 3 in the hot, hot sun, and finished up.

Into the spider-infested crawl-space

                  All the lights worked but one, and after some experimentation, we decided the fixture was bad, so Wight and I drove the 10 miles back to the mission to get a new one, then 10 miles back and put it in.  We then took pictures and went home.

                A woman did our laundry today, so I had clean undies again, not that I was ever out.  Everyone on the mission had dinner together, with hamburgers (with real ketchup!  The Big Treat for missionaries), potato salad, shrimp chips, roasted African corn, tomatoes, cukes, & water.  I lost my appetite when I bit into a tomato and a bug at the same time.  Talk about a lousy taste in your mouth.  I mean, that bug burned.  I went searching for a place to spit, found it, spit, and returned, leaving the remaining tomato slyly on the counter. Then cake & pineapple for dessert.

                Wight asked me if I’d like to live in Africa and I said no.  I’m very spoiled to the luxury of America.  However, I believe it is a blessing from God, and while I shouldn’t flaunt it or think too highly of it, I think since I have it I should appreciate it and enjoy it.  My comfort and privileges, that is. 

                Wight almost hit a sheep today.  I was so close I could have touched it.

                It was hot today, damn hot.

                Andrew told us today that Burkina Faso means ‘Homeland of the Fathers of the Courageous Men’. Kind of neat, huh.

Sunday, Oct. 8, 10:15 a.m.

                10 more days to go!  I can’t tell you how much I miss home.  The season (my favorite), plus the cool, crisp air, the clear days, turning leaves, my bike, whipping along the road, strong, warm showers, people that don’t smell, friends to talk to, shopping at Stratford.  Mostly I guess I miss my own age group.  My peers, if you will.  I have no one to talk to, so I don’t talk much at all.  I try to be serious, well, I don’t want to be serious, but the kind of humor I have doesn’t go over well with these people.  Sure, I crack a couple of jokes, throw a little sarcasm here & there, but mostly I’m quiet.  I’m pretty unsure of myself, as I don’t know where I stand with Wight especially, but also Ruth, Jeff, and Andrew.  I’m the youngster, I’m the liability, it feels like.  If there’s a holdup, it’s my fault.  They do all the work and I’m the lackey, because I don’t know what I’m doing.  It irks me, but mostly at myself.  On this trip I can honestly say I’m a loner.  I’m pretty much on my own.  It’s good for me to see how I act in a grown up world, and how I relate to people.

                 To be honest, I’m not completely sure why I’m here. To get out of working?  Well, I’m sure glad not to be metering, I don’t miss Tyndale at all. To travel and see the world?  That’s pretty good, but there’s not too much beauty around here.  It’s mostly like living on the farm, the heat, the bugs.  Or like summer camp, only no friends to play with.  I miss the youth group a lot, all the kids, laughing, enjoying each other’s company.

                The good points of the trip?  Seeing other cultures, practicing French and knowing I want to be fluent in it, getting to know some missionaries, seeing how missions really is, how it works, how they live, learning how to wire lights, seeing how to raise support on my own, seeing how I react to being thrown in with people I don’t know, working and living with them in a poor, strange culture and land, realizing I’ve been blessed, I’ve grown up with plenty, I appreciate that bountiful blessing, a great home, church, school, health.  I might have been born here, but I wasn’t.  Is this what I’ll be like when I grow up and move away from home?  I doubt it.  I will have matured much more by then, and will cope with change much better. 

                This morning we got up at 8:00. We went to church, a small brick building with concrete benches, full to bursting with hot, sweaty, smelly black people, all singing and clapping.  We sat for an hour and a half, while the guy talked in French about Nicodemus & Jesus – “Go and do likewise” was the message.  I got a lot out of it.  It was god-awful hot.

2:05 p.m.

                You know, it seems that when you get everything figured out, God, whether or not you ask Him to, sends something along to change your mind.  I was lying on my bed, reading, when Jeff came in.  He flopped down on the bed and asked a few questions, and I did the same to him, and eventually we got to talking, and I unloaded how I felt and he was very understanding and told me he’d try to help out more in the future. Thank you, Lord, for such a kind man.  He really is about the nicest guy I ever met.  He was very understanding, and told me he feels some of the same pressures I do, with Wight so stressed out when he works & all.

                                Jeff Vandermolen can read

                He said it’s good for him to see Ruth again, because they were pretty serious in high school and college, and now that he’s married it’s good to solidify their friendship. He said he’s got one brother, Ed (Alyssa’s dad), and four sisters, the oldest being 52 yrs. old!  His mom is 72!  He’s the youngest.  When he lived in Wheaton, he lived on Geneva road in the mushroom house, right next to where the LeMares used to live.  He worked at a hardware store for a while after 8^th grade, and worked for BFI (Browning Ferris Industries) garbage collection for a couple years in high school. He says after he and his wife move from their ranches in Wyoming to Wheaton, he will work with Ed in real estate development, especially their Jellystone campground in Wisconsin.  His wife will try to get her teaching degree and teach 2 – 5 graders, maybe at the Grammar School.  He went to Letourneau College in Texas for a semester, then moved back and went to C.O.D., graduated from there, and went to Bethel College for two years.

