Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan – three countries that don’t get much respect. Two days ago in a grade-school classroom in Malaysia, a map of the world showing each country’s flag had these 3 countries all lumped under the title “Georgia” with only the Georgian flag displayed. Sure hope that doesn’t cause some war somewhere!
The greatest thing about going to this region was in seeing the willingness of the top leadership of the Seventh-day Adventist church in each country look with favor on this 1858 Great Controversy translation and printing project. In two of the countries the book will be/has been translated by the head of the mission their, and in one country the mission board officially voted to pursue this project. So from not seeing much of a need to go there until already in Europe in July, to leaving this area on November 14th after staying over one month, many things happened to show me that yes, God definitely had a hand in directing my feet this direction.
Entering Georgia by bus was the worst experience i’ve ever had in crossing a country border. First, everyone got out about 1km from the gate, and a truck came which unloaded all the cloth bot in Turkey, being imported into Georgia. Then they put us back on, and we got out at passport control. Being a bus full of Georgians, there was very little in the way of lining up nicely, with most of the people pushing and shoving to cram their passports to the seemingly mindless agents accepting any one within an easy reach. I get a bit worried as the young man who was friendly to me on the bus is told he cannot get an exit stamp from Turkey. He tells me that there is only around 5 months left on his passport, explaining the disappointment. After getting stamped, i walk in the general direction of where most people seem to be going (noticeable by the arising cloud of smoke – ha!), and after waiting a few minutes at a little slat of a window, i see someone puffing away in a dingy office lit by one dim lightbulb, and a computer screen. Well, at least they have computers here 🙂 Soon i am on the other side, in Georgia.
No, i can’t speak the drawl here. I’ve lived in Georgia for 6 years, but it was never like this. And this spaghetti on the signs – do something about that! hmm? That’s the alphabet? Oh. Sorry. But the super-grotty pay toilet replete with enough mosquitos to just about make you need a face mask is real. There is a nice young man at the tourism office, and while he does his job and promotes the natural wonders of Georgia, he also tells me a bit about the country and the people, and encourages me to try “hachapuri”. This is great advice, one which i take up again and again while in this country. Hachapuri is a square pastry-like, many layered flour-based food with cheese baked inside it. The cheese is not the soon-runny cheddar type, but a harder, white type, that is a touch sour, but melts just a bit when baked. yum yum. 1 lari (60 cents) gone quickly. Too bad i can’t find any tomatoes or any vegetables, but this turns out to be the norm. If they could get some kind of side dish like fresh sliced cucumbers, or a tomato, this could give pizza a run in a popularity contest.
After eating, i walk around the gate, wondering if the bus has come thru customs yet. My appearance sets off a taxi-man feeding frenzy, and i hastily beat a retreat, all the while keeping an eye on the gate. Finally, around 8pm, 4 hours after getting off the bus, i can’t contain myself any longer, and go up to the guards and ask them if the bus has come out already. I’m starting to imagine that while i was eating, the bus left without me, and my suitcase is now starting a journey separated from me, and what am i going to do about a hotel etc. etc. The guard doesn’t know what i’m trying to say, and motions me away. The taxi drivers are merciless. Then, to my joy, the bus rolls thru with about 1/3 of the passengers already on board. I learn later that if you wish, you can just sit on the bus during the whole ordeal.
The last big building we saw on the Turkey side was a mosque, and you can hear the mussein invading everyone’s conscience at set times of the day. It is such a pleasant sight to see, as the first noticeable landmark on the Georgian side, a big cross, lit up with lightbulbs. This is going to be a better experience i think, as the loss of a couple of passengers has opened up a seat for me, allowing me the pleasure of not having to sit in the aisle again. I had read in Lonely Planet that the roads were terrible, the streets were dark, and the police liked bribes etc., but found none of that true. I did find out from locals later, that those things were all true just as little as 2 years ago. Our bus goes thru Bautumi, where passengers thin out noticeably, and we go galloping off into the nite towards our destination of T’bilisi, which we reach around 4am. I sit in the Ortachala bus station, a hole in the wall with no shops open, one TV blaring, and dogs running in and out. I have several layers of shirts and pants on, so don’t suffer too much in the cold of the mostly open station. One person here, one there, things start to show some signs of life around 7am. I am to find out that everything starts very late here, with church service (Sabbath School) even starting around 10:30.
