THIS IS ONLY ONE OF THE MANY CRAZY STORIES I'VE EXPERIENCED ON THE WORLD RACE.
Where do I even begin? I think I will start with my journey to our ministry location in Mwanza, Tanzania. It begins in what I like to call the “entrance to hell;” a bus station in Der Es Salaam (sounds like Jerusalem with a “D”). At around 6am we arrive at this bus station overrun with buses and people yelling in another language. On top of that there are random people coming up to us asking us where we are going and are aggressively trying to get us on their bus. At this point the only thing we know is the name of our bus line but not a clue where in this jungle it is.
Eventually we find ourselves following some man we don’t know and he leads us to our bus but we don’t actually realize this because we don’t see the other team that is supposed to meet us there. The thought crosses our minds to try and call the other team leader but we also find out that because we literally just arrived the night before, we don’t have the new numbers for the other team leaders. So here we are walking in a close huddle. While we are walking someone tries to steal something from one of our team members’ bags while she is not looking but thankfully her husband notices it and grabs the man pushes him away. If we weren’t already on edge, we were now.
After attempting to communicate with different people, our team leader decides it would just be best to go back to where we started. We then start walking in the general direction of where we came from and by the grace of the Lord we find ourselves in an open area near where we first entered. Once we are there we just stop and take a deep breath and praise Jesus we are alive. Also at that moment our team leader gets a call from one of the squad leaders to tell us where the other team was. So he leaves us to go find them. At this point the sun has finally risen and what before was the scariest place ever was now a much less intense bus station. (Maybe I’ll write a blog about darkness and light and the difference it can make on how something appears). After what feels like almost an hour, we finally board our bus and breathe a sigh of relief. We are finally heading towards our location but we had no idea our sigh of relief was WAY TOO SOON!
As we are going, I’m beginning to realize that the bus station was only the beginning of literally the longest day of my life. We knew our bus ride was supposed to be between 12-16 hours. That didn’t really worry me until we started hitting speed bumps every few minutes. Now when I say hit I really mean COLLISION. We were going over speed bumps at probably over 90 mph. Every time we hit these speed bumps it would feel like the bus was going to wreck and I was launched about a foot off my seat into my team mates lap. Oh and did I mention that our bus was the size of a normal coach bus but instead of have a row of 4 seats divided by an aisle it was instead a row of 5 seats divided by an aisle. So instead of the bus being wider, the seats where just smaller with the aisle being big enough for a small child to walk through.
So for 19 hours (yes 19!), every couple of minutes, sometimes seconds I was launched at least a foot off my seat into my team members lap. I don’t think I can accurately describe what it feels like to fall asleep and then wake up to find your limp body flying through the air. There was a moment when we hit a speed bump so hard that my team mate was launched so high into the air that she cracked her head on the ceiling of the bus and I’m pretty sure she had a concussion. For a few days after this journey her neck would continue to hurt.
During our 19 hour ride, our bus would break down 3 times. On the third breakdown, we were in the middle of nowhere, at night in total darkness. I’m not going to lie the thoughts that crossed mind were “someone must’ve paid the bus driver to bring us out to nowhere, steal our stuff, and kill us. I also prayed and said “Lord if you don’t miraculously pick up this bus and bring it to our location we will never get there.” This thought might’ve been ridiculous but I failed to mention that at some point during our ride we picked up a couple of guys that had some sort of rifles or shotguns attached to their bodies and for some reason they stood in the aisle right near us. Needless to say, the feeling of total exhaustion and helplessness was making a home in my body.
But I must’ve arrived because here I am writing this blog.
At around 1am we arrived at our stop in Mwanza. Nevermind the fact that we left the day before around 7am. To our delight, our contacts were waiting there to greet us and take us home. We load our stuff into their two cars, and breathe yet another sigh of relief to finally be off that insane bus.
Yet again we would sigh too early. We start driving toward our contacts home excited by the prospect of going to sleep. After a little while our contact turns into neighborhood and the next thing we know we find ourselves off-roading, but not in a Jeep Wrangler or a Range Rover. No. It was more like a 1990s Lincoln Towncar and a 1980s Toyota with no shocks. We were going over small hills every few seconds and I could feel the impact of every bump through every bit of my spine. At this time I would like to say, if anyone would like to pay for chiropractic services for me after the race, I will not complain. Haha.
After 15 minutes of this we finally arrive in front of a house. We unload our packs and start praising Jesus that we are finally on solid ground and are no longer moving. Just as we begin to breathe that sigh of relief again our contact begins to lead us toward us the house but instead of going into the house, we walk through an alleyway beside the house. As we are continuing onward, slowly a mountain begins to appear before our eyes and then…
…the accent begins.
Strapped with 40-50 pound packs on our backs and 15ish pound day packs attached to our fronts, we start climbing with no end in sight. After about 20 or so minutes of walking, we finally reach some leveled ground but as if to put the cherry on top, the incline drastically increases. At this point I give into the fact that I’m not going to make it and will probably die here on this mountain. I know it sounds dramatic but after what we had already experienced, we literally had no idea what to expect.
A short while later, we arrive at another house and FINALLY, PRAISE JESUS, we have arrived!!!!! We go inside and God straight up blesses us. We find out we have beds and that they have dinner prepared for us! So to bring this journey to an end we sit down at a table around 2am to eat a meal and go to bed.
We wound up living with a pastor and his family and this family blessed the socks off of us. I’m pretty sure they blessed us more than we did them. Where we lived we were literally a city on a hill….a very large hill. There were many times I would debate over whether going down the mountain to get internet was worth it because I knew coming back would destroy me. Not to mention, riding in mini buses made for 16 people but instead having 32 random people crammed in without air-conditioning. I will NEVER EVER complain about having to ride in a car with 5 people.
Anyway, while living here my team and I preached and led several bible studies. We also did some home and hospital visits where we got to pray over many sick people and got to share the gospel as well. Those were some awesome moments. I even got to explain the whole bible in 4 minutes. S/N: If you are ever in this position make sure everything points to Jesus. 🙂
Although, this month was one of our more quiet months and we had a lot of downtime, God really showed me how even in the craziest situations he is taking care of everything.
Hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did. 🙂