                Then we went to lunch, where I got to understand Wight a little better.  He said he grew up in Columbia, SC. His one brother was killed when Wight was in high school.  He drowned in a creek.  He might have been murdered for his money.  He was drunk at the time.  His older brother was killed when he and a friend, both drunk, hit a bridge abutment.  He said his older sister smoked herself to death, died of lung cancer.  He accepted Christ in 1950.

                So the noontime was a great success in our becoming a team and getting along better by understanding each other.  Now it’s nap time. Tomorrow we leave for Piela and Nindangou.

This way to Nindangou

               

                I feel better now, about where I am and why I’m here, and what good I’m doing here.  I still think I like France better.  It’s more civilized. The air and the heat out here make a person sweat, but not only that, there’s something in the air that makes you stink, no matter how much deodorant you put on.  It’s a unique smell, but everyone smells the same, if that makes sense.  It’s a very rank, rancid odor, that’s almost unbearable.  So you think to yourself, “Since we all smell the same, who’s to complain?”

11:30 p.m.

                We cut the angle iron into sections we can travel with, 79 inches long. Then we rested some more, and went out to the school that we worked at.  We turned on the lights in the dark and it felt really good to see them go on.  We were all grinning, and we took some pictures too.

It’s working!

                 Then we returned, ate some soup & bread and went to church at 7:30. We sang some songs and then I gave a short testimony, then songs, then Jeff spoke, song, Wightman spoke.  He spoke at length and got very emotional. Then we went to Ruth’s house and played Dutch Blitz and sucked lemon drops.

                Early tomorrow morning we leave for Piela.

Oct. 9, 9:27 p.m.

                Halfway done!  We got up this morning, ate breakfast and left for Piela, with the back of the truck full to bursting and the head of the Church of Burkina Faso at the wheel.  Ruth, Jeff & I sat in back.  We played a quick game of “I’m going to France…”, but Jeff caught on right away.  We rode in the back of the truck all day, talking about pizza, clothes, and having a blast.  The sun beat down, then it rained a bit, and the ever-present red dust swirled behind us.

                We reached Piela, had soup & bread, then went out to the school in Nindangou.  We took some serious back roads to get there.  We got there, measured and put in some wires.

Storing the sun

The buildings are relatively new, only 2 years old, and very nice.

New school

                 After about an hour and a half there, we came home as it got dark.  All along our trip, we waved to at least 80% of the people, and they exploded into waves & smiles & cries of “Ca va?  Ca va?”

                We returned home where the generator had been turned on, so the lights were on, and we went to Cathy’s – a girl from Australia, Melbourne, to be exact, for dinner.  Erica, from Sweden, with a most beautiful smile, and another woman were there too, and the meal was absolutely delicious: rice, a ground bean (not ground up, but from the ground), peas, then chocolate cake w/ cherries, & tea for dessert.  It was excellent, and we played with the six puppies that are the cutest things I ever saw.  They roll around and chew your finger and your shoelaces.

Best. Puppies. Ever.

                 Then we returned to the house and cut and drilled angle iron until 9:45, when they said they would shut off the power.  I just started writing this when the lights went out, but I got a flashlight and that’s how I continued writing.

                This place is a pit, and the dogs are howling outside, the mosquitoes are inside, and I’m quite sunburned, all-in-all a good day.  I learned a few Australian words from Andrew and Cathy: ‘sussed’, i.e. to suss something out – work it out, solve it, ‘burke’, a stupid person, dufus, ‘pontiferous poohbah’,  a bothersome person.

                Have to get up at 6:15 tomorrow.

Tuesday, Oct. 10, 12:15 p.m.

                I’m sitting outside the school at Nindangou, where the sun is shining very brightly, it’s about 95 degrees, and the flies are all over the place.  I’m very sunburned and I feel fine. I’ve got an African child standing 2 feet to my right, just staring at me.  Now he just sat down.  He doesn’t say anything, he’s just near me. It’s kind of cool.

                Things are going very well today.  We (Jeff & I) put up the panels and got some more sun.  I took some pictures. 

Jeff, slowly cooking

Me, quickly cooking

                 The drive out this morning was beautiful, the sky crystal clear, and the sun beaming down, as we rode in the back of the truck.  A Piela woman got on outside Piela for a ride into town.  The whole trip she had one breast out nursing a baby.  It was rather embarrassing, and I didn’t know where to look.  I got a picture of her from the back.

As Nature intended

                We just ate lunch with the teacher here, along with our driver and another guy.  It was rice and chicken.  It was good.  I made a paper airplane for the kid.  His dad took it and threw it on the roof.  He didn’t mean to, ‘cause the thing didn’t fly.  It was funny.

Airplane rescue

Oct. 11, 9:20 a.m.

                Haven’t had time or lighting to finish up yesterday.  They got the paper airplane down, by the way.

                After lunch we hustled our buns and finished up by 4:30.  You want to talk about pride!  We were all so proud, we was fit to bust.  We held a dedication service for it, just a time of prayer.  Then we went home, seeing a beautiful sunset on the way there.  I wanted to snap it, but couldn’t get a clear shot.

