By Randal Dick
Superintendent of missions
I am writing this to you as Mike Feazell and I are en route to Australia and on to Sri Lanka for ministerial conferences.
Before we left I received a message (see box below), from Mohan Jayasekera, our pastor in Sri Lanka, about how he survived a bomb blast. I know that the brethren in any given troubled area are grateful to know that other brethren are praying for them.
I want to further acquaint you with some of our newest brethren--located in the hills of northwestern Kenya. It was worth every bit of the arduous journey I made in January to fellowship with them.
James Henderson, my host, guide, driver and friend, describes the events better than I, so please enjoy his account below
By James Henderson
NAIROBI, Kenya--It was supposed to be the dry season, the ideal season for traveling, but El Nino had another idea. One of the most devastating weather patterns in East African history hit Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania.
Randal and I had planned some months previously to make a visit to Mwanza and Tarime in Tanzania, where a number of groups wish to become WCG congregations.
The first sign of trouble was news of tribal clashes on the Kenyan side of the border between Kenya and Tanzania, and consequently some roads were closed.
Next the rains became more hazardous, and the roads became unpassable. Up to the last minute we hoped the situation would improve, but it did not, and we made alternative plans to visit scattered groups in northern and western Kenya.
Randal arrived in Nairobi Jan. 13. That afternoon we visited the Kibarague Good News Centre, an orphanage our Nairobi church helps through gifts of used clothing and vegetables.
About 850 orphaned or abandoned children are on their books, but every day this is supplemented by as many as 1,500 when impoverished children from the neighborhood arrive for lunch.
Another vivid reminder of why this world needs Christ, and of why we pray for him to return speedily to this earth.
That night Randal conducted a question and answer session for Nairobi brethren.
Next morning we set off in the teeming rain for a midweek meeting of the Kibirichia church.
James Marete, one of the local ministers, was waiting to meet us at the second Kibirichia turn-off, and we noticed he had taken his shoes and socks off and had rolled up his trousers--a warning of things to come!
The Kibirichia church has as a sister church, the Elkhart, Indiana, church. The Elkhart church had sent money to buy a new wheelchair for Tom Ikunya, a polio victim and lay preacher of the Kibirichia church. We bought the wheelchair in Nairobi, and now it was in the back of the car.
Another minister, Abraham Mathiu, told us we could not drive through the village as the road was too dangerous. So we parked the car and walked to the church hall.
Unfortunately we could not take the wheelchair with us--we would have to announce the presentation to Tom and someone would get it to him afterward.
As Randal diligently followed James and Abraham, he fell toward a muddy ditch. He turned to protect his camcorder, and his right leg went knee deep in the mud.
He was not hurt, which is just as well, as the rest of us were laughing uncontrollably amid semi-sincere questions such as, are you all right? and can you do that again but let me capture it on the camcorder?
When we got to services everyone was smiling and joking. Some had walked as much as two hours in the mud and rain to be at church.
As it was a Wednesday, only 30 of the usual 60 to 70 in attendance could make it.
Randal gave an upbeat sermon on the subject of evangelism, using farming analogies, and we told Tom of his new wheelchair--he was overjoyed.
Abraham's wife, Esther, who had to work that day, came late to services and explained that everyone in the village was talking of the Mzungu (white man) who had fallen in the mud and then wanted to take a picture of himself afterward.
To his credit, Randal took the merriment at his calamity in good spirits, and was a remarkable example of Christian good cheer. I would guess that the fun and laughter on that day was worth more to the Kibirichia brethren than a month's worth of sobering sermons.
The next day we were to move on to the Cherangani Hills. Everything went fine, apart from the usual potholes, road bumps and raving maniacal drivers, until we turned a corner and drove over a rickety bridge.
Right in front of us was a flash flood, which crossed the road and turned toward the bridge. Some cars had stopped ahead of us, and across what appeared to be a raging river were other cars and a large crowd of people. We were not sure what to do.
Randal said we could be trapped, as it looked like the flood would wash away the bridge supports. I knew we had height with our vehicle, and, taking a deep breath and following a foolish impulse, decided to drive through the torrent, praying as we went.
The car did well until a few feet from the other side, and it came to a standstill with water whirling up to the passenger door on Randal's side.
I thought we were going to be carried downstream. But, miraculously the car got going again and we cleared the waters. People had gathered around us and began to applaud.
I will not describe the trip to Cherangani in great detail. Other WN articles have covered this area.
What is of interest is how the Cherangani groups began. Historically members used to travel to Nairobi for services from outlying areas.
A small group in the town of Kitale, near Cherangani, would do this on a regular basis. A couple of years ago we asked the Kitale group to stay at home and to establish their own small local church group.
There were around six of them, and they began to pray for growth and that God would guide them in evangelism.
Some months later some small groups in the area of Bungoma, a town about one hour west of Kitale, began to show interest in the church, and a member of the Kitale group, John Amadala, was asked to help visit them.
It was then decided that we should ordain John, and he and his wife, Jennifer, began to look after the scattered groups in western Kenya. Around the time of his ordination various groups from the Cherangani area began to ask about the church, and John visited them with the help of some of the Nairobi ministry.
Western Kenya has gone within 18 months from the small group in Kitale and a few isolated members to around 500 people in various towns, where we now have seven congregations who are affiliating with us.
Most of these groups began some years before with study groups from our old literature, and men and women from these groups began to evangelize in their areas. When we told them about the new covenant shift, for the most part they welcomed the changes.
The interesting thing is when the Kitale group decided to establish the church where they lived and asked God for growth, and after a local minister was in place, God brought these people to us.
Randal and I left for South Africa, Monday, Jan. 19. The trip was a joy, full of the excitement of meeting people coming to a deeper relationship with Jesus.
But Kenya did not want to let us go. As we taxied out for take-off on the runway of Jomo Kenyatta airport in Nairobi, the captain informed us: "Ladies and gentlemen, we seem to have a slight problem. The plane should be moving--all our instruments tell us the plane should be moving--but it is not. We do not understand it."
After these comforting words we noticed some fire engines had driven up some safe distance from the plane, and that firemen were pointing to the leading wheel. What was the problem? The front wheel was stuck in a pothole!
A fitting end to our adventure?
Feb. 24, 1998, WN, pages 10 and 11
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