Re-telling Africa

First, here’s a quick update on a past post.  A couple entries back I shared about a friend I met, Gael, who struggled with the hold of witchcraft on his life and family yet made a decision to trust Christ’s deliverance.  Anxious to see if he was still following the Lord, I asked my friend Jeancy if he saw him recently at the Ruashi church.  Jeancy told me that he was there regularly!  Even though darkness tried to reclaim Gael, praise God that nobody can snatch those who belong to Jesus from his hands!

Some time ago I was thinking about the way that I’ve shared stories about my stay, and it bothered me.  I want to share some changes I’m making in the way I tell those tales. 

My Swahili tutor, Papa Esaie.  I'm still
keeping up with my French thanks to Le
Phantom de l'Opera and French translation 
of a collection of Billy Graham's 
questions and answers from 1960.

We Americans hear and see much about deplorable conditions in Africa.  War, violence, refugees.  Rampant disease.  Poverty and lack of essential resources.  Images of huts and hunters with loincloths. 

I wonder if we’ve understood Africa in a way that it’s developed a generalization as the needy continent, the poor land, the lesser terrain, while much of the rich, valiant and generous side goes untold. 

Let me explain a little more.  An interesting thing I noticed in Congo was that my Congolese friends knew that.  They were aware that the rest of the world figured they did things in a less-developed way and were fairly self-conscious about it too.

Here's the pilipili bowl with
pilipili inside.  I was sad
when I was leaving because
I thought the pilipili peppers
were only found in Africa,
but when I came home
I found out what they were
otherwise called--habanero!
Hot stuff.

For example, one day I bought a small bowl that they use to grind pilipili (a kind of pepper) in.  It was cheap—about 50 cents—and looked it.  I didn’t really care though because I just needed the bowl for the meal David and I were making for our friends from the Ruashi church.  During the dinner, I brought the pilipili bowl in and enthusiastically told our guests that I was going to bring it back to the States so I could make pilipili there too.  They didn’t share my excitement.  “Oh…” my friend Jean said, noting the “decorative” markings on the side that looked like a five-year-old haphazardly scorched it with a hot rod.  His despondent tone and countenance said it all--“They’ll look at this cheap thing and think that we’re just some kind of low, uncultured people.”

“Nah.”  I recognized what he meant.  “I’ll just tell them it came from Zambia.”  They all laughed!

That’s why I want to re-tell Africa.  I want to re-tell Africa for them.  My Congolese, African friends.  They deserve a truer depiction.  Let me start with a story I’ve told frequently about a little encounter I had with malaria…

                                                                                           

The after-dinner photoshoot with the
guys from the Ruashi church.

I usually mention the poorly-designed bathroom, who the heck taught these nurses to stick IV’s, and other not-so-great things.  But really, why?  What picture would the majority of my listeners have already had of that hospital?  Not a pristine, state-of-the-art one.  Maybe they would have even been surprised to hear that it had concrete floors and looked like a normal building.  But amidst the mishaps and conditions shone the true generosity and hospitality of the Congolese that I must highlight.  This time I’ll tell it differently.

One Sunday near the end of the morning service I started feeling light-headed and dehydrated.  I stepped out and downed some of Maman Sonia’s water.  Some of the church members and Maman Sonia came out to check on me.  Back at the house later on I was only feeling worse and started having digestive issues.  Bill decided to take me to the hospital that one of our church’s pastor’s wife worked at the following morning.

David, Rachel and I at our friend Bridgette's
wedding. The Congolese sure do
their weddings big!

At the hospital, Maman Jackie, the nurse we knew, sped us through what seemed to be a long line of sick people trailing outside the clinic.  I felt bad for cutting ahead of everyone else who was probably suffering just as much as I was, but was equally thankful for her gesture—and looking forward to getting closer to a bathroom!  After some blood tests which confirmed the malaria, she pointed us to a nice private room with an adjacent bathroom.  The staff quickly put me on an IV with quinine and hydrating fluids.  Three nights and three days later, after four rounds of the diluted drug, I was symptom-free.

There wasn’t any interior food service at this hospital.  Friends or family of patients had to bring food for their loved ones.  Maman Mimi brought me a meal that could feed about 4 people not just once, but on two different occasions.  Maman Jackie made me a fairly pricey breakfast with sausages and eggs on my last morning there as well.

Victory after malaria.  That's the
hospital in the back. Although
the staff there took good care
of me, I must say that the healing
process was definitely quickened
by the the prayers of my
friends and family to the Lord.
Thank you again!

I was astounded by the people who came to visit me.  Not only were there many of them, but even people I had only met once or twice came to sit with me!

On two different occasions, I started shaking uncontrollably.  That was pretty scary, even for Bill, who’s had much experience with this illness.  The same nurse was watching me both times and after whatever she did, I was fine.

Oh, and my fee for three nights and four days stay and medication was $0.  Maman Jackie covered my expenses completely.

Normally we don’t get the opportunity to observe how people from other nations live and go about their relationship with God and church life.  Oftentimes we only hear about negative happenings or events they appreciate but we don’t understand.  As a result, we tend to get pretty prideful.  That pride doesn’t match reality though.  God has blessed every culture with honorable character traits and he is working all over the world.  We must seek to gain a balanced picture of our global brothers and sisters.  That starts with listening for the good that God is doing even amongst negative or hard-to-understand situations.  That starts with re-telling Africa.

Here's the youth group at the Ruashi church.  If we can say 
that we definitely left an impact anywhere, it's here.  
David and I introduced games to get the energy level up.  
I'm fairly certain this is the one of the only youth groups
in the city of 2 million people that includes games
 in their youth groups.  Also, we partnered with Jean, 
the leader, to integrate studying books of the Bible 
all the way through into the teachings.  I think they've 
stopped the group for a time since they've been busy with 
Pentecost seminars and end-of-the year exams, but they 
should get going soon.  Oh, and excuse David's scowl--
usually he's a pretty jolly guy