                Yesterday I ate raw peanuts too, straight from the ground. They taste like raw peas. To celebrate last night we had sirloin steak (African steak – very tough) and mashed potatoes, as well as tea and cake.  Then we played Rook, and I ate gorp (peanuts and raisins) till I died.  Then the power went out and we got out a hurricane lantern and played w/ that.  I lost every time.

A complete ass

                This morning we woke up after a night from hell. The cacophony of donkeys, roosters, dogs, pigs, children, geckos, and birds was loud all night. It was a nightmare. We had breakfast – bread and tea – then drove out to a school for girls.

Rockstar status

 It was hilarious.  I guess they hadn’t seen a boy for 3 years.  I felt like the most popular kid in school after he made a great speech.  There were so many hands to shake, I didn’t know which one to grab.  Then we went to the infirmary. 

                It made me sick and sad to see all the sick, poor, hungry, filthy, old and young people, none smiling, all wanting something.  I felt even worse because, as we left this morning, I saw a puppy writhing on the ground.

Always check under your tires for sleeping puppies

I thought we had run over him. I was proved right.  He was dead, and I saw it happen. I didn’t tell anyone, but I guess it’s not my fault, as I couldn’t have done anything after the fact.  I should have checked under the tires, dammit.  I’m pissed.  What with the sick people there, w/ little hope, the 50% infant mortality rate, and a dead puppy, I’m very pensive and sad. These people live in mud & grass hovels all their lives, and can’t do a damn thing about it. They don’t know any better.

                I’ve been blessed beyond understanding.  So has everyone I know, everyone in the U.S. almost.  We have so much compared with these people.  Yet we don’t appreciate it.  But I realize now that I also love my worldly possessions, and it would be very difficult to give them up.  I’m not as tough and rugged as I thought.  I like to have the comforts and luxuries of life.  I like them a lot.  I’m glad I have them and can go back to them.  How in the world to these missionaries stay happy and satisfied, living in these conditions, working with these people and working all day in an infirmary full of dying people?  It’s a mystery to me.

Wednesday, Oct. 11, 9:09 p.m.

                Just got back from a Bible study. We read several verses on the topic of why our prayers are or are not answered. It was very helpful.  I saw some things I can improve on, such as a clear conscience, obeying God’s will, pray wholeheartedly, in other words, pray hard, concentrating on God. 

                There’s a new girl here from Switzerland.  She looks Italian.  She’s pretty. We’re taking her to Mahadaga tomorrow with us.

                We left Piela at 10:00 and travelled all day. We stopped in the market once, where Ruth and I bought Cokes, then we drove down and bought a case of Coke.  I got sick of everyone staring at me, there in the back of the truck.  I’m sure it would be better if I spoke French.  Then I could actually communicate with these people.  Ruth bought Jeff & I some baked peanut butter rings.  They were great.  You can get 5 for 6 francs, or a penny & a half.  Then we left, and I took a picture of a bus w/ about 20 goats on top.

                We came back to Fada N’Gourma at about 1:30, unloaded and Bagandujua, our driver (the president of the Church of Burkina Faso) left.  We had French bread pizza for lunch, then I went back up to our room and read till about 7:00, when we went for supper, which was soup and bread.

                 I’m pretty badly sunburned on my face & thighs, and it hurts some. I put Solar Caine on my thighs and skin lotion on both, to keep it soft and flexible.

                Andrew, from New Zealand, is a great guy.  He shook my hand and told me “Ahl sey ye latah”.

                I feel sad about the dog.  I’ll never be able to forget seeing him die, waving his legs in the air, then falling over on his side and laying still.  At first I thought he was playing, but he kept it up for too long.  It’s not my fault, I keep telling myself.

                I made a bet with Jeff on how many people would comment on my face.  He said 8 out of 8, I said 5 or 6 out of 8.  I was right, I got at least five comments about how red it was. My new African nickname is ‘RedMan’.

RedMan

               So many impressions go through my head every day that it’s impossible to write down every thought and word, no matter how much I’d like to. Africa is different, very, very different from where I live. It’s somewhat beautiful, in a scrubby kind of adventurous way.

Adventurous scrubland

               The people are dirt poor, and will let their children die of malnutrition, rather than give them peanuts, which are plentiful, because peanuts bring them money – less peanuts, less money.  They ship all their supplies in from France, so you can buy surprising things in the market, stuff you wouldn’t expect, or I didn’t expect anyway: calculators, pens, pads of paper, water, real food, kerosene, just everything. Too bad no one has money to buy it with.

                I think next time I go on a trip I’ll bring either a camcorder, or a micro-cassette player, and / or a nicer camera.

                Tomorrow we leave for Mahadaga, stay till Sunday, come back Sunday, stay O.N. here (Fada) till Monday morning, have the dedication service at the Bible school here, leave for Ouagadougou, arrive Monday afternoon, then shop all Tuesday and leave on the plane Tuesday night.

