Lisbon Free Baptist Church


Debbie Meroff Operation Mobilization

Santay Island in the Guayas River of Guayaquil is a world apart from the rest of Ecuador. While crossing over to it in a homemade motorized canoe that was none too stable I learned that the name of the island means "alligator."-Not exactly encouraging though I was assured the creatures were seldom seen in daylight. Besides alligators, Santay has about 44 houses, 200 impoverished people and 5 billion mosquitos. Because it is flat it is flooded whenever the Guayas River rises, so all the simple bamboo houses are on stilts. Though the island wasn't flooded for our visit there was mud everywhere. We were promptly covered in it. I finally got a pair of boots and squelched along in those but they were three sizes too big for me and tended to get stuck with every step, leaving me in constant danger of falling. We held a few programs for the adults and children and spent the night in one of the bamboo huts, with no electricity or water except for the jug we brought for drinking. I was obliged to do my most unfavorite thing--traipsing into long grass to use as a toilet! Doing this at night when the grass could be harboring my worst fears was not pleasant. One girl said she hadn't seen a snake except in the shorter grass which didn't comfort me much. I prayed fervently that I wouldn't have take the long trek during the night, and praise God my prayers were answered! In spite of slathering ourselves with mosquito repellant we were bitten anyway, right through our clothing. "Slept" under mosquito nets but it was do hot I lay perspiring--it was a long night! The people were very friendly, however--the team has been going there for several years now and have built a children's playground (for summers, when the island isn't inundated) as well as a rustic sort of restaurant to generate income for the people during the tourist season. We are hoping a church can be planted soon among these neglected people. A few days after this experience I accompanied the team to one of the seriously flooded areas of Ecuador. After walking through filthy water up to our needs we set out in a motorized rubber raft to take aid supplies to a stranded family. Their situation was pitiable and were grateful for the mattresses, food and clean drinking water. Later we joined a local church in feeding between 3-400 flood-affected people, distributed more supplies and shared with them the hope that lies in trusting God. Flying from the steamy heat of Ecuador to the snows of Maine was a shock to the system, but welcome. As always, it was good to be home for a few days visiting my father and friends, and speaking English once again! Back to London on April 18th.

The road to Sri Lanka’s east coast, which was badly battered by the tsunami, is lined with armed soldiers, bunkers and no less than 16 checkpoints. Every so often I see another armoured vehicle or bus passing with troops. It’s a bone-jarring ride: some of the roads haven’t been repaired for decades and the potholes are more like craters. In contrast to the grim reminders of this country’s civil war is the serene beauty of the countryside: lush green rice paddies, majestic palms and squat banana trees interspersed with colourful splashes of hibiscus and bougainvillea. I am thrilled to catch an occasional rare glimpse of wild, grazing elephants, monkeys and water buffalo. Roadside stands pedal everything from cashews to coconuts, limes, bananas and pineapples. I love to watch the women in their bright saris, men in sarongs, children in pristine white school uniforms. Later we pass a barren field of tents occupied by people displaced from the war. These tents were only supposed to last 2-3 months and already it is 9. The heat for the poor families living under that canvas must be unbearable. Once we reach the city I interview tsunami survivors who are at last receiving permanent houses, including 8 or 9 widows, all with heartrending stories. I also talk with some men and women receiving grants for micro-enterprises—an outrigger canoe for a fishermen, for instance; and fertilizer for a 78 year old Christian vegetable farmer who needs to cultivate new land since his old plot was poisoned by tsunami waters. Afterwards I travel out to photograph some of the projects. How satisfying to find the seaside village I visited 3 years before--almost entirely washed away by the killer wave--now rebuilt, thanks to donated funds. I stop for one last interview with a pastor who tells what it was like to have to relocate his church and family after being attacked and beaten by a Hindu mob. Persecution against Christians by both Buddhists and Hindus continues to increase. Then it is time to make the 8 hour drive back to Colombo, stopping at endless checkpoints. At one place we are directed to join the long row of vehicles for inspection—even though we are an NGO. Have to remove our bags and officers go through all our belongings, even put our pickup on a lift to look under the chassis for bombs. I go thru the female’s line and 4 bored army women seize the opportunity to look at everything I’ve packed, asking curiously about every item. I try to maintain my patience and eventually we’re allowed to go. By the end of the trip I am covered with dust. What a relief to hit the shower—though always cold here-- and bed! My last few days in Colombo are tense. The capital is celebrating 60 years of independence, and the Tamil Tigers (LTTE) consider this a prime opportunity to strike against the government. Bombs are set off in several places around the city, including a train station and zoo—killing and injuring many innocent people. But the line between the “good guys” and the “bad guys” isn’t easy to draw. Although the rebels are clearly terrorists, the government forces have been guilty of their own share of terror against the minority Tamil population. And any voice that criticizes the government is quickly silenced. Over a dozen journalists have been killed in the last year. I return to London with a passion to be a voice for the voiceless. Thank you for your prayers! Can I ask you to please continue to intercede for this war- ravaged nation, once called the isle of smiles and now a place of tears? Especially remember churches that have both Tamil and Sinhalese believers, caught in the middle, yet trying to be a witness of the unity that is possible in Christ. Sending my love to each of you, Debbie Debbie Meroff OM NEWS & INFORMATION [OMNI] Mission website: www.om.org Personal Website: www.writer2theworld.blogspot.com P.U.S.H. - Pray Until Something Happens!