When we arrived in Africa, we were met by Grandpa Kennedy at the port in Abidjan. He had tried to get us rooms at the ONE HOTEL in Abidjan at that time, but all rooms were full. And so he arranged for us to sleep at the local Méthodist church on low camp cots! Our first night in Africa! Then we took the long trip north - the paved road stopped at Yamoussoukro I think, and it was rainy season so we had an interesting trip to Bobo. When we got to Bobo, Grandma was waiting for us with a hot American dinner and we had a fun reunion with her and African friends in Bobo who knew me from my teen age years.
Grandma had had our Santidougou house cleaned for us, and so we spent maybe a couple nights in Bobo - Grandpa took Dad to a local store and bought us beds. There was a bit of bare bone furniture in the Santidougou house so we were able to move out there almost immediately after our arrival. We bought a kerosene refrigerator, bought supplies and we were ready to set up housekeeping.
As in all West African situations, the village people were there as soon as we drove into the Santidougou yard to welcome us. I spoke Jula to my old friends as that was the language I spoke when I left there. But right away we set up a language study program so that we could begin to understand and speak Bobo. I would write out for each day's lesson what we needed to learn in Bobo, and write it out in Jula to give to Pierre who was our language helper. Then I would teach this to Dad, and so it went. I was through formal language study in a year and Dad took a bit longer obviously. But we were off and running!
What a dim beginning for a vision! We soon found out that there was corruption in the church and had to confort many uncomfortable situations. In those days the national church was not organized and so it was up to the missionary to take charge. What a difference today for new missionaries to be able to work with an organized and often educated church. But all of that was part of our vision for the Bobo people back then, that they would develop into an organized district church and we could work alongside.
My time from the beginning was mostly taken up with language work and then teaching programs. Dad's ministry was to the pastors, none of whom were ordained, and to the maybe four churches among our Bobo people. Dad prepared sermons in French which someone then interpreted for him into Bobo when he preached. I stayed at Santidougou with you girls, attending the local church on the mission compound where Pastor Pierre was pastor. He preached every Sunday the same sermon: Peter and John at the beautiful gate of the temple. He would vary his description from time to time but the theme was always the same and preached in Jula to be interpreted into Bobo.
Pastor Pierre and Roda had two sons from Roda's first marriage to a northern Bobo fing pastor who had died. A marriage was arranged between this widow and Pierre who was a Bible School student at Ntorosso. Dad loved working with young people and he perceived right away how brilliant young Tite was. Actually, his younger brother, Daouda, was also brilliant, but he put his intelligence to work in a life of crime eventually. A sad story.
As a foundation for our Santidougou district church, we knew we needed trained workers, and so we began to put money into sending more students to Ntorosso to study in Bambara (Jula). We would occasionally go to Mali and visit our students who were studying at the Bible School there. But Dad also had a vision for training French speaking young people. Actually, my parents had started training some young men in Mali at a French school there and we took up the torch of sending more students to train in French. We could see this would be the leadership of the future, even back then. Tite was one of the students who went to Somasso, Mali, to French school.
Dad also had a vision for establishing the church in more Bobo villages than the very few where we had groups of Christians. And so each Sunday he would take a group of Christians out to preach in new villages, as well as visiting the half dozen old churches that were small and struggling, with poorly trained leadership. All during this time we were applying ourselves to language study, trying to master the unwritten Bobo language.
My vision at that time was to put the Bobo language in written form and eventually have a New Testament. The whole Bible was a daunting task even for this visionary! As soon as we had learned the rudiments of the language, we began at the same time to turn out small booklets in Bobo as well as develop a primer system for learning to read in Bobo. All of this meant hours and hours of work for me in the office. I trained Yusufu little by little to take over the housework and then to make certain meals for us and he caught on quickly. He always looked on his work for us not just as a job to earn money, but he also felt he was helping in our work among his people. He freed me up to be almost fulltime in the office and classroom and we often talked about this together. He was such a faithful worker all our lives there and helped to facilitate our ministry, as well as being part of it.
As we progresed, the church asked if I would start a school for young women. The young Bobo Christians had a hard time getting wives as families would not give their wives to Christians. And thus started the girls' school, which was the first thing I was involved in each morning of the week. The young Bobo men would help a fellow Christian "steal" a girl from her village and bring her to Santidougou to be taught in the ways of the Lord. The girl had to be agreed to be engaged to a Christian and to come to school for a year, and thus began a ministry I had for many years. At the same time we had periodic short term schools when both Dad and I taught to train our young men in the Scriptures.
Dad figured the future of the church would be in French training and so he began to encourage young men to study in French. We helped some financially at a time when some of our fellow missionaries thought this was a waste of money. The criticism was that "these young people will learn French and then go off to get secular jobs and never train for the ministry". Ceertainly, some of them did but many others did not. And thus was born another vision of Dad's, Maranatha Institute in Bobo Dioulasso.
Since he had the vison for training pastoral candidates in French - and not many others could see the wisdom of this - Dad did a lot of the work, encouraged by Tite and others in the church. Dad was the one who built many of those first buildings. The first class was held in the youth center building on an adjoining piece of land. (Dad had built the youth building previously and thus helped to start the youth ministry in Bobo, which Uncle Dave later took up). Those were heavy days of work - by then Dad was also field director so we moved to Bobo. He did his office work and also oversaw the building of those first Maranatha buildings. Dad's concept of a visionary was not sitting in an armchair and neither was mine!
Our field had heard of TEE being a sharp tool in the training of leaders for the church and so we invited a world expert in Tee to come and give us a seminar. Several of us attended this seminar, and afterward we had a real vision to see this be put in place. We started the program in Jula and later added French courses as well. This was a vision that continued for me right up until the time we retired from Burkina. The program was linked to Maranatha and we had a production - storage - training center on the campus. Many church leaders were trained through this method, and I often travelled to other regions to train pastors to be TEE (PEDIM) facilitators. I also trained the leadership of the Bobo city churches so that they could teach in their churches as well.
Back in the district of Santidougou, I had encouraged young lay leaders to teach SS to the children of the church. We had six young men who became Sunday School teachers, and I wrote and provided materials for them. For lack of other materials, I used the flannelgraph lessons of Child Evangelism - a series of lessons lasting two years. Aunt Donna helped me as I cut out all the flannelgraph figures and we provided six series of these lessons. I wrote books for the teachers in Bobo and held regular seminars for them to show them how to teach children. And thus we were able to also teach the children in our Bobo churches. Something no other area was doing at that time. If I were doing this over today, I would use a more indigenous method of teaching for children!
We worked day and night during those years and today we can look at churches and leaders who are going forward because of the hard work, perseverance and vision of all of us. It takes a lifetime to build a church and we are thankful God allowed us to help in the building of the Bobo Madare church. Rollo and Joan and Peggy and Jetty joined us and we worked well together in those latter years. To God be the glory for what was accomplished among the Bobos!!
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
VISION - AND HARD WORK!! .......................................................
The Christian and Missionary Alliance was born of a vision - the vision of a Presbyterian pastor who left his formal church setting and established a ministry for Christ that would eventually circle the globe! I am sure some people in those days questioned his actions...others probably thought what he was doing would amount to nothing (people cannot readily understand another person's vision)... and there were those who no longer associated with him because he left a fashionable church in order to minister to the "down and outers" of that period, as well as reaching out to the whole world. But the vision was of God and there were those who joined him, thankfully, so that today we have a viable Alliance witness in many countries of the world, as well as in the United States.
Recently during our visit in Nyack, we were amazed to see the vision of those leading the College and Seminary. The outreach back into Manhattan (where it all started!) is a thrilling chapter in the history of the college. God's work, whether here in North America or in the "uttermost parts" of the world, needs people of vision even today!
The work of the Alliance in West Africa also started with people of vision. Robert S. Roseberry and his wife (whom he called "Madame") were some of the first pioneers, along with the Ryan brothers. They opened up this new area of Africa to the Gospel. I remember them well from my girlhood. They were strong men with strong wills, but very kindly people as well. They loved children and we kids were all close to them and liked it when they visited our parents' work. The name "Roseberry" was a little too hard for a West African to pronounce and so they called him "Loosebelly", never dreaming what that meant in English!
When we arrived in West Africa in 1959, God's vision of what He was going to do in that part of the world had already begun to manifest itself. The Dogon people and the Bwa people groups were turning to Christ in large numbers. Missionaries in those two large people groups of West Africa learned the local language, thus identifying themselves with their people and in both cases they had multiple staffs to help in the work of evangelism and then training among these peoples.
However, such was not the case in the work among our people, then called the Black Bobo (or Bobo fing in Jula). This people group was looked on as being very backward, by both the colonial rulers and the missionary staff. They had very strong fetish worship, very few of their number were educated in French. In my youth the people wore very little clothes. The men wore a handmade jockstrap and the women wore large bunches of leaves fore and aft, tied together around the hips with strong vines. They also pierced the skin below the bottom lip of every baby girl born, put a small stick in to stretch it and kept making the stick larger as the skin stretched. And finally when the girl arrived at puberty she got a round white smooth stone to put into the hole. Years later when the government made a ruling that they could no longer scar their children (each Bobo - male and female - had three gashes given them on each cheek to mark them as belonging to the Bobo tribe) nor could the women wear their lip stones, it was difficult for the women to drink water as it would always partially trickle out the permanent hole in the skin below their bottom lip. So the Bobo people were looked on as a wild, uncivilized bunch!
The Richard Johansons worked among these people, learned their language, saw a few people want to "walk the Jesus road", started short term Bible Schools, and even started the translation of the Bible for these people. They had a vision for the Bobos and they began to see that vision come to life - but their ministry was interrupted (and later terminated) because of World War II and then sickness which prevented their return. You remember that all their language materials sank to the bottom of the ocean when their ship was torpedoed on their way to the U.S.!!
By the time we arrived in 1959, there were very few believers left and just a few stray pieces of literature that had been produced by the Johansons. The reasons for this were 1) the departure of the Johansons who had a vision for these people and 2) the Second World War which totally interrupted this fledgling work. When the Richard Johansons, living in Florida, heard that we were going to work with the Bobo people, they were overjoyed and always maintained contact with us until their death. When we were appointed to this tribe, we started right at the bottom. There was no vision on the part of anyone for a large group of Bobos coming to Christ. There was no vision for the Bobo Madare people - where there is no vision, the Bible tells us, the people perish!
