To bike or not to bike, that was the question…
I had recruited Kerri one of our missionaries who speaks fluent Fulfulde to help me say goodbye to my language tutors who live in the village. Now, how to get to her house? The roads were likely to be muddy from rain the night previous and I was way out of practice with this particular mode of transportation!
In the end I decided to be brave. I dusted off the community bike used here on the compound and walked it to the ‘repair shop’ just outside the hospital gate. The ‘shop’ consists of a few guys working on motorcycles under trees which give shade to the oil-stained sand around them, but they have the all-important tire pump, and that was just what I was after. Tires re-inflated I was ready to go, dodging puddles, lizards and chickens on my way to Kerri’s house.
The visits went well. After ducking into two compounds and seeing a total of four women, the conversation often ended in the same way;
“You’re leaving us so soon Sadatou, (that's me) are you tired of us?”
“No, I’m not tired of you at all, I will miss you, but I am ready to see my baaba (father) and daada (mother).”
“Will you come back?”
“I hope to come back to visit friends, but I am not sure if I will work at the hospital. I am still praying to know God’s will”
“You must come back! Do not forget us Sadatou and practice your Fulfude…”
The visits were lovely, the weather was beautiful and as I rode home, mothers greeted me and their children ran waving into the street. Kingfishers flashed from branch to branch in all of their turquoise splendor and the hills in the distance sported a sprinkling of green thanks to the recent rains. A cool breeze blew over the village and I wondered again why I would ever want to leave this place.
It is part of me now.
Will anyone understand this? Will they understand how certain sights and sounds suddenly bring me back to a village in Africa? Will they see how this experience has changed the very person that I am, how I think and react, how I live my life?
There is One who was with me the entire time. He is a constant which never changes, His is a presence that will never leave me, even after I return to my ‘other’ life. I remember this and am comforted. This is all a part of the missionary deal, this paradox of emotions. Soon I will be home to hug my baaba and daada and as difficult as it will be to leave, that will be so, so good.
2 comments:
Hi my name is Penny Eidem and oh yes yes yes with tears running down my cheeks I do understand what you are going through. You see, I grew up in the very part of Cameround you were ministering in and have so enjoyed reading your articles. My parents were one of the first missionaries up in that area with Eglise Fraternal Lutheran. (Lutheran Brethren Church). I was born in Garoua and spent the majority of my life in Djidoma near Kaele. Then my husband and girls and I return back to the same area and we were in Maroua when the Oubre's came to learn Fulfulde and find a spot for the hopital. Kennesons and Pyles and Obre's have all been in our home in Garoua. Reading your description was delightful and I could just see and smell and hear the sounds. Thank you for bringing me back "home" for just a few moments in time. Have a wonderful day and time traveling back to your other home. It is such a paradox. I don't say good-bye anymore.....just see you later. Penny
Hello Penny! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my blog! Your lovely comment was such an encouragement to me and I appreciate you. Blessings to you as we remember Cameroon together:-)
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