Apr11

Post 42. Meanwhile, in the Pacific Ocean..

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Letters came and went in different shapes and sizes.  The envelopes could hardly contain some of them.  I once wrote on a toilet roll and rolled it up again.  Tony found a piece of writing paper the size of a newspaper and wrote in tiny writing on both sides.  It was interesting trying to read it in the Beetle during my lunch break.   I also got HUGE cards which were too big for the mailbox.

We had lots to talk about.  We hadn’t talked for more than 20 minutes in total on the ship, so we knew very little about each other.  There were lots of questions in every letter.  How much sugar do you take in coffee/tea?  What size shoe?  What is your favourite food, movie, colour, music etc.

I didn’t know how tall he was or how old he was.  I even forgot what he looked like.  I was relieved when he sent a photo.  He was gorgeous.

I had heard Tony’s story, in brief,  a couple of times in conferences.  It was so different from mine and it came in instalments in the mail.

He was the youngest of three.  Jan was the first born and Ben was just 18 months older than Tony.  Their dad, Doug, was a successful businessman and an entrepreneur.  Betty, their mum had been a legal secretary before having children.

Both Doug and Betty had been raised in the old fashioned way, “Children should be seen and not heard.”     Betty, her two sisters and brother were ruled by a religious father who wielded an iron rod.  There was no-one to soften the blows and no-one they could go to for a taste of gentleness.  Their upbringing had such a negative affect on them that they determined that their children would not get the same treatment.

Doug began drinking as a young man and it got out of control early in their marriage.  When the children were in their teens, he joined Alcoholics Anonymous and started his battle to “get off the wagon.”

Tony got into all kinds of drugs by the time he was 13.  He started to deal drugs at school and trip with some of his teachers. During one wild party at their house, gate crashers broke in, gardens were trampled on and the police were called in. Other parties were held when Doug and Betty were out. The mess was cleaned up before they got home and they had no idea what had gone on.

Doug tried his hardest to be a good dad.  He was loving and generous, but just not around.  His absence really affected Tony. He was a risk taker, which scared Betty, but he was loved for his spontaneity and edginess.   He took some risks which paid off and others that didn’t.

Betty was barely able to cope.  She kept the house spick and span and made sure there was healthy food and baked goodies for the kids when they got home from school. She was doing everything she could to hold her family together while everything was falling apart.

Apr10

Post 41. Snail mail and cassettes

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Rolleston Place was smaller than ever.  Val had painted my room a pale pink and put all kinds of Holly Hobby figures all over it.  It was like going back to my childhood.  They were so happy to have me home.  I had gone from 48- 55kgs and they loved every bit of me.

I also arrived home to a huge bouquet of flowers and a marriage proposal.  “I know I haven’t been in touch with you for the past two years, but I want you to be my wife.  Will you?  Love, Ian.” Wilf and Val were hovering and hopeful.  I couldn’t believe the cheek.  I gave Val the flowers and put the note in the bin.

Being back in my neighbourhood was hard.  It was difficult to connect with people.  Not many were interested in my travels or experiences and not many questions were asked.  It was as if I hadn’t gone anywhere.

While I was away, Dave and Bev got married and Rigby and Sue had moved to Johannesburg to take on a small church.  Peter was working in a bank in Pietermaritzburg.  The house was quiet and I felt isolated.

I took a few months off then started to look for a job.   I accepted one with YFC and was going to start the following month.  At the same time, Rigby and Sue called and invited me to join them in Johannesburg.  It seemed to be the right thing to do so I called YFC to apologise and made my plans to move to the big city.

Tony had replied to my subtle note.  A few times actually.  Wilf and Val wondered about all the post arriving in our little tin post box.   They knew something was brewing.

Tony wasn’t going to mess around.  He did not want another girlfriend; he had had enough of those.  He was serious.   In one of his first letters he made it clear.   In the only way he knew, he said “I guess I am asking for Social Permission”.  I wasn’t going to make it easy so I replied, “What exactly do you mean by that?”   He made it clear he had marriage in mind.

By the time I moved from No 28 things were in full swing.  We were in a “serious long distance relationship.”  My address changed and Rigby and Sue had to deal with all the mail in their mailbox.

I applied for a receptionist job in an engineering company in Sandton and got it.  I worked for three companies; M.A.N, Sieva and Alsthom.   I was surrounded by naughty Germans and Frenchmen and I felt right at home.

Every day, just before lunch time, I called home to ask if any mail had arrived for me.  If the answer was yes, I jumped into my little blue VW beetle and drove home as fast as I could.  I grabbed my letter, jumped back in the car and read at every stop light, all the way back to work.   There were so many letters, I did that trip most week days.

