Tsak Valley - At Last!

It was overwhelming the outpouring of love and acceptance experienced when I got to embrace my family, tribesmen, culture and nation on August 3, 2013. All around my eyes beheld the fruit of God in His people. The seeds planted by early Lutheran Missionaries had taken hold developed and produced fruit in keeping with repentance (eternal that is passed down from generation to generation). In fact, I am one of those very seeds that was transplanted in America and 40 years later now grafted in as a natural branch. Praise the Lord! Anyway, it was in many ways surreal. As I went around this large crowd of people from the Tsak Valley I met (meaning hugged, shook hands and cried) with about 200 immediate family members. I have more mothers and fathers than I could ever have dreamed possible. Many who have prayed and sought the Lord on my behalf for many years. It was if for once in my life it finally felt like I belonged. I really felt very unworthy to be so loved and accepted as I went around and met so many of my family and people with such quality and content of character that it can only be from God.  

I was able to meet my Aputi (Enga for Grandmother). She is the youngest and last living wife of my grandfather Taso who from all accounts was a great leader to the people in the Tsak Valley and surrounding communities. What an honor it was to meet her.

So many people were the former students of my mother during her early missionary years in this remote part of Papua New Guinea. Really, I believe the crowds of people there more to honor God and the commitment and sacrifices of early missionaries than they were to see me. Which is totally cool! I was just glad to be in my homeland amongst my people. It was too bad that I never got the chance to meet my father in person. Like the stories of my grandfather Taso, my Father Frank was also very well respected in the community and surrounding areas.  My father, Frank Yasima Taso, firstborn son of Taso was laid to rest in September of 2006 when his heart gave out on him during an asthma attack. His grave is right by the Lutheran School which he dedicated so many years of his life to as a teacher and leader of his people. I had always hoped that my visiting his grave for the first time would be a private moment but I guess God had different plans. His grave was right at the end of the huge chain of family members that I had just met. I really didn’t stand a chance of maintaining my composure. So I broke down and wept in front of a large crowd of people and soon they joined me in my weeping. That moment I was truly a broken man! Funny thing is that God seems to really be able to work with that and I could somehow sense a healing taking place not just in me but all around. I don’t know and words can’t really describe it. It just did.

Well, I got meet a lot of family but from what I am told there are still many more so as time goes on I hope to meet them all. After, the crying and a few words from different leaders in the village, community and nation we all ate. I was able to present a few more pigs, chickens and lots of other food to one of our nation’s leaders on behalf of my tribe the Yamberdan Watenge and the leader in turn shared it with all the crowd present at the occasion. It was a truly beautiful and life changing day. I was blessed to sit down with my father’s wife (I call her Mammi Apanz) and we shared large plate of food during the reception afterward. Then we loaded up into the Landcruisers and left my village to return to town because we were flying back to Port Moresby the next day. What a weekend! I’m tired of crying but it seems to be the thing to do around here to I guess that’s okay. To God be the glory for the great things He has done!  Tasol!