World Traveler

Tia in her room in Bata, Equatorial Guinea

Although I’m writing this blog on Saturday, it won’t be posted until Monday when we finally have internet again. (Sorry for the delay! Internet in Equatorial Guinea is hard to come by.) Monday means that our daughter, Kristia (Tia) will officially turn eleven. I haven’t written a ton about her yet, so with a day that could be devoted to the ever so many difficulties of traveling between countries in the developing world, I would rather devote it to her.

Tia has had quite the year. Over the summer, it became apparent that Fall 2011-Spring 2012 would present a very full travel schedule for me. When I was called into the role of Lead Pastor back in the spring of 2010, the Elders at York Alliance asked about me traveling to visit our missionaries and get a sense of the conditions in which the minister and the challenges they face. I had travelled back and forth to El Salvador many times over the past eight years as we built our partnership with the Church of Faith and Worship, but hadn’t traveled to other fields. However, in addition a quick El Salvador trip in September, I had been invited to speak at a retreat for the leaders of the Berlin International Community Church in Germany, and decided to add an “inter-European” trip to visit the Aderholts in Macedonia. It then became apparent that this trip, a vision trip to Gabon and Equatorial Guinea, would also happen, and that I would need to go on that as well. Typically I would never do this much travelling in the course of one year, but the situation seemed to make it a necessity.

As Amanda and I prayed together about the schedule for the year, and considered schooling options for the kids (as we do in the spring and summer of each year), we very clearly believed that God was directing us toward taking a leap of faith on many fronts, homeschooling Tia for the year, and having her travel with me to each of these destinations. There’s much more back story, but suffice it to say that God clearly provided all we needed, we purchased tickets, and she was officially on board to travel along!

The third and final trip is now a week from being over, and Tia is just about to turn eleven years old. She’s had a pretty incredible year full of amazing experiences. I’ve been so amazed by her time and time again, but today that admiration reached a new height. Tia’s one of those girls that just “rolls with it,” particularly when we’re traveling. Whatever the situation, she’ll just go along with it. She’s been in the community of Zacamil in San Salvador, locked into a concrete block apartment at night so that we would be safe in what can be a somewhat dangerous neighborhood. She’s sat through long meetings in other languages with partial if any translation. She’s been tossed into rooms with little kids for hours at a time, all of whom don’t speak her language. She’s spent LONG hours on planes and moving around airports. She’s eaten (sometimes only a bite) some strange foods and drank some strange drinks. She’s done all of this with her father! And the real amazing thing: I can’t remember one complaint. Now don’t get me wrong, she knows how to complain—she does it all the time at home. But on this whirlwind world tour, she’s been incredible.

So I knew she’d roll with it. However, when we needed to get up at 4:00am to start what we thought would be a 10-12 hour journey to Bata, I thought there might be a complaint. Nope. Over the terrible roads outside Libreville, where some of them literally look as though they’ve been bombed, not a word. She ate chicken wings from a street vendor in some northern city in Gabon, and actually liked them. We made it to the border and began a very long waiting process in order to get through the two separate control points on the Gabonese side of the border. Still no complaints.

Here’s where it gets crazy. We’re a solid 11 hours into our 10-12 hour journey and are just getting to the actual border patrol in Equatorial Guinea. We know that they could turn away Pastor Mario, but we’re going to try anyway. Sure enough, he gets the visa he needs, and we’re through. However, now some very stern looking border guards need to search every piece of luggage we have. Border crossings are always a bit nerve-wracking, but when people are looking for “a little gift” for their help and we’re not willing to give it, it takes quite a bit longer and is a bit more so. Finally, a full 12 hours later, we all pile into the Nissan Patrol (having picked up Pastor Simone at the border, there are now eight of us shoved in) and we head out. About five minutes into the journey, we hear the first bad news—Bata is between five and six hours from the border, not the two we originally thought. Still no complaints, even though quick math said it would be 10:00pm when we got to Bata if we made really great time, and we started driving around 4:30am. I’m telling you, she’s a trooper.Then, the nightmare started. It got dark soon after we started driving, and almost as the sun went down we began to encounter “controls.” Controls are all over this area of Africa, and they check documentation to be sure you are allowed to be where you are, that your vehicle actually belongs to you and is legally in the country, etc. They are also a major opportunity for corruption. In Gabon, due to our affiliation with the Bongolo Hospital, which is famous and much beloved throughout the country (and also known for never giving out bribes), we are waved through every control. However, no such status is awarded to us in EG. At the first control it starts: all of the paperwork is given, all of the passports handed over, and we wait. Pastor Simone, who lives in EG and is our host, is speaking to the officers. They want money, and have given a reason why we need to pay an additional fee at this stop. Steve calmly explains that he understands, but that we’re on mission and we have to be accountable for all that we spend, so if they could just give an official receipt with their name and the amount on it, we would be glad to comply. Of course, they refuse, and after some waiting, we are waved on. This scenario repeats itself a few more times, several of them rising in intensity, until finally we are stopped at one by several “officials” who are clearly drunk. They demand money. We give our speech. Ultimately, they pull us all out of the car and into a dimly lit little pavilion that was doubling as an “office.” Bugs are everywhere, they are yelling in a mixture between French, Spanish, and “Fang,” which is the local tribal language, so we can’t understand a thing. Tia presses a bit closer, but is stoic. After about 10 minutes, it seems that our resolve has been rewarded and we’re sent back with our passports to the vehicle. However, they still are holding our document for the vehicle, and are still demanding payment. Those of us back in the vehicle are praying protection and intervention for a solid 20 minutes or so, while the demands are repeatedly made. Mercifully, they finally allow us to continue the long journey to Bata, which has been delayed another 45 minutes at least.

I’m sure I haven’t, nor can I, adequately paint the picture. But she never complained. I had moved her over to my lap about 30 minutes before, and she gladly stayed there, but she held her cool. We processed together after our late-night arrival in Bata, and of course it was emotional, but she did incredibly well through the entire ordeal.

By the time you’re reading this, Tia is an extremely intelligent, beautiful, confident, and faith-filled eleven year old. She has encountered more of the world this year than many do in a lifetime. In the middle of that, she’s learned to ride horses both English and Western style, and has become quite a little basketball player. She’s an incredible gift from God to us, and I believe will make a great, positive impact on her “sphere of influence” throughout her entire life.

And I am so proud of her; it’s a privilege to be her dad. I love you, Tia!