The world is not full of visionaries. But interestingly enough, Dad and I were both visionaries, in different ways! Dad always has a vision to see the church established, to envision what a person can be when he comes to Christ. He has always had a vision to see people saved and mature in Christ. I, on the other hand, have a vision for seeing people maturing in Christ and helping to provide the programs and teaching methods for that to happen. We had already had a vision of what God could do during our home service. Dad picked out a small city in central Vermont, Rutland, and felt God leading us there to start a church in an area where the Christian and Missionary Alliance was unknown. God affirmed our vision as He helped us to plant that church which still stands today.
Amd so we went to work in accordance with the vision God had given to us (and the assignment of the mission) with the goal of seeing a healthy church grow in this unreached people group. We never dreamed what God would accomplish in that area, and today we marvel as we hear of the ongoing of His work among our beloved Bobos.
So we had come to Africa as workers, with one vision: to see a great church raised up among the Bobo people. This, by the way, was a last minute field assignment as we had been assigned to the girls' school in Mali, and at the last minute the field changed our stationing and asked us to work with the Bobo people. We got this assignment just before we left France on a ship headed for Africa. And the change was certainly of the Lord. (to be continued)
Recently during our visit in Nyack, we were amazed to see the vision of those leading the College and Seminary. The outreach back into Manhattan (where it all started!) is a thrilling chapter in the history of the college. God's work, whether here in North America or in the "uttermost parts" of the world, needs people of vision even today!
The work of the Alliance in West Africa also started with people of vision. Robert S. Roseberry and his wife (whom he called "Madame") were some of the first pioneers, along with the Ryan brothers. They opened up this new area of Africa to the Gospel. I remember them well from my girlhood. They were strong men with strong wills, but very kindly people as well. They loved children and we kids were all close to them and liked it when they visited our parents' work. The name "Roseberry" was a little too hard for a West African to pronounce and so they called him "Loosebelly", never dreaming what that meant in English!
When we arrived in West Africa in 1959, God's vision of what He was going to do in that part of the world had already begun to manifest itself. The Dogon people and the Bwa people groups were turning to Christ in large numbers. Missionaries in those two large people groups of West Africa learned the local language, thus identifying themselves with their people and in both cases they had multiple staffs to help in the work of evangelism and then training among these peoples.
However, such was not the case in the work among our people, then called the Black Bobo (or Bobo fing in Jula). This people group was looked on as being very backward, by both the colonial rulers and the missionary staff. They had very strong fetish worship, very few of their number were educated in French. In my youth the people wore very little clothes. The men wore a handmade jockstrap and the women wore large bunches of leaves fore and aft, tied together around the hips with strong vines. They also pierced the skin below the bottom lip of every baby girl born, put a small stick in to stretch it and kept making the stick larger as the skin stretched. And finally when the girl arrived at puberty she got a round white smooth stone to put into the hole. Years later when the government made a ruling that they could no longer scar their children (each Bobo - male and female - had three gashes given them on each cheek to mark them as belonging to the Bobo tribe) nor could the women wear their lip stones, it was difficult for the women to drink water as it would always partially trickle out the permanent hole in the skin below their bottom lip. So the Bobo people were looked on as a wild, uncivilized bunch!
The Richard Johansons worked among these people, learned their language, saw a few people want to "walk the Jesus road", started short term Bible Schools, and even started the translation of the Bible for these people. They had a vision for the Bobos and they began to see that vision come to life - but their ministry was interrupted (and later terminated) because of World War II and then sickness which prevented their return. You remember that all their language materials sank to the bottom of the ocean when their ship was torpedoed on their way to the U.S.!!
By the time we arrived in 1959, there were very few believers left and just a few stray pieces of literature that had been produced by the Johansons. The reasons for this were 1) the departure of the Johansons who had a vision for these people and 2) the Second World War which totally interrupted this fledgling work. When the Richard Johansons, living in Florida, heard that we were going to work with the Bobo people, they were overjoyed and always maintained contact with us until their death. When we were appointed to this tribe, we started right at the bottom. There was no vision on the part of anyone for a large group of Bobos coming to Christ. There was no vision for the Bobo Madare people - where there is no vision, the Bible tells us, the people perish!
The world is not full of visionaries. But interestingly enough, Dad and I were both visionaries, in different ways! Dad always has a vision to see the church established, to envision what a person can be when he comes to Christ. He has always had a vision to see people saved and mature in Christ. I, on the other hand, have a vision for seeing people maturing in Christ and helping to provide the programs and teaching methods for that to happen. We had already had a vision of what God could do during our home service. Dad picked out a small city in central Vermont, Rutland, and felt God leading us there to start a church in an area where the Christian and Missionary Alliance was unknown. God affirmed our vision as He helped us to plant that church which still stands today.
Amd so we went to work in accordance with the vision God had given to us (and the assignment of the mission) with the goal of seeing a healthy church grow in this unreached people group. We never dreamed what God would accomplish in that area, and today we marvel as we hear of the ongoing of His work among our beloved Bobos.
So we had come to Africa as workers, with one vision: to see a great church raised up among the Bobo people. This, by the way, was a last minute field assignment as we had been assigned to the girls' school in Mali, and at the last minute the field changed our stationing and asked us to work with the Bobo people. We got this assignment just before we left France on a ship headed for Africa. And the change was certainly of the Lord. (to be continued)
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
SIDA!! .................................................................................
The latter years of our life in Burkina were punctuated by the world plague, SIDA (AIDS). Dad had treated every disease imaginable during his years as village doctor. Only one case of cancer that we remember, a young teenager who had cancer of the jaw. His old father brought him regularly on the back of his broken down bicycle and Dad treated the sores in his mouth. The child finally died. . Other than that one case, we did not see cancer patients. But there were plenty of other dieases: tuberculosis, all the ordinary measles and mumps and chicken pox, tons of malaria in all stages, pneumonia, and the list goes on and on. Dad did what he knew how to do, asked other regular nurses for help in some instances and used up thousands of rolls of bandages, prepared by the women in the States, to cover the salve and sulfa powder he put on the horrible ulcers that were so prevalent in our area.
We have written about the young man, a pastor's son from Burkina, who was dying in an Abidjan hospital and we sent home on the train to die in peace. That was probably the first case of SIDA we recognized. But the government health authoriities were very aware of this scourge and were trying to inform school authorities of the danger to young people indulging in sexual encounters with various partners, etc. I was asked at one point by the Alliance school authorities to give some teaching to the junior high age kids from our area of town, so I prepared some lessons and held the classes in a Maranatha Institute classoom. Robert Sanou also organized a team with our nurses to go to schools around town and into the bush to inform and educate young people of the dangers of SIDA.
About the same time, I had had an encounter with the Minister of Health in the country, and during a mission conference session in Ouagadougou he came at our invitation to speak to us as missionaries about the spreading disease and what to do. I can still remember his one statement: "You missionaries are the technicians of the soul!" He knew that a change of heart and lifestyle was the only way to stem the terrible tide of SIDA and he encouraged us to help in this battle.
We had so many sad experiences with friends who did not heed the warnings about promiscuous sexual activity, and ended up with SIDA. One sad case was the son of old Moïse Traoré, an elderly well known Bwa Alliance pastor. He sent word to our house one day that he wanted to talk to Dad and could he come to his home? He wanted me to come too as he could not express himself in French so wanted to talk in Jula and have me translate for Dad. So I was witness to the whole scene. His son was a high school graduate and had also graduated from Bible School, he was a young pastor at that time. Old Moïse asked his son to sit in on the session, as we sat in a dusky little mud plastered room on little stools. Some years before when Dad was field director Moïse had laid Dad out in lavendar about some situation concerning the Mission. He had lived with the conviction of what he had done and said at that time for many years, and he wanted to confess and make things right now as an old man. He wanted his son to be a witness to his sin and the confession and forgiveness of that sin. Dad readily forgave him, they prayed and hugged and the son was witness to it all.
The sad part of the story is that the son went on to be a pastor, but did not walk in the ways of his father. He pastored in Ouagadougou and we kept hearing that he was ill and could not get over his sickness. As he was on his deathbed we heard that the disease he had was SIDA, because of the immoral sexual contacts he had had. What a waste of a life that should have been lived for God. These kinds of situations were what was hard for us in our ministry in Africa.
A young Mossi boy worked as a yardman for Tim Albright, and so the year we took over their house and CAMA work during their furlough, we got to know Pierre very well. He was a bright, fun person and a good worker - he lived in a little house in our yard so we knew him well. Later he went on to Bible School and trained to be a pastor. He had a church in Ouagadougou. But again, he succumbed to AIDS and died, still a young man.
Job, Pastor Simeon's son, was such a pathetic case. I went to visit him at Santidougou a couple times, but Dad went regularly. He would take him little food items that he craved and gave him a comfortable mattress to rest on as he was a bed ridden case. Again, he became nothing but skin and bones and finally succumbed to the dread disease.
Another case was the daughter of church elder, Gédéon, in Bobo, a family I had known since I was a child. Monique was a beautiful girl, got involved with an older man - not a Christian. Lived in Ouaga with this man and finally came home very sick. I was at home alone (Dad was in the bush preaching) when Monique was brought to my door with two of her brothers - they were holding her up on a bike. Her skin was almost too hot to touch, she was skin and bones, her eyes white in their sockets. I quickly got her and the others into my little car and took off for the guard pharmacy, it was a Sunday. They gave her transfusions and sent us home. I arranged for the male nurse to go to their yard again to give her more transfusions, but it was too late for her - she too died a painful death.
Eli Sanou's brother, Samson, was a tall fine looking young man, well educated. His Dad had worked for my parents when I was a teenager and his mother was my girlhood friend so I knew the family well. Samson went off to Ouaga to work in a job there. Like many, he fell into sexual promiscuity and he also died of SIDA.
