Killer Bees in Congo - Jim Smith

We have noticed for years that there were African killer bees in the little woods near our house. They have never bothered anyone, and one man even climbed up and got us some honey from their nest. He did this by smoking the nest so that the bees scattered, and it was at night. Night time is better because the bees cannot see as well at night just like us.

The Congolese do not wish to kill the bees, so they use smoke to chase them away temporarily in order to obtain the honey and the honeycomb. The palm tree containing the bees was cut down in order to give more sunlight to our newly built greenhouse (Congolese style). Although we knew bees inhabited that immediate area, we did not know that this particular palm tree was THEIR HOME.

Two days later,the bees whose house had been violated decided to put their nest IN THE ATTIC OF OUR HOUSE! Hundreds and hundreds of bees entered our home between the tin roof and the wall because screen was not covering all the little air passageways. They found places to enter and began setting up their new nest, preparing for a queen bee to come sit on her throne.

I had no idea this was going on as I had been out of the house working all day. In the late afternoon, however, I and some of our staff began seeing bees swirling round outside near the attic, looking for a place to enter, which they did. The men with me were very concerned. They knew something would have to be done, but it was late in the day.

I thought the bees might be trying to put their new nest in the eaves of the tin roof, so I went to bed as usual, and slept the night undisturbed. My wife, Nancy, had already left Congo to return to America. The following day, one of our workers, Aza, went up into the attic, and he returned very quickly. The attic was loaded with killer bees. They were all over. I was still in the house because they had not chosen to come down to the second floor. The attic is on the third floor.

When Aza returned he said that the situation was not good and that we needed to do something about it. Now they were beginning to come to the second floor where all the bedrooms are, buzzing around in the landing, so I got the bug spray. It worked--for a while. I was warned by the nationals not to step on and crush any of the bees because the other bees will rush to his defense after smelling his fluids that come out after he is crushed. They can come by the hundreds, so trying to get rid of them by the bug spray was not quite like crushing one of them.

I closed the bedroom door (its' about 9 p.m.), and the generator is running to give us lights. By this time, about 50 bees were dead on the floor from the bug spray on the landing outside of our bedroom. Aza came by and shut the generator off. With the lights turned off and the doors closed, I felt by their silence, they were settling down.

The next day, one of the first questions asked was, "Did the bees bother you last night or this morning?" I said, "No." Now there were even more bees swirling around outside. Aza, from the Bapende tribe, knew that we had to take action to get the bees away from the house. They have had experience with killer bees. These are aggressive African bees, and if they are bothered in any way, they strike. So, he and his son, Ntoto, got the long ladder. The attic is close to 25' in the air. The bees had centered themselves outside of the attic in vents which are usually covered by screen, but they had found a hole to get in.

Aza took an old rag and put some used truck oil on it. He lit it well enough so that it was smoking. I gave him a hooded raincoat and a pair of gloves and a torch that was 10' long. He didn't want to get any closer than he had to. The smoke began to drive the bees away. I am outside watching this happen. The bees knew because of the smoke that this was not a good place to set up housekeeping.

So they left. We really didn't know for sure the status of the attic--whether or not they had cleared completely out. So Aza went up the stairs again to make an inspection two days after their arrival. They were gone, but the floor was covered by hundreds and hundreds of them.

Though I had been warned that the African bee is very aggressive, I didn't realize how dangerous they could be until I saw the way Aza and many of our work staff reacted to their presence. Their concern was contagious. How grateful I was for Aza and Ntoto who were willing to risk being bitten to protect me and get rid of those bees. Again the method was smoke and fire because no fluids are exuded from the bee which would draw other family bee members to attack whatever or whoever had crushed one of their relatives.

I am thankful to this day for the mercies of God and the goodness of our African people!

Jim Smith

A Braid of Joy, Sorrow, and Hope

March 17 would have been the second birthday of our grandson, Luke. Referred to by his parents as, "Our little man," they decided to bring together children and friends to honor his memory yesterday, on March 20. We gathered at a beautiful park in Franklin, and scores of children and their parents, both sets of grandparents, Greg and Nicol and Summer, cousins, and some people who are walking the same road as Nicol and Greg all met to remember and celebrate Luke's life.

