Six months into our stay in Zambia, one of the missionaries received a telegram that I had sent from Mombasa, informing them of our intended journey to Zambia. Now that is one for the Guinness Book of Records!
My old faithful pickup was in bad shape, and a friend said he could get rid of it in the Congo since it was left hand drive.
Someone had a small motorcycle and he wanted to sell it. It needed some welding done on it, so I said I would weld it. I was prepared just incase it might catch fire. It did! Guess who bought it? I repaired it and it served me well for some time.
I had been helping to build a hospital some one hundred and thirty miles away, and there was a lady nurse there who wanted to sell a Land Rover. And she had it pushed by some Africans for several miles to get it home to her place. I said I would like to buy it, so now I needed to get it running.
I stripped the radiator out and dismantled the front of the engine and after studying some timing marks on the timing chain belt. I discovered that it had jumped it’s timing by 180 degrees. After putting it right, I thought I would try it. It started up without a problem. I re-assembled it and then drove it to Kalene It also had four broken spring leaves, one in each spring. After removing all the springs and replacing all the broken leaves, I now had a good vehicle.
Marie and I were asked if we could spend the week there in the home of two nurses where I had bought the car, while they went to town for rest and supplies, (I had been working on that Hospital anyway, so it was quite convenient for us to do so.)
In the absence of those nurses, we sat in the house in the evening and it was pouring rain. About, nine o-clock, two men appeared at the door with a storm lantern. I opened the door to reveal two soaked men with a sad story to tell.
They spoke enough English to let us know that there was a woman who had been in labor for three days and needed help. I always kept the car full of gas, and I agreed to go and get her. (The hospital, which I was helping to build, was not yet operating, and the two nurses were miles away).
The rain continued to pour down and the roads were in bad shape. The sick lady was about eight miles further into the bush. Marie remained alone in the house.
As we made our way along the road, it became more difficult to see. I suggested that one of the men get out of the car and sit on the spare tire which was located on the hood (bonnet). He would point which way to turn, and we came to a bridge, which was about six inches under fast flowing water.
I ventured the front wheels unto the bridge and all seemed safe, so I drove the car over without incident. The grass was so tall, that I could not see and could only depend on the guy sitting on the hood to direct me.
Finely, the lights of the car revealed a small brick building, about twelve feet square. I entered inside and one wall had many shelves lined with empty bottles. Perhaps from Colonial times, and on the floor lay a tiny woman, naked except for a leso (a piece of cotton about five feet square). Her husband, also very small in stature, sat on the cold cement floor beside her. The feeling of utter hopelessness came over me. What could I do to help this poverty stricken man and his helpless wife? The man was also naked, but for a similar bit of cloth. Neither of them had ever been in any vehicle before.
I picked her up and placed her on the rear seat of the Land Rover, and commenced the unforgettable journey to Kalene Hospital, one hundred and thirty five miles away with torrential rain and muddy road. The husband was so frightened, that he could do nothing for his ailing wife. He clung to the seat and said nothing.
The two men who had been with me, disappeared into the night and I was on my own with the two helpless creatures.
Some twenty miles along the road, a red light appeared on the dash, I knew that it was the Generator light. I grabbed a tire iron, and lifted the hood and tapped on the generator, and was thankful to the Gracious Lord that it started working again. This I had to do several times, the rest of the way to the Hospital.
Things went as well as could be expected until we reached the main road. Hugh heavy trucks had formed deep tracks in the road and I tried to keep the wheels of the Land Rover between the deep tracks, sometimes the rear wheels of the Land Rover would slide in and crawl sideways until the wheels would grip and bounce up from the deep tracks, and the poor suffering soul would fall off the seat, and I would have to stop to get her back on the seat again. The husband was so afraid, that he was totally stiff and useless!
I arrived at the hospital, about six o’clock in the morning, and I lifted the lady unto a stretcher and left her in the hands of the doctors. I went to have breakfast with some friends, and while I was having breakfast, some one knocked on the door and informed me that the lady had died. I felt heartbroken to say the least. Why had I brought her so much trauma and pain only to loose her in the end?
The lady was buried somewhere at Kalene, and the husband and I, started the return journey to the bush where he lived. The rain had ceased, and the road was somewhat better. After several hours, we neared his village. Suddenly, he motioned to me to stop. He jumped out of the vehicle and disappeared into the bush.
In the Lunda tribe, they believed that if someone had died, it was the result of someone else “eating” the dead person’s life. The husband knew that if he returned to his family, he would be blamed for her death. A Witch Doctor would be called to determine who the culprit was. This corrupt heathen practice was common, and many people were beaten or killed at the word of the Witch Doctor, hence the sudden disappearance of the husband. I had been warned that this might happen, but there was little I could do.
To be continued.

