Contextualisation: An Example

A pearl-spotted owlet. © Jonny Burgess

Contextualisation… It’s a controversial word, whether you know it or not. When teaching God’s word in various contexts, in what way should we adapt or change the content or the packaging of the message that we preach?

Some devote their lives to thinking about it for the sake of the gospel. Others deride it as a waste of time. I’m not really up to giving a thorough contribution to the debate. Maybe one day. (Probably not.) But for now, let me just give an interesting recent example of this issue in real life.

People often ask me, “Do you change the way you preach in the Gambia, compared to when in the UK?” Definitely. Here is an example of the kind of thing one has to keep in mind.

A visiting friend from the UK was with me in the Gambia for a few weeks. He had the opportunity to preach at my church. He’s a gifted Bible teacher and he had got to grips with the meaning of the Bible passage very well; it was a refreshing change not to have to guide him step by step through the interpretive process, as I usually do with students in the Gambia.

However, as a preacher, understanding what the Bible means is only one (though crucial) part of the process. Knowing how to communicate it is equally crucial. Otherwise – if you are not understood – your hearers will be no better off than before you opened your mouth. In fact, if the end result is that they’re confused or (inappropriately) offended, then it would have been better for you not to open your mouth! Sadly I have sat through preaching where that has been the case. I was strongly tempted to jump up and tell the preacher to shut up and sit down. Maybe I should have done.

The passage in question was Romans 6:19-23. There, the apostle Paul is teaching Christian believers about how God has set them free, through the gospel, from slavery to sin. Now, as those enjoying God’s free gift of eternal life, their ownership has changed: they no longer belong to the horrid death-giving slave-master of sin; they are now slaves to God who gives life and grace, and to the control of righteousness. Therefore they must live out who they are, offering their bodies to God in obedience to him. That’s the general gist.

When thinking of an introduction to a talk or sermon, it’s good to think of a ‘way in’ that connects your hearers to where you’re going in the message. Our Western friend, in his preparation, had thought about and answered a good question that tees up the topic. I think his thought process went a bit like this: “What would the world around us think about this idea of belonging to God as ‘slaves to righteousness’? Well, I suppose they’d object to it and find it repulsive! My friends (like the culture at large) tend to disregard Christianity, thinking it’s horribly enslaving and restricting of our individual freedom. So I’ll articulate that, and then subvert it with God’s word – showing how actually slavery to God is a wonderfully good thing, enabling us to flourish as we were truly designed to – in obedience to God and beautiful righteousness.”

That’s a good possible way in to a talk on this passage; I agree that many have that impression of slavery to God and to righteousness. Many, that is, in the West! So, if preaching this passage in the West, go for it along those lines.

BUT – I had to warn my friend to stop right there… It couldn’t have been any further from the state of play in West Africa. Your average Gambian absolutely does not object to Christianity as being “enslaving” or “restrictive” of one’s individual freedom. Not at all. In fact, the very opposite! Sadly, the common perception of Christianity in the Gambia (understood from the impression given to Africa by Western culture as a whole) is that it’s shamefully unrestricted and devilishly licentious! Tour buses full of drunken, sunburnt, fornicating tourists come every year from the ‘Christian’ West, lounging around disrespectfully, loudly and rudely, and that is what Gambians think Christianity means. (The reality is not quite as extreme – but that is the understandable impression.)

So if you began a sermon in the Gambia saying, “The world around us considers Christianity to be oppressive and restrictive… Well, the Bible actually says something quite different…” – your hearers would, at best, be very confused and wonder what strange hole of non-reality you live in. More seriously, they would likely switch off before you’ve even begun to open up God’s word, concluding that you’re unbelievably out of touch with their world: “This guy doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about.”

