ARRIVED IN AFRICA!

Hey All –
Well, it’s been a wild bunch of days and one crazy ride thus far!
In the midst of all the final preparation and packing I finally got my “Lakeland” editing job finished, special thanks to my friend Johnny C. I had to work straight through Sat evening, didn’t get to sleep at all and just made my flight. The ride to Atlanta was pretty much uneventful although the Delta flight attendants seem to be de-evolutionizing concerning their people skills…or lack there of.

After switching planes in Atlanta, we flew to the western most part of Africa, Dakar, about 8 1/2 hours. It was when we landed in Dakar that I realized we weren’t in Kansas any longer. Once the departing passengers disembarked the craft, a group of African Federal Security Personal entered the plane and commenced to strip search all the seat cushions throughout the fuselodge…they also went through all of our carry on luggage. A voice from the announcement speakers made mention that this was going to happen while also informing us that if any live animals were found on board, they would be destroyed. Man, can you imagine that. What if you were traveling with little Fluffy and just found this one out…how devastating would that be…?
I was able to pull off a few candid shots before I was told to stop (see picture.)

After the two-hour ordeal was over, we then flew another 8 1/2 hours before landing in Johannesburg, South Africa. My layover was about 16 hours and it was here that I realized I was going to have a workout trying to obtain my luggage. One bag was missing. After two more hours of struggling through a communication breakdown I left the airport with one out of two pieces of luggage…by that time, I think I was the only person left in the airport.

Johannesburg was more like Iceberg…it’s their winter now and heating isn’t a very common luxury. So after a quick evenings rest at a small B&B, fully clothed under two comforter blankets, I headed back to Joburg Airport. Even though my stay in Joburg was short, I did get to experience middle-class suburban living. The streets were lined with old wooden cross polls that strung together electric fence wiring, segregating each housing community. Barbed wire fenced in business after business filled in the gaps between neighborhoods. There wasn’t much grass or the color green for that matter anywhere and the overall feel of each community was cold dark, brown and suppressive, the people didn’t seem to smile much ether.

Once back at the airport and after bantering back and forth with the counter woman at South African Air…she assured me that my luggage would arrive in Pemba safely…that never happened.

The passengers around me on both flights were made up of mostly big game hunters coming over to the different countries in Africa in search of “the big kill.” The guys I spoke with were after Lions, Elephants. Rhino’s...that sort of thing. Quite an interesting bunch…they spoke of “the kill” with a passion in their eyes that really caused one to wonder.

The flight to Pemba on South African Air took about three and a half hours. As we flew closer to the ground I could see that most of the dwellings were grass-roofed huts, it was once again very brown and there were fires burning all around these little communities. [I later found out that the sanitation people are on strike and all of the fires are burning trash.] As soon as we exited our little four-engine craft, I could feel the climate change right away – much warmer and more humid.

Going through customs was an experience. You’re first greeted (well, you’re not really greeted…you’re more ‘looked at’) by the local airline officials that line up and just sort of stand there watching…for what I wondered. Then you wait in line for one man in a booth dressed in a military outfit of sorts. When it was my turn and I approached him, a strange feeling of guilt came over me. I don’t know, maybe it was just the way he was looking at me…kind of like I was already guilty of something just because I was merely trying to enter his country Pemba. Once past that…I next experienced the smallest baggage turnstile I’ve ever seen. It was a small circle, 15 or so feet across that looked more like a child’s living room car racetrack. Once again I’m waiting with baited anticipation for my bag…it never showed up. Don’t you just hate that?! It has taken me two days to get this far.

Now, the fight is on. Trying to communicate the importance of having your bags back in your possession to a people who don’t speak English and really don’t seem to understand the word ‘urgency’ …man, this has been a real challenge. So now it’s been a series of translated phone calls and trips to the airport in hopes of finding my missing luggage. The big issue here is that it contains all of my preventative herbs and nutritional supplements. These are things that should be in my body on a daily basis to prevent all sorts of things from happening. All the time I’m reminded of the amount of baggage theft that’s been a cronic issue all throughout the African airway systems.

OK, while that’s all going on…there is this town called Pemba, and the orphanage, which will be my home for the next month. Wow, this is the most impoverished place I have ever seen…let alone been to! Huts and buildings with no windows or doors. Again, no grass or anything green to speak of anywhere. There are people standing around all over the place just standing…just looking…at what I continue to wonder. Goats are crossing the streets, roosters crowing and children scrimmaging all around. As we pull into the Iris compound, we past through a dirt field with garbage all about and a few small garbage pits with more kids going through the trash. We pass child after child with dirty knees and ripped up clothing. Upon entering the camp it looks something like an extremely low-income tropical housing project. There are people all around, children crying and I’m sensing a strong feeling of survival.

My room is assigned to me. It’s a simple space with a concrete floor and bars on the opened windows, no glass, just a screen and rod iron. There’s a mosquito net hanging over the bed, a must for this region and triple locks on every door. It was stressed to me over and over to be careful of thievery. Don’t leave anything within arms length of the windows, make sure you triple lock each door (there are three doors and a security gate between my room and the outside world) and don’t walk around after sundown. Welcome to Pemba.

The electricity here is intermittent and power surges are a common occurrence. We get only cold water to wash up with and you can’t throw your used toilet paper in the toilet…they have to be placed in the trashcan. My brother Jan would loose it right here…maybe some of you as well.

I’m writing this on a word document because there is no Internet around so by the time you read this, it will have been days before I cut and past it onto my Blog site.

One more thing before I close this entry out. One of the strangest things about this area is that right across the street from all of this poverty is a beautiful view of the Indian Ocean and just up the street is a four star (five or six for this area) hotel. Some Arabian Sheik built the hotel and it’s about as out of place here as a palm tree in the middle of Alaska. Very surreal.

I’m now off to go about helping with the orphanage’s business…still learning all about that and will fill you in more as it unfolds. I do know that the reason for all of the orphan kids is due to the after effects of Mozambique’s Civil War, Apparently many of the adults were slaughtered leaving a whole colony of orphan children left roaming about the country. This place (The Iris Ministry) has certain brought a whole lot of life, love, support and hope to thousands of people countrywide.

That’s it for now…

Oh, if you really need to get a hold of me, you can try me at the following number...no promises:
826402397...I'll try to get the area code next time.