I wait until around 10am to call the Mission office. I had sent a email two weeks prior, but without receiving any reply, i expected nothing. However, the secretary and youth leader graciously came to pick me up, and took me to the mission headquarters where they graciously showed me to a room. Having spent two nites on a bus, with probably less than 8 hours of bumpy sleep in the last 51 hours, my body is screaming. Two hours of blissfulness amply rewards that same body with enough alpha waves to stop the screaming. Much later in travels to succeeding countries people ask me if i have jet lag, and stare blankly at me when i say “no, but the bus lag is pretty bad”. Guess you have to experience it to get it. (not recommended!)
The mission people are all pretty friendly to me, even if one guard is obsessed with getting me married (i find out later he is obsessed with sex), and the student English teacher missionary from Walla Walla, USA. The church has run an English language school here for a few years, and has had a hard time getting teachers who are really good missionary examples to the students. Like the problems i had when director of a SDA English language school – it is often the case that the missionary teachers need to be converted by the local people!!
The mission president and his helper let me have a 10 minute testimony between Sabbath School and church on Sabbath, and then i show the chapter 1 “Fall of Satan” animation to the around 50 people in attendance. In the afternoon we go about 30km to an apt. and have a church service for 4 people who are studying the Adventist faith. It is strange to me, to see how we are out in the middle of nowhere, and instead of a bunch of little houses, there are around 12, big, 5-story apt. buildings. I am getting a first-hand lesson in how Soviet thinking was. But also i see how the people were at least supplied with something, perhaps more than they would have if left to themselves. Who knows? All i know, is that this is all somehow more “grim” than even India. In India you can see that most of the people have no idea of anything better, and just to live in some enclosure with a roof is quite a welcome thing. But here, with gorgeous, old buildings like the Parliament building, and some of the churches etc., and seeing some of the areas that are clean with nice shops etc., and then seeing these horrible concrete slabs surrounded with trash and junk and often having no electricity or running water either i guess, it is really depressing to the spirits – knowing that things should be better, but they are not. Later, on top of one of the hills surrounding the city, i come across 3/4 finished 9-story apt. buildings. Seems that the Soviets left off building them over 10 years ago, and now many vagrants are ekeing out an existence in them. Of course there is no electricity or running water, so the hardships and stench can possibly be imagined. Now in Georgia they are actively going about painting the drab concrete buildings with nice (sometimes gaudy) pastel colors, and seem to be taking more pride in their surroundings. Still, the gutted bus that has been hogging half the street for 20 years shows no signs of movement….
The Metro system is quick, cheap (20 tetri or about 12 cents US), and the stations are gigantic, but so devoid of any artisty, that the overall impression is of extreme coldness and aloofness, and despair. The trains too are very retro, with little bulbs providing a dim light. They are upgrading the system tho, and a few trains a very modern, and i saw one station that was colorful and lighted up well enough to see someone’s face. The most impressive thing about the Metro tho, is the length of the escalators, and their speed – whoosh! Be about it!, step careful!, don’t concern yourself with the fact that the escalator ride may be longer than your train ride! ha! All 3 countries have nearly the same style Metro, with Baku having the most modern one, reflecting its wealthier status. It seemed a bit strange to see police officers strolling around most every station’s platform, but i was told later that up to about two years ago, people would knife you or pull a gun or whatever to get your mobile phone or cash or whatever. Even the police then would stop you and ask you to show them what was in your pockets, and they would basically take what they felt like. Sure praise God that things are different today. I feel for those who had to live thru that period, and pray that things will get better and better for them. May we lift up the hands of the leaders of our countries, as they have very difficult jobs to perform.
The mission president has a deep talk with me, and invites me over to a young man’s house who he calls a “missionary”. In other countries he would be called a “layman”, or “volunteer”. Someone is sponsoring him to work full-time to build up the work of the church here. This country has a very strong Orthodox presence, showing its power last year when a health program was held at a large rented hall, and the Orthodox priest coming the last nite saying he was going to do all kinds of things to the Seventh-day Adventists if they didn’t stop the meetings. Even now the church is not officially recognized in 2 or perhaps all 3 of these countries, but buildings are built, workers go forth, and the work goes on without seeminly any official hindrances. Probably open-air meetings would not be allowed, but selling literature and having churches seems to be OK, so the work is progressing, if slowly. Most of the reason for “slowly”, is that the SDA workers are not working together, and with a clear vision of what it means to spread the 3 Angels’ Messages. One of these countries is non-christian, and that does provide special challenges, but in the other two, a pulling together to work for the advancement of Christ’s kingdom would bring many souls to the truth i believe.
