This was written and sent out to our Churches in February, 1979, just after Jim was
released from Hospital, but while he was still required to spend 2 hours daily in Physical
Therapy treatments at the hospital for continuing recovery from "multiple gunshot wounds"
suffered at the hands of communist terrorists in Rhodesia while serving there as an
Independent Baptist Missionary, sponsored by the Rodgers Baptist Church, of Garland, and
supported by many independent Baptist Churches.
"...and the hand of our God was upon us, and he delivered us from the hand of the enemy, and of such as lay in wait by the way." (Ezra 8:31)
February, 1979
Dear Friends:
Beyond the boundaries of the cities the roads are almost deserted at night-time but for the security forces: for who could know when or where the terrorists would strike? Throughout the countryside, night meant danger and vigilance to withstand attack. In the rural districts and the scattered tribal areas terror stalked the land. The new barbarian invaders might have belonged to the Dark Ages, had they not been armed with Soviet rockets, rifles and mortars.
It is vain to glorify the perpetrators of countless inhuman outrages, committing unspeakable atrocities against black and white as "guerrillas" or "freedom fighters." These are communist trained terrorists using communist weapons (at least partially) paid for and financially supported by the World Council of Churches, and politically backed by the United Nations, the United States and the British governments.
The terrorists are given heavy doses of solid Marxist indoctrination and this includes pure atheism. They are told that God does not exist, that Jesus and His followers are capitalist exploiters, that the missionaries are enemies of the people, and that religion is being used by the capitalists to exploit the people. We know, too, the Marxist dream of a world empire and the enforcement of an ideology which denies God and dehumanizes man. Suffice it to say that the arch-conspirator is Satan himself.
For the past several years we have lived, moved and worked, knowing that these terrorists were all around us and YET that "peace of God, which passeth all understanding," has kept our hearts and minds from trouble and fear. If God be for us...who can be against us?
Tuesday morning, November 28, 1978, dawned bright and beautiful and I stepped out the kitchen door to see the sunrise, whisper a prayer and thank the Lord for this day which He had made. I then went into the kitchen to stoke the fire and begin breakfast. Jim came into the kitchen with Sgt. Mukondiwa, an African para-military policeman, and told me he would have to be gone for a short time. For the past year or so I had always gone with Jim in our vehicle to help watch for ambushes and land mines in the road and I started to go with him, but since the Sergeant would be with him, and the coffee was perking merrily on the stove, and he said he would be back for breakfast, I stayed behind.
He had only been gone about 5 minutes when several explosions rocked the house and then a barrage of automatic small arms fire was heard. I knew immediately Jim had been ambushed on the road and a chill of utter horror swept over me. As I ran into the bedroom there were more bursts of automatic fire and I pressed the alarm button on the Agric-Alert (an alarm radio connected to a network of others in the area, including the nearest Security Force Base) to let the police and other security forces at Cashel know Jim was being attacked by terrorists.
After speaking to them on the radio, and giving them the needed information, my very first thought was "I must go to the aid of Jim, for, I didn't know if he were dead, wounded or if the murderers were butchering him, for this they do quite often, both to the whites and the blacks. However, (even at the time I knew this was a foolish idea!) when I spoke to the police they told me to stay inside the security fence and lock the gate and they would organize a rescue.
(Note by Jim: My friends in the security forces later told me that Georgia told them she was going to get her Uzi and go out to try to find and help rescue me from the terrorists attack. They also told me that they had to "talk fast" to keep her from doing it! They promised her they would send out a search party of Security Force members immediately in Land Rovers to try to find and help me, which they did.)
In a few minutes the police called back to say a spotter plane was on the way. Again I stepped out the kitchen door and lifted my eyes to the mountain tops surrounding the house and prayed......the verse "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth." came to mind as I threw myself on His mercy and grace and prayed Jim would come out of this alive.
Soon I heard the plane and watched as it came over the mountain top. He flew overhead and then out over the valley below and down toward the Rufuku valley where the road twists and turns. The radio came on again and the police told me the plane had spotted Jim's vehicle on the hill leading down into the valley and the police reserve vehicles were on the way up the valley to find and help him. I waited and prayed! From my side of this experience, if you want to call it that, I shall never be able to describe this time of waiting and DEPENDENCE upon God for His sustaining grace, His strength and help at this time! Truly He WAS and IS - "...the strength of my life; ..." Psalms 27:1
A little later, I heard the sound of helicopters and watched as two came over the mountains and flew down into the Rufuku valley. Then ( AGES????) later the call came through - - - - they had found Jim and he was alive!! Joy and Thanksgiving filled my heart. A helicopter was standing by to carry him and the Sergeant to hospital. How can I explain the well of thanksgiving which flooded my heart as I clasped Jim's Bible and in prayer praised the Lord for His mercy!!
