Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Izmail, Ukraine—Today, for the first time, I was an illegal alien. It was only for 20 minutes, and we were driving through Moldova on the way to another section of Ukraine. Our translator, Pastor Roman, said that at the border I should put away my camera and Russia map, and not to smile or be friendly (like an American tourist), and not to speak or meet anyone’s eyes. Just look bored. We were passed with no comment. Apparently, if it was known that we were not Ukrainian, we would have had our bags searched and been delayed.

Moldova, for the 20 minutes we drove through it, looked exactly like Ukraine. Flat agricultural fields, dusty villages, farms with tractors and horse-drawn wagons, many flocks of white or gray geese, a few turkey hens, and other farm animals. The dogs and cats in this country are not neutered, so you can imagine the interesting mutts we see wandering the streets. When I explained “mutt” to Roman, who will undoubtedly go home with plenty of slang, I said it was a dog with many fathers. He didn’t need the scientific explanation—he’s a grown man!

After crossing through another Ukrainian checkpoint, Luis Leonor and I returned to legal alien status. We drove through more countryside, more villages, past more geese and turkeys, and the occasional onion-dome Orthodox church. We spotted a Gypsy wagon once, too. Along the roadside, there were booths with women selling produce, or gallon jars of honey. 

Our first stop was in Bolgrad, a town of 10,000 which used to be a military base. The homes looked just as uniform as military bases in the United States. The evangelism meetings were being held in a public hall. There were four children sitting on the steps, and in the lobby, there were health clinic posters in Russian, with several greeters in white lab coats. (view video clip) (The material in the health talks was produced by The Quiet Hour.) The meetings had already started, so we went in and had a seat. These meetings were being held at 3:00 and 6:00, to accommodate two sets of attendees: pensioners at the early program, and workers later.

They were playing a Russian-language film about care of the eyes, as near as I could tell from the “graphics” behind the Russian doctor. There was a chalkboard with a side view of what I think was an eyeball, because there were various straight lines converging on the chalk-drawn retina. But don’t go by me: I used to write for a dental school!

Following the film, Donald Randleman played his saw (view video clip), accompanied by his wife DiAnn on the electronic keyboard. Then, after an introduction by the local pastor, the Randlemans stood together sharing the microphone and took turns giving the evangelistic sermon. They had one translator.

The Randlemans are on their second evangelism mission with The Quiet Hour in less than a year (view video clip1) (view video clip2). In February 2007, they preached in Ethiopia with Bill and Jackie Tucker and the other teams. At that time, said Donald, they were taking a road trip from one site to another and their car broke down 23 times. Rather than fume about something over which they had no control, they spoke to the Ethiopian people who curiously gathered around the Americans at every stop, and led them to Jesus. Apparently, evangelism is not just done behind a pulpit. The good news of God’s love can be communicated to anyone, anywhere.

DiAnn is fighting a cold, and I felt a cold coming on, as well. But both of us trust that God will see us through. We spoke for a few minutes before my team had to leave for Izmail for the evening service.

As we drove into the outskirts of Izmail before 6 p.m., we passed huge three-story factory buildings, all beige, with hundreds of windows broken out. Our translator said, with irony in his voice, “Monument to Soviet government.” 

We drove up to the cultural center in Izmail and parked in the courtyard. In one wing, I could hear a piano lesson or class being conducted. Elsewhere in the complex was the sound of an orchestra tuning up (probably youth), and there was an Internet Club off the lobby where teenage boys were playing video games. One woman walked past in dance tights, the rehearsal variety which didn’t match anything. So it seems to be a well-used and popular place where the evangelism meetings were being held in the auditorium. There were several hundred people in attendance for the health posters and then the health talk. When the subject turned to Christianity, however, some of the audience walked out. They had apparently come for the health message only.

Alex Nischuk (view video clip), a Ukrainian-American, was the leader of the team in Izmail. He has come to Ukraine to preach several times before. Because of the election on October 1 and another schedule conflict, they began their series several days late. The pastor will carry on when the team leaves the city.

