Our venue today for this year’s World Evangelism & Media Workshop was with the Enmore (Guyana, South America) Church of Christ; these brethren were gracious enough to host again in 2020. Many congregations were represented, some of which traveling far to be present. The auditorium was full. Martha Rushmore spoke to the sisters in Christ, while Frederick Darrel, Nigel Milo and I (Louis Rushmore) spoke to brothers and sisters or for one session to the men present.
A large contingent of members from the Amelia’s Ward Church of Christ in Linden were present—three vans full. Burnham Drive and Blueberry Hill churches of Christ from Linden were represented, too.
I have difficulty understanding Guyanese Creole, but I presumed that since we’re all supposed to be speaking English, Guyanese brethren could understand me better than I understand them when they converse with each other. Today, a sister in Christ informed me that this is the first year over the years I have been going to Guyana that she understood my English. She wasn’t sure whether I was speaking more clearly or if she had become accustomed to my speech.
It appears that all in attendance were please to be there and were edified. I know I was happy to be present, and I was edified also. After a long day, traveling to the venue, returning to Linden and approximately six hours of program, we were all tired. A stop at the mall along the way home was a welcome interlude.
Friday, March 3 was spent in earnest labors on the next 
I also prepared and sent the next color postcard to be printed by the same firm. One side of the card shows Martha and me in a flat-bottomed boat, wearing ponchos in a pouring rain, with the tide out and experiencing difficulty getting to shore; the back of the postcard contains information about our mission work.
Saturday, March 4 marked the final 
Several congregations were represented. Nigel Milo, Martha and I, as at other locations, taught all those present. Brother Milo and I took turns teaching the combined classes as well as classes for the men. Martha taught the ladies classes.
Nigel and I each taught a couple of lessons, and Martha taught two lessons. Brethren were thankful for our presence and requested that we return again next year and spend more hours with them, during which we could present even more teaching from God’s Word.
Saturday, February 11, 2017, the Bath Settlement Church of Christ hosted our next seminar in the late afternoon and the early evening. All five of the churches of Christ in that region participated and were represented at this workshop.
Martha Lynn Rushmore taught ladies’ classes for two hours while brother Nigel Milo and I taught men’s classes for an hour each. In addition, Nigel and I each spoke for an hour to the combined assembly of brothers and sisters. We all enjoyed singing hymns together, we prayed together and we were pleased with general fellowship and refreshments. The three of us presenters and the auditors, too, were all edified and encouraged.
Afterward, brother Milo chauffeured us back the three hours or so to Linden, his home and our base of operations for our annual seminars across all 10 regions of Guyana, South America. What a way—and I can imagine no better way—for Martha and me to spend our honeymoon!
On our way to the church building, we had to walk in pouring down rain. We were soaked, even though wearing our rain ponchos—my yellow, Pittsburgh Steelers rain gear prompting Louis to say that I looked like a duck. We spent Wednesday night singing and listening to Louis and brother Nigel Milo who each gave one talk on “Jesus Our Example.” The brethren were very welcoming to us. The singing was really beautiful, and we sang old songs with which I grew up. This brought back a lot of childhood memories.
Since my last blog entry, Martha Lynn and I have completed two more venues in our 6-week foray across all 10 regions of Guyana in our annual nationwide seminars. Of course, the director of the program and national of Guyana, the esteemed brother Nigel, was our co-speaker and brothers’ keeper—no one could take better care of us. On Saturday, February 4, the three of us headed out from Linden to the village of #77 Housing Scheme on the country’s southern coast abutting the Atlantic Ocean—about a 4-hour trip by car—literally, flying low with Milo!
Several congregations of the Lord’s church converged in the bright pink meeting house for an afternoon and evening program. Nigel and I spoke, but the occasion did not afford Martha an opportunity to speak to the ladies who were present. This site enlisted participation by some brethren and congregations who had not previously participated in the seminars in former years; brothers and sisters in Christ who join us annually for these workshops attended, too.