In our later years of ministry in Burkina, we lived in the city and we had local TV in our home. One evening we were watching the news and there was a young singer on the screen. He was an African, a Sanou, and he had the most beautiful voice, singing ballad type songs. I can still see him on that screen - they had him poling a boat down the Seine River in Paris as he sang his ballad. He finally came back to Burkina, married and had a child. His wife was a beautiful, educated woman. They were actually relatives of Pastor Prosper Sanou. Dad heard that this young man, Sintala Sanou, was very ill and he wanted to go and pray for him, asking Prosper to take him there. Dad said it was the most awful sight to see this young man (he was actually a Burkina Army officer) now lying on a grass mat on a mud floor wrapped in a scanty cloth - burning to the touch and his eyes rolled back in his head. Again - SIDA! He had a military funeral which Dad attended and the wife and daughter sponsored a musical event in a public garden in Bobo which Dad attended also. Some time later the beautiful wife died - with the inevitable SIDA.
We had a very dear friend, Soungalo Paul, who first came to study at Maranatha after he was saved and felt called to Christian ministry. He married a good friend of mine, a Mossi young woman, and the two of them went off to Aibidjan to study at the FATEAC. His level of education was much too high for Maranatha, and they seemed like such a promising couple for ministry. We visited them in Abidjan - the Bobo students and we always got together down there and had long conversations about the church at home, etc. Towards the end of their schooling, during summer vacation, Paul became very sick. Dad took him to a doctor and after examination they discovered that he had some kind of a blood disease. They checked him for AIDS but it was not that. We were going to Ouaga for a few days to be with you folks, Clousers, and stayed out at the SIL guest house. Since we were going to be away, we arranged for Paul and Sita, his wife, to come and stay in our home while we were gone. I stocked the frig with nourishing food and we thought this would help him to recover a bit during the several days we were gone. Paul became very sick and since my little car was in the garage Yakuba, Paul's friend and ours, called us in Ouaga and asked if they could take him in our car to the doctor. So we agreed and they did that.
One morning we had an early knock at our SIL room door - it was Steve, and he came with the terrible news that Paul had just died! Well, we packed up immediately and took off for home. What a sad situation. We were in the midst of mourning for days with people coming and going. I will never forget that funeral. Paul's body was swathed in white cloth in an open casket, and Yabuba Hema stood right beside the casket looking at him the whole service. They had been such close friends. Paul had a marvelous conversion story, having been brought up to manhood as a Muslim, he was also well educated. But he heard the Gospel and became a follower of Christ. We all had such hopes for his future in the ministry. But God's ways are not always our ways, and we had to be content to say " Goodbye" to our dear friend as he went to be with His Saviour in a place where there is no sickness or death.
So we had many times of sadness in connection with SIDA. No doubt the young population in Burkina has been decimated by this dread disease, as has happened in many countries of the world.
We have written about the young man, a pastor's son from Burkina, who was dying in an Abidjan hospital and we sent home on the train to die in peace. That was probably the first case of SIDA we recognized. But the government health authoriities were very aware of this scourge and were trying to inform school authorities of the danger to young people indulging in sexual encounters with various partners, etc. I was asked at one point by the Alliance school authorities to give some teaching to the junior high age kids from our area of town, so I prepared some lessons and held the classes in a Maranatha Institute classoom. Robert Sanou also organized a team with our nurses to go to schools around town and into the bush to inform and educate young people of the dangers of SIDA.
About the same time, I had had an encounter with the Minister of Health in the country, and during a mission conference session in Ouagadougou he came at our invitation to speak to us as missionaries about the spreading disease and what to do. I can still remember his one statement: "You missionaries are the technicians of the soul!" He knew that a change of heart and lifestyle was the only way to stem the terrible tide of SIDA and he encouraged us to help in this battle.
We had so many sad experiences with friends who did not heed the warnings about promiscuous sexual activity, and ended up with SIDA. One sad case was the son of old Moïse Traoré, an elderly well known Bwa Alliance pastor. He sent word to our house one day that he wanted to talk to Dad and could he come to his home? He wanted me to come too as he could not express himself in French so wanted to talk in Jula and have me translate for Dad. So I was witness to the whole scene. His son was a high school graduate and had also graduated from Bible School, he was a young pastor at that time. Old Moïse asked his son to sit in on the session, as we sat in a dusky little mud plastered room on little stools. Some years before when Dad was field director Moïse had laid Dad out in lavendar about some situation concerning the Mission. He had lived with the conviction of what he had done and said at that time for many years, and he wanted to confess and make things right now as an old man. He wanted his son to be a witness to his sin and the confession and forgiveness of that sin. Dad readily forgave him, they prayed and hugged and the son was witness to it all.
The sad part of the story is that the son went on to be a pastor, but did not walk in the ways of his father. He pastored in Ouagadougou and we kept hearing that he was ill and could not get over his sickness. As he was on his deathbed we heard that the disease he had was SIDA, because of the immoral sexual contacts he had had. What a waste of a life that should have been lived for God. These kinds of situations were what was hard for us in our ministry in Africa.
A young Mossi boy worked as a yardman for Tim Albright, and so the year we took over their house and CAMA work during their furlough, we got to know Pierre very well. He was a bright, fun person and a good worker - he lived in a little house in our yard so we knew him well. Later he went on to Bible School and trained to be a pastor. He had a church in Ouagadougou. But again, he succumbed to AIDS and died, still a young man.
Job, Pastor Simeon's son, was such a pathetic case. I went to visit him at Santidougou a couple times, but Dad went regularly. He would take him little food items that he craved and gave him a comfortable mattress to rest on as he was a bed ridden case. Again, he became nothing but skin and bones and finally succumbed to the dread disease.
Another case was the daughter of church elder, Gédéon, in Bobo, a family I had known since I was a child. Monique was a beautiful girl, got involved with an older man - not a Christian. Lived in Ouaga with this man and finally came home very sick. I was at home alone (Dad was in the bush preaching) when Monique was brought to my door with two of her brothers - they were holding her up on a bike. Her skin was almost too hot to touch, she was skin and bones, her eyes white in their sockets. I quickly got her and the others into my little car and took off for the guard pharmacy, it was a Sunday. They gave her transfusions and sent us home. I arranged for the male nurse to go to their yard again to give her more transfusions, but it was too late for her - she too died a painful death.
Eli Sanou's brother, Samson, was a tall fine looking young man, well educated. His Dad had worked for my parents when I was a teenager and his mother was my girlhood friend so I knew the family well. Samson went off to Ouaga to work in a job there. Like many, he fell into sexual promiscuity and he also died of SIDA.
In our later years of ministry in Burkina, we lived in the city and we had local TV in our home. One evening we were watching the news and there was a young singer on the screen. He was an African, a Sanou, and he had the most beautiful voice, singing ballad type songs. I can still see him on that screen - they had him poling a boat down the Seine River in Paris as he sang his ballad. He finally came back to Burkina, married and had a child. His wife was a beautiful, educated woman. They were actually relatives of Pastor Prosper Sanou. Dad heard that this young man, Sintala Sanou, was very ill and he wanted to go and pray for him, asking Prosper to take him there. Dad said it was the most awful sight to see this young man (he was actually a Burkina Army officer) now lying on a grass mat on a mud floor wrapped in a scanty cloth - burning to the touch and his eyes rolled back in his head. Again - SIDA! He had a military funeral which Dad attended and the wife and daughter sponsored a musical event in a public garden in Bobo which Dad attended also. Some time later the beautiful wife died - with the inevitable SIDA.
We had a very dear friend, Soungalo Paul, who first came to study at Maranatha after he was saved and felt called to Christian ministry. He married a good friend of mine, a Mossi young woman, and the two of them went off to Aibidjan to study at the FATEAC. His level of education was much too high for Maranatha, and they seemed like such a promising couple for ministry. We visited them in Abidjan - the Bobo students and we always got together down there and had long conversations about the church at home, etc. Towards the end of their schooling, during summer vacation, Paul became very sick. Dad took him to a doctor and after examination they discovered that he had some kind of a blood disease. They checked him for AIDS but it was not that. We were going to Ouaga for a few days to be with you folks, Clousers, and stayed out at the SIL guest house. Since we were going to be away, we arranged for Paul and Sita, his wife, to come and stay in our home while we were gone. I stocked the frig with nourishing food and we thought this would help him to recover a bit during the several days we were gone. Paul became very sick and since my little car was in the garage Yakuba, Paul's friend and ours, called us in Ouaga and asked if they could take him in our car to the doctor. So we agreed and they did that.
One morning we had an early knock at our SIL room door - it was Steve, and he came with the terrible news that Paul had just died! Well, we packed up immediately and took off for home. What a sad situation. We were in the midst of mourning for days with people coming and going. I will never forget that funeral. Paul's body was swathed in white cloth in an open casket, and Yabuba Hema stood right beside the casket looking at him the whole service. They had been such close friends. Paul had a marvelous conversion story, having been brought up to manhood as a Muslim, he was also well educated. But he heard the Gospel and became a follower of Christ. We all had such hopes for his future in the ministry. But God's ways are not always our ways, and we had to be content to say " Goodbye" to our dear friend as he went to be with His Saviour in a place where there is no sickness or death.
So we had many times of sadness in connection with SIDA. No doubt the young population in Burkina has been decimated by this dread disease, as has happened in many countries of the world.
Monday, October 24, 2011
THIS AND THAT ................................................................
Dad and I were just talking this afternoon and reminding each other of some of our experiences with strange situations through the years. So I thought I would share a few of those with you today.
I thing you kids were all away at school when I had the little orphaned baby to take care of at Santidougou. The mother had died when the baby was only a couple days old, the father was not able to handle the situation and neither was anyone in the family. So I offered to take care of the baby. We fixed up a little bed for her with lots of soft baby blankets so the wee little one would feel secure. I hunted out diapers and baby clothes I had from you girls, and took care of her at our house until a solution could be found for her. Our yardman and his wife had not had any children and wanted a baby and so it was finally arranged that they "adopt" the baby - nothing official, except in the eyes of the church and the community. The baby was actually from Dafinso from a Christian family there. And so I lost my baby - but watched her grow up in the yard next to ours.
