Monday, April 11th, 2022
Day blends into night, and night back into day, until at last the monotonous drone of the engines of the plane come to a final halt. The experience of flying across the world is only glamorous in part. But as I’ve definitely come to know so intimately, the destination makes the arduous trek with the journey. Matt and I survived the long flight between North America and the Middle East. We had a chance to briefly stretch our legs in Dubai as we hurried from one plane to another. The airline has informed us, through the app on my phone, that our luggage had successfully made the same trip from gate to gate and had been loaded on the next flight even before we had. The final long leg of the journey was about to commence.
About seven hours later, after finally being able to sleep (airplane seats don’t make the most comfortable beds these days) our flight landed in Lusaka, Zambia. It was a shame that we couldn’t leave the plane even for a little while. I would have loved to stop and stretch my legs and try and have lunch with some of the brethren there. It’s been a while since traveled to that part of Zambia. Actually Lusaka was the first place in Africa I had the opportunity to visit. I still recall meeting many of the deacons and elders from Zambia and Malawi there when Lena and I traveled to serve at a youth camp there (this was before I was a pastor).
With the plane restocked with additional passengers and supplies, we continued our journey. The 45 minute flight from Lusaka to Harare leaves just enough time for the flight attendants to bring everyone a snack and a stack of paperwork to fill out, but barely enough time to eat and write. I chose the papers over the sandwiches this time. With papers in hand we finally deplaned in Harare. The next task: stand in a series of long queues while triple checking our paperwork, and hoping and praying we have all the right details written down.
It turns out that the long lines are the worst part of entering Zimbabwe! All of the immigration officers were helpful reasonable. They even did their best to keep working when the power went off for about ten minutes in the airport. All our luggage had made the journey with us. We almost got stopped and searched at the last security checkpoint, but I think I was able to convince the overwhelmed security officer that the electronic audio bibles in my suitcase weren’t actually drones I had failed to declare.
Just outside the doors waiting intently for us were two familiar faces: Mabasa Chichaya and Mike Nyamasoka. Mabasa is the pastor over all of the congregations in Zimbabwe. Mike is a deacon who helps serve the brethren in Harare. Our bags were loaded into the back of Mabasa’s pickup truck. We climbed in the cab and Mike explained the concept of “smash and grab” as he dodged the city traffic and drove us to our guesthouse. Mike headed home while the three of us settled in for the evening. We could’ve stayed up all night discussing the various circumstances the congregations face in this country, but sleep was calling so we headed off to bed.
– Lewis VanAusdle
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