Collecting stories in Africa

Collecting stories of real people in the CAR is not an easy task for me. First, I need to listen carefully to conversations around me. Secondly, I must determine whether there might be some value to dig a little deeper into the short pieces of human tales I am able to make out around me. Finally, I have to secure a translator and find the time when it is most convinient to talk.



Most of the time, I end up missing important stories.

For example, I saw a woman on the side of the road with what appeared to be a song book, singing by herself while she and a whole group of people waited for a truck that had broken down on the road. I wish I could have stopped and chatted with her to find out what series of circumstances God brought into her life that allowed her to sing as she waited and not argue and complain as many of the others seemed to be doing.

I also saw a man walking with tremendous difficult on the side of the road, with the help of a cane. He didn't look that old, but it it was apparent he either had had Polio or had the unfortunate experience of eating manioc before the poison was totally removed from it. There would be so much value in learning his story, but we simply could not stop the car and ask him: "This crazy pastor from the U.S. wants to know what caused you to walk the way you do!"

Yesterday I saw a young man kick a younger, very beautiful girl at the little stand where we bought barbecued meet for one of our lunches on the road. He did this and the rest of the men there laughed. The girl just ran scared to the corner of the stand. The guy appeared to be high on something. Besides wanting to give him a hard time (to say the least...), I did want to find out more about him and the girl. Was she his wife or girlfriend? Did they even know each other? I also saw a little girl, probably six years old, run out of her hut, scared to death, as her mother chased her while brandishing a machete. I wondered what the future held for that little girl...




Once in a while I am able to get a story that touches my heart more deeply. Today I interacted with a maid who had this type of story. She had nine kids, seven of which still living, the oldest, a girl of seventeen years of age. You look at her and you would never think she has had that many children. She is fit and strong for someone who has lived so much and been through
hardships that most of us can't even imagine.

She had to literally flee from her husband in the middle of the night, putting her kids in a car and going to live in another city. Unfortunately,this is another case of someone who had no one to defend her. Because of her husband's drinking and sleeping around (she recalled his affairs with 28 women!), she was forced to leave him. She received no support from her local pastor,
church, and even the authorities. The authorities actually told her that she was a woman and she had no rights. Her husband had the right to keep all the children and to everything also he wanted. She had no option but flee. Praise God a missionary family with with whom she had connections gave her a job.

You have to admire this woman's courage. She is working as a maid, making about $60 dollars per month, is renting a house (paid for by her employers), and she has a couple of seizable gardens that help her provide food for her large family (her youngest daugher is about one year old). She
has all her kids in school and is well respected by everyone who knows her.

Througout my conversation with her, though, she kept repeating the phrase: "God is enough for me and my children." People like this poor African woman should stand at church podiums in the U.S. and teach us about real trust when everything around us does not make sense. I am humbled to learn that they exist somewhere in this world and am blessed to be within an earshot of their stories for two weeks.