I’m treated to a traditional Georgian meal, with “khinkali” being the main dish (i can’t pronounce, and don’t care to learn, the “kh” sound that originates from back in the throat, just like you are getting ready to spit!). It is a dumpling. Ours has sour cream in one pot, and mashed potato ones in the other. Usually they are filled with meat, as meat is very common here, and actually cheaper than vegetables sometimes. Georgians are proud of their food, saying they have more kinds of food than anybody except the Chinese. I look a bit too incredulously at the people informing me of this, and realizing my mistake, try to smooth things over with saying that the food is delicious. One thing that is very nice here, is that often herbs are served with meals, and you eat them raw like a cow eating grass. The main thing people eat seems to be bread and soup, but there are several nice things like the dough soaked in grape juice and then wrapped around walnuts that make meals here quite tasty. Actually, go a bit overboard on the beets, not having them for nearly a year, and eat them almost every day while in Georgia. Three days straight of pink rice is enough tho, and i will probably be able to last another year with no beets 🙂
The shops are generally run-down, and the workers unfriendly. Having been to Poland in 1991, i was prepared for the sullen Soviet mentality, and happy to see that some of the new shops are quite different, with young staff that look happy to serve the customer. It is cool to walk around and not stand out much as a tourist at first glance – especially after a Georgian-style haircut. I think the backpack usually gave me away tho, and probably also the smile i usually wear on my face 🙂 In Asia it is impossible to “fit in” with this skin, no matter what i do.
On the 19th, i take a “marshrutka” (mini-van) to Yerevan, Armenia. The border crossing at Sadakhlo goes smoothly, and the scenery is quite beautiful, with many trees in the valleys, and large, green slopes with cows grazing on them, reminding me a bit of Switzerland. Perhaps this is one reason i tell people that if Georgia does it right, and works hard, it may be like Switzerland 30 years from now. Armenia however, is a different story. We passed building after empty building – big stone block buildings with windows smashed out, crumbling walls, creeping vines etc. – not just in one place, but all over the country. The biggest abandoned complex i have ever seen was just outside Yerevan. I guess it was a cement factory or tire factory, as it is just huge. Maybe it is about 3km long? It even has huge cooling towers that made me ask if it was a nuclear power plant from the distance. But no, it is just something else the Soviets left behind. What is strange, is why didn’t the local people take it up and continue the work after the Soviets left? Maybe the key personnel were all Russians, and when they left, the locals didn’t know what to do with it? Perhaps more likely is that the local people could just care less? It looks like they do care enough to take out a few of the window frames and door frames, and probably ransacked the building taking out all the screws and metal grates too.
I arrive at Mission headquarters just at break time when the Union President, and his group from Russia were there. Within 10 minutes of arriving, i am giving the presentation of this 1858GC book to all these people. Talk about God working out things – wow! It is received fairly well, with the president asking me several questions. An American missionary invites me to his apartment, which i gladly accept. His wife cooks a wonderful meal of all readily-definable vegetables, and i enjoy playing with his hyper cat. He is here to push forward the publishing work, so we have common interests.
A little miracle-type event happens at his apt. There are several young Indian boys going to the medical university in Yerevan. It is cheap, and there is really no entrance test it seems, thus the majority of students being from India. It is not accredited anywhere, but it seems that some other schools will accept students who have been to this school, thus the large influx from countries where it is difficult to get into medical school. When they told me what they study (don’t), i hoped that i would never be in a position where i would need their services. Anyway, one young man came to the apt. where i was. When showing the 1858gc book to him, he looked at my name and said “I know a Daniel Winters”. Now i am used to Indians, and smiled a knowing smile that he was talking big to try and impress me. He continued: “You came to Jeeva Jyothi when i was around 12 years old, and you stayed with our family. My jaw dropped, and the smile vanished, replaced by a stupid, incredulous look. Now what are the chances of meeting someone from India, 8 years after, in Armenia? And to have a boy of 12 remember the name of some guy who stayed with his family for one weekend, and then had contact only a few times after that with maybe 3 letters or cards, just what is the probability of that happening????? Too amazing. The four of us study chapter 30 of the 1858gc, and they all agree that the words in the Bible are from God 🙂 Please Lord, bless this young man and the missionary’s family, and may your words be spread in Armenia too.
Police DO still pull over motorists for bribes, with my host telling me lots of stories, all of them so far ending with a disgusted shrug of the shoulders on their part when he says he is American – ha! Very few people in any of these countries can believe someone is in their country from America, and i am nearly always asked if i am English or German. Several people, especially in Georgia and Azerbaijan give big smiles and shake my hand when i say “America”, but they don’t come down any on their prices – haha. Food is very expensive in Armenia, and i don’t understand how the country keeps going – prices are high, and jobs are scarce, and the ones that are available, pay low. But here, as in other countries, a Mercedes-Benz is THE status symbol, and it looks like the ones that don’t go to the scrap yard all come to this region.