We had to deal with a lot of deception when we went to live with the Bobos, although we were not saware of it at that time. But we found out many things later on as we learned the language. No missionary had spoken the local language in Santidougou for years - since the departure of the Richard Johansons during the Second World War - and so everything went through translation, and the missionaries were basically told in Jula what the local people wanted them to hear.
When we first arrived, there was Yusufu, the lay preacher. He had featured in a field book of testimonies written by missionaries, and he was a kind little man from Kuruna, with a wife about his age. He preached often in the church and the district. After we had been there a few years, we found out that he had a second wife - one for church and one who stayed home in his town of Kuruna! And had his children! So he lost face, and went with the Apostolics who came into the area about that same time.
Then there was Daouda from the village. I had known him as a teenager and liked his wife. They did not have any children, but finally a baby was born! Everyone was very happy - in fact, they brought the baby to the church to be dedicated. Later we found out that actually it was not his wife we knew who gave birth to the baby, but another wife whom he had taken on the side. But the first wife brought the baby to the church as her own to be dedicated. Only the missionaries - us! - were in ignorance!
Paul worked for my parents when I was a teenager at Santidougou. My mom taught him to cook and he made the best bread around! Plus cooked regular meals for us. He was from the town of Leguema but lived at Santidougou because of his work with us. When we first went to Santidougou, Grandma had taken on Yusufu as a houseboy and taught him a few things about cleaning the house. But she suggested we also take Paul on as cook since we were in language study and needed to spend our time in that. He had deteriorated greatly since my mom had had him. His clothes were always unkempt and he had also become a big man in the village. So he would come to work in the morning, get the fire started in the outside kitchen and set water to boiling for doing the dishes. But soon after he would be off to the village or across the road to take care of all his own affairs. I would try to talk to him, but by then he had become a big man in the village and felt that he was in charge not us - even though we paid him a salary to be there to work. One thing he was still great at - he made the best bread you ever tasted. So I had him teach Yusufu how to make that bread recipe. We finally had to tell him that his affairs were too many for him to be working for us and dismissed him. He was not happy, but it was for the best. He too took a second wife who could have children for him, as he and his first wife had had to adopt two children from other tribes as she could not have children.
Yusufu the lay preacher and Paul and some other dissidents got connected with another group which never was very strong, but they did have regular church meetings also, and I think they are still in existence, the Apostolic Church.
There was another Alliance preacher, Michel from Sekwona, and when it was found out that he smoked a pipe, he too left the Alliance and joined the Apostolics. And so the Apostolic church grew, thanks to the Alliance dissidents! In later years the Apostolics grew quite large in Ouaga and they also sent missionaries to our area to work. To my knowledge they are a recognized church there in the Protestant community of Burkina.
Another strange thing that happened back when Dad was first field director and we were living in Bobo. The Boni family from the Bwa tribe were a very well known political family and were Protestants in name at least. There was a Boni son, kind of a playboy, and during an incident in a local night club in Bobo (the 421 Club) this young man was shot and killed. They came to the mission to arrange a funeral for him and to find a pastor to preach the funeral sermon! Wow - that was a big responsibility for a young missionary. So Dad quickly got togerther a message (which he still remembers) - a real Gospel message as he had all those unbelievers there as a captive audience - and he took care of the funeral and gave his message that day. The Bobo church was packed out with dignitaries as the Bonis were very popular people in the government of Burkina (Upper Volta at that time). The father was even talked about as being a candidate for president of the country.
When we talk together, discussing all of the interesting experiences of our lives past, we are grateful for the Lord's leading in so many unexpected ways. God gave us wisdom even as young missionaries when we walked into difficult situations. And now God is giving us different and new (to us) ministries right here where we live in this insignifcant little town of Toccoa. Thanks to all of you, our children, we can also look forward to a great visit to our origins in Boboland! God is good - all the time....
I thing you kids were all away at school when I had the little orphaned baby to take care of at Santidougou. The mother had died when the baby was only a couple days old, the father was not able to handle the situation and neither was anyone in the family. So I offered to take care of the baby. We fixed up a little bed for her with lots of soft baby blankets so the wee little one would feel secure. I hunted out diapers and baby clothes I had from you girls, and took care of her at our house until a solution could be found for her. Our yardman and his wife had not had any children and wanted a baby and so it was finally arranged that they "adopt" the baby - nothing official, except in the eyes of the church and the community. The baby was actually from Dafinso from a Christian family there. And so I lost my baby - but watched her grow up in the yard next to ours.
We had to deal with a lot of deception when we went to live with the Bobos, although we were not saware of it at that time. But we found out many things later on as we learned the language. No missionary had spoken the local language in Santidougou for years - since the departure of the Richard Johansons during the Second World War - and so everything went through translation, and the missionaries were basically told in Jula what the local people wanted them to hear.
When we first arrived, there was Yusufu, the lay preacher. He had featured in a field book of testimonies written by missionaries, and he was a kind little man from Kuruna, with a wife about his age. He preached often in the church and the district. After we had been there a few years, we found out that he had a second wife - one for church and one who stayed home in his town of Kuruna! And had his children! So he lost face, and went with the Apostolics who came into the area about that same time.
Then there was Daouda from the village. I had known him as a teenager and liked his wife. They did not have any children, but finally a baby was born! Everyone was very happy - in fact, they brought the baby to the church to be dedicated. Later we found out that actually it was not his wife we knew who gave birth to the baby, but another wife whom he had taken on the side. But the first wife brought the baby to the church as her own to be dedicated. Only the missionaries - us! - were in ignorance!
Paul worked for my parents when I was a teenager at Santidougou. My mom taught him to cook and he made the best bread around! Plus cooked regular meals for us. He was from the town of Leguema but lived at Santidougou because of his work with us. When we first went to Santidougou, Grandma had taken on Yusufu as a houseboy and taught him a few things about cleaning the house. But she suggested we also take Paul on as cook since we were in language study and needed to spend our time in that. He had deteriorated greatly since my mom had had him. His clothes were always unkempt and he had also become a big man in the village. So he would come to work in the morning, get the fire started in the outside kitchen and set water to boiling for doing the dishes. But soon after he would be off to the village or across the road to take care of all his own affairs. I would try to talk to him, but by then he had become a big man in the village and felt that he was in charge not us - even though we paid him a salary to be there to work. One thing he was still great at - he made the best bread you ever tasted. So I had him teach Yusufu how to make that bread recipe. We finally had to tell him that his affairs were too many for him to be working for us and dismissed him. He was not happy, but it was for the best. He too took a second wife who could have children for him, as he and his first wife had had to adopt two children from other tribes as she could not have children.
Yusufu the lay preacher and Paul and some other dissidents got connected with another group which never was very strong, but they did have regular church meetings also, and I think they are still in existence, the Apostolic Church.
There was another Alliance preacher, Michel from Sekwona, and when it was found out that he smoked a pipe, he too left the Alliance and joined the Apostolics. And so the Apostolic church grew, thanks to the Alliance dissidents! In later years the Apostolics grew quite large in Ouaga and they also sent missionaries to our area to work. To my knowledge they are a recognized church there in the Protestant community of Burkina.
Another strange thing that happened back when Dad was first field director and we were living in Bobo. The Boni family from the Bwa tribe were a very well known political family and were Protestants in name at least. There was a Boni son, kind of a playboy, and during an incident in a local night club in Bobo (the 421 Club) this young man was shot and killed. They came to the mission to arrange a funeral for him and to find a pastor to preach the funeral sermon! Wow - that was a big responsibility for a young missionary. So Dad quickly got togerther a message (which he still remembers) - a real Gospel message as he had all those unbelievers there as a captive audience - and he took care of the funeral and gave his message that day. The Bobo church was packed out with dignitaries as the Bonis were very popular people in the government of Burkina (Upper Volta at that time). The father was even talked about as being a candidate for president of the country.
When we talk together, discussing all of the interesting experiences of our lives past, we are grateful for the Lord's leading in so many unexpected ways. God gave us wisdom even as young missionaries when we walked into difficult situations. And now God is giving us different and new (to us) ministries right here where we live in this insignifcant little town of Toccoa. Thanks to all of you, our children, we can also look forward to a great visit to our origins in Boboland! God is good - all the time....
Friday, October 21, 2011
THE REBELS .....................................................................
We did not start out our missionary career with the thought of being "rebels", but as it turned out I guess we sometimes appeared to be just that! You have to realize that we got to Africa at "the changing of the guard". It had been the colonial era up till that time since the very early days. The official posts in the government, the positions in banks and European stores and thus the leadership in much of the evangelical church were all staffed by white Europeans. The French army was there in some force, the Africans were gradually being changed to take their place.
One of our early memories of the significance of all this was one day when they held a large Independance Day parade in the city of Bobo. The law of the land was that women had to dress with "le sommet des genoux" covered - no short skirts! During the parade one of the head medical doctors from the Bobo hospital (a French lady) was standing in the front row along the parade route - she was wearing a very stylish French outfit, with the skirt just above the knees. They pulled her out of the crowd and took her off, admonishing her for her short skirts which the new African government would not allow - even for doctors!
We started in right away to learn the local language. There had been some new missionaries who had not learned language well and Grandma Kennedy was so afraid that we would have a hard time with Bobo and not learn the language properly - and I guess thus bring shame upon the family name! Grandpa was in charge of our language study, and basically we just purred along in the language and did just fine. I kept ahead of Dad (as I learned it through Jula) and wrote out exercises for him to learn the things that I learned before him, and thus we continued on until we passed all of our language exams in plenty of time and the family name was saved and my mom relaxed!
We had not been there long when we also realized that the mission had certain unwritten rules that we were expected to obey. In thos days no one entertained Burkinbe in their American homes. We were invited to eat with the Bobos and so we started to have the Bobo pastors and elders have a meal with us. I had all my lady friends from the village come for a meal one night. They all accepted with alacrity, but at first we fixed American food for them. Soon we realized it was best to stick with rice and sauce, salad and French bread. With a sweet cake for dessert and lots of coffee.
During our first term we decided to entertain beyond our own people group and invited the Komite Ba and missionaries meeting with them to have their meeting at Santidougou and I cooked for them, with the big help of Yusufu. Again this was a first, but was picked up by other people after that.
