leaving the jungle...with one final monkey business
Jumping into the dead of winter without a Fall transition period is a bit rough. It was blistering on the day I left Sierra Leone. My flight was to take off at 22:30 on the 23rd of December from Lungi International Airport. I'd have to be at the heliport by 17:00 to check in; boarding begins at 18:00. It costs Le24000 for a one way flight from Aberdeen to Lungi. The Russian made Mi-8T helicopters used by Paramount Airlines provide for a smooth and quick trip to Lungi (as opposed to the ferry). The entire ride (directly into Lungi Airport) takes about 15 minutes. This leg of the journey was completely hassle free. Once in Lungi, if you're not careful or firm, a porter will come pick up your luggage and take it to the airport check-in area - even if you're standing right in front of your luggage. He will then expect you to give him a tip. I had a few Leones left in my pocket so I allowed it. Surprisingly enough, being that it was the 23rd of December, the airport was not as disorderly and cramped as it was when we took David to the airport. Once my baggage was checked in and on the conveyer belt, it was held up by some of the security officers. They held up all the baggage and required that they speak to the owners of each of the baggage. Not because this was a security measure, but it gave them an opportunity to ask the owners for some money. Two of the security officers held up my baggage, asked me about what I had packed, and proceeded to ask me for a Christmas gift. I refused and held firm for about five minutes before he left my baggage through. At the Immigration gate, I was held up again because the officer felt that my working papers were not legit. He threatened to send me back home but asked if I could come to a "mutual understanding". I asked him what that might be and he rubbed his fingers together. I refused; he walked out of the booth and returned in three minutes and cleared me for exit.
Just three days before my departure, I thought I'd make a slamming exit and take a chance on monkey meat. Unless you go out into the provinces, it is not easy to find monkey meat; but as luck would have it, Bro. Paul managed to find a young lad walking around with a basket full of dried monkeys. If a picture is worth a thousand words, here's one.
I will admit, the meat is "sweet" as they describe certain meat to be. Apparently cat meat is sweeter. Monkey meat is soft, and goes well mixed in with the plasas. Thankfully, a week later, I can say that the toilet seat has not been slamming.
During my stay in Waterloo, I occasionally would visit Aunty Bernadette and her children. Aunty Bernadette is a teacher and a staunch Catholic. They're a beautiful family; very hospitable, and friendly. Just two days before my departure, I went to visit them, and spend time with them. I took Bro. Sahr along with me to introduce him to the family. I explained to them that I will be leaving in two days, and the mood changed. They were a bit saddened. I stayed longer than usual. The next day, her youngest daughter, also named Bernadette, and one of her brothers came by to visit me and give me a card signed by the family.
Just on my way out of Waterloo, I stopped into Frank and Michael's house to say goodbye. The entire family gathered around to wish me farewell. Frank, Michael, and Eku cried. I had to make that a short visit. I will definitely miss all of them.
I arrived in London with two pants, two shirts, a sweater, and a light raincoat. All the barrel contents were left behind. I left before the second barrel could arrive. I've had to go out and buy three more pants (trousers as they are called here. Pants are what we call underwear - I've got a lot more to say about good old Britain), three shirts, and a sweater (jumper in the Queens language). That will be my wardrobe for the next three months.
I will stay in touch though I am sure London can't be as eventful.
departures and appearances
I have some interesting and sad developments to share. Last Sunday, I was again ushering; Bismale came to church early but stayed outside till the service began. She looked downcast and unhappy. I asked her if everything was alright and noticed she had tears in her eyes. "I am not coming back to this church again" she said. Stunned, I asked her what had happened. "Well I was getting used to the other sisters, and I liked them, but they have gone, and I don't like these new sisters. This one, what is her name, asked me a hundred questions that even my mother never asks me. I am very ashamed. I didn't come to church last night, and I came today to let you now that I will not be coming back." I calmed her down and explained that this is how things are, and transfers usually happen just so you don't get used to just one or two people and that you can be exposed to different people and learn something new from each one. If there is one she doesn't like, she can be assured that just like the ones she liked just left, the ones she does not like will leave sometime. Do not look at people; just come to church to learn the Word of God, and to get your life right with God. I reminded her of how much God has helped her since she started going to church, and I begged her to continue to go to church. She did not say much after that, and after service, I did not have the heart to face her.