It is interesting in travelling the different countries, to see what the most omnipresent, seemingly money-making business/shop is. In America it is probably the fast-food place. In Japan, the hair salon, perhaps being overtaken by the nail art salon. In Thailand, the massage shop. In India, the sweets or juice shop. In Turkey, the gasoline stand. In Germany, the beer hall. In Armenia and Georgia, it is hands down, the currency exchange shop, with a relative – Western Union – being close behind. That pretty much sums up their economies i guess – subject to changes, unstable, dependant on outside forces etc. Armenia has a big population problem – it is steadily decreasing, and it is estimated that there is more in the diaspora than actually live in the country. They send money home, and that seems to be what is driving the economy. Georgia is similar, but to a smaller scale. They are quite well known it seems for not returning to their home country, so many countries will not grant them visas. Even after paying the 100usd application fee for a college-aged lady working at the mission to go with an American family to America and stay a few weeks, she was turned down. It is sad that the bad ones have made it so difficult for the good ones. Trading places, and not being Christian, i would definitely do anything to get out too. A friend in Georgia pinned his hopes on entering a university in Mexico, but because some Cubans from there ran away to America, he was turned down 🙁
Armenia has a sad history, always being hacked to death by the Muslims or Turks, and just generally being caught between other, bigger powers. Even today their border is closed with Turkey and Azerbaijan, leaving only roads to Iran and Georgia open to the outside world. They are a very proud people, having recently defeated much richer and more populous Azerbaijan in a war, and especially for being the first country to officially adopt Christianity. Seems that an evangelist came thru in the late 3rd century, and the pagan king grabbed him and confined him in a 60ft something deep pit. Sometimes he threw snakes and rats down into the pit just to amuse himself by the reaction. Some old ladies helped the evangelist tho, and threw him bread and water somehow. Anyway, he lived in that pit for 13 years. One day, the king got very sick. Someone told the evangelist, and he asked them to tell the king that he was praying for his recovery. This so touched the pagan king, that when recovered, he pulled the man out of the pit, converted, and declared the whole country for Jesus Christ. This happened in 301AD according to the legend.
The missionary couple and i went by car to the monastery where this pit is, and enjoyed looking around. This is the closest place to see the most imposing thing in all of Armenia, the symbol of the country, which is in fact, not in the country, but next door in Turkey – Mt. Ararat. This 5,000+meter mountain just towers over everything else, giving constancy to a world of uncertainty. Every morning when you wake up, the first thing you do is look out the window to see the mountain. The smaller mountain to the left is almost perfectly symmetrical, making me think of Mt. Fuji. The snow line is clearly visible, and the now setting sun setting ablaze the snow with a fiery orange color is a sight not easily forgotten. A jet cruises miles overhead. I wonder if anyone in there is looking down on this awesome sight. I remember flying nearby and snapping a pic of it when going to London in July, and think back on the many things that have happened since then, leading me to this place. It also makes me a bit wistful, thinking about my European trip coming to a close soon. Actually, geographically speaking, i am already in Asia, but this is very different from any Asia that i’ve ever been to, or anyone imagines, with especially Georgia and Georgians looking for all the world like Europe and Europeans (but not the fashions yet – still no navels showing, or guys with earrings here!)
We cruise thru a cemetery, almost getting stuck in the mud. Many of the tombstones have etchings of the person, and they are eerily lifelike. Probably they use an actual picture of the person, then make something like a stencil from a negative or something, and then finely sandblast it. The saddest thing is to see many of the stones showing men in their 20s and 30s. Perhaps they died in the war with Azerbaijan. A huge statue “Mother Armenia” looks over Yerevan, showing how she is going to protect it. There are a couple of old, decommissioned tanks and a rocket-launcher truck at the bottom. They almost look like toys, as the workmanship is very poor, but perhaps 50 years ago they were fearsome fighting instruments. T’bilisi has a similar statue – guess it is some kind of Soviet thing to have a huge mama twisting your arm – and some of the locals there have dubbed it “Drink or Fight”, as she is holding a sword in one hand, and a wine goblet in the other. Some very young boys are eager to practice their English on us, and show us how grown-up a 8 year old can be, by smoking cigarettes. Yucko. The stone blocks give off a very pleasant warm glow, reminding me that fall is deepening, and i don’t like cold weather. I happen across P. again, the young man from India that i met 8 years previous. I have somehow met him every single day of my stay here in Armenia:) The cold proves to be too much for this hot-clime boy too, and he comes down with a nasty cold later. Oh well, more reasons to not go to school.