Cassettes were my favourite.  Tony would chat and sing songs he had written.  He told me all about his day and night and everything in between.   I listened to them over and over again; especially the one where he farted while he was talking.  I couldn’t believe my ears.

He commented and laughed, but seriously, did he not know about rewinding and erasing?  I kept rewinding to make sure I had heard correctly.  I laughed so much.  That clinched it for me.  I knew we were going to have lots of fun.

I looked at the qualities I had written down years before.  He was everything I wanted in a husband.  He even played the guitar.

There were just two things I wondered about:

1. He wasn’t a pastor.

2. He was called to live in India.  Was I?

Apr9

Post 40. Match making

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I was exhausted.  My aunt and uncle wanted to show me the sights of London but I just wanted to sleep.  A week later my English friend Liz invited me to visit her in Belgium before I went home.  I got on the ferry and crossed the English Channel.

I had been in Belgium once before.  We had done a road trip through Spain and France.  On the way we met a team led by Normand Saidon.

My sweet friend Henriette had left the ship a few months before me and she was in a state.  From the day she had walked onto the ship, she knew she would marry Normand.  He was one of the busy, choleric types who didn’t seem to have any time or interest in romance.  She kept it to herself for two years.  In her last week, she tearfully blurted her dilemma out to me.  He didn’t give her the time of day and didn’t seem to know she existed.  She needed to know.  If she was wrong, then she would forget all about him.  If she was right, maybe he needed some prodding.

Henriette and I had been writing to each other and I asked her if I could chat to Normand about it.  She reluctantly agreed.  She didn’t know of any other way.

When our teams met up, I pulled Normand aside and told him Henriette had said hi.  His response was “Who is Henriette?  Oh, the South African girl.”  I told him what she had told me and he agreed to send her his newletter.  How romantic, I thought.  One newsletter turned into another and before we knew it, they were writing to each other.  He fell head over heels in love.

On my second trip to Belgium, I thought Tony may need some help.  He had no way of contacting me and I wondered how we would stay in touch.  He seemed to be very cautious about being in a relationship.

Liz was sending him her newsletter, so I scribbled a note at the bottom of it.

“Hi Tony, I’m with Liz and I saw her writing to you.  Have a good trip back to India.  Please send me your newsletter.  My address is:  28   Rolleston Place, Woodlands, Durban.  Linda”

One newsletter turned into another and before we knew it, we were writing to each other.

Quite subtle, I thought; quite subtle.

Apr8

Post 39. Tony? Tony who?

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Oh, Tony Johnson!   I only knew one Tony. He was the cute Kiwi boy.  I had heard his amazing story at conferences and he sang really well.  He was Robin Glass’s best friend.  Robin was the funny, tall, curly-haired, Brazilian/English guy.

I was living in Liverpool, waiting for the ship to arrive.  It had been weeks since I was on the ocean and I missed it.  I wondered about Tony.  What would it be like seeing him, knowing what I had heard?  Why would he be interested anyway?

The ship arrived and it was busy.  No time to sit around thinking about love and romance.  I was up and down the gangway, taking care of people who thought they were important and making sure they were fed and shown around.  I didn’t see Tony at all.

Late one night as we were leaving the ship, I heard someone playing a guitar and singing.  We walked around the corner and it was Tony.  He smiled so I stopped and commented on the stars.  He asked how things were going and I told him.  A lot happened that night and we hadn’t even broken the five minute rule.

He had been observing me for months.  We had a joint girls and guys Bible Study and we had talked about marriage.  I had made a comment something like, “When I get married I am going to love my husband more than anyone else in the world.”  Tony could not imagine being loved that way.  He wanted to volunteer.  On another occasion I spoke with the shipmates about something that was going on in my life.  He liked my honesty and vulnerability.

Over the next few months, there were occasions when we had short conversations.  A few times we found ourselves at the same dining room table, talking about the weather with 6 other people.

My two years on the ship was up.  I had stayed on 6 months extra to do the PR work on land.  It was time to go home.  I was visiting one of the families and Tony happened to be fixing their door lock.  He was invited to join us for tea and that was when we had our last and longest conversation.

Tony:  So what are your plans?  What will you do when you leave the ship?

Me:  (With a smile on my face) I am going back to South  Africa to marry a pastor.  What about you?

Tony:  I am going back to India.  That is where I am called to be.

The conversation went on.  He had never considered being a pastor and I had never considered living in India.  We were both so confident about where we were going and they were opposite directions.

