East Africa As A Spiritual Bullseye

 Part I:
Heart of Darkness

Recently, I've been considering going back to East Africa. The idea of returning to the land of red dirt has turned in my head, but more specifically my heart. Something about East Africa calls to me. It did before I went, and after I went last year. For many people in my field, East Africa gets under your skin. Why is this? 

In putting the pieces together I realize there is something special about this place. Something good and something, shall we call it, evil. Author Joseph Conrad described it as The Heart Of Darkness. But if it actually was? What if this region was a central core of good and evil?

In part 1 of this entry, I'd like to examine the case for centralized evil:

Africa as a whole has been a hotbed of tragic activity, from slavery to genocide, to the blood diamond trade, but I feel, specifically, East Africa is the most concentrated area of terror. Rwanda, Uganda, Sudan, Kenya, Ethiopia, and The Congo, all connected, have become a bull’s-eye of the greatest sorrow this world has to offer.

East Africa has been described as, and often called, “The Heart Of The World” because many believe it is where civilization first sprang up from. It was the center of the formed earth when the continents were combined. Also, one of the tribes of Israel settled in Ethiopia, and this is considered to possibly be the final resting place of the Ark of the Covenant, whatever state it is in.

But specifically in the last 100 years, like the rest of the world, violence has increased exponentially. Take the Man-eaters of Tsavo, two male lions that killed over a hundred people in Kenya, coming back night after night for human flesh, until they were killed by the hunter Lt. Col. John Patterson. Their stuffed bodies can still be seen at the Chicago Natural History Museum. 

In the 70s, Idi Amin was a horrendous Dictator who killed 500,000 of his own Ugandans. In Rwanda in 1994, one of the bloodiest genocides in history took place as Tutsi Rwandans killed 800,000 Hutus (20% of the population), largely by hacking them to death with machetes. The country is still recovering from this travesty. 

HIV infects 33 million people, 70 percent of which live in Africa. Tyrants, mutilation, murder, and cannibalism is part of Uganda’s history. Ethiopia has dealt with devastating droughts and famine. Somolia is the worst port of piracy in the world. In the Sudan, tribal war has killed and displaced millions in the Darfur region. 

Women’s issues in the Congo are possibly the worst in the world. The numbers of rape, torture, genital mutilation, clitorodectomies, among tribes, villages, cities, and displacement camps are unfathomable.

Uganda hosts the most Witch Doctors in Africa. Black Magic and the occult are common through much of Africa and South America, but here, Ugandan Witch Doctors practice human sacrifice. Currently, it would seem The Democratic Republic of the Congo, is the worst country in Africa. Due to recent tribal warfare, millions have murdered and displaced. It has become the wild west of Africa.

In my opinion, the most troubling of all these events in East Africa is Joseph Kony and the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) of Uganda, a rebel army deeply active in the occult. Besides continuous village massacres, for the last 20 years, Kony has kidnapped and brainwashed 50,000 children into fighting the Ugandan military for him as rebels. He does this by making them kill or eat their families so they feel shamed and can never return to their village. 

Kony gives the children a mix of cocaine and gunpowder, which not only makes them dependent, but he tells them it will make them bulletproof. They kill and are killed for this mad man, who actually invokes the power of Satan. The taken girls of only 7 or 8 are given to the commanding officers as wives, and raped continually.

Kony, who claims to be the son of God, comes from a family of cult leaders and demonic witch doctors. He is one of the greatest villains this world has ever seen, and almost nobody seems to know about him. And nobody can kill him. Without explanation, he has evaded the Ugandan Military for 20 years. Stories have come out of the military from Colonels of Kony being surrounded by opposing soldiers, and then disappearing in the blink of an eye. 

The multiple stories of his demonic powers could be cultural superstition, but with the amount of evil he’s done, and with the amount of success, and his ability to predict government raids, I am inclined to believe it. He is currently thought to be hiding in the jungles of the Congo.

But where there is darkness, there is greater light. More to come…

Don't Go In The Water!

We rarely see what dangers lie beneath the surface.

A couple summers ago, I was traveling along the Amazon and working with different village communities. One day, my team and I were painting houses and it must have been 200 degrees out; plus the horrendous humidity made it feel like 300. 

After sunset, we went to the bank of the river where we had swum earlier that day. We were hot and drenched in sweat. The water looked so appealing and we just wanted to dive in and feel that refreshing coolness. The water was good and was meant to be pleasurable. But as soon as our feet touched that water, one of the locals came out yelling at us to get out of the water. We didn’t understand, but he said it with such conviction. So of course, we didn’t go in to the river.

