My Heart Sits Down

Esther. Just one word--one name--one person--and, oh, what memories! When we were here in 2010, I asked everywhere we went, "Where is Esther?" In Monrovia, people told us they thought she was in Buchanan. In Buchanan, people told us they thought she was in Gbarnga. We never did find her or hear any definite word about her.

Why did I want to see Esther? Of all the Liberians I know, Esther and I were the closest but, sadly, we lost contact with each other. I had no idea what happened to her during the war--whether she was living in Liberia or as a refugee in Ivory Coast or Sierra Leone, or whether she was dead or alive.

When I arrived in Liberia in 1970, Esther was living in Zondo attending the elementary school. She was a teenager, married, and very pregnant. Her time to deliver came before I had been there 2 months, but I knew enough of the customs at that time to know that where she would deliver was far from ideal. Ellie, with whom I lived, offered one of the rooms in her house for any of the women who wanted to deliver with the Liberian mid-wife, but Esther chose (or maybe the choice was made for her?) to deliver in the traditional way: on a mat on the ground behind one of the houses with the older women to assist.

Ellie and I knew Esther was in labor, so after a while we went to see how she was doing. The next day, when news of the birth still had not come, we went to see her again. Ellie asked if we could call the airplane to carry Esther to the hospital, but the women refused. The next day we tried again and finally they agreed for the plane to come--but not before they had tried their traditional ways of getting that baby to cooperate. I won't go into detail here, but it's not a pretty picture.

We got word after a couple weeks that Esther was still in the hospital, not doing well at all. When the plane came our way, Ellie and I went to see her. Oh my, she looked awful, so skinny and sick. The baby girl had died--don't remember now if she was stillborn or died soon after birth--and though I never heard the official diagnosis, I think Esther almost died from peritonitis. She survived but sadly, her husband didn't want her anymore, so she was on her own.

When I went to live in a village for language study, Esther went with me for the first 2 weeks to help me adjust to village life. When Darrell and I got married, Esther was one of my bridesmaids. Some years later, when we were living in Buchanan, she came to live with us, sharing a room with Brad who was still in a crib at the time. She was a big help to me as I waited--impatiently--for Eric's arrival. After Eric's birth, Brad needed the bed Esther was using since Eric was in the crib, so Esther rented a room just a couple houses away from us and was still a big help to us.

Well.....today I finally saw Esther. Such rejoicing! So many hugs!! So much praising God for His goodness!!! And this is only the beginning. I asked if she could come visit for a while and she said she could come whenever I invite her. I told her I'm inviting her now! She will come Thursday evening. I don't think she will stay because she is in town for a church conference, but I hope she will be able to come stay for a while soon. We have much catching up to do!

And as far as Esther is concerned, now my heart can sit down. After all these years, we have found each other again. God is good!

The Wordless Book

Yesterday we attended Kadumah Baptist Church where Darrell preached and I taught junior church.  I was really glad the pastor's wife, who usually teaches, was with me.  She took care of everything except the lesson itself.

As soon as the pastor asked me to teach, I began thinking about the Wordless Book--but I don't have a copy of it with me.  I used to have a pocket-size version, but that was long ago.  However, with that book, it's easy to improvise, especially when the Lord is in control!

Martha's sister makes jewelry and Martha brought some to work for me to look at.  As soon as I saw one necklace, I mentioned that it was almost like the Wordless Book.  Martha didn't know what I was talking about but liked it when I explained.  I told her to tell her sister to make one the way I want it and I will buy it.  In the meantime, I borrowed the one that was almost right: black, red, yellow, green, but no white.  Since the book is actually wordless--only colors--the beads would work quite nicely.

When I got in the classroom, I noticed one girl among the 30+ kids who had all the right colors in her hair clips except black, but there was black trim on her dress.  She came up front to help me illustrate the colors, and the kids seemed to get a charge out of the idea that her hair clips and dress were telling a story.  I also had a picture of our house back home taken last year with all the snow piled up so they could see how white snow is.

There's a song that goes along with the Wordless Book: 

Black:      My heart was dark with sin until the Saviour came in;
Red:        His precious blood, I know,
White:     has washed me white as snow;
Yellow:    and in God's Word I'm told I'll walk the streets of gold;
Green:     to grow in Christ each day I read my Bible and pray.