For the rest of the week, I went through a silent lament. I read the book of Lamentations to find out what Jeremiah was lamenting about. Everything I had seen since I arrived here in Sierra Leone made perfect sense after the reading. I was also assured from verses 26 to 30 of chapter 3. Also verses 35 to 37 of the same chapter were of particular comfort considering the circumstances here.
Fearing her departure, this Saturday, I prayed that God would bring her back, and something special would happen. I am not surprised that this prayer was answered like many others. She was the first to arrive, and I was encouraged to pray for her throughout the entire service. I noticed that she herself was praying like never before. I then said a simple prayer asking for delivery on the promise of the Spirit. The answer came in just ten minutes. Just several weeks before, she sat next to another girl who had proof of the Spirit, and just laughed. This weekend, I caught her laughing at herself. Though I was happy for her, I said nothing to her because my day of departure is looming over my head.
I am not in Bo this week. I am still in Waterloo, and will only remain for a very short time. I Will be traveling, but I'll be leaving Africa.
Last Monday, when I had gone into town as I usually do on Mondays, after visiting the Internet cafe, I went to Congo Cross to visit friends I normally visit. There is a young man named Philip who I normally visit. That day however, Philip had not arrived home from school. I sat down and spoke to his father for quite some time. He is from Bo and was telling me about the place. After the conversation, I stopped to say hello to the neighbours who greet me every time I go around. There is a young 16 year old girl that David and I met the first time we had gone to visit Philip. She lives right next door to Philip. Usually, after visiting with Philip, he usually walks me out to Mommy Dupigney's house which is just across the main street. The girl, Tigi, joins him as well. (It is common here in Salone for hosts, out of courtesy, to walk you down to the main street after you visit with them. This has happened on many occasions when Bro. Samuel and I had visited homes.) This time, as usual, Tigi walked me out to Mommy Dupigney's house though Philip wasn't around. Someone who saw us reported to the elders that they saw me with a young unsaved woman who was dressed very immodestly. When the news got to me, they had already stripped the girl of what she was wearing. (She was wearing pants and a tee-shirt. I am told she was wearing a mini-skirt). In a country where you don't have to turn your neck to see naked flesh, I feel that pants and a tee-shirt can be considered modest. So I am judged now on the "appearance of evil" - accepting the courtesy of a 16 year old, unsaved girl. I am guilty. I am not supposed to fellowship with un-believers I am told.
Of all the questions I need answers to, I now have another question that needs an answer when I get to my "home up yonder": Why did Jesus speak alone to a Samaritan woman who was living in open sin - while his disciples were away? "...For Jews have no dealing with Samaritans" (John 4:9).
I am reminded of the liberty that Christians have - not a liberty to do anything we feel like doing, but the liberty to judge for ourselves what is right. This liberty is spoken of in Romans 14. We do not live by law, but by grace. We grow in grace; it is not a massive barrel dropped upon us. God knows what we need, and He deals with us as sons, not as bastards. "Let us not therefore judge one another any more: but judge this rather, that no man put a stumbling block or an occasion to fall in his brothers way. I know, and I am persuaded by the Lord Jesus, that there is nothing unclean of itself: but to him that esteemeth any thing to be unclean, to him it is unclean... (Romans 14:13,14)
This incident has been just another brick in the huge wall that I had been in front of since my arrival here. It is apparent that I am not the only one standing before this wall. Rather than continue to kick at it, I have decided to voluntarily retire from this mission in Africa. Last week, I found myself filling out applications to volunteer with NGOs here in Sierra Leone, but I never turned the applications in. I feel it's time for me to leave. "For all this I considered in my heart even to declare all this, that the righteous, and the wise, and their works, are all in the hand of God: no man knoweth either love or hatred by all that is before them..." (Ecclesiastes 9:1). With that chapter as a confirmation, I will soon bid goodbye to Africa.
