Looking for a market place or village in the area, we saw some stores far atop a long hill. The Bishop and taxi driver went by foot in the hope of finding tires. Fighting feelings of aggravation, I lay back in the car seat and closed my eyes to focus on the Lord.

Much time had passed when the Bishop finally returned with some bananas and sodas, thank G-d. I and Dorcas (the late Peninah’s elder daughter), who served as our worship leader and was with me in the car, were hungry and thirsty. The Bishop went back up the hill, and after another prolonged wait, he and the taxi driver brought a tire.

By now the young pastor who was waiting for us had arrived on a bicycle. He, the Bishop and the driver appeared to be arguing, for I heard the driver shouting. The taxi driver refused to go any further, claiming he lacked fuel. 

The Bishop and pastor apologized for having put me through so much trouble for nothing and sent Dorcas and I back to Webuye in the taxi .The Bishop and pastor bicycled to the church where they ministered until late.

Another drawback of this continual rain besides impassable muddy roads was that little critters who normally live outdoors crawl inside houses, seeking shelter from the rain. On the wooden beams above my open room (there was no ceiling), nested several groups of such insects, among them a whole colony of spiders. I have an irrate abhorrence of spiders ever since childhood, when an enormous black one was just about to descend into my open mouth upon wakening.

One afternoon while napping without my mosquito net, I woke up to find a small, transparent looking spider resting at my left side. I swept it off my bed immediately and looking where it came from, found a colony of spiders hanging in the beams.

That night I began to experience slight pain in my left axilla and discovered a small red circle. But, I thought, even if this originated from that little spider, it would eventually clear up as the spider seemed harmless enough.

It was now New Year's Eve. We were invited to celebrate with the family of a member of the worship team. Early in the afternoon, we arrived at a large, grassy, well-kept compound of several mudhouses that were surrounded by tall trees and the usual goats, cows and chickens. We were welcomed by the large family and then sat down as we waited and waited, shivering in the chilly nightfall for over 4 hours while dinner was being prepared.

I was to learn that this family's tribal custom was to start cooking only once their guests had arrived, thus ensuring preparations wouldn't be in vain. In Kenya there are as many different customs and traditions as there are tribes – around forty indigenous ethnic groups²³. 

After the meal  - for which 2 chickens had been sacrificed - each member of the family requested that I pray for them specifically. They firmly believed that G-d would hear and answer His servant from Israel. I had become their “point of contact" with the Lord that released their faith.

That night I slept uncomfortably as the red spot in my axilla had enlarged and become more painful.

Pastors from Nukuru arrived in the morning. They had cancelled our 3-day seminar when  American financeers visited a large church at the same time I was to minister at the seminar, and took over the hall that had been reserved for us. We forgave the pastors and sent them home with prayer and blessings the next morning.

The following day looked promising with blue sky and sunshine. Our friends from Kimilili picked us up for a whole-day’s meetings. People from all over the area were excited about my coming, including the chief and his family for whom I had prayed the previous year. However, that night 3 relatives of these Kimilili natives died, and their funerals were scheduled for the very day of our meetings. Most of the people, including the chief and his family, had to attend the 3 burials. The Bishop, the Pastor, Theophilus and I were amazed at such a “coincidence”.

Despite the setback, we proceeded. I preached a powerful message which, alas, I can’t remember right now. Whoever could leave the burials came hurrying in. Just as I was getting to the main point of my message it started to rain; but THIS was not mere rain, nor a regular downpour. THIS rain was so dense and powerful that it seemed as though a thick plastic sheet was spread over the buildings outside that were now invisible. The drumming on the aluminium roof drowned out my voice. Even shouting I could not finish my message.

What a dilemma! Should I quit and concede defeat? Never! I led the people into boisterous praise and worship, rejoicing in the Lord with all our might. We danced and sang and shouted His praises! And as suddenly as the rain had started, it stopped. We ministered to the intercessory and worship team with the laying on of hands, and half of them received the baptism with the Holy Spirit and speaking in other tongues.

Theophilus, the manager of the college where we were holding the meeting, testified to everybody how the Lord had done exactly what I had said the year before. I had taught them that if they had no money to give, a gift from what they DID have was equally acceptable to the Lord. Theopilus brought a large sack of maize as his “tithe” and the Lord had multiplied it 100 fold within the year.

A poor widow who couldn't afford to send her children to school had brought a small bag of mushrooms, asking me to pray over them that G-d would increase her business. He had done so abundantly and she, too, gave testimony of it. 

Afterwards we squeezed into Theophilus' car to drive out to his fields for me to bless and pray over them. With the profit from the maize he had bought yet another large field and started building his own brick house right next to the fields. He was so proud and happy, thanking the Lord and me profusely. I had to remind him that it was not I who gave Him the increase but the Lord Who had rewarded his obedience.

At long last we sat down in his house to the customary meal, and a lovely woman came to greet me, smiling cheerfully.

“Don’t you recognize her?”, the Bishop asked me.

“No,” I replied. “Should I? Have I met her before?”

The Bishop laughed. “Yes, of course you did – she is his wife. You prayed over her last year when she was so sick. Look how beautiful she is now!”

“Oh, my G-d!” I exclaimed with astonishment. Now I did remember her. I had wondered that Theophilus had such a gaunt, old looking wife. Now she was sumptuous, her face full and her eyes radiant. Her transformation was absolutely marvellous! Oh, the power of the Name of Yeshua!

Once again, like last year, I was given a chicken to honor me and thank me for my visit and blessing them with the Word of G-d in the Name of Yeshua.

As Theophilus and Pastor Gabriel drove us back to Webuye we noticed something most astounding – every other place was dry! It had rained ONLY on the college campus and the immediate vicinity! This was obvious, outright warfare against my ministering to the people in Yeshua’s Name!

The next day, January 3, 2007, we were expected at a village east of Eldoret. The two young pastors ministering in that village had come to see the bishop on the day I was ministering at the women’s conference.

They had made a 6-hour trip over a long, bumpy road just to remind the Bishop of his promise to bring me to their village. Rain or shine, they wanted me to come to minister to their people.

On our way to the village, children ran up to our car, eager to shake my hand and  “give me 5” and when we arrived it looked like the whole village was assembled. Upon entering the church, the men shouted for joy while the women made this shrill, joyful noise with their tongues. The church was overflowing, with people sitting outside in the front and the back windows.

After a glorious time of worship I was introduced to preach, with the Bishop being my interpreter. The moment I stood up the Holy Spirit swept powerfully through me, washing away all weakness and fatigue, making me sway by His power like a leaf in the wind. His holy fire ignited my spirit and I stood and preached for 4 ½ hours.

And there was no rain!

The next day we were scheduled to return to Kimili to pray over Theophilus' 10 big sacks of ground maize he was tithing to the Lord.

Little did I realize what sort of pitfall awaited me this time.