The sound of helicopters led me again to the back door and I watched as two landed inside the security fence (loaded with SAS Commandos) to help protect me and the house if the terrorists moved on up to attack the homestead. In a short time a police unit arrived to escort me into Umtali to be with Jim. I hurriedly packed a few belongings and one of the reservists asked if I were able to drive the red (Chevrolet) Blazer while he rode "shotgun" with his gun on the ready. We left the homestead and started down the long winding road, always alert for terrorists on the way. But to repeat to you Jim's account of the ambush as told to Supt. Finch of Sub-joc, Umtali. (JOC stands for "Joint Operations Command, so Sub-joc means a subdivision of the regional military Joint Operations Command, of course).
"A few hundred yards after crossing the Wengezi River and entering onto the council (we would call it a county road in Texas) road we came under fire from heavy automatic small arms fire, and 5 rifle launched grenades or rockets. (The security forces told us later there were about 35 firing positions at this FIRST ambush.) Four of the grenades missed the vehicle but one of the grenades hit the canopy right behind the cab and glanced off, WITHOUT EXPLODING!!
Later the security forces found this "dud" grenade and detonated it. Jim was struck by several bullets: one in the left shoulder, breaking the left upper arm bone, passing through and coming out through the upper-left part of his chest, one in the left hand breaking bones where thumb joins the hand; one through the neck, barley missing the jugular vein; several in the back side of the right shoulder and many shrapnel wounds in the head, face, and neck.
When this happened Jim gunned through the "kill zone" and had gone about a half a mile when he was hit by a SECOND ambush. He had stopped at the workers village to call one of our Christians, named Stephen, to go up to the house to help me in case the terrorists nught come up there.
As he turned his head sharply to the left to call for Stephen, the terrorists opened fire and a bullet hit the edge of his glasses (he had thick plastic frames) breaking the plastic frame and carrying the lens out with it and never touched or hurt his eye. With the automatic shift and the power steering he was able to quickly take off again (despite his wounds and useless left arm and hand) from this second "kill zone." Sgt. Mukondiwa was returning fire with his FN but after the second ambush he was barely touched by a spent bullet in the back of his head or neck, and passed out, unconscious.
Jim was able to drive on for plus or minus a mile to the descent into the Rufuku valley where he had to abandon the vehicle (and leave the Sergeant in it, since he was physically unable to move him.) His (the sergeants) vital signs were strong at this point, but he was unconscious.
The Sergeant had only one tiny scratch on the back of his head or neck, with only a few drops of blood). Jim left the vehicle and went up around an ant hill and then on into the bush beyond a second ant hill near the road, taking his gun and magazines with him and hid in a position where he could see the vehicle and the road in case the terrorists followed to be sure they were dead.
After what seemed a long time he saw several men coming down the road with guns. Hidden alongside the road but in the bush behind the big ant hill, and due to his glasses being shot out and blood running into his eyes he couldn't tell if it were the Terrorists or our own Rhodesian soldiers (Africans). He watched from hiding while the point man started following the trail of blood out to where Jim was hidden.
When the man came close, Jim couldn't recognize him because of the blood (Jim's blood, oozing down from wounds on his head) and the missing lens from his glasses, so he called from his hiding place for him to hold up his gun so he could see if it were an FN. This the man did and also called Jim by name. These soldiers (our own loyal Rhodesian Africans) got the two casualties out on the ground near the vehicle, called for help on the radio, and shortly after a police reserve plane spotted them and made several low fly-bys to let them know they were seen.
A few minutes later, the Cashel police reserve unit arrived (with some of Jim's personal friends in the group) and soon two helicopters came in. The first dropping off a bunch of our security forces (Rhodesian Commandos), then the second came in with more security forces and a military doctor (an American medical doctor from California) who immediately began a drip for Jim for blood volume replacement and morphine for pain-killing.