It was time for me to leave the Doulos; my home for two and a half years.  My aunt and uncle had come to pick me up in Hull and they were taking me to their place in Kent.  I walked around for the last time, saying tearful goodbyes to the kids and their parents and all the amazing friends I had made.

As I was walking out of the door, Tony came up the stairs in his overalls looking very flustered.  We said goodbye and I walked down the gangway.

On the road again.

On the road again.

The ship sailed away and I stood on the quayside waving goodbye and crying my eyes out.  Tony was there and we waved and smiled.  I knew where he was going and he knew where I was going.  We had no idea how we were ever going to see each other again, but we knew we would.

Little did I know that Tony had been running around the ship trying to find a leader to get permission to ask if he could speak to me.  He had left it too late.

Little did I know that Tony Johnson was asking God if I could be his wife.

Apr7

Post 38. Is this the Love Boat?

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While no-one wanted to admit it, the ship was a great place to meet one’s life partner.  Some called it, “The Love Boat.”  That really upset the leaders.  Funny that, since many of them had met their partners there.

The big rule was “No relationships in the first year”.   When their year was up, a guy could go to their leader and ask for “Social Permission”.  That meant they could spend more time with the girl they were interested in; if feelings were mutual.

The second biggy was, “No more than five minute conversations alone, with the opposite sex.”    Things could get out of hand after five minutes.  Most of the shipmates were single.  Some were happy to stay that way, and others really weren’t.  It was obvious that some were there to find a husband or a wife.

Those who were single and satisfied didn’t really notice when the year was up.  The desperate ones headed for their leader’s office on that very day.  There were all kinds of surprises sprung on people.

When our batch’s year was up, I was called into the girl leader’s office five times.  “So and so is interested in you and would like Social Permission.”  I was horrified. Also slightly flattered, until I found out that the same desperados had done the same thing for just about every available girl on the ship.

Things got really awkward.  The guys who I saw as friends, got all weird.  I couldn’t be as friendly for fear they would get the wrong impression.  I decided I didn’t want to know who asked for “S.P.”

I told the leaders it didn’t matter who asked, my answer was “no”.  I was not interested.  I did NOT want another trip to the office.

It seemed angelic.  The truth was, I had broken the rules in my first year and not been caught.  Mike and I had talked too much and got on way too well.  To complicate things, he had a girlfriend, Debbie, who was at home waiting for him.

He was finding it difficult to make a decision, so he asked the cute Kiwi boy to pray with him about his dilemma.  He obliged.

Mike’s two years were up and he went back to the States.  I went on to do the Public Relations for the ship.  We went ahead and got the port ready for the ship’s arrival.  We got interviewed on local radio stations, wrote articles for newspapers and contacted schools, church groups and town mayors.  We lived with local people and got used to living on land again.

When I was in Liverpool, I got a letter from Mike, letting me know of his decision to stay with Debbie.   I had expected it.  I was prepared.

What I wasn’t prepared for,  was the almost audible voice that I heard in that moment.  I knew who it was.  He had spoken to me before.  He had told me not to panic.  He had told me to stay in the ocean of His love and I would be okay;  no matter what storms came my way.

Those messages were clear and they needed no interpretation.  This one was different.  It was sing songy and kind of cheeky sounding.  I could almost imagine a smile on His face as He whispered into my ear,

“There’s Tony.”

Apr4

Post 37. Nations

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There were about 300 people on the Doulos.  Most were there because they wanted to serve and see the world at the same time.  It was a great way to do both.  

I fell in love with South America and her people; Spending weekends with families in small villages and towns, practising our Spanish, learning from their cultures and eating lots of amazing food. 

We had to get up early to exercise no matter what.  That was a challenge in Argentina when the main meal was brought out at 11 pm.  We slept on heavy stomachs way after midnight and got up a few hours later to run. 

It took us two years to circumvent the continent; Brazil, Venezuela, Colombia, Peru, Chile and Argentina.  We had also stopped in Puerto Rico, Barbados, Jamaica, Trinidad, Mexico and Florida. 

Lindy and her family lived in Kentucky.  When we docked in Florida, I got a week off and took a Grey Hound Bus to see them.  It was a long trip but  worth it.  There were so many changes and we had all grown up.  I got a taste of American culture, ate lots of fried chicken and loved being with the Stuthridges again. 

Those days were not easy for South Africans.  One evening, Henriette and I were sitting on a small beach near the ship in Barbados, watching the sun go down on the ocean.  There was a daddy Rasta and his son, having their bath in the sea.  Their dreads were down and they were using sea sand as shampoo.   They came out of the ocean shaking their hair.  It was a beautiful scene.  We waved and they came over to talk to us.  It was going really well until he asked where we were from.  Suddenly we were being blamed for apartheid, racism and all the problems of South Africa.  It got really ugly so we said goodbye and left. 

