Vacation time at Rethy used to be the time to get things done, when we didn’t have the full daily schedule at the dorm taking care of dorm kids. Now there were no children at school, in fact no school. After the rebellion and looting, there was no reason to go to Bunia to buy three tons of the basic food supplies for the coming school term. Missionaries in Zaire had all evacuated so there were no requests for Ellen to host and feed the members of MAF for their conference, since only a couple of the pilots had returned. One thing we also did every vacation, was go camping at the Koda Hydroelectric site.

We had no tents or sleeping bags, so overnight, with pancakes cooked over the campfire for breakfast, wasn’t an option. We could come back late at night, but the curfew imposed by the soldiers might be enforced when we drove back through Kwandruma after seven. Not good. Since the soldiers might not recognize our truck, there was a risk of their using their guns to stop us in the dark. Well, the Koda river and falls were still there, and it was Jeff’s vacation from RVA, so we would go there in the morning and come back before dark. Ellen and Marko were working on the picnic when Manasse came in to tell us not to take the truck out of the temporary shed where it was hidden.

The soldiers were walking around looking for transport to some kind of military celebration out near Buba. Manasse, the man who helped us with the outside work, showed me an old battered pick-up, with some kind of mechanical problem, stalled not far from Pastor Balonge’s old house. He then showed me the men across the valley who were waiting to see what would happen.

The soldiers checked the truck, then left in disgust. There was nothing they could do about the stalled pick-up. The owner and his friends had the rotor and the coil wire with them. The soldiers headed on down the road towards the church.

Uninvited, the commandant and another soldier burst into pastor Laleni’s house near the main road. They found the pastor with his visitor, Mboligihe, and began threatening both of them with their guns. Certainly they could do something!

“You are the leaders, get us a truck!” they demanded. They desperately wanted transport.

A truck, roaring down the road followed by its cloud of dust, was suddenly confronted by the armed soldiers. The tense situation in the pastor’s house was instantly relieved, as the two rushed out to join the other soldiers. The swirling dust caught up with the truck, but had not yet settled, when the driver was convinced to go to Buba. Soldiers climbed up both sides of the Tata truck back, their hanging semi-automatic, army issue guns banging against the slats as they climbed. Someone of lower rank lost his place in the cab, the young Commandant climbed in, the Tata engine revved up again, and the soldiers were gone.

The young men returned from the far side of the valley, reinstalled the missing parts, and soon they were on their way. We got the Hilux out from its hiding place and began loading up for our picnic. It was such a nice day we planned to stay the rest of the day at Koda, make a fire, and roast the chicken on a spit for our evening meal. Out at the hydro-electric site, the rest of the world was far away, and the soothing sound of falling water filled the air.

A red tailed hawk hovered in the updraft as it studied the steep hillside below. Only rarely did the hawk flap its wings, so steady was the flow of the rising air. It looked like a lazy way to bask in the sun, and search for a meal at the same time. The dry season haze hid the lake which was about a mile lower in elevation and more than 10 miles distant. We too had a lazy afternoon in mind, and spread an old quilt on the ground. The deep still water behind the dam was the color of tea, a tint that came from the rotting marsh grasses in the many valleys that fed the Koda river. It was too cold for swimming, even though it was tempting on such a hot day. It was so dry that it took very little effort to build a fire.

Jeff began to inspect the dam and suggested that we check to see if we could open the gate to drain the dam. It was something we had done every time we had visited the site, to guarantee that the two-foot diameter tunnel under the dam did not become packed tight with mud. If it became impossible to drain the dam, the accumulated mud settling in the still water would eventually fill the surge tank up to the penstock entry level, and the abrasive grit would flow directly down to the turbine. There, it would blast against the cross-flow blades, acting as fine abrasive agent, to eventually polish the stainless steel spinning blades down to nothing.

Jeff tried to turn the four-foot diameter wheel to rotate the long drive screw that engaged the drive nuts below to lift the gate. It was certainly rusted, and may not have been opened in years. Together we were able to move the wheel only a little, and some muddy water trickled out. Previously, water had started immediately to spray, then gush out bringing mud with it. We weren’t here to do the Koda maintenance work, and I wasn’t in charge anymore. It was possible that the huge drain pipe was already packed with mud. What was happening to what I thought was a permanent installation to provide reliable power to Rethy, Kwandruma and especially the radio broadcasting station?

Ellen called us. “Paul, Jeff, lunch is ready!” She had everything set out at our little picnic site on the grass.

We added wood to the fire, so it would burn down to a nice bed of coals to roast our chicken evenly. The forked sticks on either side of the fire provided a couple of options to place the chicken at different heights above the fire. Ellen tended the chicken, Jeff went to the by-pass above the dam to see if there were any crabs to be found, but things had changed considerably. We no longer had our home made aquarium in which to keep the crabs.