                I’m pretty confused at this point, about most things in general, like what I’ve learned on this trip, why I learned it, did I mature at all, how come I feel far away from God, when I know He’s right there, with us all the time, watching me right now, caring for me.  Have I changed at all?  Should I change?  Is there something I’m missing?  I guess I’ll be confused all my life, so if I get some basics down, I can make it.  It’s just those basics that are tough to nail down.  I guess that’s where the Ten Commandments come in, huh.  The Lord is watching and constantly blessing us all here and wherever we go.  What a strong prayer base we must have!

                I’m once again feeling the pressures of being overweight and disliking myself.  It’s a very mild case though.   

                I dread going back to work.  Ah, well, 5 more days.

                Oh yes, before I forget, Wight said a funny quote. His cousin’s mother used to tell them when they were bad, “I’ll beat your eyes out!” I thought that was new and funny and useable.

                We leave early tomorrow.

Thursday, October 12, 10:21 a.m.

                I’m sitting beside the road to Mahadaga, in the sun that’s just starting to get hot, waiting for the engine to cool down.  We threw the belt for the fan a few kilometers back, and now the coolant cap blew. The engine is hot enough to cook eggs, as is Mr. Sun.  This is great. A real African unexpected adventure.

Not a mechanically-sound vehicle – amazingly, better than most

               We woke up at 6:00 a.m. and packed for Mahadaga. We ate breakfast, bread & tea (what else?) and got everything packed on.  We’re taking a motorcycle, a Swiss girl, and a black dude.  It’s crowded.  We left at 8:30 and have been driving ever since.  We did stop to buy bread in Fada, as well as gas, where I met my friend who knows a little English.  We asked each other’s names, and I already forgot his.  Then we stopped later on to buy a belt, but the small town we stopped in only had motorcycle belts so they didn’t fit. Oh well, this is cool.

5:30 p.m.

                We drove w/out the fan belt for a long ways, so we had to stop every once in a while to let the engine cool off.  Ariel (the Swiss girl) and the preacher (the black dude) were very cool about it. We finally got to a small town where the preacher got off, and we got a replacement hose, after stopping in town and finding nothing there. Ruth bought some roast beef chunks, which were all right.  Then we went to a real repair place, run by two Frenchmen, who gave us an old, wasted belt that worked all right for a while. We were there for a while, then left, racing along the bumpy road to Mahadaga.

                We stopped at a fruit plantation, which grew bananas, pineapple, mangoes, grapefruit, guavas, and all sorts of other goodies.  We bought a huge bunch of green bananas.  It was very cool.  We went into the banana tree forest, which seemed like the jungle, with big bunches of the fruit hanging down. 

Where bananas are born

He just took a huge machete and chopped it off, then carried it back, weighed it and washed it, then packed it in the truck.

                We went on to Diapaga, where a mission station was.  They gave us a new fan belt, as ours had worn out again, and some cold water.  We left off some boxes and mail, then went on to Ruth’s house.

 The road got really bad, and we splashed through some puddles and across some bridges, seeing smiling shepherds with their slingshots around their necks like necklaces, and of course the ever-present bicycle riders.  We stopped on top of a hill to picture a beautiful mountain and a beautiful plain. 

Wild & wide

Then the bumpy road down which ran along some gorgeous cliffs, and waving to everyone, the dust in my contacts, the truck bouncing along, hunger gnawing my stomach, sun casting shadows, the wind in my hair.  It was awesome.

                We arrived at Ruth’s house and unloaded Ariel, then ourselves.  Wight showered and Jeff, Ruth, and I walked down to the infirmary to find Ruth’s dog. We didn’t find the dog, but we met a couple guys and saw women feeding hungry children.

                I just showered and am writing this by candlelight and lantern.  Ruth’s dog just came in, Wight and Jeff are fixing something, and I’m hungry.  Jenny (or Ginny?) from Australia that we met in Ouaga has invited us for dinner.  Let’s go!

8:30 p.m.

                Well, we ate.  It was macaroni w/ a spicy meat and veggie sauce. Classical music was playing softly and Ariel was there in all her tan, Swiss glory.  It was great. 

                Wight and I went to fix Ariel’s bathroom light, but it wasn’t broken, so we left.  I took out my contacts, thank God, as they were dusty and had crap in them all day.  Man am I going to soak those babies.

                Ruth told me today that she was glad that Wight chose me for the trip.  That made me happy.  I want to learn French so bad, it hurts.  I just want to be able to talk and understand people, to handle myself in a situation.  I feel like a baby, not knowing what to say. Ruth told me that if I want to study French where people speak it, go to Switzerland, because they speak it well and are more tolerant of Americans.

                It’s very hot and humid tonight, but it’s cool because I am writing this by the light of a solar-powered fluorescent light in Ruth’s house. I put on lots of suntan lotion, so I didn’t get burned again, and feel better.  My cheek and chin are a bit blistered, but don’t hurt.  I’m pretty tired, but I didn’t do anything but travel for 8 ½ hours.  Huh.

                5 more days to go.

Oct. 13, 6:08 p.m.

                Hey hey!  Got to sleep in late today.  8:00 I finally rolled out of bed, after going to bed at about 8:45 the night before.  I got up, shook the weasel, and read a book by J.R.R. Tolkien called ‘The Father Christmas Stories’.  He wrote them to his kids every Christmas.  They’re neat. 