When we arrived in Trinidad we were ship bound.  No South Africans allowed.  We had to get permission to stretch our legs on the quayside.  A team went into Bolivia but again, no South Africans allowed. 

We were feeling the effects of our injustice for the first time. 

I cried many tears when we sailed out of Recife to start our journey across the Atlantic.  I was going to miss the colourful, hot blooded, passionate Latin Americans. 

I met people from all over the world and made many lifetime friends.  There were times when I wondered which nation I would end up in. At that point, I was hoping it would be somewhere in South America. 

My heart was wide open.  I was prepared to go anywhere.

Apr3

Post 36. Intense.

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After working in every department girls could work in, I signed up for four months of Intensive Training.  The ship was in Chile.

It was so intense.  We had daily, weekly and monthly goals.  We read through the Bible from cover to cover, memorised long portions of scripture, read through lots of required reading books and listened to many messages which were on cassette tapes in the library.  

We got up to jog at 5 am every day preparing for a 25 km run and a 20 km walk.   That was interesting when we were at sea; running along the deck with waves splashing all around us, stopping to throw up then off again.  It was a test of endurance. 

Wherever we went we were either reading or mumbling memory verses under our breath.  On top of that there were certain hours we had to work.  We didn’t sleep much. 

The three day fast was a challenge.  The ship was docked and we were put into teams. There was a small church building where we stayed and prayed for three days.  Now THAT was intense.  We were only allowed to have water.  There were many manifestations of bad character but we walked back onto the ship thinner and better people. 

There was also a three day “faith trip”.   We left the ship with as many books as we could carry, no money and a change of clothes. When we met people we could answer their questions but not solicit anything in anyway.  If we sold books, we could use that money to buy food; if we didn’t, too bad.    

I had NEVER had to ask God for food.  I struggled.  My pride really got in the way.  The other girls seemed to be fine with it but I just couldn’t do it.  We had no food for the first day and a half and we all came to the conclusion that I was the Jonah.  They urged and encouraged me to just humble myself and ask God.  I was so hungry that I did.  That afternoon while walking around the small town, we met a lady who asked us what we were doing.  There was no hinting or soliciting in our reply.  She invited us to her house for dinner.  It was a HUGE house and the table was groaning with food.  

We ate, drank and were VERY merry.

Apr2

Post 35. Stop panicking. Please

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I also had a stint in the cleaning department.  The least desired department for obvious reasons. I was determined to enjoy it and by any means, not look like Sadie the cleaning lady.

Every day there were carpets to vacuum and toilets to clean. There were also vacated cabins to clean out.  Our greatest dread was the single guy’s cabins.  After two years without a mummy some of them really let themselves go.  When we opened the cabin door we were hit with a gorgeous fragrance of smelly socks, kimchi and ammonia.  Better to put a match to it, I thought.

We shone windows, portholes, public toilets and emptied rubbish bins from the offices.  We really got around.  The other dreaded job was cleaning the engineer’s toilets.  The smell and seasickness were never a good combination.

The poop deck was where the nursery was.  There was a cute little room with toys and books and an enclosed area with a jungle gym for them to play in.   When my cleaning stint was up I was asked to work there with the toddlers.  I was in my element.  It was amazing how much communication went on.  There we were, from all over the world, speaking different languages yet somehow able to understand each other.  A hug here and a smile there seemed to make up for all the words we didn’t have.

One of my favourite things to do was to spend time with the couples and their kids.  I did a lot of babysitting.  An American couple had twins and I was asked me to be their nanny.  I jumped at the chance.  I loved those little boys.

The twins.

I walked around the ship with their heads on my hands and their bodies tucked under my arms.  That way they could see my face and I could talk to them as we walked along.

It was a challenge when they needed their nappies changed at the same time.  One day, they were lying on the bed, screaming their heads off.   I kept saying “I’m here, I’m here.  Don’t panic.  I know what you need and I know what I am doing.”

As I said that, God showed me how often I had been like that with Him.  I was anxious about my future, finances and many other things.  All the while, He was standing over me. He knew exactly what He was doing.  There was no need to panic.

Apr1

Post 34. Charlie

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The programme was full; early morning devotions, studies, talking to people on the street, conferences to attend, weekends away with local families, minimum work hours and exercise.  There wasn’t much time to sit around. 

The dining room was a good place to get to know our shipmates.   After discussing the weather we went on to the food.  It wasn’t amazing, but not even the greatest chef could have come up with more than 100 ways to cook “Suzi-Wan.”  In one of the ports, some very generous people donated 1000’s of tins of bean sprout/noodle/vegetable meals.  We had it in many forms.  Mainly disguised, but we weren’t fooled.   We found it in everything. 

