Coal Miner's Granddaughter • Book by Joan S. Hust

For some of you that can't believe I wrote a book here is the proof.

Coal Miner's Granddaughter: Childhood Memories

Well's for Togo • 2009 Togo trip

2009 TRIP:

It was a very hard trip but I held up well.  I did not know the people that I stayed with, but they were Godly people.  When you walked in their home you felt His presence. Their names are Holali and Kossiwa Assignon.  His English was very limited.  She knew how to say my name.  He is the son of the pastor that I stayed with when I visited Togo in 2005.  He is a pastor. They are a terrific team, hard workers, evangelize, and reach many folks for the Lord.
They have three young men that I called Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in their home that help them.  One was a tailor, and he works in their garage. One has been accepted at the University, and the other is in secondary school.  It was a new experience for me to be the only white, travel alone, and no English speaking person to carry on a conversation with for 5 weeks.  I met two blind translators that helped me in all my speaking engagements.  I spoke several times a day, started a weekly radio program that they could continue after I left.  It was to my advantage that they accepted me with the Togolese people from the church, and being a producer of radio and TV programs in Zambia for nine years helped me help them. I taught vacation Bible schools in all the cities, taught Sunday school everywhere, spoke at all church services, three women’s conferences with hundreds of ladies, gave health lectures, and taught medlineplus.gov to nurses and physicians.  Every village we came across I spoke to the adults mostly from the gospel of John, taught and acted out Bible stories with the children, and then had them present it during the church services. 
It is unbelievable how He used me with the Holy Spirit flowing through me.  Many were touched and came forward to the invitation to accept Christ as their personal Savior.  There was a lot of walking and evangelization in the villages with tracts in French with many young people with me who knew the Lord and the three main languages that were French, the business language of the country, Ewe, and Kabiye. 
The flights were good once you were on the plane, but a real challenge to get get in and out of the airport in Accra, Ghana. It was recommended that I fly in and out of Accra instead of Lome, the capital of Togo.  What did I eat?  I chose to eat African food with the local people.  It worked out well.  I felt accepted everywhere I went, and they were so happy that I would sit down, and eat their food.  The average meal was rice or nshima (corn), tomato sauce that was rather hot with green leaves of some kind and sometimes a little piece of chicken or dried fish. Huge loaves of bread were sold on the streets every day. They would cut it vertical, and sometimes you could have avocado spread on it.  It was the end of the mango season, but the ones that I ate were scrumptious and the size of a small watermelon.  
 

Wells for Togo:

I worked with Pastor Paul and Appoline Assignon in the Kara Kozah area.  People on that area walk many miles for water.  One family who live 2 hours away  have a vehicle bring 12 jerry cans filled with water every Sunday when they come to church for the pastor and his family which is quite a blessing.   The hallway in the pastor’s house is where you see all shapes and sizes of containers filled with water to use.  I want to help this situation by building wells in the area by the profit I make from selling my book COAL MINER’S GRANDDAUGHTER CHILDHOOD MEMORIES. 

 

WHO INSPIRED ME TO WRITE?

By Joan S. Hust

I give credit to my mother.  At a very young age my mother had me take my pencil and go over her shopping list every week letter by letter.  She would sharpen my pencil with a sharp kitchen knife and I would carefully trace over every letter.  She made it like we were playing a game.  Then as time went on I would begin to write the entire word, sound it out and all of a sudden I would say the new word out loud, and together we would make up one sentence after another and eventually it would turn in to a story. Sometimes I would even make up a tune using the word, and both of us would sing, and end up laughing.  

My mother was a voracious reader.  She read every page of the local newspaper.  She would remind me that daddy bought the newspaper for us to read. At that time my daddy did not read or write.  He signed his paychecks with an x.  As I learned to read and write he would sit down beside me at the kitchen table after a fourteen hour seven day a week workday, and I would teach him everything that I learned that day in school.

We did not own a book till I was in Junior High School.  One of my aunts, the niece of my dad sent me three books for Christmas. It was so thrilling for me to have books of my own.  I still have those books.  I have written and published my first book COAL MINER’S GRANDDAUGHTER.  I have found that there is healing power in writing. I learned a lot from writing my first book so my second book should be better. I have just finished writing my second book AFRICA TALES, and it will be published as soon as my graphic artist finishes the sketches for it.

 I am not quite sure yet but even though I am eight decades and a few months old I still have another story in mind as my younger son reminded me the other day that I have been in 37 countries teaching, mission work and believe it or not as a tourist.