I recalled that years earlier Ellen had addressed and written notes on about 200 prayer letters which had been printed at the press, when on our picnic. Now she wrote only family news to our children in the States. We would send the letters back with Jeff when he returned to RVA. Most of the afternoon was spent just reading books on the blanket, enjoying the breeze and listening to the falls. It was nice to be just us for a while.

Even though the soldiers were likely to still be at the celebrations it seemed prudent to return home before dark. The rest of the evening was peaceful, as was the next day, Sunday, when we went to the Rethy church. Gokpa preached an excellent sermon, in Swahili, and the songs were all familiar. Ellen and Mbolifulani’s Bible study group were all dressed up in nice Kikwembies as they sang and swayed, offering their praise as part of the service. There was a long offering collection parade, as every group went up in turn to present their gifts. They called the missionary group so I reluctantly went up front to place our gift in the designated basket. The announcement of the totals and the “winning” group was often part of the service. It didn’t seem right to me.

Monday was work as usual with Ellen continuing to work on the proofreading of the scanned Zande hymnal, Jeff off exploring with his motorcycle, and my departure to be with the work crew at the studio building site. The foundation rock pillar for the tower had been completed and the center anchoring bolt was in place. The cement had fully cured so we planned to begin erecting the tower to eventually hold the four bay antenna for the FM radio. The four “T” shaped elements of the antenna were to be mounted in line on one side of the mast. This would focus the signal to very significantly increase the broadcast range and signal strength.

I had received ten used tower sections, made of some aluminum alloy, from HCJB in Elkhart, Indiana. I had trucked all the tower elements and parts from Elkhart to our New York farm where the container, which eventually arrived at Rethy, was packed. None of the carefully counted bolts and nuts had been lost, nor any of the brackets to be mounted where the tower sections were to be joined. The guy wire collars and all the guy wire cables and connecting hardware were verified. With all the looting that had taken place at Rethy we took it as confirmation from God that the tower was to be erected to broadcast the Good News of Jesus Christ.

The basic idea was to bolt together the first three sections with a guy wire collar on the top section, tip up that assembly with the first set of guys attached, and then add more sections on top.

To the first tower section we attached the base plate with the center hole. The anchor bolt embedded in the center of the foundation rock pillar would pass through that hole and fix the tower base in place. Using three splice plates and twenty-four bolts, nuts, and washers we attached a second section to the first. On the third section we added the guy wire collar with the first set of guy wires attached. I had the entire crew at the site ready to erect the first thirty-foot assembly.

We placed the base plate end on top of the foundation pillar. By hand, the crew lifted the other end of the assembly, as high as possible, then using aluminum ladders, push poles, and ropes we slowly erected the tower section. The main pull rope passed up and over a four-meter plank to get a lift angle. Men keeping tension on the guy wires centered the tower as it pivoted upward. There were several languages used among the men, yet everyone understood what was happening. Even the base plate hole lined up with the bolt. We weren’t trying to reach heaven in pride, but seeking to spread the gospel through the air. God blessed our efforts together.

The guy anchor blocks were already in place so the wires were attached and adjusted repeatedly with the turnbuckles to tension the guys and stabilize the tower, now bolted to the top of the pillar. We would make final vertical adjustments later using a plumb line suspended from the top of the triangular tower.

The next step was to attach the gin pole brackets to the top section so the pole itself could be extended into the air eight more feet above the top. At the first guy point, the tower was fairly stable and with the climbing belt attached to the tower, I could lean back and use both hands to bolt the pieces in place. The long line dangling from my belt was for me to pull up whatever the young man below sent up as needed.

A ten-foot section of tower was attached to the long rope that passed up through the pulley at the top of the gin pole and went back down to the ground. The section was not very heavy and was pulled up slowly, insuring that it did not strike the tower, or catch on the guy wires, as it rose into the air above me. The section was carefully aligned and bolted securely into place. The gin pole now needed to be moved up ten feet to be set up for lifting the next section. That, of course, involved climbing up ten feet above the set of guy wires.

After repeating the process, a couple of times, working on the top of the swaying tower provided the sensations for which God provided adrenalin. The tower stiffened up after adding and tensioning the second set of guy wires.

When adding the ninth tower section the view below showed the building plan as on the drawings, with the masons, resembling dots, working on the foundation. I became more accustomed to the tower movement but was relieved when the tower again stabilized after adding the third set of guys. The final section above held the topmost element of the four bay antenna. The others would be added when the heavy coaxial cable could be strung up the tower from the completed studio building.

The view of God’s creation extended to the horizon in every direction and was evidence of His blessings to man. The bountiful gardens made patterns on every hillside showing the different stages of growth for every crop. The black, smooth, freshly cultivated rectangles gave evidence of the rich soil with which He had blessed this area. The roads and villages showed the colorful flow of people going about the business of living their lives.

I later heard that there were many who left the work in their gardens when they saw the dot on the tower in the sky, fearing that he would fall, and die.

God has blessed me with the joy of building things beyond anything I could have asked or imagined.