So in the West, one could well approach this topic by saying, “The world around us considers Christianity to be oppressive and restrictive. Actually, we learn from God’s word here that, yes, we are in slavery to God but that is such a good thing – the alternative is slavery to sin, which is miserable and only results in shame and death. God is the perfect Master, whose ways mean beautiful holiness leading to eternal life.” I reckon that’s the kind of angle to use in teaching the truth of this part of God’s word – in the West.

Whereas in the Gambia, whilst teaching the exact same truth, it needs approaching from the very opposite angle: “The world around us considers Christianity to have no moral limits, and to be an excuse for all kinds of shameful practices. Actually, we learn from God’s word here that that could not be further from what true Christianity is. Christians are slaves to God and to righteousness. We are no longer slaves to sin! Our lives should display the beauty of a convicted and glad obedience to God, beautiful holiness which shows we are on the way to eternal life.”

There’s clearly a grave danger in contextualisation of getting tied in knots, paralysing yourself with over-complicated attempts at cultural relevance. But slowly observing how very different the world is in West Africa, compared to Northern Europe, makes me acutely aware of the opposite danger: the folly of assuming that contextualisation means no more than inserting the odd local story or reference into my thoroughly Western sermon. Rather, it requires carefully observing and seeking to understand where you are, what people think and how they feel. Otherwise my attempts at communicating God’s truth will be dreadfully ineffective. I’m learning that it takes time. I’m certainly much further on in that than I was 18 months ago. But boy do I know that I’ll be far further on in 5 years’ time!

Sweaty Training, an Inspiring Pastor, and Elusive Baboons

Hello again! It’s been a while since posting and, if that bothers or saddens you, I apologise! I’ve somehow drifted out of the habit - maybe something to do with getting engaged a few months ago, which has brought a rather significant life change and an even greater one just around the corner!

Time for a guest post. The below report was written by my friend John. He works for Urban Saints UK (youth and children's ministry) overseeing their global work of training people for children's work. I met him here in the Gambia last year when we worked together doing some children’s workers’ training - Pastor Steven (Director of SOW, Servants of the Word, Bible School where I teach) invited him to come with a small team (3 of them came last year, 2 this year). 

I believe reading it will give you a feel for some of the challenges and joys of working here, along with some comedy moments. Over to John...

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Monday 5 June
02.30 is a shocking time to start a journey, but the redeye to Brussels dictated our schedule and a semi-comatose carload of worthies stoically shambled up the M20 in search of Belgians.

This was my last overseas trip with Urban Saints as I am being made redundant next month. Future expeditions will be with the new charity that a team of us are forming to carry on this amazing ministry, chaired by former Urban Saints Chairman, Peter Jeffrey.

My colleague for the trip was Paul Wykes, a friend the Global team first met in Qatar, where he had been leading a massive Urban Saints group. He’s familiar with the training having both hosted it in Qatar and delivered parts of it himself in Africa in support of a church plant.

The flight was smooth and Paul Mahmood was only 20 minutes late to meet us in Banjul, which for him is a record (in the right direction). A quick conflab and fried chicken dinner with Jonny our host (an English missionary supporting local leader training) and Ed (his mate just completing a medical elective in The Gambia), and we were off to bed in the WEC guest house. 

Tuesday 6 June
We were expecting a slow start (we’ve worked here before) and were also not unnerved by having no idea how many people would be in attendance (things here fluctuate wildly depending on local employment conditions). However, the number of trainees attending was a record low (7 people). Last year we had been warned numbers would probably be 10, and in fact 30 people came, so this was horribly disappointing.

The course dynamics don’t work very well for so few people so immediate and drastic adaptation was necessary. The quality of the participants was high and the smaller numbers made discussion groups somewhere with nowhere to hide, so each could be stretched much more than usual.

The first session involved Paul Wykes being picked up and carried across the room by a delighted class introducing the concept of team – very disarming; laughter is a great start to a training course.

Newspaper Towers of Babel were pretty woeful. This was a point of pain for Paul, who has been in the construction industry all his life and has had significant responsibility for some big projects including skyscrapers. His critique of the local would-be Shard designers and builders was something to hear! 