He had lost quite a lot of blood by this time, and was suffering some from shock, of course. They (Jim and Sergeant Mukondikwa) were then air lifted to Umtali General Hospital. There, several bullets and many pieces of shrapnel were taken out of Jim, and he was hospitalized. It turned out to be 6 weeks in hospital, and three months of physio-therapy (called Physical Therapy in the U.S.A.) to get his left hand, arm, and shoulder working again.
It is amazing how so many things depend on that little word "If."
If Jim had been driving the old red Blazer he could never have driven out of the first kill zone with one arm useless and the other wounded, because it was "manual shift." (Instead, he was driving the newly received Chevrolet pickup, which had automatic shift, power steering, and a heavy metal canopy, which shielded Jim and the Sergeant somewhat from the terrorists bullets after they had passed the ambush site, going away.)
If God had not intervened in the firing of the rifle grenades he and the Sergeant would probably have been killed (blown to bits) in this first ambush. If he had not turned his head at just the right time (allowing the bullet to just strike his glasses instead of going straight through his head as it would otherwise have done) and the bullet which hit the glasses he was wearing had not been "guided" by God it would have killed him in the second ambush instantly.
If there had not been a doctor on the helicopter which came to pick them up he still might not have made it due to shock and loss of blood. Normally a real doctor doesn't go with the commandoes on their raids against terrorist bases in the choppers, but "it just happened" ???? this time they carried one instead of a normal "combat medic." The four "choppers" full of commandos were on the way to make a raid on a terrorist base, when they were diverted to rescue me.
(God's protection of His own is the only explanation for all of these many amazing and unusual "circumstances" which preserved Jim's life, although he was badly wounded).
God works in mysterious ways His wonders to perform - and during his stay in hospital Jim was able to witness to many people of his escape from death in two ambushes by about 50 communist trained terrorists sent especially to kill us. As he (Jim) told them (later, when he woke up after surgery), when someone would say, "God must have had His hand on you that day," Jim would say, "No, God placed BOTH HIS HANDS around me and delivered me from death." And I witness again to God's miraculous power and goodness to His children, as I write to you at home: "That I may publish with the voice of thanksgiving, and tell of all thy wondrous works." Psalms 26:7. A testimony to the greatness of our wonderful God!!
During Jim's stay in hospital I had to make two trips out to the farm (where we lived, and worked in the nearby tribal areas) with a police escort and heavily armed soldiers. The second trip out to the farm I made arrangements for a Christian burial for one of our African helpers who had been butchered by the terrorists at about the same time or shortly before the ambush on Jim. He was one of our Christians, and Jim's right hand man. He was found dead up in the mountains where the terrorists had taken him, "tried him" and killed him.
(Note from Jim: This was only one of many "martyrs" in Rhodesia. He was an old Shangaan warrior. His name was Stephen Bangwayo Zemudzo. He was what we called our "security man" and my right hand man in many ways. I look forward to seeing him one day "on the golden street." My tribute to Stephen is found in the words of our Saviour as recorded in John 15:13 - - "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." Stephen was our friend, and our helper!)
The day before Jim was ambushed the terrorists were out in the tribal lands nearby, searching for our evangelists and several of our leading church members, for they, too, were on the death list. Some of our Christians are now (1979) in Umtali as well as the two evangelists. However, the work of the Lord goes on and our two evangelists are holding services in the townships here in Umtali. The attendance is growing so despite Satan's effort to hinder and destroy God's work we can always say ". . . thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." (Eventually we organized 2 Churches in Rhodesia, and trained 3 Pastors.)
How we do thank God for all of you at home who stand (and have stood) behind us, and hold us up before the throne of Grace. May the Lord greatly bless you one and all.
Until He Comes!
Jim and Georgia Dearmore
OR "How God Cares For And Protects Us From Day To Day, Often Unknown To Us"
A True Story From the Congo Bush of God's Miraculous Care For His Own
By Georgia Mae Dearmore - (copyright 1998)
In the early days when my husband, Jim, surrendered to go to the Mission Fields of Africa we traveled to Wichita Falls to one of our churches to speak, seeking missions support.
We (that is myself, Georgia, and our three children, Jamie, Becky and John) did not travel very much on long trips with my husband, because it cost so much more to travel that way, and because the children needed to be in School. But because we were not so far away I took the children with me, and went with Jim on a speaking trip to Wichita Falls, Texas.