When we asked him why, he didn’t give us the reason. All he said was, “No. You can not go in after sunset”, in the most mysterious foreboding tribal accent you can imagine. It always kills me when someone tells me no without saying why.

Aggravated and frustrated that we didn’t get what was good earlier that day, we went inside the boat.  That night as we moved down the river, we heard the captain call out, “Jackadae!”

Jackadae is Portuguese for Crocodile.

We looked to where to the water met the land and saw pairs of red eyes just above the water, illuminated by the spot light. As those red eyes submerged into the water, we realized why we couldn’t go in after sunset.

        

In that situation, the local was infinitely wiser than us and had our well being in the front of his mind. We just had to trust him. I think it’s the same way with God. He wants the best for me and knows what will hurt me. I just have to trust him. Even when he creates something good and pleasurable, like the river water, it may not be the appropriate time or scenario and he says no. 

I realized then that the jungle is a perfect example of this world. A place that is beautiful, exotic, and deadly. Wisdom keeps you alive. I think much of the bible is akin to worn map There is a rhythm and nature to this land and if you obey it you will live. As my Old Man taught me, "We don't break laws, we break ourselves upon them." If the world demands obedience of us to survive, like in Jungle Law, so then, wouldn't this be true of moral law as well? We don't always see everything. We'll never have all the info. But God does.

What I’ve found is, if I don’t listen to God, who is perfect, and I take my own way, sin can creep up on me and destroy me.

… Much like the Jackadae. 

On A Wing And A Prayer: A Testimony of God's Providence in the Amazon

Recently I went with a Bel Air team to Brazil intending to work on a Medical Boat traveling up the Amazon River giving aid to the native villagers. Unfortunately, Brazil kicked me out.

On the 4th of July, our team flew from Los Angeles to Panama and then to the city of Manaus, Brazil. While going through customs, the Federal Police informed me there was a fine on my passport from an earlier trip – which turned out to be a clerical error. I offered to pay the fine, but it was no use. The Federal Police forced me on to the plane going back to Panama. I waved goodbye to my shocked team. I was going home. I knew that even if I could work things out to return, the odds of finding my team in the middle of the Amazon were slim to none.

As my flight to LA didn’t leave from Panama until the next day, I convinced the airline to put me up in a hotel for the night. They begrudgingly agreed, but inexplicably put me up in a hotel twenty-five miles from the airport. Traveling in a taxicab through the foreign county at night, I realized not only did I not know anyone within a thousand miles, but also no one knew where I was. I was on my own. Upon arrival, I received an email message from fellow team member Kyle Collier. He sent me phone numbers for Pastor Dejard, our Brazilian contact. When I called, he told me to work out the fine with the Brazilian Consulate in Panama, get back to Manaus, and he would somehow get me to the medical boat. As it was now midnight, and my ride to the airport leaving the next morning at eight thirty, this plan was ludicrous. But after a little investigating, I discovered the Brazilian Consulate was literally three blocks away from my hotel!

I now had a choice to make. Go back to LA, or attempt the most insane Hail Mary pass of my life and try to get back to my team. After much prayer that night, I decided to go for it. The next morning, the Consulate gave me the necessary paperwork so I could fly back to Brazil. I quickly hailed a cab and raced to the airport. Late for my flight, the airline Attendant ran me through the airport security and we made gate just as they were closing. Once on the plane, I knew I needed a Portuguese translator. I turned to the gentleman behind me, told my story, and told me that he and his newly wed wife not only knew Pastor Dejard, but they went to his church. By this point, I knew God was behind this.

After working things out with immigration, the newlywed couple drove me to the church office where I met pastor Dejard. He figured I had exactly one shot at meeting with the team. The next day I journeyed with a Brazilian guide, who didn’t speak a word of English or Spanish, 200 kilometers up the river. We took a ferry to a taxicab that drove for 2 ½ hours on a lone road through the jungle. Arriving at the river, my guide pointed to a speedboat, waved goodbye, and drove off. I got into a speedboat with a cross-eyed driver and we journeyed up the river for the next hour and a half.

Being on that glassy river, with the setting sun and brilliant cloudscapes, was one of the greatest moments of my life: a moment of experiencing God in all his beauty and providence. We finally came to the village and the driver pointed to a small chapel up on a hill. I took my guitar and walked into the back of this chapel to looks of disbelief from my team. I thought this stuff only happened in movies. After 48 hours and 2,000 miles, my journey had come to a close. I stood there realizing that God had worked in a real specific way in my life. Also, that I should have studied more Portuguese.