Ray's Mission II

Minneapolis

Our trip to England started with take-off from Salt Lake City airport. While on the runway I observed a Lear jet landing on a parallel runway and was rather impressed that I could observe such an unusual event. Our route was to take us directly to Rapid City, SD (which was to be a short stop) and carry on to Minneapolis, MN. We were flying in a Boeing 737, and I was sitting on the right side of the plane. The weather was pleasant; but intermittent clouds caused a significant amount of turbulence as we approached South Dakota. In fact, a number of passengers were using the ‘throw up’ bag available for their seat because they were throwing up due to the significant turbulence. Our plane was probably rising and falling as much as 20 feet for a period of approximately 1/2 an hour prior to our landing in South Dakota. Just prior to landing in Rapid City, we were informed that one could see Mount Rushmore from the windows on the left side of the plane. I stood up and observed very quickly the faces on Mount Rushmore through the left side windows. I then had to sit down prior to landing. We were in Rapid City for only about 1/2 an hour and were then again on the route to Minneapolis. We were flying in the middle part of the day and arrived in Minneapolis toward the latter part of the afternoon.

London 

We took off in the evening from the Minneapolis airport on our route to Heathrow airport in England. We flew through the night and had little to look at as we crossed the Atlantic Ocean. Thus we slept most of the way. Upon arrival at Heathrow it was midday on an August afternoon. As I exited the airplane I realized that it was very chilly and I remember thinking it was unusual to be so cold in August of the year. I was later to learn that I was getting used to the humidity that was constant on the island I was now exiting onto. We we're escorted into a shuttle bus that took us to the terminal where we gathered our baggage and went through customs. I was in a group of approximately 8 elders arriving in England together. As we exited the customs area, we had to queue (an English word for ‘line up’) for a few minutes and I remember hearing the British accent in the passengers that passed us by. I remember thinking this was going to be a great experience because I really enjoyed listening to their accents. I was to learn approximately 2 weeks later that I could hardly hear the accent anymore because it was so common. As we moved toward the exit, we saw our Mission President (President's Childs) and his wife beaming at us as we walked toward them. He seemed to be genuinely excited and pleased to see us travel weary elders arriving in England. He spent a few minutes greeting each of us and we were then escorted to vehicles that would take us to the mission home in Reading, England. Upon arrival we spent most of the day taking care of administrative tasks as we prepared to be distributed to our various areas within the mission. (I remember wanting to go on a mission to Australia because I thought it would be an excellent opportunity 2 visited a large continent with truly unusual animals, people, and countryside. In contrast to this desire, I was sent to the British S mission which was about 40 miles wide and 80 miles long. This postage size area, while small geographically, was very populated because it took in half of London. Thus, my ambitions were extinguished almost immediately!) 

Reading

Inasmuch as it took significant time to process 8 Elders into the mission, it was decided that it was too late to send any of us to our areas that day. So, we were fed supper, and then transported to homes nearby where we could stay for the night. Everything seemed so very unusual, and we were sent to our room with very little introduction or explanation. We knew virtually nothing of the house or people that were hosting us for the night.  We didn’t even know where the bathroom was! We only knew that there were 4 bunk beds in the room we were staying in (the other four elders had been sent elsewhere). With that, we dressed for bed and climbed into the bunk beds for a night's sleep. Having been in a whirlwind experience for over a week now, I found it very difficult to calm myself down into a quiet slumber - in an unusual country; an unusual lodging; and an unusual circumstance! I was rather distraught and disturbed at how we 8 elders had been treated like cattle as we were scurried around with little, if any, recognition that we were unnerved by the disequilibrium that we were all experiencing! We were finally left to our individual selves as we endeavored to sleep in the dark of that room that night. I determined that if this was to be how my mission was to be for two years that I didn't want to stay! And so, I spent the rest of that night pondering how I might remove myself and go home. After several hours of thinking, I determined that there was really no way that I could go home and still preserve any part of my self esteem. I had been treated so exaltingly By word members, family members and mission companions that I didn't feel I could let any of them down. Nor was I prepared to absorb the shame and disappointment that would affront me if I were to go home! So, I decided that ‘here goes two years’ and turned over and went to sleep. In the middle of the night, I woke to a couple of the missionaries peeing out the bedroom window. They had not known where to go to find a bathroom and found it impossible to ascertain which room contained the toilet. (They did not want to disturb the other household members with their mid-night excursion.) They realized that they were relieving themselves onto a tin roof that made a lot of noise! This is what woke me from my sleep. Realizing that I needed to use the restroom also, I accepted their explanation that a bathroom was nowhere to be found and also relieved myself out the window. Standing there midstream I thought to myself “This is no way for the Lord's servants to conduct themselves on their first night of service”. Nevertheless, I completed my task and resumed sleeping the rest of the night in my assigned bunk bed. (There was no discussion of the event the next morning as we took breakfast and we're escorted back to the mission home. I suspect that the missionaries that had brought there knew of our condition and found it humorous. I did not!) 