The mission president says that while he is very busy, he wants to do this translation, and he will do it as his morning devotions. He seems like a scholarly-type man, and i pray he will be faithful to the original writing. Mission accomplished, i catch a nite train back to Georgia. The Armenians embassy web site says you have to apply for a visa and pay 60usd, but in actuality, you can just get it at the border by paying 30usd. Georgia dropped visa requirements for advanced country residents just this year, so it is super easy to get in and out, except for the long, long wait for customs. This train stops around 45 minutes at the Armenian border, and 3 hours at the Georgian one.
The crow can probably make the distance between T’bilisi and Yerevan at less than 200km, but the roads make it over 300, and the trains make it even more. Still, you would think that even 400km should be able to be covered in 8 hours or so, right? Wrong. What would take a Shinkansen in Japan an hour and a half to do, takes this train over 15 hours. Well, it IS true that the cost is inversely proportional also, with the price about 1/4 the Japanese price. It is a sleeper train, and i’m in a compartment with a retired Englishman, who hates to be buttonholed as anything, and prefers to just be called a human, except when it comes to certain things like visas etc. – ha! The contradictions within us. God does open up a way to give a good testimony, and he listens a bit, but shows his bitterness against God. Lord, please work on P.’s heart, and may this interesting man become a servant of yours one day soon.
Getting the Azerbaijan visa requires an invitation from someone in the country, and an American missionary supplies me with the needed letter. He seems quite cautious regarding this 1858gc book, so i’m not very hopeful about getting it translated there. Little did i realize how the Lord was going to bless!
The first time i went to the Azerbaijani embassy, it was in the afternoon, and the sign said documents were accepted in the mornings, and delivered in the afternoons. I came back the next morning, and after waiting almost an hour, received the application form. The next day i went again, with 40usd in hand to pay for the visa. After waiting over an hour, i finally got in, only to have the officer give me a piece of paper to hand over to the “Trans-Caucasus Bank” personnel, and have them stamp it “Paid” when i paid the 40usd there. It was a challenge, one i accepted (of course), to find that little bank. The map on the embassy gate, showing the bank’s location, looked pretty good, but i was to find out the hard way that it was not showing much detail. I take a bus back to the city centre, and walk down the main street going in the general direction that i remember of the bank. The address is only given as “xxx Square”. I ask many people where that square is, and most act as lost as me about it. Finally, where i think it should be, i find a nice travel agency. Whenever you are lost in a foreign country, find a travel agency, because you are sure to find: A: Someone who can speak English, and B: Someone who knows something about the town you are in. Or one of the two – ha! I’m pointed up to somewhere else, and finally find that square – now what? None of the policemen have heard of it, or of English it seems. When in doubt, go to my new fail-safe store – the travel agency. Sure enough, an elderly man there can speak English! But he has never heard of this bank. I find a bank, and walk into what looks like their loan processing department. It looks so grungy on the outside, but bright and white and clean inside, with a customer who looks he is high. The young man is very pleasant to try and help me, but it is a woman across the way who can understand when i say “Trans-Caucasus Bank”, and gives me pretty good directions to it. I walk in the general direction with my heart pounding. I have been walking over an hour. The train with my ticket already purchased, leaves at 5:15. The embassy in the afternoon does not open until 4pm. Many shops close for lunch at 1pm, with banks especially being closed for long breaks. It is 10 till 1 now. There are no bank-like buildings in this area. Fortunately, my eyes are sharpened by all the squinting at signs, and i notice something – all the shops in this area have little, bronze plaques. Sure enough, the 3rd one i see, set up high with a light blue and green color in the middle, is the Trans-Caucasus Bank. I go to the teller who gives me a slip of paper to take to the cashier. When stumbling thru to the back where the teller is between the toilet and the water jug, a man asks me what i am doing. I smile and tell him i want to pay for my visa, and he takes the cash and slip of paper, returning a stamped piece of paper shortly. Hallelujah! When leaving the bank, i notice that the front door is now locked from the outside, with the guard who let me in nowhere to be seen. Thank you Lord for helping make it in time!
A retired Azeri pastor has come to Georgia, and is returning on the same train, but in a different class. I didn’t ask for 1st class, but just gave the money, and this is what the mission people got me. Usually i do everything myself, as i wish to save money, but probably they wished me to go in comfort. The main differences i saw between the classes, is that 1st class has a richer clientele (duh), it’s a bit cleaner, the people are less friendly, and the heater works better – too better! This ride is one of the bumpiest train rides i’ve ever been on, and the sleep is interrupted by the Georgian and Azeri border guards. Oh well, that’s their job. To have the Georgian Railway employee treat me in an unfriendly way is not his job. It really would be nicer if he could arrive at his post sober, and stay that way during the journey.