We mingled with purpose, and our ears and eyes delighted in

the sounds of adult laughter

the joy of children laughing

the sweetness of cousins hugging

the balm in lots of hugging

the satisfying fun food

the freshness of new acquaintances

the warmth of family

the delight of a cake walk

the surprise of discovery on an Easter egg hunt

the wealth of sharing

the wonder of God's Hand in holding off the rain

the showing up of the Lord in the little things

the appreciation of decent weather

the peace of no stress

the visiting of Luke's grave site later on

the quiet tears

the shared sorrow

the soft weeping

the reminiscing

the wrapping of all these wonderful elements into the blessed hope that

the best is yet to come

the balm that followed



Postscript: Jim, having lost a baby brother, a teen-aged brother, his father at the age of 10, and his mother who preceded us to Congo in '78, offered to Nicol that Lukey might be offering them this comfort, "Oh! Mama, Oh! Daddy, Oh! Summer, What Glory!

A tribute to Bob Mero

Everyone needs a Bob Mero in their life. We met him more than forty years ago at the Michigan Sunday School Convention in Detroit. Jim and I had just left Warrendale Community Church to go into music evangelism; and, while singing at the convention, this gentleman by the name of Bob walked by his booth. His wife, Helen, was by his side. They immediately took an interest in Jim and me and our family

Dinner Benefit April 22, 2010

On Thursday, April 22, at 6:30 p.m., we will gather to lift the name of Jesus high. We long to tell new people about the work the Lord is doing in Congo and praise Him for His incredible faithfulness. We will celebrate with music by Jack and Molly Smith, updates on our evangelism efforts in Congo, what the Spirit of the Living God has accomplished this past year in Congo, future goals, a sit-down, family style dinner with 3 entrees, and a great evening of meeting new people and renewing friendships. Your presence is so desired. This year there will be no charge, but a ticket is necessary to attend. The evening is being underwritten by friends and supporters of Laban. Call 313 292 5445 to make reservations. Please mark your calendar and join us to spread the good word and make Jesus famous!

"If Your Presence does not go with us. . . "

Moses pleadingly replied to the Lord in Exodus 33:15, and 16, even after God said He would go with them, continued to plea, "If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with (us) and with your people unless you go with us? What else will distinguish (us) and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth."

He was leading about 1,500,000 stiff-necked Israelites through the wilderness, which turned out to be a 40-year hike. As you recall, they had gotten sick and tired of waiting for Moses to come down off the mountain and gave all their earrings (given so eagerly to them by the Egyptians from whom they had fled) to Aaron because they had had enough of waiting on Moses' Lord. They wanted to plot their own course. Sound familiar? How often I have taken things into my own hands instead of allowing the Lord to completely navigate my course of action.

At any rate, God forewarned Moses before he returned from his mountaintop experience that trouble was brewing below. When Moses saw the people dancing and reveling, his temper flared, and he flung the two tablets containing the Ten Commandments to the ground, "breaking them into pieces at the foot of the mountain." Instead of returning to the sound of victory with the Israelites rallying around Him, wrestling in prayer for direction and God's blessing, they were "running wild" and out of control, thus making themselves "a laughingstock to their enemies." And, out of no where, a calf had sprung up out of the fire started by Aaron. However, Exodus 32:4 clearly states that Aaron made the gold earrings "into an idol cast in the shape of a calf, fashioning it with a tool." On top of all that, the calf got credit for leading them out of Egypt!

"And the Lord struck the people with a plague because of what they did with the calf Aaron had made."

Furthermore, he told Moses to leave that place and go to the land of milk and honey. Only one big catch--Yahweh refused to go with them. They had made him so angry he might destroy them on the way!

This historical account always grips my heart. and every time we go to Congo, I bow the knee and reiterate the words of Moses, "If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with us and with your people, unless you go with us?"

We are due to leave for Congo on June 2. It will be another daunting trip. Just going to a third-world country can stretch a person taut. If I allow my flesh to ponder too much on the what ifs and the utterly humanly speaking impossible challenges we will face, my heart grows faint.

Today I choose to remember His faithfulness these past 70 plus years since Dr. Laban and Marcella Smith first landed on African soil. With God WE ARE ALWAYS A MAJORITY. Tears fell from my eyes yesterday as I read these penetrating facts through the pen of David, the warrior poet who says in Psalm 62:5-8:

God, the one and only--
I'll wait as long as he says,
Everything I hope for comes from him,
so why not?
He's solid rock under my feet,
breathing room for my soul,
An impregnable castle:
I'm set for life.