                We had breakfast, soft bread, delicious Earl Grey tea – my favorite – and Burkina Faso honey, very rich, dark, and delicious, plus a grapefruit half, which I sectioned. They were great.  All-in-all a great breakfast.

                We tooled around a little bit, then Wight and I wired up the new solar panel.  I tooled around a bit more, then read a Calvin & Hobbes book, which was funny, then ate lunch, which was German macaroni & cheese, cukes, & canned beans w/ Accent, a seasoning salt. It was great. Oh yeah, before lunch we went next door, and picked some grapefruit, limes, & lemons.  The guavas (or goyavas) aren’t really ripe yet, and the mangoes are past season.  We (or Ruth, rather) made lemonade from that.  It wasn’t so hot.  After lunch Wight & Jeff worked on the inverter, which doesn’t work, and has Wight in a tizzy (“That’s disgusting”).  I read more Calvin & Hobbes, tooled around, read U.S. News & World Report, tooled around, and started reading the C.S. Lewis book Mrs. Plueddemann gave me, when Ruth suggested we go to the waterfall. Yeah! Something to do!

                We drove out there, and about halfway there the right rear tire went flat.  Jeff & I quickly fixed it, with an audience of about 20 natives, and a little help from a couple of them.  We went on our way and drove down a trail, left the truck and walked to the waterfalls.  They were beautiful!  Several black boys were swimming & fishing.  One spitted the catfish, scaled & gutted them, then put them on to fry. 

                The cliffs out here are beautiful, sheer crags rising about 100 feet.

Short falls

The falls fell into a lake, and we jumped a small stream and as I jumped it, I landed and made kung-Fu noises and waved my arms about.  The boys thought this was hilarious.  Of course, I realize now, they had no idea what I was doing, having never seen a kung-Fu movie, or even an oriental person. 

A perfect place for contemplation

                I tried to climb the cliffs, but they were pretty steep, and they had a lip that jutted out, besides being a breeding ground for snakes, scorpions, baboons, and a huge hive of bees, lizards, and other foul creatures. So I climbed to the falls, got some great snaps, one of a kid jumping off the cliff,

Jumping local

Idiot

then we all went up to the other, higher waterfall, a few hundred yards away. About 20 kids went with us and laughed the whole way.  Ruth said they had never really seen white people, that’s why they laughed. They’re not jealous of our wealth, we’re just something new. The higher falls were even more gorgeous.

High Falls

                Finally we came back and it was just becoming dusk as we hit the road.  I asked Ruth why she wanted to be a missionary, and she said that she liked the pioneer spirit, she liked making a difference in people’s lives, and she liked to get a different view of people, and then see how the U.S. is different.  She understands people better now. She says it’s interesting to see how people apply scripture to their lives socially, culturally, & personally.  She chose Burkina Faso because it was less developed and more needy, so it was more receptive to Christ.

                Earlier today, Wight showed me a scorpion.  It was about 3 inches long with its tail curled up, small & brown.  Wight stepped on him.  All this milky white poison came out.  He found another one and did the same thing.

                Ruth’s dog is an African dog, short haired w/ a big chest.  He got hit by a car about 3 weeks ago, and his leg is dislocated.  I don’t like him.  He has the nastiest temper.  He’s always growling and barking like he’ll tear your head off, then he’s friendly and wagging his tail.  The cat is cooler.  It is also an African cat, and it’s got long front legs, a big chest and a thick neck, and it’s sleek and powerful like a cheetah.  Looks like one, too.  He likes me.

                Well, it’s almost dinner time, I believe the menu is Chinese beef.

                I want a shower.  It’s god-awful hot & humid.

Oct. 14, 12:30 p.m.

                The days go fairly fast, when you go to bed at 8:00, rise at 7:30, and read all day.

                Last night I showered, which felt great.  At first the water is cold and you think “this sucks” but after you get used to it, you wouldn’t have it any other way, it feels so good.

                Then we ate.  It was rice and a beef topping that was tres excellent, plus peas and guava Jell-O.  It was good.  Before every meal the French say “Bon appetite!”

                I turned in at 8:05 and slept restlessly, as the bed was hard, as was the pillow, I had no sheet to keep out the mosquitoes which, by the way, ate me alive.  Woke when that damn dog set up a howl to raise the dead when the night watchman came round.

                Got up at 7:30 and did pretty much of nothing till breakfast, which was grapefruit (sectioned by me), bananas, banana bread, and tea.  Very nice.  Then we sallied forth to the infirmary, where we saw several sick people, as well as a blood transfusion and a worm infection through a microscope.  We then left for a hike to a different waterfall, which is where I am writing this now.

                We drove a small ways down the road, then turned onto a donkey and foot path from out of perdition, and stopped and left the truck in front of a fifteen-foot high field of millet,

Millet: the official grain of the optionless

then hiked over hill and dale, rock and soft ground, through field and plain, over a creek, which that damnable, slavering killer of a dog wouldn’t cross (why did we bring him, why did we bring him!) and finally came in view of the most gorgeous waterfall I’ve ever seen.