Wednesday 7 June 

We looked at the Gospel today; what it is and what it isn’t. Seeking to encourage that delicate mix of allowing the Spirit of God to convict young people by taking the Word of God, carrying it to hearts, and giving sufficient opportunity for them to respond with an appropriate amount of compelling witness. Various hilarious pressurising role plays were enjoyed, and discussion around Acts 2 (Peter’s Gospel presentation at Pentecost) and James’ ‘Can faith without works save you?’ We managed to avoid (just) a detailed dissection of various understandings of doctrines of the Trinity – there were a couple of able Bible school students in the mix, eager to show their knowledge. 

After the training, we caught a taxi with Linou and Samuel out to a more remote new settlement on the edge of the Kombos conurbation called Busumbala. Here a church plant congregation meets under a cashew tree on home-made benches. Mainly women and children, the congregants worship with basic choruses, play games and listen to the Bible and a talk from it.

Samuel and Linou's group at Busumbala

Nobody has a Bible and few read or write. It’s a desperately fragile initiative, kept alive by the prayer and faithful witness of the young leaders planting the work. Samuel and Linou normally travel by public minibus, an uncomfortable 2-hour trek to meet the villagers waiting patiently under their tree. The leaders visit people in their homes twice more each week. During the rainy season the meeting moves into someone’s house but sometimes they number 70 or more so this is not very practical. 

During the meeting, Paul told the story of David and Goliath (very well) and I played a couple of games with everyone. It was lovely to be able to encourage and help a little, and to see the valiant efforts of the local church here planting among the animist Islamic suburban poor. The congregation was happy and worshipful, very excited to come together. Paul and I had concerns though about the sadly unimaginative efforts of the leaders, resulting in what seemed to us like it may have been a quite unattractive meeting, especially for the children, had we not been present.

Thursday 8 June
Lunch every day has come from a local Christian food outlet and has been very good. Today however was fish and I was unable to eat much of it. Famine wasn’t so bad as the heat was so oppressive that all other suffering seemed irrelevant. Participant numbers have climbed to 9.

Paul has been building a Tower of Babel in breaks since Tuesday afternoon. This is because Tuesday’s newspaper and tape tower-building was shockingly bad and he simply had to express his desire to teach construction to these folks somehow. He also had a previous record of 2.4 metres (previous training in Qatar) to beat. He spent all his down-time today fitting together extremely long, thin delicate tubes of taped newspaper. Late in the day he ran a drama game in which almost all the acts used his lovingly constructed tubes as props and wrecked them. He was pleased with the dramas but clearly in pain. It was difficult trying not to laugh.

Massive issues day as we looked at marriage, sexuality, young people and the church. There seemed to be a lot of chauvinism surfacing in the complaints of the women and the very defensive attitudes of some of the men. Debate was lively, particularly whilst Ed was leading on marriage. Voices were raised, people stood up, fingers were pointed, sides seemed to be preparing for war. I jumped in to rescue Ed towards the end – he looked like he might need to use his chair as some kind of lion- taming accessory.

Dinner tonight was at Jonny’s place – cooked by the beloved Auntie Mariatu. Steven’s family came along too and everyone ended up playing a complicated counting game (Fizz Buzz) contributed by Paul; belly laughter after dinner, always a good thing.

Friday 9 June
Today much of the focus was on assessing risk, keeping children safe and understanding how to have sensible measures in place to ensure your children’s work does no harm. Some of the participants had ideas on this, most did not. There were some horror stories that came out in the discussions, including the reality that many teams from overseas operate in The Gambia as if their nation’s safety precautions do not apply here. This included a European team a few years ago, that took 100+ kids to the beach to teach them to swim with only three leaders and no safety plans nor risk assessments in place, drowning 14 of them.