I really tried hard not to complain.  Some people never stopped.  Once when I was helping to serve at the tables, one of the big grumblers really got to me.   I looked at him in the eyes, with my serving spoon full of Suzi-Wan and warned him that if he kept complaining I would pour it all over his head.  That was the end of that.  He knew I was serious. 

“Charlie” was the name of the ship’s small second hand clothing shop.  It was right next to the key-cutting, shoe-fixing workshop where the cute Kiwi guy worked.  I worked there for a couple of months and loved sorting through the rubbish to find treasure.  I was ruthless. 

Church groups did collections and boxes were delivered to the ship.   I had heard stories about missionaries being sent second-hand tea bags but I never believed it until I opened some of those boxes.; worse than used tea-bags were used toothbrushes.  

Us O.M.ers weren’t known for our sense of fashion for a few reasons.   

1. We were all there for a minimum of 2 years; clothes wear out. 

2. We were given $20 a month, if it was there; it often wasn’t.

3. When it was, we could buy a few treats; like souvenirs or junk food; we got fatter.  

4. We couldn’t save it because the currency changed with every country we sailed to and there was very little we could buy for $20; Charlie was free.

5. People thought we didn’t have any taste or style; we got the clothes they had been hoarding since World War 2.  

Maybe they wanted to put them on a ship so they would never come back.  

That way they would never have to remember how bad it got. 

Mar30

Post 33. Strangely safe

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The Doulos.

The Doulos.

Ship life was intense and stretching.  It was obvious from day one that I was going to learn a lot about diversity  of   culture.

I shared my first cabin with 3 other girls; an Indian, an American and a Korean. There were some interesting moments.  Cleaning rosters were made and stuck up on the wall.  After a couple of weeks we noticed the Korean girl wasn’t doing her cleaning duties.  We called a cabin meeting and asked her what the problem was.  Her unblinking reply was, “In Korea, younger girls do everything for the older one.  I am the oldest in this cabin.”   Our unblinking reply was, “Well you’re not in Korea.”  Things did improve a bit, but it was hard for her.  There were some who were highly qualified and had to scrub decks and wash 100’s of dishes every day.  For many, being in the kitchen was only for women.  Well, that thinking didn’t last long.

We all had our way of doing things.  The results were often the same. We learnt quickly that our way wasn’t necessarily the best way.

Life was full.  There were different departments and we all had a job.  It didn’t matter what we were before we came onboard.  We worked where we were put and there were no arguments.  If we didn’t get on with someone and asked to be moved, we were made to stay there until we got on.

I started in the Book Exhibition.  It was apparently the place to be.  It was a lot of fun and lots of hard work.  We did inventory, orders, stacked the shelves in different languages and learnt how to deal with all kinds of people.   The plan was to be in South America for 2 years and it was compulsory that we learnt Spanish.

We sailed from one port to the other and every time we set sail, the exhibit had to be covered and tied down.  If the weather was good we were able to set up for the next port while we were sailing.  If it was bad, and we were throwing up, we prayed the books wouldn’t be lost at sea.

There was a HUGE storm on the trip from Jamaica to Mexico; massive waves, lots of sea sickness and many bookshelves that hit the deck.   It was scary having to go up in the howling wind and beating waves to tie the shelves down properly.  It was one of the biggest storms experienced by the Doulos.

There was a lot of sea sickness, but life had to go on.  Michel, our cook from France, kept running between the deck and the kitchen.  He could barely stand, but there were mouths to feed.  Those who managed to get to the dining room for breakfast were served by very pale waiters and waitresses.  What made things worse was that Michel had grabbed the food colouring instead of the vanilla essence.  The porridge was green.

It seemed that some had psychological sea sickness.  Em Namuco was violently ill and had been in his cabin all morning.   It had been announced the previous evening that we were to set sail in the middle of the night.  He was surprised when someone knocked on his cabin door to tell him that the ship hadn’t sailed after all.  We were still firmly moored.

There was danger but a strange absence of fear.  There were nights when everything was calm and we would lie on the deck and look into the crystal clear, starry night.  Everything around us was in pitch darkness.  We were like a tiny cork bobbing on the ocean.  Not another thing in sight.   The only sound was the ship’s engine.

I was very aware of how small I was in an ocean so deep and wide.  There were many times God spoke of His love for me, reminding me that His love was as vast as the ocean I was sailing on.  No matter how high the waves got and no matter how big the storm became, as long as I was in that ocean, I was safe.