Some people could never get the message and continued to shun West Africans in their social contacts in their homes. This was, of course, a carry over from the old colonial era. One evening - long after many of us treated the local people on a common footing socially - some missionaries returned to Bobo from furlough on the evening plane. The then field director had invited all missionaries in town to gather in his living room to have refreshments and have a time to welcome back our missionary colleagues. While we were all seated around the living room, a knock came at the front door - it was our local Pastor, a wonderful gentleman who had had these missionaries as his profs in Bible School and wished to greet them for their arrival. Instead of inviting him inside to join us, the field director went to the door and called out the returning missionary in order to greet him on the porch, thus avoiding including him in our little party. Dad was so furious - we left soon after that and he stewed all the way on the trip home to Santidougou! Old customs die hard, and we rebels just kept pushing and doing our part to change things!
Polygamy was very much a fact of life in West Africa when we arrived, and there was a rule in the missionary manual which said, " no polygamist shall be baptized". As young rebels we wondered if that meant no polygamist can be saved? Should the extra wives be sent back to their original families as prostitutes? What about the children of such unions? This subject was hotly debated on the conference floor during the time when the mission was in charge and laid down the rules for the developing churches. In later years, the church made the rule that women taken as second or third, etc. wives before conversions are wives and all can be baptized. But that all are encouraged in the one man, one wife principal of the New Testament and polygamy was a no-no for Christians.
Speaking of missionary conference, we had one once a year, and only missionaries were invited. When some of us young folks got to be senior missionaries, we instituted the principle of invited a couple of national church delegates to our annual conference. They were honored by us - we took turns translating for them what was being said. And this gave a good impression to the church that we were not doing anything behind their backs. For many year we attended their annual conferences and their delgates attended ours. This greatly aided an understanding between mission and church.
Another rule of baptism was that the candidate had to know how to read (ostensibly so that he could read the Word and thus grow thereby). This hit us pretty hard our second year on the field. The Santidougou district wanted to baptize some young people, and Grandpa Kennedy (as field director and our senior missionary) came to Santidougou to question the candidates. Imagine our shock when Grandpa was questioning one candidate (this young man spoke no Jula - the language in which the questions were asked - and so everything had to be interpreted as Grandpa spoke no Bobo!) The young man was asked if he knew how to read! At that time we had not gone far enough in our language learning to prepare reading primers or have anything in print in the only language this young man spoke - Bobo Madare. Of course, he could not read - there was nothing to read in his language....but he was turned down for baptism! That ruling was later changed.
It also took a very long time for the mission to ordain West African pastors! This meant that missionaries had to serve communion and baptize, as the rule was that only an ordained pastor could assist at such functions. George Constance, who was the regional director for Africa, put an end to that on a visit in about 1956, and that was the beginning of having ordained pastors in our churches. However, the church followed the mission's ruling, and would wait for years before they would ordain a man to ministry. As the years went by, this changed. And of course we now have hundreds of ordained men in that part of Africa. We also have a few women who were consecrated in some way to ministry.
Those were interesting years.....years of change in the mission and the church. We were privileged to have lived through that time and also lived there to see the church come into its own and help to educate the leadership of today and tomorrow for the church of Jesus Christ in West Africa.
One of our early memories of the significance of all this was one day when they held a large Independance Day parade in the city of Bobo. The law of the land was that women had to dress with "le sommet des genoux" covered - no short skirts! During the parade one of the head medical doctors from the Bobo hospital (a French lady) was standing in the front row along the parade route - she was wearing a very stylish French outfit, with the skirt just above the knees. They pulled her out of the crowd and took her off, admonishing her for her short skirts which the new African government would not allow - even for doctors!
We started in right away to learn the local language. There had been some new missionaries who had not learned language well and Grandma Kennedy was so afraid that we would have a hard time with Bobo and not learn the language properly - and I guess thus bring shame upon the family name! Grandpa was in charge of our language study, and basically we just purred along in the language and did just fine. I kept ahead of Dad (as I learned it through Jula) and wrote out exercises for him to learn the things that I learned before him, and thus we continued on until we passed all of our language exams in plenty of time and the family name was saved and my mom relaxed!
We had not been there long when we also realized that the mission had certain unwritten rules that we were expected to obey. In thos days no one entertained Burkinbe in their American homes. We were invited to eat with the Bobos and so we started to have the Bobo pastors and elders have a meal with us. I had all my lady friends from the village come for a meal one night. They all accepted with alacrity, but at first we fixed American food for them. Soon we realized it was best to stick with rice and sauce, salad and French bread. With a sweet cake for dessert and lots of coffee.
During our first term we decided to entertain beyond our own people group and invited the Komite Ba and missionaries meeting with them to have their meeting at Santidougou and I cooked for them, with the big help of Yusufu. Again this was a first, but was picked up by other people after that.
Some people could never get the message and continued to shun West Africans in their social contacts in their homes. This was, of course, a carry over from the old colonial era. One evening - long after many of us treated the local people on a common footing socially - some missionaries returned to Bobo from furlough on the evening plane. The then field director had invited all missionaries in town to gather in his living room to have refreshments and have a time to welcome back our missionary colleagues. While we were all seated around the living room, a knock came at the front door - it was our local Pastor, a wonderful gentleman who had had these missionaries as his profs in Bible School and wished to greet them for their arrival. Instead of inviting him inside to join us, the field director went to the door and called out the returning missionary in order to greet him on the porch, thus avoiding including him in our little party. Dad was so furious - we left soon after that and he stewed all the way on the trip home to Santidougou! Old customs die hard, and we rebels just kept pushing and doing our part to change things!
Polygamy was very much a fact of life in West Africa when we arrived, and there was a rule in the missionary manual which said, " no polygamist shall be baptized". As young rebels we wondered if that meant no polygamist can be saved? Should the extra wives be sent back to their original families as prostitutes? What about the children of such unions? This subject was hotly debated on the conference floor during the time when the mission was in charge and laid down the rules for the developing churches. In later years, the church made the rule that women taken as second or third, etc. wives before conversions are wives and all can be baptized. But that all are encouraged in the one man, one wife principal of the New Testament and polygamy was a no-no for Christians.
Speaking of missionary conference, we had one once a year, and only missionaries were invited. When some of us young folks got to be senior missionaries, we instituted the principle of invited a couple of national church delegates to our annual conference. They were honored by us - we took turns translating for them what was being said. And this gave a good impression to the church that we were not doing anything behind their backs. For many year we attended their annual conferences and their delgates attended ours. This greatly aided an understanding between mission and church.
Another rule of baptism was that the candidate had to know how to read (ostensibly so that he could read the Word and thus grow thereby). This hit us pretty hard our second year on the field. The Santidougou district wanted to baptize some young people, and Grandpa Kennedy (as field director and our senior missionary) came to Santidougou to question the candidates. Imagine our shock when Grandpa was questioning one candidate (this young man spoke no Jula - the language in which the questions were asked - and so everything had to be interpreted as Grandpa spoke no Bobo!) The young man was asked if he knew how to read! At that time we had not gone far enough in our language learning to prepare reading primers or have anything in print in the only language this young man spoke - Bobo Madare. Of course, he could not read - there was nothing to read in his language....but he was turned down for baptism! That ruling was later changed.
It also took a very long time for the mission to ordain West African pastors! This meant that missionaries had to serve communion and baptize, as the rule was that only an ordained pastor could assist at such functions. George Constance, who was the regional director for Africa, put an end to that on a visit in about 1956, and that was the beginning of having ordained pastors in our churches. However, the church followed the mission's ruling, and would wait for years before they would ordain a man to ministry. As the years went by, this changed. And of course we now have hundreds of ordained men in that part of Africa. We also have a few women who were consecrated in some way to ministry.
Those were interesting years.....years of change in the mission and the church. We were privileged to have lived through that time and also lived there to see the church come into its own and help to educate the leadership of today and tomorrow for the church of Jesus Christ in West Africa.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
MORE MEMORIES OF COLLEAGUES.......................................
As we left Paris and took a ship from Bordeaux and headed down the coast of Africa, we and the Arnolds travelled together, along with the Bowers family headed for Guinea and also a single lady for Upper Volta as well as another single person for Gabon. Interestingly enough, Arnolds and we were friends and colleagues all through our forty or so years of service in West Africe. We saw them often in Côte d'Ivoire, we retired about the same time and we now live in Toccoa and see them at church here. That has been a long time relationship! The Bowers did not even make it through their first term, She was a basket case from day one. Her husband would have been a good missionary but because of her fears, they returned to ministry in the States before their first term was up. He was an Alliance DS for a time, probably retired by now.
We had also started out with a single lady who did not make it through France as her former fiancé came over and claimed her and they left France and got married, never to be heard of again. Carolyn Wright went to Burkina with us, spent a term there and during her furlough year went back with a guy she used to date and they married and the last I knew lived in the Nyack area. Grace Nelson from Gabon was long term in that country, had a great life, retired when it was time and continued ministry in her home church in Washington state.
When we arrived in Burkina, Carolyn was with us there and my parents were our first colleagues there. Grandpa was field director and they were in charge of our language study. It was nice having grandparents live near us for you girls and they used to come often to our place for a meal. Whenever we had a morning of business or shopping to do in Bobo. we also ate the noon meal with them before driving home. After they left the field, Tom and Doloris Burns lived in Bobo while he was field director, and again we had a good relationdship with them long term.
The Mali and Burkina were one field at that time and Ralph and Ruth Herber lived in Sikasso, across the Mali border from Burkina. We found in them kindred spirits, using current missionary methods and we always enjoyed visiting with them, whether in Bobo or Sikasso. We were all in language work and we read (the then new) Practical Anthropology which was published quarterly. Ruth has now gone on to Heaven and Ralph is in his early 90's I saw a picture of him recently on FB and would never have known him!