I had the pleasure of working through the hope found in the pages of the Bible, for people that have suffered abuse. Life goes on, healing and recovery is possible, ministry by broken people, normal.

Relationships were much more relaxed today. Leese punched me in the stomach at one stage and I attempted to wrestle him to the ground. (Impossible - he was seemingly made out of stainless steel and tree bark. I was lucky to escape the tussle without injury.)

Saturday 10 June
Our last day was cut short by the departure of two participants. We also re-cut the normal schedule to revisit some Part 1 training in order to better equip the participants for creating engaging Bible teaching lessons. We also put in some extra work on planning a balanced teaching curriculum.

Paul’s tower failed to reach his desired 3 metres despite strenuous efforts in all the down-times. Leese accidentally knocked it over. When he repaired it and stood it back up, it looked taller, so we measured it. Leese’s efforts made it at least 10 cm taller than Paul’s so we awarded all the tower building plaudits to Leese rather than Paul - a great moment.

We ended with a prizegiving and certificate presentation. By then we were down to six participants as three had left. This was the smallest presentation I have ever been involved in. I felt a bit flat about that, but was encouraged to hear what the participants said about the course. 

Feedback to the question ‘How has the training impacted you? What will you do now?’ 

Daniel (Pastor)
This has opened my eyes to the way things are with us. I will look freshly at why we do things the way we do. We thought we were free but in some ways, we are bound by traditions which are not from the Bible. 

Leese (Youth Pastor)
The way you have been with us, the way you befriended and laughed with us, the way you have served has helped me to understand leadership. It was not just what you taught but the way you are that has impacted me.

Rhoda (Children’s Work) 
The self-assessment exercise helped me to identify the areas of my work and how I am doing that are not right. I can now focus on things better to improve. Also the games were so good, I have learned how to do these games, we will play more, have more fun. 

Gloria (SOW Administrator) 

I have been mainly working with the youth but now I will look again at the importance of children. I want to work with them, launch something, help others to do this also. 

Samuel (Pastor)
The way to build a programme and to bring the teaching alive was really helpful to me. I will make changes. People will learn more and be happier. 

Sangpierre (Pastor)
I do not do any children’s work for a long time. I used to be a children’s worker. Now I am a Pastor and others do the children’s work. With God’s help, I will teach my children’s workers these things. 

Dinner with Pastor Steven’s family included quite the funniest baptism story I have ever heard, told by Paul Wykes. It included a power cut, snow, near-freezing water, wet suits and chattering teeth. If you ever meet him, ask him to tell it to you.

Sunday 11 June 

Paul and I were excited to travel with Steven to help out with a church plant. He arrived in good time and hailed a taxi to the Westfield gilly-gilly station, from where we headed out by minibus to Brikama. At Brikama we jumped in another taxi and lurched down a dirt track to a large compound in which a group of believers were gathered in a large front room. The service had started and we joined in with some singing that seemed to be conducted at fast-forward pace. I worked on my rhythmic clapping but I’m sad to say my efforts were about as well timed as Corporal Jones’s Dad’s Army parade performances. 

We moved out into the garden and sat beneath a mango tree. I led an elimination game based on catching a disease (always great fun) and spoke about Jairus’s daughter. I reckon about 1/3 of what I said was understood. 

Paul opted for bribery, handing out sweets for his question and answer approach to the Prodigal Son. The answers were woeful at first, with blank looks and fear the dominant responses to the strange Toubab (white man) who would not let them just listen, but tortured them with the hard work of interaction. By the end of his talk most people had acclimatised and even the smallest had won a sweet. We left with a chastened understanding of how much energy it takes to drive forward a church plant in this area, and the desperate need for excellent Christian leaders.

We moved on to the new Servants of the Word training college site. It is here that Steven plans to train hundreds of excellent ministers, able to advance the Kingdom in this nation. After the church plant experience earlier, the need for this was clear in our minds. Paul had some suggestions about how money could be saved in the construction and Steven eagerly agreed to meet him for this purpose later in the trip.

