In a nation where the majority of people live on the brink of starvation while fat politicians argue over who is to rule over who, I found myself in the wilderness, far from the madding crowd, in the company of a few good men. 
Prayerfully we fellowshipped with each other, dilligently searching, encouraging one another, stretching our faith and challenging each other to not accept the lesser prizes offered to us, but to go for the greater and more worthy prize – in keeping with life more abundantly. So we sweated our weary bodies over many kilometers of rugged, broken hill country in the crumpled escarpment region of the Zambezi’s rift valley – an area offering no mercy to man or beast. Heat, many empty miles, and the firey bite of Tsetse flies all added to the challenges of this formidible hunting area. Not mentioning the great abundance of surface water, the ten foot tall grasses which obscured even herds of buffalo from view, and fires scorching the mountains in ravenous lines of creeping fury. Yet all this still bore for me a sense of wild and raw adventure and a peace that only those who dare to walk on the wild side can ever understand. So we fed six extended families, provided income for a dozen, two months wages just in gratuities – affecting homes and extended families of sixty to seventy people, while still raising a substantial fee toward conservation of wildlife which, in the current political and socio-economic climate, would be falling heavily toward the endangered side of the equation through poaching for food by a hungering populace. Added to that the Good News was lived out in demonstration and in spoken Word before the menfolk of that region of Africa. Harmony and brotherhood, honor and respect were displayed between white and black – me and my tracker friend Enoch – a striking contrast in the light of recent media effects.
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