We had the good fortune of having for colleagues some of those of our own family. The Albrights were located in Mali, but were part of our larger field. And Uncle Dave and Aunt Margot were first (for a very short time) in Mali at the Bible School, and then lived in Bobo and did field-wide youth work. Having family around was always fun and we tried to spend time together around the yearly holidays. We were always careful to also include the non-family colleagues who lived in our areas, in our times together. Uncle Dave, Uncle Jim and Dad all saw eye to eye on mission policy and working with the national church, and so they had lots of discussions when we all got together. It is interesting that Uncle Jim lives right here near us in Toccoa, and Uncle Dave and Aunt Margot are less than two hours away, so we see them regularly too.
Rollo and Joan Royle joined us in the work among the Bobo when they arrived on the field. I have to give them credit for living as a family in very cramped conditions in order to learn the language and get in with the Bobo people. They and their two boys lived in the little guest house (where you girls had your bedrooms earlier on) and it was crowded with a family of four. They took it joyfully, and we made a good team together. Eventually they built another bedroom on the house and this gave them expanded room for sleeping when their family was home. Joan always referred to our housing setup as "the big house and the slave quarters"!! When we left on home assignment they moved into the big house and the singles (Peggy and Karen) lived in the slave quarters. When we returned from HA, Dad was elected Field Director and we moved to Bobo. We lived both on the mission compound and later on in various houses arund the city, to be near our work there in the Bible School, translation work, etc. All of us were (and are) long term except for Karen who barely stuck it out one term. She came to the States, got married, had a son but the marriage did not last long - we lost track of her. Jetty also joined our team and she and Peggy have had a long term working and living together relationship. which is a delight to see.
In Bobo, when we lived in the director's house, the Kauffmans were our neighbors across the yard. Such great people, we loved them and had a deep relationship. Their boys and our boys were also good friends. In the small bookkeeper's house behind the Kauffmans, there were a series of bookkeepers who occupied that little house. Betty Canberg was there for some years, and you boys used to love it when she invited us over and made meat and vegetable fondue. Barbara Douglas was bookkeeper for a while, but she had a nervous breakdown. We had several other short term women - I can think of at least four! - but none of them lasted long. We had one dear gal, and she was so homesick when she first arrived. When I realized this, I used to have her come often for meals, and would tell her just to come any time and hang out at our place where there was plenty of activity. Once in a while, she wanted to repay our hospitality and would take us out to dinner at the Eau Vive in town. She would always give money to Dad ahead of time to pay for the meal - I guess she thought that men should pay the restaurant bill!
Clousers, of course, became colleagues as well as family. They endured more than most people in the living situations they had. But it paid off as they stuck it out, then built their own place, and were able to establish a work among the Dafing people group which exists and grows to this day. They still visit and also do evangelism in that area. Courageous people - we salute you, Debs and Steve!!
Peter and Judy Colman were longtime colleagues in the city of Bobo. We taught at the Bible Institute together, were neighbors in the city of Bobo and were good friends. Peter and Judy were(and are!) both very talented people. They continue to have a good ministry in the Chicago area and teaching in other countries of the world.
From day one Neysa and Esther Cowles were neighbors, disciples of mine and dear friends. They lived next door to us for years, and they and I used to teach together in TEE and ladies' ministry. Esther went back to ATS, met Andrew and they married and came back as a family. And again from the beginning they were close friends and cohorts in ministry. Today Esther still carries on in many of the ministries in which I was involved and I look forward to seeing her (them) again soon! They are just like a part of our family and we dearly love them. Neysa and I travelled and taught together a lot when we were together in Burkina. Some of the African pastors called us Paul and Silas because we often travelled together doing teaching seminars! Neysa returned on furlough with us at one point, and she stayed in the States and married. No one had heard anything of her for ages - but recently I discovered her again on Facebook! I had a cheerful note from her - wish we could get together again and catch up on each other's lives. She is in Ohio.
Family, colleagues, friends - our lives have been enriched by so many people during our days as missionaries. I have not named them all. And these kinds of relationships have not stopped since our retirement. Again, God has provided for us good colleagues and friends, with whom we work and pray together for the extension of the Gospel in Toccoa, where God has placed us, and in other parts of the world in which we have invested.
We had also started out with a single lady who did not make it through France as her former fiancé came over and claimed her and they left France and got married, never to be heard of again. Carolyn Wright went to Burkina with us, spent a term there and during her furlough year went back with a guy she used to date and they married and the last I knew lived in the Nyack area. Grace Nelson from Gabon was long term in that country, had a great life, retired when it was time and continued ministry in her home church in Washington state.
When we arrived in Burkina, Carolyn was with us there and my parents were our first colleagues there. Grandpa was field director and they were in charge of our language study. It was nice having grandparents live near us for you girls and they used to come often to our place for a meal. Whenever we had a morning of business or shopping to do in Bobo. we also ate the noon meal with them before driving home. After they left the field, Tom and Doloris Burns lived in Bobo while he was field director, and again we had a good relationdship with them long term.
The Mali and Burkina were one field at that time and Ralph and Ruth Herber lived in Sikasso, across the Mali border from Burkina. We found in them kindred spirits, using current missionary methods and we always enjoyed visiting with them, whether in Bobo or Sikasso. We were all in language work and we read (the then new) Practical Anthropology which was published quarterly. Ruth has now gone on to Heaven and Ralph is in his early 90's I saw a picture of him recently on FB and would never have known him!
We had the good fortune of having for colleagues some of those of our own family. The Albrights were located in Mali, but were part of our larger field. And Uncle Dave and Aunt Margot were first (for a very short time) in Mali at the Bible School, and then lived in Bobo and did field-wide youth work. Having family around was always fun and we tried to spend time together around the yearly holidays. We were always careful to also include the non-family colleagues who lived in our areas, in our times together. Uncle Dave, Uncle Jim and Dad all saw eye to eye on mission policy and working with the national church, and so they had lots of discussions when we all got together. It is interesting that Uncle Jim lives right here near us in Toccoa, and Uncle Dave and Aunt Margot are less than two hours away, so we see them regularly too.
Rollo and Joan Royle joined us in the work among the Bobo when they arrived on the field. I have to give them credit for living as a family in very cramped conditions in order to learn the language and get in with the Bobo people. They and their two boys lived in the little guest house (where you girls had your bedrooms earlier on) and it was crowded with a family of four. They took it joyfully, and we made a good team together. Eventually they built another bedroom on the house and this gave them expanded room for sleeping when their family was home. Joan always referred to our housing setup as "the big house and the slave quarters"!! When we left on home assignment they moved into the big house and the singles (Peggy and Karen) lived in the slave quarters. When we returned from HA, Dad was elected Field Director and we moved to Bobo. We lived both on the mission compound and later on in various houses arund the city, to be near our work there in the Bible School, translation work, etc. All of us were (and are) long term except for Karen who barely stuck it out one term. She came to the States, got married, had a son but the marriage did not last long - we lost track of her. Jetty also joined our team and she and Peggy have had a long term working and living together relationship. which is a delight to see.
In Bobo, when we lived in the director's house, the Kauffmans were our neighbors across the yard. Such great people, we loved them and had a deep relationship. Their boys and our boys were also good friends. In the small bookkeeper's house behind the Kauffmans, there were a series of bookkeepers who occupied that little house. Betty Canberg was there for some years, and you boys used to love it when she invited us over and made meat and vegetable fondue. Barbara Douglas was bookkeeper for a while, but she had a nervous breakdown. We had several other short term women - I can think of at least four! - but none of them lasted long. We had one dear gal, and she was so homesick when she first arrived. When I realized this, I used to have her come often for meals, and would tell her just to come any time and hang out at our place where there was plenty of activity. Once in a while, she wanted to repay our hospitality and would take us out to dinner at the Eau Vive in town. She would always give money to Dad ahead of time to pay for the meal - I guess she thought that men should pay the restaurant bill!
Clousers, of course, became colleagues as well as family. They endured more than most people in the living situations they had. But it paid off as they stuck it out, then built their own place, and were able to establish a work among the Dafing people group which exists and grows to this day. They still visit and also do evangelism in that area. Courageous people - we salute you, Debs and Steve!!
Peter and Judy Colman were longtime colleagues in the city of Bobo. We taught at the Bible Institute together, were neighbors in the city of Bobo and were good friends. Peter and Judy were(and are!) both very talented people. They continue to have a good ministry in the Chicago area and teaching in other countries of the world.
From day one Neysa and Esther Cowles were neighbors, disciples of mine and dear friends. They lived next door to us for years, and they and I used to teach together in TEE and ladies' ministry. Esther went back to ATS, met Andrew and they married and came back as a family. And again from the beginning they were close friends and cohorts in ministry. Today Esther still carries on in many of the ministries in which I was involved and I look forward to seeing her (them) again soon! They are just like a part of our family and we dearly love them. Neysa and I travelled and taught together a lot when we were together in Burkina. Some of the African pastors called us Paul and Silas because we often travelled together doing teaching seminars! Neysa returned on furlough with us at one point, and she stayed in the States and married. No one had heard anything of her for ages - but recently I discovered her again on Facebook! I had a cheerful note from her - wish we could get together again and catch up on each other's lives. She is in Ohio.
Family, colleagues, friends - our lives have been enriched by so many people during our days as missionaries. I have not named them all. And these kinds of relationships have not stopped since our retirement. Again, God has provided for us good colleagues and friends, with whom we work and pray together for the extension of the Gospel in Toccoa, where God has placed us, and in other parts of the world in which we have invested.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
FAMILY GUIDELINES......................................................
(This is a parenthesis......................)
I had had enough of cluttered up files in the file drawers of my desk, so decided to spend part of today cleaning up those files and arranging things in alphabetical order. In the process I came across a series of notes Dad and I wrote up for a marriage seminar we facilitated together a couple months after we retired. Among other things, in the notes I found a list of family guidelines that we concocted, things we tried to do in our own family.... so I am sharing those with you today.
1. Give your kids lots of love
2. Make your children feel accepted and capable of doing well.
3. Discipline with integrity and according to the offense when possible.
4. Include lots of laughter in the home.
5. Communicate with each other.
6. Have family fun times, not necessarily programmed but that just happen.
7. Include family devotions in your lives.
8. Lead by example.
9. Give your children independance in small doses.
10. Give them both roots and winge.
11. Keep in contact with them, even when they are grown.
12. Give them a strong sense of family. (Strong roots make strong plants)
13. Give frequent affirmation to develop self esteem in your children.
14. Pray without ceasing for your children, even when they are grown.
I am sure we were not "model" parents, but we do have very close family ties, something we see lacking in many families today. We are proud of each one of you, and it rejoices our hearts when we see you nurturing your own children in Christian principles. May your tribe increase!