Monday 12 June. 
Travel to Soma – 180 km up river was wonderfully comfortable – in Jonny’s excellent 4WD Toyota. I recall trips passim involving goat urine pouring in through open gilly-gilly windows, a car crash in a battered Renault with a mad African pastor at the wheel, and bumping along in the public bus among the chickens. This was just wonderful and included a stop off at the WEC (a mission with a significant presence in the Gambia) medical clinic to visit Jonny’s friends Will and Anna there. Both doctors, Will and Anna looked absolutely shattered by their 8-month sojourn on the front line of bush doctoring. On call night and day, treating all sorts of things including life-or-death and some operations they have really blessed the people here. After an inspiring cup of tea, we pressed on through the termite mounds to Soma.

There was no sign of Pastor Edward on arrival at around 2pm so we checked ourselves into the Scout Centre. He invited us back to dinner at 8pm. In the meantime, we had a quick look around the town (pretty ramshackle and covered in dust). Boy was it hot – 41°C (106°F).

We headed down to the river and enjoyed excellent omelettes in a basic food establishment, regarded by the beady eyes of mudskippers gazing unblinkingly through the open back door.
 

Soma stands by the South bank of the river where the Trans-Gambia Highway links Nothern Senegal with the South. The road has been upgraded in recent years and now work has commenced on a bridge to replace the inadequate ferry crossing. Paul, being a construction engineer, showed a keen interest in the theodolite on our bank and the engineer radioing his commands to the others on the bridge columns. Paul pronounced the project highly professional. I was blundering about near the theodolite when an African frog-marched me away from it. Apparently if I had kicked it, the effect on the bridge construction could potentially have been to convert it into the Gambian equivalent of the leaning Tower of Pisa.

At Edward’s, over roasted goat meat, talk turned to his struggle to build the church building here. He has had to put up with vandalism, people desecrating it with human waste (sometimes they have been unable to meet because of the smell even after he has cleaned up) and the constant competing demands for meagre financial support. The town is 99.9% Muslim and hostile to his work, though he has an excellent reputation. He is 32 years old, though carries himself like a man 10 years older.

Part of Edward’s fund-raising is through growing pigs. He can sell a big pig for nearly £200 and he has around 20 of them. Recently a local family has stolen and sold 5 of his pigs. He has captured 3 of theirs and will settle the dispute with them by reasoning things out rather than having their son jailed (an option). Jail here is terrible and Edward does not want this to happen to the lad.

Edward has promised us power for most of the days – apparently there are no issues here like the ones we faced in Serekunda.

Tuesday 13 June 
Well that was one hot day!

After breakfast at Edward’s (we admired his 5 cute little ducklings) we headed over to the Catholic centre to roast in the heat of the tandoori classroom. Of course, there was a power cut so no fans!

We had only 12 participants, between the ages of 16 and 25. It was great fun playing games and running the training. Things were very slow at first with everyone quite shy. By the time we’d played a bit and lugged Paul across the compound on a blanket people decided to enjoy themselves and enthusiastically chipped in to the sessions.

Jonny has hit his stride in teaching the course. He is patient and diligent at drawing out the thoughts of the participants and gets fantastic contributions from them. He really is a superb Bible teacher, with a great love of the Gambians and a good understanding of their ways. Lunch was cooked by Edward’s wife Kunsa, with two colleagues. It was eaten in small groups from shared bowls.

Indoor hockey (always a highlight) revealed some superb sportiness among the girls, particularly Adama and Augusta who won both their 2 matches against strong sporty lads who weren’t holding back, egged on by their sides’ cheering. 

News of outreach clubs in surrounding villages including a church plant encouraged me and will bless others who have travelled here to par-boil in the heat. There is a strong young church growing here, committed to running children’s clubs and turning them into church plants.