Several of the Ladies at the Church there asked me - "How can you take these little children to the troubled country of Congo, Africa. Are you really going to take these little children into that dangerous part of the world?" I answered quickly and plainly, "Yes, I am."
This was in the days when there was much trouble in Africa . . . . especially near or not long after the time of the Mau-Mau uprising in Kenya. There was a lot of killing, burning houses, mutilating domestic animals and mutilating white people in the most horrible ways possible, assaulting women, pillaging, etc.
I replied to our friends: "God has promised He would take care of us, even our children. We and they, will be safer there in God's will, than to stay in "safety" here in the USA, out of God's will and way for our lives."
And with this assurance and His leading, after Jim had finished deputation, we were soon packed and flying across the Ocean to the shores of Africa. We landed in Leopoldville, the Capital city of Congo, a large city on the banks of the Congo River.
We spent the night at the "Mission House" (which was a sort of "boarding house" for missionaries traveling through, and were later met by Roy with a truck, and soon after by MAF.
Missionary Aviation Fellowship is a specialist Bush Charter Flying Service for missionaries in various parts of the world. They were very helpful to us in the early days in Congo.
We flew over the jungles and African bush, and the muddy rivers on our way to our mission point out in the African bush. (Just the children and Georgia flew out on the small plane to the bush, and Jim and Roy followed a few days later in the "Power Wagon" truck with a big load of supplies).
Most of this story is about our youngest son, however. Both of our sons picked up the language quickly and became friends with the young African boys. John, our youngest soon became friends with the young boys and was often out hunting with them for birds. They were not "hunting for fun" but were hunting for food for the little Africans.
This food for them was very important, for they were always hungry, and were always desperately short on protein in their diets. They often ate rats, flying ants, caterpillars, palm tree grub worms, snakes, and any kind of wild game they could trap or kill.
Once in a while they would be able to kill or trap a small crocodile, or some fish from the river, or an occasional monkey or porcupine, and they ate birds of almost any kind they could kill or trap.
John and his friends were walking single file down a trail through the bush, hunting for meat for his little African friends. They had spotted some birds in a tree off to the side of the trail, and they were walking along on this little, narrow footpath slowly, slowly, quietly trying to get closer to the birds, all the while watching the birds in the tree, instead of watching the narrow pathway they were creeping along, to get a shot at the birds with a "slingshot."
While creeping along like this, and watching the bird he was hoping to shoot, John stepped right on a deadly Black Mamba snake, one of the most deadly snakes in the Bush. The Black Mamba was sometimes called the "African Two-Step." It was so deadly poisonous that sometimes just a few steps and you were down, or so it seemed.
However, God's promises are true, and His loving care and protection of His own is endless, and always sufficient. Just before John stepped on the snake, the Lord had sent along a bush rat. God had also made the snake hungry at the right time, and the snake had just caught the rat and was slowly swallowing it when John stepped directly on the deadly snake.
The was only about half way down the snake's throat, and about half of the rat was still hanging out of the snake's mouth, so that when the snake reared up and struck our son John on his leg near the knee, (the rat being still in the mouth of the snake) the snakes fangs could not pierce our sons skin, and therefore our son was safe.
John and his little African friends quickly killed the snake, of course. And our son was safe. So here in this true story, we have an example of how God cares for his own, when they are in his will and doing his work. (Of course, He also cares for us sometimes when we are not in His perfect will as well, but that is for another story, and another time!)
But now, just think about what all was involved in saving John's life here with that little bush rat in the mouth of the deadly Black Mamba snake, far out in the remote African bush!
"What if" John had come along 5 minutes earlier than he did; the snake might not have had the rat in his mouth, and could have struck our son with his fangs, which would have been almost certain death?!
Or "what if" the little rat had not come along when he did, so that the snake would catch him, and have his fangs blocked by the rat hanging out of his mouth when he struck John?
Or "what if" the snake had not been hungry and hunting when the rat came along, therefore he did not take the rat, and would have then been able to get his fangs into John's leg when he struck him?
Or "what if" the rat had come along much earlier, the snake had taken him, and had already swallowed him before John came along, and then the snake would again have been able to get his fangs into John's leg?
What if -- what if -- what if? But I'm so glad that our God even takes care of the "what if's" in our lives!