Of course, I used Scripture, too, since my ideas are not important; God's Word is what counts:  Romans 3:23; Isaiah 64:6; John 1:12; Ephesians 1:7; I John 1:7; Isaiah 1:18; Psalm 51:7; Revelation 21:21; and II Peter 3:18.

It was a good day, especially to see how the Lord took care of my visual aid for me.  He is good!

Fufu

When I first arrived in Liberia in 1970, I had the attitude that I would learn to enjoy Liberian food.  (The hot pepper was a real challenge, but I mastered it!)  I was living back in the bush with Ellie Munter since Darrell and I weren't married at that time.  Ellie enjoyed Liberian food so set a good example for me.

We had not been at Zondo very long when Ellie had to fly to Tappi for a meeting (at Zondo you had to walk or fly since there were no roads at that time).  Since I was still "green," we thought it best if I went to Tappi, too.  Darrell was there at that time, so while Ellie was in her meeting, he and I went to explore the village  of Tappi.  When we went in the market, I asked what was the awful smell--awful being an understatement!  He said it was fufu, and my immediate response was that I would NEVER eat it.  (Hmmm, what was that I said about learning to enjoy Liberian food?)  Darrell hadn't tried fufu at that time, so he couldn't clue me in one way or another.

I don't remember which came first, learning how fufu is prepared or Darrell telling me he had tried it and found out how good it is.  Anyway, the prep doesn't sound any better than the smell, and knowing Darrell's reputation for eating almost anything (except pickled tripe), I'm not sure how I ever got brave enough to try it!

Fufu is made from cassava, a starchy root and close cousin of manioc from which tapioca is made.  The raw cassava is cut into small pieces and put in a pot of water to soak for a day or two.  Then it is put in a cloth bag, placed on a rock in the sun with another rock on top, and left for a day or so until the water is drained.  Now it can be placed in a container with a cover and used whenever you are ready for it.  I don't think your imagination has to work overtime to get an idea of the odor emanating from that container!  That is what I had smelled in the market.

Now it's time to cook the fufu.  The "ripened" cassava is mixed with water and strained to get out the coarse fibers, leaving only the starchy mixture in the pot.  We all know what happens to liquid which has had flour or cornstarch added to it.  The difference with fufu is that there is so much starch in the liquid it not only gets thick, it ends up looking more like a wad of bread dough!  And the yukky smell disappears as it cooks, leaving a distinctive taste that I'm not sure how to describe.

And I can tell you that I didn't lie when I said years ago that I would never eat fufu.  I have NEVER eaten it, because you don't EAT fufu; you swallow it!  (Imagine trying to eat sticky bread dough; it wouldn't work too well.)  With fufu, you lubricate it with soup, cut off a chunk with your spoon, roll it around in your mouth to savor the taste, and swallow.  Yum!  It really is good!!!  We have been enjoying it once a week--just had some today, in fact!

Harmatan

In a previous post I mentioned the harmatan, but I need to expand on that a bit. When weather conditions are right--only in the dry season--dry, dusty winds blow in off the Sahara Desert. If you are familiar with West Africa, then you know the desert is a long way from Liberia, so that dust has traveled quite a distance. It looks like smog and was bad enough on Wednesday that the Delta flight from the States was canceled because of poor visibility. Probably other flights have been canceled, too, but we just haven't heard about them. We have never seen it this "bad" for so long.
One other "bad" thing is the amount of dirt it brings in the house. This morning as I walked down the hall from our bedroom, I could see footprints in the dust on the floor--and the floor had been swept yesterday! Everything--and I mean EVERYTHING--has a layer of dirt on it. At least I don't have to be embarrassed about that kind of dirt; it's everywhere, not just in our house! Whew!!!

I put "bad" in quotes because the harmatan also has good aspects. The "dry" air is most welcome! "Dry" is also in quotes because it is a relative term. Humidity at 67%, where it is right now, feels very comfortable with the temperature at 83. (If I'm not mistaken, in the States humidity at 70% is called "oppressive"! Ha!) Also, the dust in the air blocks the sun like a cloud cover so it isn't as hot. Nights can really cool off. The other morning I came out of our air conditioned bedroom to find it cooler in the rest of the house! In fact, it was rather chilly--all the way down to 72!!! (I know I'm adjusting to the heat when I think 72 is chilly!)

