Mozambique suddenly became an even less likely showcase for the glory of God. The flood was brought by the country’s heaviest rain in fifty years. Three-fourths of its usual annual rainfall fell in three days, creating floods that left half a million people homeless in this already pitifully poor country. In our capital city of Maputo alone, more than a hundred thousand people lost everything. Crops all over the country were ruined. Hundreds and hundreds of square miles of farmland near us were under water. Food supplies ran low, and prices multiplied. Water supplies were contaminated. The whole population was threatened by widespread famine and epidemics.
Transportation arteries up and down the country were cut. Streets and property were damaged terribly. Whole neighborhoods lay in reeking, stagnant water, filled with sewage. Mosquitoes bred quickly, and the incidence of malaria jumped up. Water purification plants flooded and shut down without power. The central hospital in Maputo was filled with patients, but there was no medicine. The World Health Organization warned that almost a million people risked infection by cholera and meningitis. Newspapers said the country’s development was set back for years. Its fragile infrastructure was devastated. Its major industrial factories near Maputo, which finally brought economic growth, were shut down. And more rain continued to pour heavily as new storms moved in from the Indian Ocean.
Maputo only had a few main roads, and some of them became such deep canyons in places that they remained unused for years. We started making long detours to get to town and from one center to the other. The many thousands who lost their homes and property around us crowded into schools, factories and warehouses wherever possible. Facilities were usually bare and broken down. Families sat on mats, surrounded by crates and buckets and the few things they could save and bring in sacks.
We saw a few international aid agency trucks and personnel, but the refugees were mostly very hungry and without any idea what to do. Most needed medical attention. Our Zimpeto property, where we lived ourselves and were building new dorms, was carved up and eroded by rushing currents but not badly affected. Our larger Machava property was disastrously flooded. Water reached up to the windows of our church building. Our reed huts stood in pools of water. The rooms were a muddy mess with debris strewn everywhere. Bugs and mosquitoes filled the air, and the water teemed with creatures. Local villagers stood in a lake to hand-pump water from our valuable well. I (Rolland) drove out there to speak to a remnant of our people staying behind to guard the property and also our neighbors from the community.
The waters had subsided after almost a week, but still, I got my four-wheel-drive truck so deep that waves were washing over the hood, submerging the engine and choking off the air intake. Somehow, I got the engine restarted, with billows of smoke bubbling out of the water as we were sinking deeper into the mud. Water was leaking through the doors and filling up the truck. I got through, though, and preached from Romans 8—Nothing shall separate us from the love of God! It was wonderful to see the faith of our little orphan boys, our staff, and even our visiting village ladies as they prayed and sang from their hearts, seated there under a tree on a spot of higher ground. I wanted the entire nation to trust God and taste His salvation as these did.
Our staff and the pastors in our Bible school went each day to different refugee camps, distributing bread, preaching, and praying with everyone they could. The people all listened. They stood in long lines not only for bread but also for tracts. They cried for prayer. Even the police jumped in to help us with distribution. Soon we were bringing bread to feed five thousand people in the homeless camps every day. In most places, this was the only food they received from anyone. It was very noticeable to me that the two most fervent of our pastors in this work, Rego and Joni, were the two who have seen the dead rise in their ministries up north. They were indefatigable, praying with compassion and excitement everywhere in each camp. They knew as few do that not even death is an impossible problem to our Lord and Savior.