I had had enough of cluttered up files in the file drawers of my desk, so decided to spend part of today cleaning up those files and arranging things in alphabetical order. In the process I came across a series of notes Dad and I wrote up for a marriage seminar we facilitated together a couple months after we retired. Among other things, in the notes I found a list of family guidelines that we concocted, things we tried to do in our own family.... so I am sharing those with you today.
1. Give your kids lots of love
2. Make your children feel accepted and capable of doing well.
3. Discipline with integrity and according to the offense when possible.
4. Include lots of laughter in the home.
5. Communicate with each other.
6. Have family fun times, not necessarily programmed but that just happen.
7. Include family devotions in your lives.
8. Lead by example.
9. Give your children independance in small doses.
10. Give them both roots and winge.
11. Keep in contact with them, even when they are grown.
12. Give them a strong sense of family. (Strong roots make strong plants)
13. Give frequent affirmation to develop self esteem in your children.
14. Pray without ceasing for your children, even when they are grown.
I am sure we were not "model" parents, but we do have very close family ties, something we see lacking in many families today. We are proud of each one of you, and it rejoices our hearts when we see you nurturing your own children in Christian principles. May your tribe increase!
Friday, October 7, 2011
COLLEAGUES IN MINISTRY
I could write long lists of the wonderful African colleagues we have had through the years. Many of them keep in contact with us even now. Our friend, Elie Sanou, has SKYPE and so calls us occasionally to give us all the news. Recently, Yusufu called early one morning and we talked for a while. He had not heard that we are going out there in February and was so excited! Another friend called the other day through Elie's SKYPE, a fellow who caused us grief for many years, but Dad stuck with him. And he is now following the Lord and sorry for the past.
We have also had many visits from African friends - some have stayed a couple days, some as long as a week. Dad and I were counting up the West Africans we have had visit us here and it is up to twenty people or more. They come over for various reasons - to speak at a Missions conference, to attend a seminar, to attend College of prayer. And they all try to find their way to our place so that we can visit together again! We usually involve them in the Toccoa Falls College and our local church while they are here, as well as showing them the sights in the Georgia mountains. How blessed we are to have these cross-cultural friends even now!
Friends - through Darrell and Cheryl - from the Middle East have also come to visit and they are a blessing as well. Each one enriches our lives. Having lived overseas so many years, we are cross-cultural people, and we sometimes get bored with knowing only Americans now!
It was a real blessing - both for the church and also for us as family - to have Prosper here for Jennie's funeral. You know how important funerals are for West Africans, and the Lord worked it out so that Prosper was speaking with Andrew Schaeffer here in the States at that time, and he spent some days with us. This coincided with Jennie's Homegoing and the beautiful memorial service. This meant a lot to the church over there, that one of our own from that side of the ocean could be here to represent them at this important family occasion. And he was able to relay the news to our Bobo people.
Email and Facebook have also been tools for keeping in touch with colleagues all over the world. We hear from many international workers but we also hear from many people of other countries whom we have worked with through the years. We have emails and FB messages in English, French, Bobo, Jula and even Arabic (which we cannot read!). Communication in other languages is something we miss living fulltime here in the States, and this gives us a little taste of our former life when English was not a major language for us.
So many memories - so many dear friends and colleagues. Next I will write about missionary colleagues and what many of them have meant to us.
We have also had many visits from African friends - some have stayed a couple days, some as long as a week. Dad and I were counting up the West Africans we have had visit us here and it is up to twenty people or more. They come over for various reasons - to speak at a Missions conference, to attend a seminar, to attend College of prayer. And they all try to find their way to our place so that we can visit together again! We usually involve them in the Toccoa Falls College and our local church while they are here, as well as showing them the sights in the Georgia mountains. How blessed we are to have these cross-cultural friends even now!
Friends - through Darrell and Cheryl - from the Middle East have also come to visit and they are a blessing as well. Each one enriches our lives. Having lived overseas so many years, we are cross-cultural people, and we sometimes get bored with knowing only Americans now!
It was a real blessing - both for the church and also for us as family - to have Prosper here for Jennie's funeral. You know how important funerals are for West Africans, and the Lord worked it out so that Prosper was speaking with Andrew Schaeffer here in the States at that time, and he spent some days with us. This coincided with Jennie's Homegoing and the beautiful memorial service. This meant a lot to the church over there, that one of our own from that side of the ocean could be here to represent them at this important family occasion. And he was able to relay the news to our Bobo people.
Email and Facebook have also been tools for keeping in touch with colleagues all over the world. We hear from many international workers but we also hear from many people of other countries whom we have worked with through the years. We have emails and FB messages in English, French, Bobo, Jula and even Arabic (which we cannot read!). Communication in other languages is something we miss living fulltime here in the States, and this gives us a little taste of our former life when English was not a major language for us.
So many memories - so many dear friends and colleagues. Next I will write about missionary colleagues and what many of them have meant to us.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
BEGGARS AND THIEVES..........................................
The Scriptures tell us that we are to take the spoiling of our goods cheerfully! Living your life in West Africa, you have the chance to do this almost every day! Thieving is common in the larger cities. But in most of the villages, stealing is one of the cardinal sins. As you walk around and see what open lives everyone lives in the village, you can understand why stealing from your neighbor would naturally be a sin! So theft was taboo in the village.
The city was another matter. Young people coming to the city to earn a living would see the affluency around them and take to stealing as a way of life. I have already written about how we lost our entire month's allowance when we were young missionaries in the city of Bobo. That was a big loss and was never recovered. As you walk through the crowded marketplace in the city, occasionally someone will rush by you, yelling, "Son! Son!" (meaning "Thief! Thief") and everyone takes up the chase to catch and punish the offender!
In the Muslim countries of West Africa, it is the privilege of those who have, to give alms to those who have not, and so there are many beggars in the streets, especially in larger cities. The first reaction of visitors who came to our country was to give to each beggar they met, and the streets in the center of the city are full of these beggars. Even those of us who lived in Africa all of our lives had our "favorite beggars" to whom we gave regularly, and other beggars would ignore us and allow our beggar to collect his dues when we passed that way!
But one soon learns certain laws of the beggars. For example, there are the "gallibouds", young boys in tattered clothes who swarm the streets near the main stores in town, their crude little tin cans held out and asking that you "give to God". I used to give to them, but after a while learned that these young children are sent out into the streets by their Muslim teachers to help support them. And so I developed the habit of parking near the bakery in the middle of town, and when the ragged little boys came with their tin cans, I would take them into the bakery and buy bread to be divided up among them to eat on the spot! They loved this, and ran to meet my car every time I arrived at that street corner, as they were hungry. Thus I assuaged my conscience and also helped those children directly instead of giving alms to the Muslim teachers.
These beggar boys and sometimes young thieving boys as well were good people to know. They had special hiding places for their loot down in the ravines along the river running through our city, and there it was that they hid what they stole. One day I was buying vegetables along a downtown street and stepped out of my car for a moment to pick up my basket of produce, leaving my purse on the car seat. When I got back in the car, I realized that my purse was nowhere in sight and I complained to the sales ladies from whom I had bought my vegetables. They told me, "Don't worry - go home and wait. We will bring your purse back to you at your house." And sure enough, someone appeared at our yard with my money and purse later on that day. Of course, they were suitably rewarded as it was not only my money that I wanted to recover but also my official papers which were in the purse as well! So you have to play the system and know the rules.
Another time Dad's passport had been stolen out of the glove compartment of our car and we realized it hours before he was to take a flight to Kenya and needed the passport. Again we asked one of these young local thieves to look for this important travelling document, and the next morning it appeared at our door , in the hands of our smiling little friend! So it paid off to know a few thieves.
One young such fellow became a friend of Dad's and he did his best to rehabilitate this young boy. He may have been the one who recovered the passport for us. We took him into our home to help him and to give him a small salary so he would no longer have to steal for a living. Before long I discovered that he had just added to his income through stealing from us! Pieces of my jewelry disappeared and other small articles around the house. Even Yusufu could not stop him from his habitual way of life and we finally had to dismiss him. The last time Dad saw him was at the train station, stoned on drugs. Those are the sad things that happen in life, but it does not deter us from still trying to help.
Actually, I lost a good deal of my jewelry - piece by piece - as we had Isiaka working for us in the house for years. In reality, he was an excellent house worker and Yusufu was there to keep an eye on him. He too had sticky fingers and helped himself to things he coveted as he worked in our home. Our faithful Yusufu was straighforward and honest all of his life of working for us. It is so important having had someone like him whom we could trust with our lives. What a gem!
I guess an important lesson we learned from these experiences of theft was not to put our trust in the things of this world, but to keep our eyes on our main goal of why we lived in this country of beggin and stealing!
The city was another matter. Young people coming to the city to earn a living would see the affluency around them and take to stealing as a way of life. I have already written about how we lost our entire month's allowance when we were young missionaries in the city of Bobo. That was a big loss and was never recovered. As you walk through the crowded marketplace in the city, occasionally someone will rush by you, yelling, "Son! Son!" (meaning "Thief! Thief") and everyone takes up the chase to catch and punish the offender!
In the Muslim countries of West Africa, it is the privilege of those who have, to give alms to those who have not, and so there are many beggars in the streets, especially in larger cities. The first reaction of visitors who came to our country was to give to each beggar they met, and the streets in the center of the city are full of these beggars. Even those of us who lived in Africa all of our lives had our "favorite beggars" to whom we gave regularly, and other beggars would ignore us and allow our beggar to collect his dues when we passed that way!
But one soon learns certain laws of the beggars. For example, there are the "gallibouds", young boys in tattered clothes who swarm the streets near the main stores in town, their crude little tin cans held out and asking that you "give to God". I used to give to them, but after a while learned that these young children are sent out into the streets by their Muslim teachers to help support them. And so I developed the habit of parking near the bakery in the middle of town, and when the ragged little boys came with their tin cans, I would take them into the bakery and buy bread to be divided up among them to eat on the spot! They loved this, and ran to meet my car every time I arrived at that street corner, as they were hungry. Thus I assuaged my conscience and also helped those children directly instead of giving alms to the Muslim teachers.