I will remember and continue to pray for Bismalie, Thomas and Nancy, Frank, and everyone else who I had come across.
Thankfully, all last week I had been up at the site working hard. This kept my mind away from all of this. The work is progressing very well and I was happy to go up and help carry head-pans of dirt, stone, and help keep two 2000 gallon tanks filled with water. I now feel I have spent blood, sweat, and tears in Salone; the last being the hardest for me.
Pink Floyd - Another Brick In The Wall
Happy Birthday Chris M!
going on
After almost a week of eating very little to nothing, and surviving on home made Oral Rehydration Salts (a cup of warm water with salt and sugar), I am back in good health thanks to divine intervention. Thanks also to "Healthy Travel - Africa", the Lonely Planet Guide that was presented to me for my birthday before I left for Africa, I was able to diagnose myself as having Giardiasis. It is not a pretty sickness! I am grateful it wasn't anything worse.
Today, I was able to eat well, do a weeks worth of laundry by hand, and avoid the throne. Amen.
On Tuesday, the 29th, there had been a regime change here in Waterloo. The two sisters were replaced by two others. Today, Brother Samuel will be transferred to Bo as well. I will be heading to Bo sometime next week. I could use the change.
When I mentioned to Shevo (Frank), the twelve year old neighbour who always "likes to keep my company", that Bro. Samuel and I will be leaving him, he began to cry. As Bro. Samuel was being driven away to Freetown, Frank who was behind his house ran up to the front chasing after the truck. He laid down right there on the street and began wailing. I just didn't know what to tell him. I resorted to giving him a bag of biscuits to appease him. Both he and Michael, another young boy who lives in the same house, ask me not to leave. "You know we like to keep your company" they say, "Why do you want to go? Who will play Hangman with us now?" A week before, when I taught them the game, Michael wanted to skip school for the day and play the game with me. Naturally, his father did not approve of the idea.
I will miss many of the folks I have befriended here in Waterloo. Many times when I walk down the streets, I am greeted by people I don't even recognize. They know me by name, and ask how I am doing, how my health is, and how am I enjoying Waterloo.
I am told that I will be taking public transportation to Bo, and so I will once again have to consolidate my luggage. I have resorted to giving away some of my clothes - though I only came with a handful. I will have to distribute what I have left among Bo, and Shenge - if I get to visit Shenge.
I am awaiting the status of another barrel that is on its way. My parents were allotted just a little bit of room in a barrel that another brother was sending. My mother says she has packed some home made Indian snacks, and some more pickles. This should be good. Makes me even more grateful that I am free of the Giardia Lamblia parasite. I have lot a bit of weight as a result of the sickness. I am sure I'll regain it - if not here, at Bangkok House in Times Square.
all forms of cleansing
Being the first Saturday of the month, a three day fast had been called by the church before the Saturday communion. This Saturday will be only the second time that communion will be served in Waterloo. There are only about 6 of us here who qualify to receive communion. Because most other members in the church are new, they were encouraged to fast if possible, and this was the first time that some of them fasted as members of the New Testament Church in Waterloo.
Since the day she began attending church, Bismalie, with the fervor of a new soul, and "first zeal", has been steadily proving God. She has been attending all the services faithfully, and has even, of late, asked her brother to accompany her. To appreciate the extend of her dedication, you have to understand the life she's led thus far. Since her accident, and her decision to abandon church, she had been one of those girls who stood at the corners and junctions of the streets of Waterloo. Like many of the women here in Sierra Leone, she has had kids at a young age, and before marriage. She lives in a home with her grandmother, brother, and several others who I have not yet met. She does not work; her grandmother cannot move much, is very old, and sits on the chair in the corner for most of the day. Her youngest child Samuel is only 10 months old (he's quite a big child for his age), and needs constant attention. Being mobile is difficult when you have had a truck run over your foot. Occasionally, she has to go to Freetown to get her foot dressed, or for a surgery appointment. At times, she's in town to visit her dad so I assume her parents are separated (as are many parents in Sierra Leone). Having been a Christian at one point in life, the guilt of the life she's led since she left church is at times very unbearable. Her friends mock her now because of her decision to turn her life around. Her dad has been threatening, and forcing her to marry a Muslim guy, but she wants to find a Christian man to marry. She almost gave in, but decided that she would prove God in this matter.