When we finally heard about this story from our son, John, my thoughts flew across the ocean to the time in Wichita Falls, and I remembered how God's promises and loving care are always sure and steadfast.
The African tribal life in the Bush is a very hard life, especially for the women and the little girls. A three year old girl or even younger is already taking care of the new babies, going down to the river to wash their clay pots, carrying up wood for the fires and washing their clothes on the rocks , always watching out for the snakes and crocodiles.
They so loved Sunday School, and my, how they could sing when we taught them songs or choruses in their own languages.
One of their favorite songs was: "Jesus Loves The Little Children." The title of the song is "Yesu Zola Bana Fioti" in the Kikongo language, and the song goes like this:
Yesu zola bana fioti,
Bana yonso ya ntoto,
Mbwaki, Ndombe, ye Mpembe,
Yesu zola bau yonso,
Yesu zola bana fioti ya ntoto.
Then repeat the words again a second time, all to the tune of "Jesus Loves The Little Children."
Jesus truly does love the little Children of the world, and freely gave His life a ransom for many. He gave Himself, dying on the Cross of Calvary, shedding His precious blood, in order that all who will believe in Him, repent of their sins, and come to Him in simple, child-like faith, can be saved and have eternal life in Him.
In the Kikongo language, "Yandi kufwaka, nde beto tavanda na moyo mvu ya mvu mu Yandi." In English, that means, "He died that we might have eternal life in Him."
John 3:16 tells of God's love for man when it says: "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life."
To those who read this story, I ask one question: "Do you know Jesus as your Saviour and Lord?
THE END
OR "How God's Love Reached a Little Congolese Girl
Through A Missionary Lady"
By Missionary Georgia Mae Dearmore - Copyright 1998
I bring to you a real and true to life story of a little girl named " T S I A N G A " (The name is spoken as if it were spelled "Changa").
Tsianga was born in Congo (later called Zaire, then the name changed back to Congo again). Congo, or Zaire, is in Central Africa. Africa has often been called the "dark continent." I don't know Tsianga's exact age when we first saw her, but she was born in the late 1950's or early 1960's I'm sure.
Many times there were tribal wars, or wars and unrest stirred up by political agitators and trouble makers. (This is still true in large parts of Africa, even today). During one of these disturbances her Mother and Father were killed, leaving her alone as an orphan, with no one to care for her.
I first heard of the little girl at our Mission Hospital from our young son, John Franklin. In the cool of the evening one day, (as I often did, usually in the company of my husband, Missionary James Dearmore) I walked up to the hospital and the "village" as we called it, and there was Tsianga.
She was lying on scraps of a cheap African blanket, and covered with a dirty, ragged cloth. She had no proper clothes, only rags around her thin and bony body. After treatment at the Hospital we learned she had TB (Tuberculosis is still a terrible disease in much of Africa, even to the present time).
Another disease prevalent in this area where we worked was leprosy.
I searched through my daughter's clothes, and clothed her, giving her also a proper African blanket. Also some of our mission supporting churches had sent over used clothing for helping people like this, and we later gave her some of these clothes as well.
On Sunday Morning at our Church services, Tsianga was present. She was soon regular in all services, and found the Lord there. As I said earlier, Tsianga, I soon learned, had tuberculosis as did many patients who came to our bush hospital. Many of the out patients at the hospital also had leprosy which, while controllable now, is still incurable.
It was a challenge for survival for anyone living in this country of Zaire, and especially far out in the bush where we worked and built the mission, schools, churches, and trained African pastors and evangelists.
Some of the churches in America had asked what they could send to Zaire to help us, and soon they had sent Barrels and Barrels of used clothing for us to give out to our people. As in the case of Tsianga most had only rags and wore these ‘til they literally fell off.
When we got in a shipment of these used clothes from America, on a Saturday we would have our people come to the house and we would give out to one and all, Christians and non-christians alike, some of the clothing. Every face was filled with smiles; men, women, children and little babies.
On Sunday Morning, from all over the "Compound" streams of men and women with babies and children came down the path to Church Services. The Church was packed and the Song Service was just beautiful. Most of the songs we sang were in the Kikongo language, with a few in Kiyaka language. (You can see a printed sample of these languages on the Dearmore's Gospel Web Site at: http://www.myhomepage.net/~jhdearmore/kikongo.htm and at: http://www.myhomepage.net/~jhdearmore/kiyaka.htm if you have internet access.)