We only managed two sessions, because translation/communication slowed things up loads after a late start. The educational level of the participants is improving every year but things are fairly dire. The Bibles they use are in English because they do not read or write their local languages. Most can read a bit but comprehension is slow and Bible knowledge consequently poor for most.

There was no electric power all day. Someone rushed to get a generator which ran the projector until Paul pressed the economy switch and we lost that too. There were no fans.

Wednesday 14 June 
Participant numbers have reached 15, a workable dynamic for the course. We took an executive decision to move the training outside. This eliminated the video projector and therefore all the pictures from the course but the heat in the tandoori classroom was unbearable. There was also a problem with the broken tile flooring and metal chairs in there meaning that every time someone moved, they blocked our voices with a hackle-raising scraping noise that was highly irritating.

Outside everyone was more comfortable and better focussed, a big step forward. 

We looked at the Gospel today. It was pleasing to see the trainees wrestle with the basis of relationship with God and how to appropriately share their faith with young people without exerting undue pressure. With three complete units under our belt, we went for an early evening finish and headed straight into town.

I was delighted to get a local sim card installed in an old phone and we had an internet hot spot in place. Paul decided to get a local haircut. What happened next was easily the funniest thing I have seen in a long time (certainly since the epic donkey cart crash of 2016). Honestly, he looked like his hair had been hastily grazed by a passing goat. ‘Seems like I accidentally visited a combine harvester repair shop by mistake!’ he enthused. It will take a long time to recover as will my aching sides.

Edward took us on a wild baboon hunt. I must admit to a quickened pulse and some real excitement as the safari commenced. After a mile or two of off-road driving we entered the beautiful world of the Gambian bush, complete with exotic bird life. No sign of baboons though; Edward decided we should venture forth on foot. ‘It is OK: they will only attack if you are alone’ (err... oh that’s alright then.)

We slogged across open pastureland, then thick scrub, then up some massive hill (lovely views) and back down again. Not a baboon in sight...

‘Have you ever actually seen a baboon Edward?’ (Paul) 

‘Yes, there are many, they are always here’ (Edward)
‘Well I think we can report to the National Geographic Society that the troop of baboons formerly residing on the massive volcano just outside Soma is now extinct.’ (Gleeful smile at pithy quip).

With that he walked face first into a particularly nasty thorn bush to complete the comedic moment.

We returned to the town, helped feed and water Edward’s pigs, observed the nearly completed mission house, quickly looked in the nearly finished church building, and marvelled at the energy, drive and tenacity of Pastor Edward of Soma. Even if he was rubbish at finding baboons.

Someone killed Edward’s ducklings today. It was likely that this was done by roaming uncontrolled children from neighbouring polygamous homes where neglect and ill-discipline abound. Edward was clearly dismayed and cross but philosophical about it. This is the kind of behaviour that will only be changed by the gospel of Jesus, something Edward is committed to bringing those kids.

Thursday 15 June
The young leaders being trained were a feisty and lively bunch. Passions ran high during Paul’s crocker match (we had tried to get podex rules but they didn’t come through in time). For the first time in 9 years of leading training I found it necessary to physically restrain a participant as Philip moved to square up with Justice (it would have been a good one, but we’re not here to run boxing matches).

Numbers have reached 18 so we can now break into four small groups for discussion times.

Jonny was down with a tummy bug, throwing our programming into chaos. Whilst off on a sickie he decided to slip away for a crafty spell of birdwatching, during which time his tax disc blew out of the car and rendered our transport back to Fajara illegal... Nice.

Meanwhile Paul and Edward headed off on a motorbike to do some printing. Edward commented that Paul weighed more on the back of his bike than the whole Camara family combined - funny. Paul noticed a power plant next to the printing shop (running on solar). He nipped in to have a word, and within half an hour we had power for the first time all week. I think it was probably the aggressive haircut that swung it. 