What thunder looks like - not my best effort

 It cascades over the edge of a sheer, 60-foot precipice, tumbling, turning, and frothing past crevice and fern, till it smashes on the rocks below and shatters into a million pieces, each catching the sun in a rainbow of colors, as the mist from its descent glides on the breeze across the lagoon.  And that doesn’t begin to describe it.

                 We sat for a while and watched it, with some native boys watching us from across the lagoon.  We also brought a native man w/ us, for no apparent reason.  Then we ate lunch, greasy deviled ham sandwiches (a little slice of hell) and cucumbers, bananas, cheese (La Vache Qui Rit) as we listened to the sound of the waterfall.  There is no other sound that equals its never-ceasing, foaming hiss and deep, adventurous noises, as it strikes the rocks and water. ‘How does the water come down at Ladore, with its rush and its roar….’  A picture speaks a thousand words, but no picture can capture the noise, smell and beauty of this waterfall.

                Wight slipped on a wet rock and broke his glasses and got a cut on his eyebrow.  Jeff is one cool cowboy.

Cool Cowboy Jeff

 I’m glad I got to meet him.  He’s very helpful and caring.  He’s kind of like what I want to be when I grow up.  Wight said the other day that he’d be glad to have me as a son, if my dad ever didn’t want me, he’d take me in.  I think he’d be a better grandpa.

                I think I went a little overboard trying to return home a bronzed god, as Vince suggested. 

Bronzed god? No, burnt sacrifice

My face is peeling, and my arms soon will be.  They’re all blistered, little tiny blisters, you know how it goes.  I do have a little color, but I don’t want to damage anything.

                I really want to kill that dog.  He’s a menace.

                I could never grow a beard.  I haven’t shaved for a week & a half, and the little I have really sucks.  Maybe I’m just not used to it.

                I’ve got 12 pictures left.  That’s 4 a day. No problem.

                I’m taking my vitamins regularly, and got more anti-malarial pills yesterday.  I can’t wait to go back, but kind of dread facing the questions, giving the talks, the rush at Tyndale, organizing everything.  But I do have moving in w/ Vince to look forward to.

Oct. 14, 2:45 p.m.

                I’m at another waterfall now, and if possible, this one is more beautiful than the last.

Lush Lagoon

 It’s a real, genuine African lagoon, with tall, damp cliffs on either side, caves balefully glaring out of their ledges, tropical plants bordering the whole pond, which is deep and green.  Yellow weavers flit here and there, there are sunning rocks, and the skies are ominous and dark. On one side, baboons bark down at us from atop a looming cliff. They’re cool, climbing around and staring at us.  These falls fall about 80 ft., hitting several ledges that break up the fall and make it achingly beautiful. Hanging vines trail up the side of the cliff, and moss and ferns cling to the cracks. We did some real bushwhacking to get here, too, going through trees and bushes over our heads.  Tall grass swished around us as we stepped on loose rock and over logs.  Thank you, God, for making such wonderful places for everything to enjoy.

10:11 p.m.

                I decided to stay up later so I would be tired and sleep later, or better anyway.

                We stayed at the falls for a while, and I climbed up and went behind the falls. It was wild.  It’s like the worst rainstorm ever, with the water pounding down so hard, you can’t hear.  Then we left and mad our way back to the truck, which was a 45 min. hike.  We went home then I showered and we ate.  Ruth’s house-boy cooked chicken over a fire for us, and we had peas and applesauce.  Then we sat around and told Ruth of the changes in Wheaton since she’d been there, about 2 years.  Then I read some in the People’s Almanac and will now retire.

Oct. 15 3:20 p.m.

                It’s Sunday today, but we didn’t go to church.  We got up at about 6:30, after another hellish night of man-eating mosquitoes attacking my legs even though I put Off! on them.  Today I counted 20 bites.  No malaria there.

                We ate breakfast, packed up and put everything in the truck.  Ariel came to say goodbye.  She reminds me of a movie star. She’s dark tan, dresses well, and has dark eyes, dark hair, white, even teeth and a great smile.  She speaks English with a charming French accent and has a beauty spot on her cheek.  Wow.

                We had a black dude and 2 black women come on the trip.  Wight’s running a fever and feeling bad, so he sat up front, while Jeff & I sat in the back with the natives. I sat on a wheel well till my seat went numb, the switched to reclining in the luggage.  I covered my face with a bandana while we were on the paved road, to protect the already sensitive skin from sun & wind burn.  It was the smartest thing I did all trip, and will save me pain and headaches in the future. It worked so well I almost dozed.  We arrived in Fada after a 5 ½ hour drive.  Wight looked like the dead, and he felt like it too.  Jeff & I unloaded, then went up to the Ruten’s for a great lunch, with Coke!  Then came siesta time, which is now.

8:26 p.m.

                Just got back from the dedication service at the first school we worked at.

Simple school, now with lights!