Bismalie arrived on time for the Thursday evening service (evening services start at 7 PM and end at 8:30 PM). At about 7:30 PM, she looked at me and gestured that she was starving and wanted to go home and eat. I gestured back and asked her to wait just a short time more. At 8: 20 when the service ended, she was the first one to jump up, strap on Samuel to her back and head out the door. She did not leave however, and stayed to greet everyone. When I met her, she said that she cannot do this anymore and that she will go home and eat and not come back to service on Friday. I just smiled in return. What could I say? She tried.
On Friday, as I was cleaning the toilet, she came to mind and in the back of my mind, I prayed that God would change her mind and bring her to church. That day, she showed up at 5:30 PM - before any of us even thought of preparing for the service. She still had not broken her fast, and she had given her food away to her sister. I was impressed, but I told her that it is useless to fast if she doesn't pray. She smiled and said she would try. That night, she did indeed try. When occasion was given to those in the audience to announce whatever pray requests they had, Bismalie was the first to put up her hand and request that God would give her a "mind to pray." After service, I gave her some Kin Dravya and asked her to break her fast.
I myself fasted all Thursday and Friday, and had a small meal Friday night. It was very unusual that I felt no hunger at all for the two days. Every Saturday, we all fast all day and break the fast at night, but again, I felt no hunger all Saturday. Saturday, evening however, I was hit with a passing infirmity. I say that because I want it to pass, but that's just what it's doing to me. Sunday morning, in the span of two hours, I had to visit the throne about six times. All Sunday and today, it's the same story. I haven't had anything significant to eat since Saturday night and I feel no hunger. Finally at about 3:30 PM today, I had to force myself to eat a little, but I can't keep anything in. Nothing remains solid. I suspect it's some sort of food poisoning.
I have been notified that sometime this week, my tenure here in Waterloo will come to an end. I will be heading to Bo from here. Continue to remember Bismalie, and the work in Waterloo in your prayers.
hidden truths
Well Christmas is around the corner, and I have been hearing about it for two months now. Seems everyone here is waiting for Christmas. It doesn't matter if you're Christian, Muslim, Spiritist, or if you even know who Christ is; this is your time of the year! The old, wrinkled, hunched over lady across from us, who drinks heavily, and causes trouble with her neighbours, is walking around singing "Gloria." Just two days ago, she falsely accused her tenant in public, shouting out in the open, that he wanted to sleep with her. This woman is over 70 years old, and the man is in his late 30's and has a wife and kids. All the neighbours ganged up on her this time around, saying this incident has gone "pasmak" (unbearable, over the limit - past the mark). She continued to ala-ala (quarrel loudly - holler-holler), claiming that she is going to the police. She claims to be a Christian and even attends our church when she feels like it.
The neighbours who are Muslim are all excited about Christmas as well. You can hear them singing carols and having a jolly ol' time. I haven't seen much of the traditional Christmas decorations as of yet.
Several of my friends back home emailed me wishing me a happy Thanksgiving. Thank you for remembering me while you stuffed yourselves with Turkey. At least two of them said that they would save some of the Turkey for me till I return - mould and all. Sweet friends! Although I am not too fond of Turkey, I did however miss the stuffing. I missed the Yonkers tradition of piling on Turkey, stuffing, Cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, Biryani (traditional Indian spiced rice), Mutton curry, Vegetable curry, Parata (Indian flat bread), and Indian pickle all on the same plate. Yes, we're an interesting bunch.