These African people can really sing from the heart. A heart of love reaches out to these people who have so little, many blinded by witchcraft, and by fear of the unknown. I often think of the verse " How can I sing the Lord's Song in a strange land ???
Oh, Yes! Yes, I can sing the Lords song, for the Lord gave me a song planted in my heart which stays even to this very day.
Food is a very serious problem in the remote African bush, even for many of the local people. During one of our furloughs in the States I had bought several packages of Okra seed and with the help of some of the ladies we soon had a very large garden of Okra growing when we returned to Congo. The okra grew very rapidly and well in the Congo bush soil.
The Africans loved it so much. I saved the seed and gave a lot of the seeds out to our women there at home base, as well as in the villages. There was fish from the river. We had acres of banana trees which we had set out to help feed the school children and which grew very well there. We also planted paipai, (similar to what is called "pawpaw" here in America). These fruits grow very large, and very fast in Congo, they grow on trees, and taste a "little bit" like Texas cantaloupes. But they're not nearly as sweet and good as proper cantaloupes.
There was also the locally grown manioc root for a starchy staple food, and this with other things helped to feed those at the hospital while we cared for their medical needs, taught the children in our Christian Schools, and carried on a constant loving witness to them about Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the world.
Out in the forest were many wild pineapples, palm nut trees, and a few other things which were edible, although not in great numbers or easy to reach. For our school children we went into Kinshasa and bought some fish hooks and some string and gave them out so that they would be able to catch fish from the big tropical river, (the Kwango River) which was right by the mission and main base school.
At the Mission we had the main school for the children, and Tsianga, when able, attended the chapel services. She cooked her own food in a clay pot. Many of the women out in the bush in the Congo used these home made clay pots for cooking food over open wood fires.
Each morning we had services at the hospital for those who were unable to attend the Church and Chapel services. We had regular Sunday School and Bible classes for the children. As time went by we traveled by boat upriver, stopping at villages along the way, often walking several miles inland to hold services. Here again we had many children attending as well as adults.
Other times we went in the truck to villages, often taking our Bible Institute Boys with us. These Bible Institute students did much of the singing, and my husband, Jim, did most of the preaching. The preaching was all done either in the Kikongo or in the Kiyaka language.
My heart went out to the women. They lived a very hard life . . . . and a great many women died in childbirth. Food was very scarce, especially meat or protein of any kind.
Having many converts, during our third year we had a Baptizing down at the river . . . everyone at the Mission attended, standing in the hot African sun. We soon began to have baptismal services every little while, as the Lord saved more and more of these Bayaka tribes people. On one of these special days we had 142 converts who were Baptized, in the Sukuku River, in one baptismal service. This was a very happy day for all, of course!
The Devil is ever present when God's people, are preaching and witnessing. Witchcraft was so strong among all the tribes in Zaire, including the Bayaka and the Baholo tribes among whom we worked most of the time in Congo.
As time went by, Tsianga seemed to be getting a little stronger, taking the medicine regularly for treatment of her tuberculosis, and with us helping her with food and clothing from time to time when we could. The tribal people in Africa seem to have very little resistance to many diseases, especially tuberculosis. Much of this may be from their generally poor diet and often very poor living conditions, and lack of proper medical facilities and medicines.
But all too soon the time would come when we must return to America and our home church, and our Pastor, Brother Charles Thomas, wanted us to be at the Missions Conference. On the day we had to leave, we walked up the path toward the Air Strip to wait for the MAF bush plane to carry us to Kinshasa.
Hundreds of our friends, converts and students always escorted us to the airstrip when we were going away for a long time, like a furlough or deputation in the USA. On the way the women walked by my side and Tsianga held my hand . . . . I held her tightly, told her I loved her, and would return some day to see her again.
Tsianga hugged me tightly in return and said ‘she would not be there' - - As if she knew that she would be gone to be with the Lord before we got back from the USA. The plane carried us up and over the jungles and bush on our way to Kinshasa, and then came the overseas flight to America, where we were met at the airport by a large group from the Church. Soon after arriving in Dallas I received the notice --- my little friend, Tsianga, was now with the Lord.
Someday I expect to see her again . . . . this little African girl who touched my life and my heart so wonderfully. I pray this real life story will be a blessing to you who read it in knowing about this little girl in the African bush, who now "walks on that Golden Street!"