 It was very cool.  I went out early with Dave and Bagandujua and we sat up front.  All of a sudden, one guy started singing.  Everyone boomed in on the chorus and started clapping in rhythm. It sounded awesome, their deep voices ringing out in the fluorescently lit room.  Then Ruth, Jeff, & Wight arrived and they sang again. Each song lasted about 5 minutes, and on the second song, the ladies sang the verse, and everyone on the chorus. They all clapped and one lady had a large bowl made from a gourd with string around the top, and beads on strings hanging down.  She would spin the bowl in the air like pizza dough, and the beads would clack a rhythm against the side.  Then Paul, the teacher there, spoke in Gourma, and Dave translated for us.  The Wight spoke a little, then general questions, then we shook hands with everyone and received a container of honey, real African honey, as a gift.  It was choice.

                Earlier this evening, Wight, Jeff & I went to get bread and gasoline. At the station I met the guy that I rap w. every time I go.  We spoke some, then he wanted my address.  So we swapped addresses and in case I lose the piece of paper, here’s his:

                                Lankoonde Talada

                                Station Texaco

                                Fada N’Gourma B.P. 69

                                Burkina Faso, West Africa

It was cool.  Remind me to write to him when I get back.

                Tomorrow we leave for Ouagadougou!

Oct. 16, 11:38 p.m.

                I’m sitting here in the guest house at Ouagadougou, saying everything in my mind in an Australian accent, because Andrew is here, and I keep hearing him talk.    

                I’m the only one up at this time of night, mostly because I was reading a good book, ‘Calvary Scout’ by Dee Brown.  I read Swiss Family Robinson earlier today.  I think I want to read Tarzan when I get back. 

                Get back. Wow. Every time I think about going back I get that adrenaline surge, as I expectantly await returning, leaving tomorrow at 11:59 p.m.

                We got up today at 7:30, ate breakfast, packed everything up, and were ready to go by 9:00, the time the Dubises (the people taking us to Ouaga) said we would leave.  But they weren’t ready, so Dave took us into Fada to the market to buy shirts & souvenirs.  I bought the one I did because the fabric was heavy and nice.  I also got a slingshot, the kind that all the shepherds use.

                We finally got off at about 11:00, after Dave & Marianne had us over for Cokes.  They’re great people, the Rutens.  We barreled along the road to Ouaga, w/ the air-condo on full blast in their 4-wheel drive Toyota Land Rover.  We only had to push-start it once. 

                We arrived in Ouaga at about 2:00 and found that Ruth had to stay in another guest house.  Andrew was at our guest house, and received us warmly.  I set to work on a cold Coke and Swiss Family Robinson.  I finished it at 4:30 and took a shower.  Then all the guys started cooking dinner for Ruth because she’d cooked for us so much.  We had spaghetti & sauce, salad, French bread, cheese, olives, & fruit salad.  It was very good.  Then we broke out the Rook cards and played till 10:00. I did right well.

                There’s a National Geographic here, Aug. 1966 that has an article on Upper Volta. I’ll have to look it up when I get back.

                Tomorrow we go to the market all day.  I believe I have almost $100 to spend.  I haven’t touched my money yet.

Oct. 17, 2:30 p.m.

                It’s awfully hot at this point.  Yesterday Andrew gave me his address in New Zealand.  My arm, which peeled, then got sunburned, has blistered up quite badly.  It doesn’t hurt as long as I don’t touch it.  It is most frightfully ugly, however.  I slept on my back last night, so as not to pop it.

                We got up at 7:00 this morning, and I read for about an hour. Then we had a bit of breakfast, bread & tea.  I read some more, then we all went to the market.  It was a nightmare. Everyone is so pushy here, and they won’t let up no matter how many times you tell them NO!

                We went to the Leatherworks of Burkina Faso.  It was very cool. Suede chessboards, maps, pictures, calendars, backpacks, wallets, purses, keychains, notebook minders, diary holders, and on and on.  Then we went to the big market for a while.  It still smelled awful, and they still pressed us to buy “cartes postales’ and bracelets.  I saw the kid I gave my bandana to.  Now he wanted my Hershey’s hat.  I wouldn’t give it to him.  I tried to explain that I had fond memories of it. He still wanted it.  Everyone wanted my watch or my shoes or even my shirt. After a while it started to piss me off how persistent they were.  I felt like saying “Get lost, get the hell away from me”.  Then we finally left and came back to the house, after a brief stop for Wight to check on fluorescent tubes.  Everyone kept crowding around the windows, trying to sell us sandals, cheap jewelry, baskets, cloth, bananas, anything. 

                I also met a guy earlier who was a musician. He played the Tom-Toms and knew 11 languages.  He’d travelled all over and knew English well. He was cool.

                We returned home and I grabbed a Coke and finished my book.  Then we ate lunch and here I am.

Oct. 18, 2:05 a.m.

                I’m sitting in the lounge in the airport at Ouagadougou.  The plane is scheduled to take off at 2:35 a.m. 

                I slept for a few hours at siesta time, after hearing Andrew talk about New Zealand some.  The population of New Zealand is 3.2 million.  There’s more people in Chicago alone.  After resting in that god-forsaken hot room, I wandered about till we went out for dinner.  We went to the Hamburger House, an American burger joint run by Chinese, which had exorbitant prices, par example, a $4 milkshake, and $14 – $15 for a burger and fries. It was decent enough. 