Ok, school's over for today! And just think, no test tomorrow! (I'm a good teacher!?!)

Too Much!

And too much of what, you ask?  Too much to tell you about!  Life here is interesting, to say the least, and I think I could go on and on forever.  I want to tell you about ministry opportunities, William, Martha, Solomon, rice bread, fufu, dumboy, palm butter, harmatan......you get the picture!  Let me start with ministry opportunities and then I can deal with other subjects later.

Darrell has been asked to preach a series in one of the churches here in Monrovia, and he plans to use a booklet he has written entitled "Back to Basics."  It is a tool for evangelism and stresses the simplicity of the Gospel.  So many "religions" make Christianity so complicated when, in fact, God states clearly that salvation is a gift--free--to anyone who will take it.  He doesn't force it on anyone but extends His hand in love to offer that free gift made possible by Christ's death in our place.  (Well, I didn't intend to recite the whole booklet here!)

The pastor suggested that I teach the ladies some other topic while Darrell is with the men, but personally I think the ladies would benefit from Darrell's series.  I will let Darrell and the pastor determine what I should do.

Darrell will also be teaching a course at the Bible college but what and when are yet to be determined.  My guess is that it will be a two week module like he did in 2010.

Another pastor (who was a Bible college student when we were here in 2010) is starting a new church here in Monrovia.  At this point they are small in number and meet in the pastor's living room.  To try to draw in new people, Darrell has also been asked to show some DVDs (which the Sheppards have) at some special meetings the church in planning.

There will be other conferences and seminars in which at least Darrell will be involved.

So we are staying busy--never bored--especially when you add in the complications of life in the tropics.  But that's another topic and another day's blog.

Until next time (which I hope will be soon) just remember: God is good!

Scratch Cards, Beeps, and a Face Lift

No, no, no.....I'm not cracking up!  All 3--scratch cards, beeps, and a face lift--have something to do with Liberia.

Cell phones are common in Liberia but I'm not sure if cell phone plans even exist.  Instead, we buy pre-paid minutes which are sold by scratch cards: buy a card, scratch the back for the number, enter it into the phone, and the phone is ready to use.

We used our phones the other day to call the States because we've been without internet service for over a week.  Can you believe that with these pre-paid minutes we pay only 5 cents a minute to call the States!  We had checked with our cell plan before leaving the States and found out if we called through that plan it would be $3.50 a minute.  Guess which phone we used!!

That brings me to the "beep."  We told our son and his wife if they need to contact us when the internet is down, they should "beep" us.  That's what the Liberians do if their minutes are getting low but they want to talk to someone.  They call the number, let it ring once, and then hang up.  That is the signal for the person to call them back.  I haven't figured out what happens if you beep someone and his minutes are low too!

This is reminding me of the "old days" when we were out here before cell phones and internet.  Even if we got to a place where a phone was available, the cost to the States was prohibitive, so the only direct contact I had with my parents was by ham radio maybe 2 or 3 times in 4 years.  We actually had to write letters in order to communicate!  What an ancient art that is!!! 

And where does a face lift fit into this scene?  It has nothing to do with scratch cards and beeps, but it is what I have decided I need.  No, don't worry, I'm not going under the knife for that reason either here or back home.  But it's so hot out here that I can't be ladylike and "perspire"; I'm sorry, but I "SWEAT"!  Actually, I've never been one to perspire; I've been sweating all my life!  And here in Liberia, it's much worse than at home.  What makes it even worse is that now that I'm an old lady (just remember that in Liberia "old lady" is a term of respect!) and my face is sagging, the sweat runs into my eyes.  Don't you think a face lift would be the cure for that?

Until next time, always remember: God is good!

I'm Back--Sort of!

We’ve been without internet service for over a week and a half, and now they are telling us they have no idea when it will be up again.  In the meantime, we have something that I had never heard of—internet on a flash drive.  Maybe it’s common, but it’s sure new to me.  We paid $40 for the “stick” and then we buy minutes to load onto it, so we’re paying as we go.  The main problem is that it’s slower than molasses, so those minutes can add up quickly.  But slow is better than nothing!  At least now we can keep up with emails and I can post to this blog.  We won’t be reading much of any news or spending time on Facebook.  When the regular internet is back, we will use that and save the stick for times when that’s our only choice.

It is good to be back in touch—sort of!