David's first letter from Niger
There is a proverb in Hausa which translated means 'Patience is the medicine
for the world'. It's a very constructive way of representing a culture that
isn't in a hurry for anyone and certainly doesn't work to our western timescales!
For example, this morning we drove down to a village 15Km south of Danja to deliver a donkey, cart and water barrels to a local school as a goodwill gift. (There's no water supply at the school and drawing water is critical to the sucess of the school.) We towed the cart and barrels on a trailer while the donkey had left in the care of one of the Hospital guards at 5am to walk to the village and be there ahead of us. The plan was simple. Donkey and cart would be hitched up, the presentation made, photos taken and everyone would be happy.
7.5Km south of Danja we overtook the donkey and the guard. Nigel was not best pleased! Fortunately all his mutterings were in French so there's nothing I feel obliged to report to the Elders on my return. Whatever time the donkey left it clearly wasn't 5am.
That's how life goes here and things always work out somehow but it takes a lot of adjusting to if you're trying to run a hospital and compound a square mile in size.
This last week in Danja has been a steep learning curve. The work that goes on here is impressive and watching the Younges at work is even more impressive. Carolyn combines the roles of mother, wife, teacher, consellor for some of the Nigerian young people and 'looker after' of disoriented Baptist Pastor from Belfast with great grace and good humour. The children are well and incredibly integrated into life in Danja. Listening to them move easily between English, Hausa and French leaves one, well this 'one' anyway, seriously impressed.
Nigel finds his time consumed by administration responsibilities and round here
he is 'mai gida', the boss man. 'Mai gida' is not a title or role
Nigel has chosen, nor likes, but that's how he is perceived in the community.
Consequently it can be hard to get alongside people in the way he would like to
and for me, being here and observing, it is possible to get a sense of the
tension that exists for many missionaries in Nigel's position. You come
here to serve the churches and the people but the people, by virtue of culture
and responsiblity, see you as 'mai gida'. It also brings other problems.
There is another African proverb that says, ‘There is no such thing as a bad king, only bad advisors’. It seems to hold in the Danja situation. Now, before you're tempted to think that it's a pretty handy proverb and principle from Nigel's point of view as mai gida, let me explain the implications. If Nigel makes a decision that doesn't go down too well with the staff then his 'advisors', of whom there are three or four, get it in the neck from the staff for giving him duff advice. But there is only so much the advisors can take so it's not long until they are seeking a meeting with Nigel to talk about his decision and register their disquiet. A meeting is duly convened and Nigel is told of the problem during which he points out that he had taken advice from them originally and nobody suggested a different or better course of action. At this point he is reminded that he is mai gida and they did hint at possible problems - but it was his decision.
The point that stands out is that leadership can be a very lonely experience in Danja. While it is clear that Nigel and the family are greatly respected and appreciated that doesn't remove the frustrations and isolation of leadership in this situation.
The work that goes on here at the hospital is amazing. I've been on a
tour around the various clinics, wards and operating theatre. It bears
only scant resemblance to what I know as hospital when I think of the City or
the RVH. Those dreadful wards in the Royal which are soon to be rendered
obsolete would be unthinkable luxury here. Many of the staff were themselves
patients here and many are Christians. Their commitment to the care of
leprosy sufferers is second to none and it has been a privilege to meet them.
It has also been a great privilege to meet the other SIM and SIL missionaries who form the missionary community in the Maradi district. The SIM compound in Maradi is a regular meeting place on a Sunday evening. They are a very diverse group of Canadians, Australians, English, Irish and American and goodness knows how many different church backgrounds as well. For all the diversity they work well together and they draw newcomers in very quickly and effectively.
I'll not bore you with many details about me other than to say that the Hausa is coming on, slowly, my health has been good and I've been spoiled rotten. My accommodation is simple but pleasant and I share it with a cat called Shelly and several dozen lizards who live on the walls by day and in the roof by night. Neither Shelly nor I were wild impressed at the prospect of sharing the same accommodation but I draw comfort from the fact that my presence distresses the cat far more than I am bothered by hers.
Last Sunday I preached in the Church on the hospital compound. Pastor Amos
translated for me and I conveyed to the church greetings from Windsor.
In the evening I preached in Maradi at the missionary fellowship. This Sunday
I'm due to preach in the Danja village church and Pastor Amos is coming
along to translate once more while in the evening it is back to Maradi to speak
again at the missionary service. Before then I head off north to the desert
with another of the missionaries here who is working with the nomadic peoples, the
Falani. A Bible School is being held for the Christian leaders among them and
we are planning to spend a day there. Nothing has been confirmed about my
return travel yet so I'd appreciate your prayers that it will be possible to get
home on the flight out of Niamey on the 27th.
I trust you will know God's blessing as you meet together today.
To next letter.
To letters from Niger.