We get out in Baku, the capital, after a 17 hour journey. We walk around the 28th of May Metro station to a Marshrutka which takes us to the Mission headquarters. here again God had everything provided – so marvelously so, that i just shake my head again now when thinking of how everything came together. In Armenia, i was able to give the 1858gc promotion to all the SDA leaders, even the Union leaders, within 10 minutes of arriving. Here, unknownst to me, all the pastors in Azerbaijan were gathered for meetings. And again, after listening to a sermon from one of the pastors, i was invitied to give the promotion to everyone. God blessed, and there was quite a good reaction. I was even able to show the 4 minute animation of the first chapter using a projector, which makes the angels life-size, giving the presentation force. I took a much-needed nap on the couch in the pastor’s study, awakening to a sumptious meal, similar to the one feast i had partaken of in each Georgia and Armenia. God is so good.
Azerbaijan is definitely richer than either of its 2 cousins. The streets are wide, some of the widest i’ve seen anywhere. The well-heads bobbing up and down tell the story – black gold – oil. Lonely Planet says that at the turn of the 20th century, almost half of the world’s oil was being pumped here. Not being a linguist, i may be way off, but think it is suspicious that the phrase “Booku bucks” looks very similar to the name of this capital city. It sure seems odd too, that the Christian countries surrounding it have no oil, but this one Islamic country does. Oh yes, the very large Islamic country on the southern border does too – Iran. Mission headquarters is an old, small building/compound, surrounded by newly sprouted huge homes – literally “Millionaire’s Row”. So they are going to sell and move, and already have concrete plans for a new place, a bit larger, more in the suburbs where the normal people live. Even tho there is more money flowing here, the normal people are still quite poor, and water and electricity don’t flow constantly. Nearly half the country’s population crowds into the capital, leaving the rest of the country to be sparsely populated. The Mission president kindly puts me up in his home, and i enjoy playing with his children. It is nice to see everywhere there are some people who are worshipping and praying as a family.
The next day is mostly spent with an American missionary who has lived in this area for several years, married a Russian lady, and who speaks Russian himself. I forget his official title, but he seems to be in charge of Global Mission here. We spend nice time talking and walking and looking around Baku. He buys a hand-woven carpet, and in the evening we are invited by the shop owner to take a look at the city from the top of his shop. It is located very near the Maiden’s Tower, which is THE focal point for all tourism in this country. Yes, i know, there isn’t a whole lot of nice, man-made stuff to see here, unless you are in the oil industry.
I take off for the Mission headquarters in the afternoon on my own, with good directions. A young man on the Metro kindly tells me how to pay for my entrance token, and graciously leads me directly to the Mission building, about a 1km walk from the Metro station. The Mission Board is gathered, and after a short wait which i utilize by looking at pics on the secretary’s computer, i am ushered in. The Lord gives me words to say, and i present this 1858gc book project to them. After a couple of questions about what to do with funds from sale of the books (best to sell for enough to finance printing again, but everything is left to do as you please), and possible confusion resulting from having the same title with the current, big GC book (use a different word with the same meaning if necessary), they all vote in favor of pursuing this book project. The first order of business is to find a translator, and they already have someone in mind – a native Azeri who married a South African, living in SA now. By now she has made contact, and agreed enthusiastically to translating this book – Thank You!
I cause 2 kids to cry the next morning when saying goodbye. Don’t know if it is because they liked so much playing and talking with me, or if they just don’t have many opportunities to say “goodbye”, but it is quite touching. I hop in a taxi with the missionary’s family, and we head off the Azerbaijani landscape for a 6 hour journey to Ganja. Baku is much different from the other 2 countries here, with lots of new construction, and very few men just hanging around everywhere. It is eery tho to see rows of new 12 story apt. buildings with seemingly no one anywhere in sight – no shops, no cars, no people hardly – just new buildings – very strange. They like to set up block walls everywhere to surround their property, partially obstructing the view which is becoming more and more like Kansas without the irrigated greenery. No, it is too rolling for Kansas, but very bare – little tufts of grass here and there set off with a few rocks and dirt. Now and then you see some man or boy following a herd of sheep or goats that are furiously licking up anything green they can find.