We were given supper by the pastor and his wife, then taken to our hotel. I couldn’t read the name of the hotel, it being written in Cyrillic. It might have been Hotel Izmail, but who could say? However, we shall call it the Roach Motel, where bugs check in, but they don’t check out. (Quoting an old Black Flag or Raid commercial.) The lobby smelled very strongly of cigarettes. Once registered, a long process because we’re foreigners, I was shown to my bright, clean, single room and my bags were deposited by the Izmail pastor and our team. I turned to close my door, and there were two half-inch-long cockroaches on the back of the door.

If you see one roach, it means hundreds are there. You see two roaches, it’s confirmation that the place is infested. If you turn off the light, there would be thousands more to wave their antennae and crawl over who knows what. So I left the room and found the hallway monitor (that’s how they do it here), saying “Madame, bugs! Insects!” and I pantomimed antennae.

She bustled into my room and looked at the back of the door. She pinched one of the roaches between her fingers and dropped its carcass on the carpet in front of the bathroom door. Then she repeated with the other one. She said something in Russian, which I am positive meant, “See, no more bugs. What’s your problem?” I found Roman just in time, as he’d been helping Luis with his bags on the floor above. Roman translated for me (I think) that I would not accept that room because roaches live in the walls, and they were only the scouts for the invasion. (Luis was staying in the room directly above the room I rejected. His room could have had cucarachas, too, but he didn’t notice any.)
The monitor led me up to the third floor, where I gingerly inspected it for bugs, didn’t find any, and accepted the room.

Thursday, October 4, 2007
Belgorod-Dnestrovsky, Ukraine—This dusty 2500-year-old city, whose ancient name is Tyra, is in the Southern Conference of Ukraine, near the Black Sea. That’s right, I finally glimpsed the Black Sea in the distance. 

After a morning meeting with the Izmail evangelism team (view video clip), with Luis Leonor and Yuri Kuzmenko ironing out some wrinkles there, Luis and I stopped at an Internet shop to do a bit of work. A bit, because we’re not allowed to attach our laptops to the local connection; and our Russian-speaking friends from the van hover over us, begging us to hurry so we can get on the road. I wasn’t able to access my Quiet Hour e-mail, which means I’m not communicating with the team back home—it’s like working in the dark. So I sent some info by personal e-mail, and trust that the October e-mail Blast has been sent today.

On the way to Belgorod, the White City on the Black Sea, we passed similar scenery to yesterday, minus the Moldovan border crossing. It was a clearer day, and there was far less smoke in the air; because we were out in the country, we had less pollution. There were several dump trucks carrying full loads of purple grapes.

Pastor Mikhai Bijacou (view video clip1) (view video clip2), from Romania, is the evangelism speaker in Belgorod. He’s a young minister who speaks better English than many Americans and with hardly any accent. Because he doesn’t speak Russian, he preaches in English for the translator to change to Russian, the local language. He’s living with the local pastor’s family during this time, and is enthusiastic about the people and the food. They, in turn, say that they have received him as their own son. So you see, lives are changed already, as the Lord bonds people together with His family love.

The pastor’s wife fed us a delicious lunch, which I shall try to explain: rice wrapped in cabbage leaves and steamed; feta/cottage cheese with garlic on tomato slices, home-made grape juice, a bowl of huge, sweet grapes, several other fruits, a gravy-like substance with bits of gluten in it (pretty good), some bread rolls with herbs, cabbage, and cheese, a coleslaw of purple cabbage and corn, another relish with parsley and something dark like mushrooms. It was all very tasty, although my descriptions don’t do it justice. Luis said this was the best meal he’s had in days.

I checked into my hotel room, which is the nicest I’ve had in this country: a double bed, a sofa, TV and fridge that I don’t need, and a bathroom in which there’s no shower stall or tub: just a shower in the corner, and the water runs to the floor drain. There are two things about the hotel which could drop it from its maximum of two stars: 1.) there’s a café/bar directly underneath my room, with loud subwoofers. The only song I’ve recognized in the last hour was “Macarena.” And 2.)  There are deep trenches on both streets around the corner of the hotel, with none of the safety precautions you’d see in the United States. You could just fall into a trench if you’re not careful. Uh-oh, the karaoke begins now…

Luis, Roman, and the district pastor are sleeping in an apartment a few miles away. Yuri and Mikhai are staying with the city pastor’s family. We’re leaving at 7:30 tomorrow for the long drive to Kiev.

Read October 5-6 reports