These beggar boys and sometimes young thieving boys as well were good people to know. They had special hiding places for their loot down in the ravines along the river running through our city, and there it was that they hid what they stole. One day I was buying vegetables along a downtown street and stepped out of my car for a moment to pick up my basket of produce, leaving my purse on the car seat. When I got back in the car, I realized that my purse was nowhere in sight and I complained to the sales ladies from whom I had bought my vegetables. They told me, "Don't worry - go home and wait. We will bring your purse back to you at your house." And sure enough, someone appeared at our yard with my money and purse later on that day. Of course, they were suitably rewarded as it was not only my money that I wanted to recover but also my official papers which were in the purse as well! So you have to play the system and know the rules.
Another time Dad's passport had been stolen out of the glove compartment of our car and we realized it hours before he was to take a flight to Kenya and needed the passport. Again we asked one of these young local thieves to look for this important travelling document, and the next morning it appeared at our door , in the hands of our smiling little friend! So it paid off to know a few thieves.
One young such fellow became a friend of Dad's and he did his best to rehabilitate this young boy. He may have been the one who recovered the passport for us. We took him into our home to help him and to give him a small salary so he would no longer have to steal for a living. Before long I discovered that he had just added to his income through stealing from us! Pieces of my jewelry disappeared and other small articles around the house. Even Yusufu could not stop him from his habitual way of life and we finally had to dismiss him. The last time Dad saw him was at the train station, stoned on drugs. Those are the sad things that happen in life, but it does not deter us from still trying to help.
Actually, I lost a good deal of my jewelry - piece by piece - as we had Isiaka working for us in the house for years. In reality, he was an excellent house worker and Yusufu was there to keep an eye on him. He too had sticky fingers and helped himself to things he coveted as he worked in our home. Our faithful Yusufu was straighforward and honest all of his life of working for us. It is so important having had someone like him whom we could trust with our lives. What a gem!
I guess an important lesson we learned from these experiences of theft was not to put our trust in the things of this world, but to keep our eyes on our main goal of why we lived in this country of beggin and stealing!
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
SHOPPING......................................................................
We all love to shop - or most of us do! I remembered the Africa of my childhood and did not remember any real stores there, so expected very little when we first went to Burkina. How surprised I was to find a town full of stores of all kinds - Monoprix, Peyrissac, Pharmacies, Lebanese grocery stores, Bata shoe store, as well as a well stocked market. The stores were very much like those in France. So you could not buy pork in the stores that sold beef. The products were mostly French, but we had gotten used to the brands available in France so they did not seem strange. The French had a rather large Army contingent in the city of Bobo, as well as ever-present Lebanese and some wealthy West Africans, so all these stores did a good business. But when the French army pulled out during our first term, one by one, most of the French stores also closed their doors.
But there was always the market! You have all experienced the African market and so you understand what it is like. An abundance of just about everything under the sun, spread out over a wide area, being sold by many merchants ordering their own merchandise and selling in small lots. At first glance, the African market looks like a huge hodge-podge of merchandise. It is hard to find what you want until you learn the way of the market. There are always a lot of little market boys hanging around, trying to make a franc or two. So you find one, explain to him what you are looking for, and then try to follow him as he takes off through the narrow, cluttered paths in the market!
The yuguyugu area of the market was always fun for you kids. Bales of used clothing from the US and France were exported into the markets of West Africa, bought up by the market merchants and put out for sale. Do you remember scrounging through piles of shirts, dresses, pants, shorts, etc., trying to find you size?? There was always a little sheltering cloth hung up by the sales area where you could duck in and try on something. And every year we would visit the yuguyugu to replenish your school wardrobe. We often found Sears and Penneys and other labels on clothing, as they had been in the huge bales of used clothing imported from the USA. We would take home our loot, have it washed and ironed, and - voilà! your new wardrobe for another year at boarding school!
If we could not find everything in the yuguyugu, there were always the tailors. All you needed was a piece of material you liked and another worn out dress or shirt as a pattern. The tailor would measure you, look at the material, ask a few questions, take your old shirt for a pattern, and set a date for you to come back and collect your finished product! Sometimes as I wander through a large store, looking at the hundreds of racks of clothing and trying to find my size, I long for the simplicity of those tailors who made your clothes to order, and then delivered them at your home! Every family had their own tailor - he knew his clients and where we lived, and often delivered our clothing when they were ready to wear. If an adjustment needed to be made, he took the item back and re-adjusted it, then brought it back to the house again.
Africa has evolved in what is available, and every time we go back we are amazed at everything that is now available over there. But I find that most international people still have their favorite, personal tailor. Sometimes they are funny in their comments. I remember years ago, one very "portly" missionary had a pair of shorts made, and when they came back they did not fit at all and so they tailor was called back to adjust them. His excuse for the difficulty in fit was, "I never made pants for a man who had a posterior both front and back!"
But there was always the market! You have all experienced the African market and so you understand what it is like. An abundance of just about everything under the sun, spread out over a wide area, being sold by many merchants ordering their own merchandise and selling in small lots. At first glance, the African market looks like a huge hodge-podge of merchandise. It is hard to find what you want until you learn the way of the market. There are always a lot of little market boys hanging around, trying to make a franc or two. So you find one, explain to him what you are looking for, and then try to follow him as he takes off through the narrow, cluttered paths in the market!
The yuguyugu area of the market was always fun for you kids. Bales of used clothing from the US and France were exported into the markets of West Africa, bought up by the market merchants and put out for sale. Do you remember scrounging through piles of shirts, dresses, pants, shorts, etc., trying to find you size?? There was always a little sheltering cloth hung up by the sales area where you could duck in and try on something. And every year we would visit the yuguyugu to replenish your school wardrobe. We often found Sears and Penneys and other labels on clothing, as they had been in the huge bales of used clothing imported from the USA. We would take home our loot, have it washed and ironed, and - voilà! your new wardrobe for another year at boarding school!
If we could not find everything in the yuguyugu, there were always the tailors. All you needed was a piece of material you liked and another worn out dress or shirt as a pattern. The tailor would measure you, look at the material, ask a few questions, take your old shirt for a pattern, and set a date for you to come back and collect your finished product! Sometimes as I wander through a large store, looking at the hundreds of racks of clothing and trying to find my size, I long for the simplicity of those tailors who made your clothes to order, and then delivered them at your home! Every family had their own tailor - he knew his clients and where we lived, and often delivered our clothing when they were ready to wear. If an adjustment needed to be made, he took the item back and re-adjusted it, then brought it back to the house again.
Africa has evolved in what is available, and every time we go back we are amazed at everything that is now available over there. But I find that most international people still have their favorite, personal tailor. Sometimes they are funny in their comments. I remember years ago, one very "portly" missionary had a pair of shorts made, and when they came back they did not fit at all and so they tailor was called back to adjust them. His excuse for the difficulty in fit was, "I never made pants for a man who had a posterior both front and back!"
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
To the Third and Fourth Generations............................................
In Deuteronomy we read that God punished people for sin to the third and fourth generations. But in the next verse, He again says, He "showed love to a thousand generations of those who love (Him)." This is a beautiful promise from God which we have lived in our extended family. On both sides of our family - Pierce and Kennedy - we have known God's blessing and call in so many ways.
Dad's Mom - Grandma Pierce - had a father who was an outspoken Nazarene preacher. She in turn followed the Lord and became involved in Missions in her Baptist convention. Her three sons (Dad among them) and her one daughter all became ordained ministers in the church: Uncle Richard was ordained as a Baptist preacher, Uncle Luther as a Church of Christ minister, Aunt Esther as an Episcopalian rector and Dad an Alliance pastor.
On the Kennedy side, both of my parents were first generation Christians. But my parents were saved in their young twenties and trained to become missionaries. In my generation, my brother, sister and I all became Alliance missionaries. In your generation, three of you (our children) became missionaires and the two sons of Aunt Donna and Uncle Jim are also missionaries. This all is a much richer heritage than what we all realize. Especially in these days of such terrible tragedy in many homes. God has been good to us and is working into the next generation even now. Our children are now the third generation, and we look forward to those who will follow God's call in this next generation.
At the same time, everyone should not be a missionary or a pastor. Being a child of God, through salvation in Christ, is the highest calling. What we trust God to do with our lives from then on is according to His will. Being God's child is what is important, and in our case we are just as proud of the strong Christian laymen in our immediate family as we are of all of you who have felt led of God to go to other countries with the Gospel. We may not live to see what God will do with our grandchildren and great grandchildren, but our prayer for them all is that they will know Christ and follow where God leads them.
Dad's Mom - Grandma Pierce - had a father who was an outspoken Nazarene preacher. She in turn followed the Lord and became involved in Missions in her Baptist convention. Her three sons (Dad among them) and her one daughter all became ordained ministers in the church: Uncle Richard was ordained as a Baptist preacher, Uncle Luther as a Church of Christ minister, Aunt Esther as an Episcopalian rector and Dad an Alliance pastor.
On the Kennedy side, both of my parents were first generation Christians. But my parents were saved in their young twenties and trained to become missionaries. In my generation, my brother, sister and I all became Alliance missionaries. In your generation, three of you (our children) became missionaires and the two sons of Aunt Donna and Uncle Jim are also missionaries. This all is a much richer heritage than what we all realize. Especially in these days of such terrible tragedy in many homes. God has been good to us and is working into the next generation even now. Our children are now the third generation, and we look forward to those who will follow God's call in this next generation.
At the same time, everyone should not be a missionary or a pastor. Being a child of God, through salvation in Christ, is the highest calling. What we trust God to do with our lives from then on is according to His will. Being God's child is what is important, and in our case we are just as proud of the strong Christian laymen in our immediate family as we are of all of you who have felt led of God to go to other countries with the Gospel. We may not live to see what God will do with our grandchildren and great grandchildren, but our prayer for them all is that they will know Christ and follow where God leads them.
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