Thanksgiving however is not celebrated here, and many of you asked if it was. These folks have no reason to celebrate the holiday. After all, this whole deal happened between the Pilgrims and the Indians. None of them here care much about Pilgrims or Indians. They do however celebrate something called Tanksgivin, but it is not celebrated nationally on the same day. Different churches have a day that they call Tanksgivin. On this day, the particular church gathers its members, has a service, and then serves a meal to the congregation. The children form a choir and sing songs, there is dancing and celebration. Some of the churches even serve beer and wine, and the members stand out and smoke - notably the Anglican church. Many of the members who don't regularly attend service, make sure they attend the Tanksgivin service.
Last Saturday, the 26th of November, I decided to walk down the street to get three packets of biscuits as I just wanted to have some at midday. No sooner did I turn the corner, I heard a group of people chanting and making noise. All the members of the group wore all white garments, and many had walking sticks painted in black and white horizontal stripes. There was one man dressed in a bright red robe. His face and head was covered with the same red covering. The portion of the face covering was cut out in an oval, and was filled in with a white mesh like cloth. His walking stick was more ornate and had strings and fibers tied to it. As soon as they saw me, one of them recognized me and said out loud "born again." The leader of the group, a man also fitted in white, stretched out his stick toward me, and very harshly barked "Yu, oba yanda!" ("You, over there!") I obeyed and walked over to the side where a group of young kids stood watching the troop. All the while, the rest of them continued to chant. "Yu na strenja, eh?" ("You're a visitor here, are you not?"), he addressed me publicly. "Yes, Sir!" I responded. He then stretched out his stick and harshly commanded me saying, "Pas, go. Pas!" ("Pass, go. Pass!"). I calmly walked past them while I heard some of the spectators exclaim "E!" By the time I purchased the biscuits, turned around and crossed the street, the troop was on the same end of the street as I was. I continued to walk towards them to get past them, and some of the spectators pulled me aside, scolded me and warned me to wait. Then when it was "safe" one of them escorted me past them.
When I returned home, I asked Bro. Samuel what all the spectacle was about. He explained to me that they were the members of the local Oje secret society, and that it was their day to "play" today. He explained that there is one member in the group who is appointed by the underwater devil to come meet with him. If the society wants to come out to play, they cannot arbitrarily choose a day. The group as a whole will take this man on whom the lot has fallen on, to the sea. The leader of the group, the man endowed with mystical powers, will then spread some form of liquid over this mans face which enables him to see the underwater spirit. The spirit comes out of the sea with something in his hands. This man will have to then run towards the spirit, grab what is in his hands, and immediately turn around and run back. The rest of the members position themselves strategically in order to grab the man when he runs back towards them. Since he is now possessed, and is in the spirit world, he runs with superhuman strength and speed. If the man is unable to grab what is in the hands of the spirit, and does not return with it, the rest of the members will beat him to death. The thing that the man brings back from the spirit contains the date for the play. Only on this day can they go out and play.
If you get in their way, harm them, abuse them, or get into trouble with them, they have the power to "ale" (pronounced aleh) you. Ale is a powdered herb that irritates the skin causing you to scratch. Boils form on the skin, and the skin is disfigured. You will eventually die from its effects. The other definition for ale is: to cause to vanish. This was why I was chided and warned by the spectators, and why they exclaimed "E!" when surprisingly, the leader allowed me to pass. This does not normally happen. The man in the red, called agbado, is the "devil" of the society. Each society has its own devil.
Just yesterday, members of the ontin (hunting) society were out dancing and chanting. I didn't get a good look at them, but the "devil" of the group was taller than the rest, and had on brown garb. Some of the members, in groups of two, carried a pole on their shoulders with leaves hanging from the pole - sort of like carrying a dead animal on a pole. The ontin society was imported into Sierra Leone by the Yoruba settlers from Nigeria. This society's primary activity is hunting in the bush. Like most societies, their activities are shrouded in mystery.
Sometimes, all the references to "hidden manna", "hidden ministry", "hidden truths", etc. make me feel like I belong to one of these secret societies.
I will admit, the meat is "sweet" as they describe certain meat to be. Apparently cat meat is sweeter. Monkey meat is soft, and goes well mixed in with the plasas. Thankfully, a week later, I can say that the toilet seat has not been slamming.
