93 years later

Friday…1/28/11--Yesterday I landed on African soil, 93 years after my grandparents arrived here. Seeing the lights of N’Djamena as our plane approached made me wonder what they saw as their ship drew near their port of arrival. I wondered at their sense of excitement and wonder, knowing that they were somewhat stuck here for a few years in this new-to-them land, while I know I’m planning to fly back home in two weeks…

So now it’s 8:30 Saturday night – my first night in Yagoua. I won’t be able to post this until tomorrow (well that didn’t happen) but I cannot go to bed tonight without corralling a few thoughts from the day. I know many of you have been praying faithfully for Solveig and me, and those prayers have been noticed in a big way. Items of praise from today’s critical travel day (from N’Djamena, Chad to Yagoua, Cameroon) include:
• A fender bender before we even got out of N’Djamena – which could have been ugly, but wasn’t.
• Four smooth highway toll stops…none were the least bit scary…simply needed to pay the standard fee for traveling the paved, yet pot-holed road.
• Enough gas in the tank for the last 12 kilometers to Bongor, even though the low gas indicator light was on, and we hadn’t figured out how to access the second tank yet.
• Four passport checks – two in Chad, and two in Cameroon. Officials patiently copied our information into their lined, legal sized notebooks; they had no concerns.
• No potty stop needed. This is critical since there are no “rest areas” along this route. When I asked our missionary host in N’Djamena if there would be any rest areas, he smiled and said “there are lots of bushes.” Borderline dehydration worked well, and God blessed. (In fact I didn’t need a “rest area” for seven hours, which may be a new, post-child-bearing record for me. )
• The nicest people have been driving us, directing us and helping us…the entire trip. May God bless them all!

And speaking of God…our Heavenly Father truly went ahead of us to prepare the details – prayers are being answered. I’ve not been afraid, though I must say the driving of vehicles and motorbikes here is beyond description, and at some early point I determined, beyond fear.

The most surreal part of today for me was crossing the Lagone River into Cameroon. We walked in sand the length of a football field (U.S. football, that is) to get to the edge of the river – with young boys carrying our bags on top of their heads! The poor boy who flung mine up on his head… We paid him for sure, but I can’t imagine it was enough to compensate for the shock to his head. And I hate to admit it, but these boys were half the sandy field ahead of us in no time at all. Perhaps it was because of my long skirt and scarf-tied head, but for whatever reason I found myself thinking about Meryl Streep in Out of Africa. We were creating a bit of a scene in these increasingly remote places. School children would come up to us and smile and shake our hands. Adults would simply stare, as I would have, wondering who these silly, white women are, no doubt…

Our actual time on the river was under 15 minutes...dry season. I climbed out of the canoe (not easy with my long skirt, now dusty and wet on the edge) and entered Cameroon. Cameroon, the land of my grandparents... There was enough moisture left in me for a few tears, and I wondered if God was allowing my grandparents in heaven to see me enter their country.