Southampton

The next day, we completed our administrative tasks in the early morning and were escorted to the Southampton train station where we would be sent our various ways to our assigned areas. I had been assigned to the Southampton area where the Southampton district labored. As we confronted the various elements of the station, we all found it rather foreign to our experience. Of course the mission personnel were very familiar with the train station and its requirements. We were all hustled about and I observed several missionaries being put on trains that would take them directly to their areas. As I engaged with the station clerk karma I was completely unaware of how the British money worked. So when informed of the cost of a ticket to Southampton, I simply held my hand forward with a bunch of money in it and asked the man to take what he needed. He took a small amount of bills and coins and gave me some change and a ticket. I knew nothing of the change he had given me nor the tickets that he had supplied me with. I asked the elder accompanying me why I had two tickets. he informed me (as he was loading me into a train that was about to leave the station) that I would have to change trains in Winchester which was about halfway to Southampton. I knew nothing of how to provide my ticket for the train ride nor 2 navigate the train switch in Winchester. I informed him of this, and he simply hollered “you'll be fine” as the train began to move out of the station. Once again, I found myself on a train (which I had never been on) leaving what little-known place I knew (Reading) and heading toward a circumstance and city I knew nothing of. The train ride to Winchester was a most discomforting circumstance and I watched carefully the various stations we would pass by. The conductor came through the various compartments that we were in (the elder in Reading had shoved me into a compartment by myself), unceremoniously took my ticket and grunted that I would recognize Winchester station when we came to it. This did not fill me with a great deal of confidence, and I continued to watch out the train’s window with enhanced alertness. As we finally arrived at Winchester station, I unloaded my luggage (which was in the compartment with me) onto the loading platform. There I waited anxiously 4 what I hoped I would recognize as the train 2 Southampton. I asked several travelers for help in knowing what train I should take. They graciously pointed me toward the proper loading platform and informed me that I would recognize the train rather readily. to my relief, I boarded the train to Southampton without incident and provided my ticket to the conductor. The rest of the trip on the train was without incident and I enjoyed taking in the English countryside from my window. 

Southampton Station

Upon arriving at Southampton station, I found that no one was waiting for me there. I found myself in an unknown station; in an unknown city; in an unknown country! I did not know whether or not I had followed what minimal directions I had been given in Reading. And I did not know whether anyone in Southampton was looking for me. I did not know whether I was in the proper train station! Virtually, I knew almost nothing and stood on the loading platform as the train moved out of the station. Alone as a brand-new missionary in an unknown place and not knowing when, or if, anyone would attempt to locate me and assist me in my endeavors. After waiting at the station loading ramp for what seemed a long time, I went to some concrete barriers that were at the side of the station’s parking lot. There I placed my luggage at my feet; and sat down on the top of the barriers; hoping that someone somewhere might see me (because I was readily seen) and come to my aid. By this time, I had been sitting and waiting in the Southampton train station for about an hour! I began thinking how will I contact the people in Reading; because I didn't know who else to contact or where else to go! I worked very hard emotionally to keep myself from panicking and calling the mission home (I didn't even know their phone number)! I further waited there for about 45 minutes with my anxiety increasing by the minute. Less than a week ago, I had been a revered missionary; sitting at the feet of general authorities in Salt Lake City as they regaled my willingness to serve God and sacrifice my life for 2 years. Now I was a vagabond hoping to make contact in the area I had been assigned to work. I had received minimal attention after joining the mission (a day earlier) and minimal direction (that morning) as I traveled many miles on an unfamiliar train to an unfamiliar city! To say that I was bewildered by roughshod treatment and a stupefying circumstance – is an understatement! Once again, I was reminded that “this was no way to treat one of the Lord's servants!” 