I hope this story also will bless many others, and increase their knowledge about missionaries, and their work on the missions fields of the world. I pray it will make many realize that it is not all just one glorious and happy adventure (though it often is a truly great and wonderful adventure with our Lord, serving Him anywhere at home or abroad)!
I hope it will also cause many to understand some of the "hum-drum" daily life of missionaries, especially in primitive areas such as many parts of the bush in Africa. The days, weeks, months, and years of quiet witnessing, trying always to show the love of God for mankind in our every day life. And doing this consistently, even under sometimes trying and difficult, even dangerous circumstances — Things like constant exposure to malaria, leprosy, tuberculosis, and hepatitis, sleeping sickness, snakes and other dangerous "creatures."
In addition, sometimes it is necessary for missionaries to live in what we Americans consider very primitive living conditions, such as poor housing, poor or even dangerous medical services, no regular electricity supply, no running water, no modern plumbing, difficulties in obtaining wholesome and healthful food, and constant exposure to the lack of stability and personal security which most of us enjoy in the USA without even thinking about it.
Pray for every true gospel preaching missionary, and particularly those supported by your own Church, whether they are in the USA or any where in the world, and pray for more workers in the harvest fields both here and overseas.
Part of Series of Photos & Short Mission Stories From Africa & USA
A group of several hundred from one of our regular Church Services in Congo, standing in front of our first permanent Church building constructed there. This building was made from concrete blocks, made with individual molds, filled with shovels, packed by hand, dried and cured on the ground.
The sand for building was secured from the river by hand,
with men hauling it up in buckets or baskets, from sandbars in the river, up to the
river landing, where they generally brought it with dugout canoes. It was then hauled from
the river landing in our truck to the building site. We have a beautiful picture of a
typical river landing near the Congo Mission on another page. After you finish reading this
page go to:
The "gravel" for the blocks and all other parts of the building was secured by men "collecting stones" by hand (scarce in the area, and natural gravel was non-existent, of course) and then sitting down with a hammer and beating the stones into very small pieces to make "crushed rock" to use in place of proper gravel, etc.
The "lumber" for building the trusses, window and door frames and doors, etc., was secured by "bush sawyers" who were told by us what kind of lumber we needed. They would then go into the forests along the rivers, or up in the hills, fell large trees entirely by hand equipment, (no power of any kind except man power). After felling a suitable tree, it was trimmed, sawed into proper lengths, a pit dug in the ground and the trimmed log rolled over the pit.
Then the tree was sawed, by hand, with one man in the pit and one standing on top of the log, into very rough lumber, which was then sold to us by the sawyer contractors for use in building our mission buildings. The sawyers, after sawing the lumber, then had to haul it out of the river bottoms or off the hills where they had to go to cut the timber, and stack it somewhere which could be reached by our truck, or else they could carry it on their shoulders all the way up to the mission, whichever was "easier" for them.
Even that was only the beginning. After that, our "bush carpenters" (again with NO power tools of any kind), would smooth and equalize the thickness of the lumber with a small tool like an adze, then with hand planes, they would plane and smooth the lumber down for use as finished lumber. In areas of a building which were hidden from view, of course, such as roof trusses, etc., we used rough sawed and unfinished lumber.
And there was a lot more "hand labor" which went into every building, but this is enough to BEGIN to get the idea. Of course, the only way to really understand what went into doing anything there in the bush would be to be there in the often high humidity and high temperatures, planning, "engineering" and building one of these buildings yourself, using only local labor, and only hand tools, with no power tools of any sort or description!
JAMES & GEORGIA
DEARMORE, MISSIONARIES
We are available
for special services, Bible or Missions Conferences, Family or Youth Camps anywhere. And in
the Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas areas we can sometimes "fill in" for a Pastor away or ill.
Call us at (972) 278-2901 or (972) 414-9353 or Email: jhdearmore@mymail.net or
rodgersbaptist@mymail.net.
We'd Love To Visit Your Church in View of Just Being a Blessing!
Write Us - Or Email: jhdearmore@mymail.net
Sponsored by Rodgers Baptist Church
![[James and Georgia Dearmore Picture]](graphics/jhdl2.jpg)
|
Optimized For Netscape
Navigator 3.XX |
E-Mail James H. Dearmore at: jhdearmore@mymail.net
|