Archive for August, 2007
I was wondering why my Liberian family ate lunch at 3 pm and supper at 8 pm. “A little French flare” I thought, “not at all American.” In fact, by the time 11 am rolls around every day, my breakfast has already worn off. Then I discovered that my Liberian family frequently does not ever have breakfast. In fact, if money is running low, they just cook one meal a day, proportioning it into their individual bowls, to eat part at lunch and save the rest for supper! But I still couldn’t understand why my family waited until 3 o’clock every afternoon to eat their first meal?
I found out the reason why. First of all, the outdoor African market does not sell the FRESH meat and produce before 10 o’clock in the morning, (And who wants the old stuff left over from the night before, when there is no refrigeration to keep it cold?) Plus, it takes 4 to 5 hours by the time one has walked to the market and back, stoked up the fires (sometimes using coal wet from all the rain), and then prepared all the food “from scratch” and “by hand”. Even water has to be hauled in a wheelbarrow and food must be bought daily, as we have neither electricity nor refrigeration. I tried cooking for a week and let me tell you, I was exhausted, not to mention sick from smoke and ash inhalation!
My observations have brought me to this conclusion. Our Liberian family has a remarkably grateful attitude. It is amazing how the children express thankfulness for even one big bowl of rice and soup a day. I don’t hear complaining, even when they are hungry. The children eat to live, not live to eat. Of course, if I offer them extra food , they gladly accept it!
August 3rd, 2007
I visited my neighbor the other day. Her shop had been closed for a week. She lay stretched out on a hard bench in the sun, looking lifeless and very sick. She had malaria. I reached out my hand in compassion to touch her burning hot body, and then I prayed. She is my neighbor, but she is also my friend. My mind reflects on all those in our household, who day after day come down with this dreadful disease of malaria. Yet rarely does my Liberian family complain, instead they just take some medicine and go to bed. I think back of the people in our church and neighborhood who have recently died—some from typhoid or rabies, others from malaria or depression. Funerals have been taking place frequently here. Those left behind mourn, but must go on with life, surviving the best they can. But me—why is it that I tend to complain at the least little ailment? Why must I consider sickness a problem? Jesus suffered, did He consider His suffering a problem? Jesus suffered an excruciating death on the cross, but He never complained. “Lord Jesus, please keep my eyes on You!”
August 3rd, 2007
“Sis Ruth…White lady…Ma Ruth…” come the calls from here and there as I walk to the outdoor African market, a basin carried on my hip or balanced on my head. Sometimes I stop to chat, other times I say a quick hello and keep on walking. “I’m going straight, need to buy food and make chop for my husband,” I tell them. They nod their heads in approval
One day as I was carrying home sweet potato greens on my head and an African broom in my hand, my admirers asked, “You can fix African soup?”
“Yeah-o!” I replied. Then they just chuckled and laughed!
Yesterday at the market I was pleasantly surprised by a lively chorus of singing. A Liberian man dancing through the market place was singing praises to God. Between spurts of business, the marketers were joining in with clapping, dancing, and singing. So of course I had to be a part of the lively Jesus celebration.
“I love Jesus, too!” I proclaimed, swaying and jumping to the chants. All my market friends smiled with delight as I participated, and the little children gathered around me to stare. Wow, the African life is full of surprises and adventure. I am truly “back home.”
August 3rd, 2007
Yesterday evening as I stood on our front porch, watching the rain pour down in torrents, I just wanted to praise the Lord. The older boy Samuel was bringing out all the water barrels to fill with rain water; Cindy was hugging her little brother Gary Jr.; Enoch Jr. was trying to float a paper boat in a stream of rushing rainwater; while Gary, Enoch Sr. and I were looking on.
On that day most of my bath towels had been washed by hand and securely attached to the line with clothes pins. By now the clothes were all swinging rapidly from the storm, thoroughly drenched with rain water. “Wow, God; You just gave the towels a second rinsing! Tomorrow I will hang them all back up again, praying for at least one hour of sunshine.”
Yep, you guessed right; Liberia is in the rainy season, so when it rains it pours! It is so awesome to watch God shower the land with His tears of joy; it makes me just want to praise the Lord!
August 1st, 2007
Previous Posts