Trickery

As I sat there ruminating over my circumstance, a van with about 6 young men drove up and skidded to a halt in front of me in the dirt and gravel parking lot. They quickly slid the van door back and revealed their laughter at my sitting in a foreign parking lot - alone and dazed! It turns out that the district leader who was driving the van and his 5 missionary companions had been watching me from a nearby hill for about an hour! They had been watching to see if I would panic; and if so, what would I do! They had been watching my demeanor and circumstance from about a football field away! Thus, as I was emotionally traumatized by my circumstance, they were callously entertaining themselves! This was my introduction 2 those who would be my companions for the next little while as I was introduced to the Lord's service! To say that I was perturbed and disgusted by these seemingly devout young men is once again, an understatement. Nevertheless, they were my only source of training; and I loaded into the van alongside them. I hid (as best I could) my disdain for their behavior and tried to be a good-natured fellow servant. Nevertheless, they had imposed a lasting impression on me for nothing more than entertainment at my expense! This was to be my introduction to the mission field! 

Shenley

As we drove away from Southampton station, I was informed that I would be working in the Shenley area of Southampton with my senior companion - Elder Lance Hansen. We then drove to Shenley and our ‘digs’. Digs was a English slang word for living accommodations. Digs was composed of a room in an English home used by a family.  Most often digs permitted kitchen and bathroom privileges along with familiarity with hosting management (they often lived in the same home). By comparison, an apartment often included bathroom and kitchen facilities within the apartment itself. We missionaries tended to use digs more frequently because they often included a measure of security and accommodation by the hosting owner(s). Our digs were included in the Shenley home and accompanied by an older couple (approximately 50s) who were referred to as mom and pop. Neither were members of the church; but they had a son who was our age who had joined the church approximately one year earlier. I unloaded my luggage and unpacked in preparations to accompany Elder Hansen into our area. Because so much of the day had been taken up in the event at Southampton station and my subsequent unpacking into my digs; that we did not go into the area that day. Rather we took it upon ourselves to obtain for me a bicycle that I could use in my missionary endeavors. This bicycle was not a very modern vehicle nor was it of sufficient size as to warrant proficient cycling. Nevertheless, it was less expensive than alternatives and became my primary conveyance throughout the remainder of my mission. (in retrospect, I often thought that the bicycle was a couple inches too short for me and caused a significant amount of strain and muscle fatigue in my thighs. The full length of my leg was not possible on such a short bicycle; and I often wished I had spent more. Elder Hanson had minimized the amount of time we allotted for obtaining a bicycle for me; and I was burdened by its inadequacy as I traversed the hills of my mission for two years. It was at this time that my senior companion chose to inform me that I would have to have L plates placed on the front and rear of my bicycle in order to meet legal requirements as I cycled about our area! 

