Well, when you get this, I will be home from a long time in Africa, primarily the country of Sierra Leone. A journey like this marks you with impressions that are like a kaleidoscope, ever shifting, some things now standing out at one time, more than others, and than something else transfixes you. But not depending on your mood, those things that mark your soul the most will always be there. So when it think of this time, I will remember so many people, and so many experiences. I will remember going to a different church the last Sunday morning, and there being almost transfixed in utter amazement in Sunday School by the young teacher--maybe 25 if I am generous. Although English was not his native language, he taught in grammar perfect English, and during his 45 minutes or so of teaching, I would estimate half of that whole time he was quoting scripture without referring to any Bible...I didn't catch one mistake in his quoting, as I was looking up his references. What a testimony to the power of memorization, and what a Sunday school time.
I remember several times when on the way to work in the morning, I would pass these very loud fans that apparently were used to cool a bottling plant, and there I would see this young fellow standing right in front of the fans, with his ears held tightly shut. The noise right in front of those fans is deafening, and so I didn't know what he did that for, what was he trying to accomplish? But then I found out later that he is a schizophrenic in a country where the mental health system has so many holes that they treat some people like that by chaining them down. But before we get judgmental, in our country in the 60s, we were doing the exact same thing..and so in his effort to get rid of the voices in his head, he finds the loudest noise that he can in an effort to drown them out..
I remember listening as Africans shared their stories of pain, going through a terrible war that ended in 2002. Although I didn't hear his story personally, from others I learned that It was during the last part of that war that Ansu got caught up in the fighting that came to Freetown, and so was caught by the rebel soldiers, who brutally chopped his right arm off right below the shoulder. He survived, but not only survived, but has thrived by going to school and learning how do do accounting, and now is a faithful worker in the Word Made Flesh organization of Sierra Leone. Never complaining, he is a powerful testimony to the power of God.
I remember Chief Alimammy, the designated chief of the settlement of Kroo Bay. I would almost always see him as I walked to the clinic every day, going past his area where I guess he held court, or whatever it is that chiefs do. Although by virtue of his position he is one of the more wealthy men (a relative term in the poverty of Kroo Bay) in the area, he was bothered by a large stasis ulcer of his leg, of the type that never heals in the grime and dust and dirt of the area. I tried to give him some medicine for his problem, and although I didn't have much hope that it would help him, he was grateful, and requested "more of that good medicine" when I left. Will he find Christ, the Christ that takes away the sin of the world?
And there is the other Alimammy, little Alimammy, one of the boys that comes to the tutoring in the afternoon. He almost has had no schooling, as he goes from street to house, never quite fitting in anywhere. Though his behavior is a problem, with no real family to raise him, that is easy to see why he is like that. I was haunted by the look in his eyes, a look that says I have been hurt, often, and I don't quite trust you either. An old man's eyes, an old man's eyes that have seen too much, inside a 7 year old body. That is haunting, and tears your heart up into quivering pieces.
There is the "wisdom of Pa Kwame", often shared in his whimsical style with long roundabout stories that don't go anywhere, and then the proverb pops out of nowhere. Pa is "Kristin in Papa" or Kristin's surrogate African father, probably a person more unlike me than anyone else in Africa. He smokes too much, even in the house where Kristin lives, and usually smells like he has been drinking, although not intoxicated. He makes patent medicine, some that cures malaria, and worms, and other things, using native plants and concoctions. I don't know if it works, but people pay good money for it, and it supports their family, and thereby he takes the name "doctor" as well. But he is full of wisdom, such as " the rich man jumps when he sees his shadow, but the poor man isn't afraid of anything", or "don't rush life", wisdom that especially applies to us Westerners. The wisdom is often couched in profanity, such that you would have to pick your way through it, but for me he usually toned it down. So he didn't necessarily go the " how to treat your customer school". The timid children that show up at his house to buy his products for their parents are sometimes caned for their efforts, and go home up unrewarded, depending on his mood.
6 weeks in Africa, time for reflection, time for remembrance....