My help and glory are in God
--granite-strength and safe-harbor God--
So trust him absolutely people;
lay your lives on the line for him.
God is a safe place to be.

It takes a mighty army fighting the good fight when it comes to ministry. Will you be a part of that army and fight for the kingdom by interceding for Laban Ministries starting right now and then continuing June 2 through October 26, which is when we get back in the States? I cannot tell you the comfort we have experienced down through the years from the heartfelt prayers of God's people. Please, please consider bending the knee with us for a summer of breakthroughs. Praise God for the freedom to ask you even to do such a thing! As we are praying for Congo, its needs, its government, its future, let us not to forget to pray for our beloved America. God bless America!

Thank you

Thank you so much to all who prayed for Jim's surgery. He is doing well. We are so grateful for your prayers.

In other news, our first tea to support the Ladies Literacy Center in Congo was a smashing success. Tickets were sold out 2 weeks ahead of time, and the fellowship hall at First Pres. was bursting at the seams. 170 women were served, and more than $6,000 was raised for the reading school.

We would love to replicate these teas, so if you are interested in organizing one and holding one, please email me at labancongo@aol.com. Praise the Lord for people in America who love the poor. The Lord surely does!

Health Care in Congo

During the last two weeks my husband and I have been preparing for his upcoming surgery in two days, which includes office visits, consultations, viewing a DVD re various types of anesthesia, speaking with the anesthesiologist, getting registered at Beaumont, lab work, an EKG, and another round of antibiotics after a final ultrasound. Insurance benefits were reviewed by the hospital. Questions have been raised and answered. All in all having surgery involves process, education, and procedure.

Congo, on the other hand, is another story. In our driving back and forth from one office to another, an incident that occurred years ago in Congo has haunted me this week. I cannot shake its horror.

I wish it were fiction.

It's not.

It happened at a remote clinic with no sterile conditions. By remote, I mean remote. No electricity--ever. No running water. 450 miles due east from the capital city of Kinshasa, known as the bush. Topography of savannah, plains, rolling hills, no paved roads, no grocery stores, no gas stations, no department stores, no Home Depot, no Target (oh my), few cars, few trucks (ours), no big airports, no hospitals, no pharmacies, no drug stores. I told you it was remote.

The State of Congo owns the clinic. It was the only place the teen could get any "help," She complained of abdominal pain, discomfort, and other symptoms which drove her to seek relief. The clinic was up the hill and down the road from our mission.

Her options: a 2 1/2 day walk to the medical mission of Vanga or a 9 hour truck ride over holey "roads" that her body would not endure. So. . . off she went.

No lab available to check out possible blood abnormalities or clues as to whether she had an infection of any kind. No microscope to examine her blood. No lab tech to even try to make an educated guess.

It was night time. It gets very dark in Congo after 6 p.m. Only 300 miles south of the equator.

She entered the dimly lit room. Put on a filthy robe used by who knows how many other patients preceding her. Climbed onto the table.

The "doctor" in no simple terms told her not to scream. "I don't want any crying. Do you understand?" he yelled at her.

She trembled with dread and fear and promised to comply.

"Shut your mouth, and don't you dare scream," he said.

He turned up the volume of his short wave radio and made an incision in her unanesthetized body. Found nothing wrong with her. Sewed her all up.

No sedation. No antibiotics to fight the infection that would more than likely follow. No bedside manner. No kind words. No advice. No pain pills.

No liability insurance so she could not sue the inept inhumane monster.

To this day I am amazed she survived.

I found myself raising my right hand in the car many a time lately while driving here or there, praising God for the difference between here and Congo, for the blessings of living in America, for the incredible advances medically we benefit from, for the skillful, brilliant doctors and more than competent nurses we have access to here.

We don't deserve the incredible care we get here any more than she deserved the incompetent, heinous treatment she received.

Lord, hasten the day when Laban can build a medical health facility to Your glory, so that the Congolese people don't have to suffer under such dastardly conditions? How many more have to endure such deplorable, abominable treatment? Hasten the day, Lord, when our hospital can be a haven, a refuge, a center of healing physically and spiritually. We surrender to Your will and the mercy of Your people.