                We left there and returned home, I showering and changing, then we played a New Zealand game called ‘Black Witch’.  It’s great.  You play it with Rook cards.  The 13 black is the black witch, and it’s worth 50 points. You don’t want it.  The reds are point cards.  The idea is not to win points.  He with the least points wins.  You must follow suit and before play starts you pass your 3 worst cards to the player to either side of you.  It was great.  We played till 12:45 a.m., then left for the airport.

                We got through customs fine, although the woman who searched my luggage wanted to know what my bug spray was.  We hugged Andrew and Ruth and shook Edwin’s hand and we’re on our way.

8:55 a.m. Paris time

                We waited a long, long time to board the UTA plane, but finally after standing in line forever, going out to the tarmac to identify my luggage, having my carryon searched again, then being frisked, we got on.  The stewardesses let us sit where we liked, as the plane was empty.

                We took off at 3:50 a.m. Ouaga time (1 hr. behind Paris, 5 hrs. behind U.S.). I promptly fell asleep, and got to stretch out a little as I had no seatmate.  I was too tired to eat the first meal, so I just waved my hand, “Non, merci Madame”, and fell back to sleep.  I’m very glad I removed my contacts, as they would have probably gained life from all the protein deposits and would have promptly proceeded to attack my eyes and bore into my brain, rendering me to a blind, useless vegetable.

                I’m rather upset that at some point during the night, my blisters broke and stained my shirt, damn it.  Plus this light cotton shirt is making my tan flake like a banshee.  Oh well.

                I just ate breakfast: toast, a lemon pound cake, tea, apple juice, and peaches.  It was awful.

10:50 a.m. New York time.

                We’re somewhere over the North Atlantic, cruising at 31,000 ft. on Pan Am flight 119.

                We arrived safely in Paris at 10:00 a.m. Paris time.  Our Air France flight was scheduled for 10:31 departure.  “We’ll make it”, we thought.  A lie.  Someone forgot to call ahead for a stairway to get out of the airplane.  Oops.  We stood around till 10:20 and, to make a long story short, we missed our flight.  So we quickly booked on to the next Pan Am flight for New York, departing at 12:45, boarding at 12.  So we spent some time and money in the shops there, finally got on board and took off at about 1:15 p.m. Paris time, about the equivalent of 8:15 a.m. Chicago time.  The flight is scheduled for 8 hours.  Welcome to hell, John.

                I’m peeling and it makes me angry.  I’d like to be home NOW.

                We just had a lunch from perdition, a beef bathed in wine, a dessert bathed in wine, a dry salad, but the bread & cheese was excellent.  Cheese was camembert, bread was French.

                Plane rides suck swamp water.

3:15 p.m. New York time

                We are just finishing our snack from hell, flying over Kennebunkport, Maine, heading toward Plymouth, Mass, where we will begin our descent.

                I’m getting awfully tired of air travel.  We saw ‘Dream Team’, and you know, I believe it was worse the second time around, no matter how incredible that may seem.  That’s just one lousy movie.  Plus I saw it w/out sound.  But it helped pass the time.

                Jeff & Wight are discussing Ruth. Jeff says it’s been a good two weeks, solidifying his friendship w/ Ruth.  Wight said it was good for Ruth to be around 3 men for that time.  She gets lonely and sometimes hangs out w/ the wrong guys.  I need to pray for her. She needs to get married.

                I think we started descending now.  We should land in Kennedy airport at 5 after 4.  The weather is gloomy and wet.  Sort of like it was when I came out.  Our flight for Chicago leaves at 5:45 p.m. NYT.

5:35 p.m. Chicago time (6:35 NYT)

                We’re sitting on the ground at terminal B in the Kennedy airport, New York City.  We disembarked from Pan Am 119 and went to get our luggage.  It never came.  So, we went ahead through customs because we only had half an hour till our flight for Chicago took off, we thought. We left Jeff amid confusion w/ the understanding that he was to file a claim for our baggage.  Wight and I ran through the airport to get our flight, and were told to wait at the counter till our names were called.  Finally they were and Wight gave a surprised chuckle and told me to wait till I found out where we would sit. I figured the far back or something, as it was a full flight.  But no, nothing but the best for us.  1^st class all the way.  When we found out, we couldn’t stop giggling.  Then later, a line of old women came down the aisle, crying about 1^st class vs. their scummy seats, and Wight turned to me and muttered under his breath, “Peasants”.  That sent us into gales of laughter, w/ tears rolling down our merry cheeks.

                Wait for me, my humble home, here I come!

Home

                Yeeaaah-hooo!  I made it.  After eating the snack on the plane, I fell asleep until we approached Chicago.  We landed safely, got picked up by the limo, picked up another elderly couple and we were on our way.  Jeff had managed to get our luggage, so we were set there too!

                Thank you oh Lord God, for every blessing you gave us.  We deserved none of it, yet you gave it freely.

                Wight gave me a ride home and told me he hoped we were friends for a long time.  He let me out at my house after a prayer and a handshake.

                Thank you Lord, I’m home at last.

               

 Now where’s that shower?