The car climbs, and we get into a wonderful forest with yellow leaves. We stop at a roadside fruit market, and the family buys several kilos of pomegranates at i think around 1usd/kg. The run-over turkey with guts splayed all over the road has my attention for some reason. I love these big birds, but God did not give them very large brains. It may be too, that the car that did this one in, is going to do me in too. The people do not drive nicely. Our taxi driver is pushing his old machine up to 140km sometimes, and this is a two-lane, very bumpy, not well-paved road. Being airborne is OK if your vehicle has wings, but not so pleasant in a car, and even less so when the CD is playing Russian rap songs at a decibel level seemingly to match the speed of the car. A couple of times with me pushing my feet against the floor of the car brings an inquiry from the driver if i think his driving is good. I deem it unwise to just come out and tell him that throwing the riders against the front windshield (or seat) at every stop light is a bit barbaric, so somehow come up with a diplomatic response that while being truthful, doesn’t hurt his manlyhood much either 🙂
We arrive at the church compound, and after waking up from a nap, discover that the taxi driver has started on his way back home already. 12 hours of driving today for approx. 45usd i understand. Good thing for him that gasoline prices are lower than in either of the other 2 countries here!
A young church member and his friend invite me for a walk to the town centre park. I gladly join, and have a wonderful time walking among the huge trees, teaching Japanese at an outdoor cafe, revealing some truths about Jesus, and dodging cars that don’t always pay attention to what color the traffic light is showing.
There are two families currently living here, and somehow the kids naturally gravitate to me. Perhaps it is because i put the “Where’s Noah?” game on their computers, or, with the youngest girl, it is with the Great Controversy first chapter animation. I can still hear her sweet voice saying “I wanna see Fall of Saaaaytan” 🙂
The English teacher student missionary in T’bilisi had to renew his visa, so he makes it to the church too, and the local pastor, missionary, student missionary, and i all go to a different place where there is supposed to be a Vespers service. Seems that the time change or something has thrown the schedule off, so no one shows up except the lady who lives very nearby. The missionary uses the time to preach that the Qu’ran is a good book, and shows us some study guide that uses that book. I am aghast that not only is he using that book inspired by Satan to try and lead people to Jesus Christ, he is using it to teach already baptized members!!!! I will be even more surprised the next day….. But it isn’t my eating time, so i lay off all the fruits and sweet cakes that are presented by the lady, causing some consternation.
Sabbath we worship together with the Azeris in an L-shaped room. Their singing is very distinctive, and nice. I don’t understand a word of the sermon, but am concerned when i see the pastor come down from the pulpit with a Bible and Qu’ran under his arm. We go for a drive up to the beautiful mountains in the afternoon. From there you can see the snowy Lesser Caucasus nearby, and way off in the distance – the all white Greater Caucasus. I can see why the term “Greater” is used. They look impressive, as impressive as any to be seen anywhere, including the Himalayas (in my estimation). There we talked openly about the challenges in leading Muslims to Christ, and i was astounded when the missionary said he would rather be called a “Muslim”, than a “Christian”, because “Christians have done so many bad things”. Whaaaa??? My position is that it is too late in the day to start to preach a different gospel, and that we must lift up Jesus Christ to everyone. I am NOT ashamed to be called a “Christian”.
We enjoyed pizza that nite, and the ensuing walk in the crisp air was as pleasant and exciting as we narrowly missed some open manholes, construction leftovers etc. in our sometimes unlit path.
After picking up the trash in the church compound with the kids, and chasing them until i could scarcely breathe (what happened to my former energy?), the sm and i got in a marshrutka for what i thot was a ride to the border. After maybe 1 hour or so, we stop, wait for around 20 minutes, and then get on a big, purple Daewoo bus bound for the border with Georgia. Two elderly policemen stop us as we walk to the border house, and obviously are fishing for bribes (gifts). They tire of the game in a few minutes, perhaps because a border guard came strolling by, leaving us to walk in peace to the border house. A young man is very courteous and professional, and does everything i thot needed to be done, but find out that he is only the first checker. When he is done, then we go to another place where they have a fat book and write down all the info in columns with a pen, and fiddle-fuddle around a while, then give them back to us. There is a huge scanning machine that looks like it came out of Star Wars, or more likely, trashed by some European airport 20 years ago – not plugged in, so no worry. After skirting a dog, we are back in Georgia. The building there is newer, but the workers don’t have uniforms, and everything is hand-checked. God provides a ready ear on the way to T’bilisi, and i am able to give a witness to a 30s man who is working with a private company to plant cotton in a big way in Azerbaijan, using John Deere’s equipped with GPS!