Sunday, February 5, Nigel, Martha and I along with a few other passengers set out for the bush aboard a small single-engine aircraft. Not everyone on board was headed to the same place. Therefore, the flight landed first at Mahdia, second at Paramakatoi and finally at Monkey Mountain. That being the case, next year, we may try to hop a flight between Paramakatoi and Monkey Mountain, which is not a scheduled route. That would save time if not be a better use of funds also, since ordinarily passengers would need to use Ogle on the coast as the pivotal point for flights to both endpoints. (I don’t think we will save money—only time—because the posted rates on a placard show fees comparable to flying back to Ogle anyway.)
The cloudy sky hung low on Sunday. I was fully aware from previous flights in past years over the mountainous jungle terrain that foreboding summits below punctuated the unseen landscape under our permanently fixed landing gear. Guyanese pilots fly no higher than necessary to clear the highest peak over which the intended route takes them. While sometimes the dense forest canopy lies thousands of feet below as we glide across the horizon, at other times the earth rushes to greet our craft as we sashay over a mountain top. At other times, we fly adjacent to a mount that was not necessary for our puddle-jumper to hop. In the dense fog, I was hopeful that we would see the ground before the ground found us.
We were greeted by brothers and sisters in Christ who had interrupted their Sunday morning Bible class to meet us at the plane. First, we registered at the police outpost, manned by two coastlanders, who were as much out of place and conspicuous as were we three travelers. Then, we scurried over to the weathered and worn, blue wood-framed meetinghouse of the 
The village guesthouse was not ready for us upon our arrival; the caretaker may have been somewhere on the mountainside tending to the subsistence crops on which villagers largely depend for their sustenance. Therefore, Nigel, Martha and I camped out for the afternoon in the church house; Martha stretched out on the rough, narrow plank of a primitive “pew” with her feet sticking out of a window port—no screen or glass therein, but only wooden shutters for protection and for security when no one is around. (She has forbidden me from posting that pic!)
Monday and Tuesday, we three spoke mornings, afternoons and evenings. Over the course of the two calendar days, Martha taught four ladies’ classes while Nigel and I each taught about lessons apiece either to the men or to the combined group. Once more at this venue, we together presented about 18 lessons before readying ourselves for our journey onward and elsewhere.
Our lodging accommodations were improved over my last visit to Monkey Mountain. This year, an outside brick shelter had been constructed, which contained a shower stall as well as a toilet in its own stall; water was available from a storage tank. Sleeping quarters were similar to a tractor shed in the USA—concrete slab, exterior walls open to the inside at the eaves and partitioned rooms inside with half-height walls (over which someone more agile than I am could foreseeably climb). Whereas previously there were no doors on the rooms, homemade wooden doors now complemented single-bed sheets slung over a wire atop the doorways. Our room would not securely bolt. Inside, a simple bed with a clingy mosquito net was the only furniture. (Over the years, it seems that everything crawling, slithering and flying wants to bite me. This year, however, I have a secret weapon—Martha! They like to bite her even more than me. This year, I brought along bait with me!) Wood window shutters when opened provided our only light during the day; at night, a solar-panel-fueled battery powered two strategically placed florescent bulbs hanging from the highest rafter and lighting each cubicle below.
Martha and I simply loved being at Monkey Mountain as well as communing and fellowshipping with precious Christian brothers and sisters, who are now dearer friends to us than the mere acquaintances they had been to me upon the conclusion of my last visit years ago. I am married to an Indian princess, or so it would seem, after I purchased a feathery headdress for her. One of the incidental perks for such short persons as Martha and me is that, comparatively speaking, we are tall among many of the Amerindians. Like Bonnie and me previously, Martha and I love little children and babies—to borrow, spoil and give back when they cry or need fed or changed.
Martha and I both were reared in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains in the eastern part of the United States, and though she has an affinity for sandy, coastal beaches, too, we both love mountains. Paramakatoi and Monkey Mountain rise to a maximum of 3,000 feet.
Finally, dirty and tired, a couple of hours or so later, we arrived back in Linden, our base of operations and the home of the Milo family. Thursday and Friday are down days, during which we will do some much needed laundry and fire up our computers and attack some “office work”—
Louis & Martha Rushmore 
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