War Stories

Last Saturday, Jennifer told me to grab a chair and to come out on the porch. Sitting out on the front porch is common pastime here. While out on the porch, you may people watch, may talk, may enjoy the afternoon or evening breeze from the coastal winds, or may just simply sit in comfortable silence with friends. So I picked up my plastic chair and headed toward the porch to sit with the family.

But a new person was there, and Jennifer introduced me to her childhood friend, who she had not seen in over twenty years. While walking to the market that morning, she recognized him and thought that she was seeing a ghost. Over twenty years ago, she and everyone else in her neighborhood thought he was killed in the war, but he escaped and sojourned as a refugee around Africa. And I felt very privileged to sit on the porch and to listen to their childhood stories, stories about life before the war, and life during the war.

When meeting people, I hear a lot of stories about the war. I must confess that it is strange to have war and displacement as a part of everyday conversation. Since these stories do not belong to me, I will not write them here but will share some general themes:

I have heard stories about people who went on vacation and could not return back to Liberia for several years. I heave heard stories about people who fled to other countries and how they struggled to make it back to their homeland. People have shared stories of families returning their destroyed homes and having to start all over again. I have listened to stories about how Providence Baptist Church provided shelter and was a safe space for so many people during the war.

“The war” is the Liberian civil war from 1990-2003. To learn more about Liberia and the civil war, check out Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liberia#1989_and_1999_civil_wars) for a brief summary, or read "The House at Sugar Beach" by Helene Cooper. For most people, the 1990s were a period of great turmoil. The war destroyed all of the country’s power lines and infrastructure in general, and most of it has not been rebuilt. I have read about the war and have heard about the bloodiness, the child soldiering, the brutal political executions, the separated families, and the burning of homes. I cannot even fathom the feelings of loss, confusion, fear, and trauma. But the people of Providence Baptist Church amaze me because they continue to praise God with such loud joy and have such resilience. Every worship service, the worship leader shouts,

“God is good!”

And the congregation responds back, “All the time!”

Then the worship leader says, “All the time…”

Congregation exclaims, “God is good!”

I can only aspire to have that kind of deep, reverberating joy which is rooted in trusting Christ at all times.

The Fathers' Day Extravaganza

Picutres: Fufu, a Western African specialty of cassava dumpling and spicy fish stew; Father's Day Party at Mr. Snow's home; Jennifer, my host mom, and me; some of my host family children and friends.

In my first staff meeting last week, we discussed the special preparations for the Fathers' Day service, but I had no idea that Fathers' Day was going to be such a great celebration.

On Sunday, I arrived and sat up front with the choir. I intended to sing with them during the service and thought that I knew the songs which we were going to sing. The service started with gospel-infused praise songs--which everyone seemed to know except me--as a prelude. Then the worship service proceeded as normal with jubilant singing, clapping, and dancing.

The church has a tradition of honoring the "Father of Year" on the Fathers' Day. (And they do the same thing on Mother's Day as well.) Basically, the church has a secret voting process to honor one father for his contributions to the church community and to his family. So this one man, Mr. Snow, was honored, and every single ministry and department presented him with gifts and flowers. The gift presentation took about an hour, and then Mr. Snow gave a short speech. To the congregation's surprise, he invited the entire church to his home for a party.

Then worship continued as usual. Being Presbyterian, I am not used to altar calls and the fiery Baptist preaching style with audience response. And seeing these expectations of worship style, I must confess that I am intimidated when it comes to preaching for this crowd. But we'll see how preaching goes at the end of this week. When I preach, I pray that God gives me courage to speak the truth and to be myself in the process.

After church, my host family, other friends, and I piled into the car and went to Mr. Snow’s Fathers’ Day party. We arrived a huge, walled compound which was on the beach, and I loved being near the ocean and feeling the salty breeze. The house had many terraces, tents, a live jazz band, and buffets of food. From over hearing other conversations, I discovered that Mr. Snow is one of the richest men in the country and is a political figure. I never anticipated seeing this kind of wealth in contrast to the rest of the country and did not expect to attend such an event while I’m here. (The church has a huge diversity of people: some can't read and are just making it while others are well educated, international diplomats.) Since it’s rainy season (which is similar to monsoon season in India), we had moments of glorious sun and pouring rain during the party. It was a lot of fun, and Diamond, my little host brother, is quite an entertaining dancer!

I tried attaching some pictures of host family and me from the party, but the internet is refusing to cooperate at the moment. I'll attempt to post some soon.

"Welcome to Africa!"

As my plane was descending, I saw the palm trees and lush green landscape of the rural parts of Liberia covered in a mist. When I saw those trees, I couldn’t help but think, “I am finally in Africa!” I landed in Monrovia over an hour late from my scheduled flight time. Then, tired and discombobulated, I made it through baggage and customs, which was really chaotic, but fortunately, my host mother, Jennifer, saw me when I walked out of the doors of the airport. After traveling alone for about 40 hours to an unknown place, there is nothing better than hearing someone calling out your name and having a ride home.

Since the airport is an hour and half away from Monrovia proper, we—Jennifer, Pastor Sam, Alice (Pastor's wife), and Arthur (Jennifer's cousin)—drove back toward the main city. Then we dropped off Arthur, Pastor Sam and Alice, but Jennifer and I got stuck in a very bad traffic jam while we were trying to get to the house. We sat—not moving—for over an hour and a half at this intersection. People were getting out of their cars and yelling at each other, cars were breaking down, and it was absolute chaos. As we were waiting in the car, Jennifer said, “Welcome to Africa!” Jennifer said that it was unusual for that kind of traffic on a Sunday night at 10 p.m., but traffic is a very big part of life here. In order to get to church everyday, I spend about two to three hours on the road--even though the distance really isn’t that long. The roads are only two lanes and are full holes from the rain.

I live with my host family: Jennifer; her son, Diamond, age six; her daughter, Golda, age eight; her step-daughter, Rubina, age fourteen; May, a distant relative who comes and goes, age twenty-seven; and Gotomo, Jennifer’s husband who is currently abroad for work and returns in July. We live in a fairly nice house, but we don’t have running water and only have electricity, which is powered by a less than reliable neighborhood generator, from 7 p.m. until 6 p.m. Out of school and very outgoing, Diamond came with me to church on Thursday and hung out with me. My host family is awesome and is such a blessing! (And it's nice to get hugs from Diamond and Golda when I get home each day.)

Right now, I’m working as an intern at Providence Baptist Church in Monrovia. The 2,000 member church sits in the heart of Monrovia, was site of the signing of the Liberian Declaration of Independence, and has been around since 1821. At this point, I will be working with all of the ministry teams but will spend a little more time in the Music and Worship Office. I will help out the choir with some basic vocal technique and will assistant direct a little bit. At this point, I am working with the church's Christian education and family ministry departments and am bringing some new ideas into the summer Wednesday night family ministry and the month-long youth Vacation Bible School. (Both programs start in July.) Hitting the ground while running, I am also preaching this Wednesday at an evening service and on this coming Sunday. The church has been very warm and welcoming, and the staff is a great group of people. I am meeting so many people each day and am hearing, “Welcome to Africa!” quite a bit. Since everyone has been so warm and friendly, I feel very welcomed to Africa!