I’ve been wondering if i should leave this region quickly, and get back to Malaysia where the books are about to be printed, or should i stay a bit longer…… God answers in a way that cannot be mistaken, and the last week spent in Georgia is filled with great experiences. First, the young layman-missionary and i have some deep talks. He is quite interested in this 1858gc book. We study a couple of chapters together, leading him to be an enthusiastic helper when i ask for permission to give a study of chapter 32 in the church on Friday evening. Usually there is no program at all on Fridays, but around 20 people show up. Chapter 32 in the as-yet unprinted Georgian 1858gc is xeroxed for everyone, and as the final paragraph is being read, i see several pairs of moist eyes in the group, making things a bit blurry for me too. Oh, what a sweet time that was! A wonderful gift from God to help keep me going when the response is not so good – like i am going to get the next week in a different country. One lady’s expressed disbelief in Ellen White makes the meeting end a bit differently than i had wished, but overall, the effect was great – much better than i had even hoped for. There ARE people out there who are hungering and thirsting for truth!
I get to teach English 2 more times at the school, and was even able, by God’s grace, to give a very short testimony to the students there, most of whom are not Seventh-day Adventist. Having a little talk about being a missionary for Jesus with the few students who are SDAs, and praying with them after one lesson, really encouraged me. Especially talking with the teacher – she is one young, dedicated member. Her drive and determination to stand for the truth tho the heavens fall will be remembered for a long while. May God bless her, that layman-missionary, English school director and his friend, one of the guardmen, the printer, and especially the Mission president who, while having such great responsibilities, treated me nicely, letting me stay at his house a couple of nites, and even translating this book. May God richly bless you and your church there pastor!
The English students show their goodbyes by shaking hands mostly, but one 14y.o. kisses me on the cheek. I know it is a normal greeting here, but have never seen it as a parting, and am surprised, and moved that the students thot so well of me, even wishing me to stay and be their permanent teacher. I felt a bit embarrassed for the main teacher, but she assured me that she was happy that i could be the “star” teacher for 3 weeks for her junior-high age class.
The sun angle has really changed since i first set foot on Georgian soil over 4 weeks earlier. The air isn’t nippy, it’s cold. The bathtub with its 1-hour-to-heat-up heater is now more of a 1-and-a-half-hour-to-heat-up heater. I need to go. Some things haven’t changed – the youth leader is still desperately looking for 2,000usd so he can fly to some youth congress in Dallas, one of the guardmen is still telling lewd jokes to force me to get married, and the clothes don’t dry, but there have been a ton of good things, deep talks, wonderful experiences, and names attached to hopes that i will meet again someday, if not here, then in heaven.
The one broken wheel on my suitcase is joined by another on the morning while pulling it the 2km to the bus station. Yes, i should probably have taken a bus or taxi rather than try and pull a 23kg suitcase 2km over a paved, but uneven, road. Now if have to turn the suitcase around, and pull with the handle on the far-side. It makes me stumble over my feet many times with the case bumping me. The last look at the Mission headquarters where i have said goodbye with a prayer to the guardman and clean-up lady who has been eager to practice “How are you?” with me for the last week, the last look at the main street where cars still screech to a stop in front of you, the last look at the huge hole in the sidewalk where someone will probably be hurt terribly or die one day, the last look at the river where the birds are looking for fish, and a few lucky men are trying to sell the ones they’ve already caught, the last look at the…..Hey! That’s a new crosswalk with a new stop light just so pedestrians can cross to the bus station – progress 🙂
The bus’ clock says 9:30 when we pull out, but my clock says 11:30 (am). The ride is mostly drizzly, rainy, with a few scenic views that i missed when coming in during the wee hours over a month ago. Four seats in the big bus are empty, and with the one next to me, i feel a bit like a king and a pariah all in the same feeling. That feeling leaves me when we roll into Batumi, and all the seats become carriers of human flesh. The immigration scene at Sarpi is very familiar by now – everyone crowd around a window and shove your passport at the person inside, all the while spewing forth smoke like a chimney from your mouth and nostrils – yuck. After the one chop, we walk in the rain a bit to a guardhouse where the guys look animated in seeing an American and trying out English on him, and then it is goodbye Georgia.
By God’s grace, plans to finalize the printing for the Georgian 1858gc were laid and money paid, the Armenian Mission voted to pursue this book, and the president of the mission agreed to translate it into Armenian and most of the funds were paid, and the Azerbaijan Mission voted to pursue the translation and printing of this book. Several GC studies were given, with the biggest one by far being at the Georgian Mission with around 20 people present. I had several deep discussions with missionaries and leaders of the church in these 3 countries, and believe i have their confidence, except perhaps for one missionary.
This trip to your region was much more fruitful and productive than i had anticipated, and pray that the seeds sown will spring forth, and that many souls in your countries will be won to the kingdom of Jesus Christ, and make the necessary preparations for the soon-coming Time of Trouble. May God bless and keep you, and may you always remember to keep God first, last, and best in everything. Nothing can compare to the loveliness of the one who rescued us from the pit of sin – Jesus Christ. Amen.
NOTE: Post written December 21, 2006