Senior Companion

My senior companion, elder Lance Hansen, was a rather fit young man about my height and build. We lived in Shenley digs together in a room with two single beds. He was one of the young men who arrived to gather me at the Southampton train station. Hence, we started our relationship with a little bit of resentment on my part (but I didn't show it). He was somewhat demanding of me as he endeavored to introduce me to missionary work. He was more interested in demonstrating to others that he was proficient at being a senior companion than bonding with me as my needed companion and trainer. One of his idiosyncrasies was to put the alarm clock across the room so that when it went off in the morning, he would have to get out of bed and cross the room to turn it off! I often ended up turning the alarm off. He had a rather well-built bicycle and was therefore much more adept at cycling himself home from our tracting area. Unfortunately, this left me behind; and I was frequently endeavoring to catch up (and find my way home) on the less than adequate bicycle he’d had me buy. He was rather competitive and fairly athletic so that we often were engaged in athletic pursuits on our preparation day. He considered himself fairly humorous and somewhat of a practical joker. Hence, when our district leader’s companion was nicknamed ‘The Undertaker’ (because of his lean build and dark overcoat) Elder Hanson took it upon himself (with my help) to fabricate a cardboard casket and place a pig’s head (butcher shops had lots of these) inside it. Then one evening following our tracting efforts, he and I (I was A tag-along) bicycled over to Elder Harding’s digs and left the cardboard casket on his bed. (Another of his juvenile practical jokes!) in light of the many trials that I was having; and the trauma I was experiencing with my own testimony, I have to say that Elder Hansen's efforts to train me were more accomplished by my own sincere efforts to absorb and align with missionary requirements!  His efforts (while perfunctory) were nevertheless appreciated because there was no one else!  The spirit of my Heavenly Father was much more beneficial to my endeavors than the young man assigned to lead me! 

1st Door

Because Elder Hansen seemed to enjoy my discomfort, he suddenly turned to me at our first experience in tracting; and announced that it was my door. He’d done virtually nothing to demonstrate how one might approach a stranger at their door. Rather, following his announcement, he simply knocked on the door and pointed to it for me to address the person as they answered. Not knowing that this was uncharacteristically callous and demeaning of him, I simply did the best I could to address the man standing in his door. I'm confident that I foolishly stammered and stuttered as I attempted to explain why we were at his door. I'm equally confident that Elder Hansen seemed to enjoy my discomfort at being ‘thrown into the deep end’! Only after one or two of these experiences, did he see fit to explain the numerous door approaches that were customary (and required) throughout the mission. Being armed with these door approaches (which I studied carefully), I could much more comfortably (for me and the homeowner) able to address them as they answered their door. Elder Hansen seemed to introduce me to significant events with virtually no preparation. This caused me to distrust his most immediate efforts at attempting to train me (I had to ascertain whether or not he was conducting one of his practical jokes!)  Such distrust permeated many (if not most) of the advisements he would attempt later in our time together! 

The Jungle

The area that we were tracking during my training days was in the docks of Southampton. This was a rather seedy community within a very short distance of the docks used to support the ships that would frequent Southampton. (In fact, this was one of the places used to load the boats with soldiers that would be used in the D-day invasion.) All of the homes we're of a brownstone type and joined together with common walls. They seemed to be fairly narrow but long allowing a hallway and single room to consume the width of the home. They were often two-story to allow adequate room for a family. Hence we spent little time going from door to door because there was not very much distance between doors. It was here that I was introduced to missionary tracting and the rudiments of protecting our bikes; locating places to relieve ourselves; familiarizing ourselves with the population and community; etc.  This community was referred to as ‘The Jungle’ throughout Southampton. It was a community that seemed to draw a large proportion of poor people. Hence a large percentage of the homes that we visited were occupied by Pakistani immigrants. England had experienced a high percentage of immigrants from Pakistan and they were often poor and barely able to get by. To their detriment karma many of the English people referred to Pakistani’s as ‘wogs’. This was a derogatory slur used by British people and referred to immigrants from the subcontinent of India. My senior companion embraced this unfortunate representation and collected ‘golliwogs’ - sometimes distributed in cereal boxes. Incidentally it was here that I was introduced to the smells of the Pakistani people. I could almost always recognize as we approached a Pakistani home. The smell of Curry (a Pakistani food staple) could be detected from five or more feet away from the front door. As a people, they seemed respectful and accommodating. Nevertheless, they were not highly regarded by their neighbors. We spent almost four weeks tracting the various streets of ‘The Jungle’. We'd been told that we were to avoid the last street of the community because it was too dangerous for us to tract. Nevertheless, we made sure we tracked that street; but only in the daytime and with extra locks on our bikes.