We began the last leg of our safari to Kalene mission. Beautiful farmland for a hundred klms. or so, then the sandy road narrowed. Forest flanked the road on either side and the trees resembled old apple trees with out fruit. Miles and miles of it. None of us experienced any illness. Amazing!
We passed a small town called Solwezi, and no hills in sight. Soon we came to the Kabompo River, then to Mwinilunga, pushing on to Ikelange where the children would attend school.
Soon we came to a hill (Kelani Hill) from where we could observe the Congo on the right and Angola to the west. As we descended the rough track, we encountered a horrific accident. A large, heavily loaded lorry with about eight people riding on top, and the driver having lost control, turned over, throwing the people and the goods into the trees. Five of the eight were killed.
I met a brother, whose name was Les White, from Kalene. He was there trying to give first aid to the injured. I hurried on into Kalene and offloaded our things and left Marie and the children there while I hurried back to the scene, and they loaded some of the injured into my pickup, and I transported them into the Kelene Hospital. Corrugated iron sheets, which also were on top of the load, were used as stretchers to retrieve the injured out of the woods.
When things settled a little we went to the home of an elderly couple (Mr. and Mrs. Chapman) and were served tea by a nurse, Ann Bissel. Later we were taken to our new home.
Our new home was not exactly new, and it had been the home where Mr. Nightengale and his wife Dr. Nightengale had been living. In our first night there we surveyed the house and the first room was the kitchen. A long cast iron stove occupied the center and the there was no ceiling. The rafters were blackened with years of smoke. I wondered how Marie would be able to cope.
The bedroom had a door to the outside, with a small opening hung on hinges to allow the cat to enter and exit at will. There were two single beds and due to the very tall Mr. Nightengale, the beds were about two and a half feet high. This posed a minor problem for Marie to negotiate the climb!
One night we heard a loud banging outside the window. I peered out to see what the noise was, and a large bat had gotten inside a steel open topped drum and was unable to get out. I fail to remember anything else about the place.
We soon got to meet all the staff at the hospital. It was a large building and had a large outpatients area. About one thousand patience were seen and cared for every day. There were two doctors at that time . Dr Swain who lived along the path / road from us, and Dr. Lee, a quiet, kind man with rather poor health at that time. Also a number of nurses were kept busy with all manner of unpleasant tasks. I tried to keep busy with cleaning toilets. Yes they were Indian style and every night, a million maggots appeared and the place had to be washed down!
Five days after the accident, the Government ordered post mortem done on the five people who had been killed. Dr. Lee was appointed to do the job. Now I had had little experience in surgery, but since Dr. Lee was not feeling well I proceeded to help him. He sat on a stool and gave me instructions. “Take the knife and start to cut well back of the ear and cut just above the ear , and around the forehead and back along above the other ear and, then here is the saw”…My stomach wanted to protest, but I managed to keep it under control. The stench can only be imagined!
I took the saw and tried to obey instructions. “Don’t cut too deeply” he warned, so I sawed nearly a quarter of an inch deep all around the skull. Then came the test. “Take the chisel” he said, “and insert the blade and give it a sharp crack!” and to my utter surprise, it separated all the way around, and was just like a hinge, and I, pulling the scalp back, exposed the brain!
Next was the chest. I was instructed to make a cut down the center of the Sternum. Then make two cuts about five inches apart, to my right as I faced the body. I inserted my fingers and took a firm hold and again, to my surprise, I opened the chest! It was like a small trapdoor. There inside was the heart and liver as well as other organs, and one of the dead, was a woman with serious ceros sis of the liver. This was common amongst many old women as they made and sold a type of “moonshine” for a living, and so, drank plenty as well.
It should be understood, that my two year sojourn in Zambia, was much more beneficial to me than their benefits of my being there. I was helped immensely, but seemed to be lacking in usefulness most of the time.

Take a moment please and read the following message.

Some years ago, my wife and children and I walked to the K.L.M. desk in Montreal. We were on our way to Africa. The lady was most kind and she tore out the part of the ticket that would take us to Amsterdam. She quickly tagged our luggage and lifted the heavy bags unto the conveyer belt, which carried them to the aircraft. As we started to walk away from the desk, she reminded me that she had not checked my passports. After she looked at them, her countenance grew grim. She remarked “sir, your passports are all expired”!
This story, however, is not about me---It’s about you!
As I look around me, I see millions, either by sudden death, illness, or simply old age, who are indeed, approaching death with no passport or return ticket!
The question is, “are you one of those millions, or are you safe from the eternal prison of hell”?
The good news is the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ the Messiah, is offering you a valid passport and a free ticket to join Him in eternal Glory! Listen to His gracious words in the Bible. “Behold I stand at the door and knock, If any man hear my voice and opens the door (your heart), I will come in unto him and sup with him and he with me”. These words were spoken as He was outside the unbelieving church of the Laodiceans.
There are lots of other voices out there; medicine, science, religion but the only voice that can save a man's soul, is the voice of Jesus the Redeemer.
It is interesting that the lady at K.L.M. did not ask me if I was a good fellow or if I had done anything bad in my life. She simply wanted a valid passport!
Now I am nobody’s judge, and after all, you were created in the image and likeness of God, so why wouldn’t you be a good person? The problem is, that by one man sinned and so all have the sin nature of that first man (Adam). So that is why you cannot go to Heaven with a sinful nature. You must be reborn into Gods family. This is done, by accepting Jesus as your personal savior.
It has nothing to do with your behavior. You may be good, or you may be bad. The message is, Note Romans 4:18. Therefore as by the offence of one judgment came upon all men to condemnation; even so by the righteousness of one the free gift came upon all men unto justification of life. 19 For as by one man's disobedience many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one shall many be made righteous. Please receive Jesus as your Lord and Savior now.