Discussions about family and fatherhood, sexuality and appropriate courtship were pretty pithy today; everyone except me, Paul and Edward was single. The lurve doctors were in town and hopefully, guided by the Bible, helpful.

Friday 16 June
Paul had an 11th consecutive bad night last night. Very unfortunately he picked the room without a solar fan in it so is even more sweltering than the others. The internet access has been a double- edged sword for Paul. He is always pleased to make contact with the family but consistently every day the news from home reads like a blues song (except that he’d be quite pleased if his dog had died).

Despite a strong temptation to be grumpy he has connected well with our young trainees. His boyish charm and quizzically comical expression make him an irresistible discussion leader. He knows his stuff having done youth work pretty much all his life, and has risen to the challenge of communicating cross-culturally as a missionary (rather than his usual role as an ex-pat construction leader).

There was a disturbance during this morning’s discussions on risk management as a large bird strike descended through the trees and singled out one of the lads for a blessing of the stinky kind.

Can you believe it? Having learned this morning to look up before sitting down, another participant was hit on the head by a large mango this afternoon. Two risks poorly managed ...

I ‘infected’ everyone with a paper STD (don’t worry there was no sexual activity involved), underlining the wisdom in the Bible’s loving instructions about faithfulness and avoiding promiscuity. Today’s lessons were in sexual ethics, rebuilding confidence and resilience in damaged children and risk management. It seems like none of these issues have ever been raised here by the church before.

Not everything was super serious, we had a great outdoor balloon pop game that everyone loved.

Our late-night discussions with Pastor Edward left us agape at his neck. Last year he refused to lead the Christians in his area to vote for the impressively despotic Jammeh (ruled for 21+ years). He also told off the police post at the border for harassing one of his visiting missionary friends. He found out subsequently that one of the men he had yelled at was a prominent figure in Jammeh’s death squads, famous for beating, castrating and killing political opponents and strong community leaders opposed to the regime’s methods. Edward thinks that if Jammeh had won the elections last year, he was in a whole world of trouble.

We prayed for the family, it was a huge privilege to do so. Paul had a word from Joshua for them.

Saturday 17 June
Our last day in Soma; bittersweet really. These lovely kids need more input. We need to go. It has been a week of real hard slog for us just to survive the conditions (the locals have struggled in the heat and humidity and they were born here!). It is the nights and late afternoons that have been toughest. With no sleep, to raise your game and run a dynamic programme through 40-42 degrees of sticky heat with no fans is very close to too hard.

The young leaders are full of life and enthusiasm, just woefully under educated and in desperate want of systematic Bible teaching. Genetically they are superior to most humans I have met (if you don’t have good genes here you die), educationally they have been failed by their state. The final exercise of the day aimed to draw their creativity out and allow them to show how good they are becoming at teaching the Bible and planning (showing the matrix of what and how they aim to teach). They weren’t very good. Another week here and we could change some more of that but the real need that has surfaced is in a lack of Bible knowledge across most of them.

Edward was thrilled with the training and delighted with what he and the youngsters have learned but we left with a distinct feeling of unfinished business.

On our return journey, we called in at a couple of riverside lodges to admire the wonderful bird life and enjoy cold drinks. After leaving the first lodge we encountered a large group of wild baboons. We jubilantly informed Edward (of course) of our baboon hunting skills, seemed rude not to. 

Sunday 18 June
After church (great worship and welcome, lousy sermon) we took an afternoon off. Jonny picked out a perfect beach for us with a number of pretty lethal hazards just to make it interesting. I emerged from the sea with a scraped and bruised back and a stubbed toe (both from concealed rocks in a fairly powerful swell) and a jellyfish sting. It wasn’t quite the pearly gates box jellyfish experience but a nasty moment with a lasting afterburn.

This evening we met with Pastor Steven, leader of Servants of the Word. He has ambitious plans for a huge faculty site for ministry training – we visited it last Sunday.

I watched in open admiration as Paul looked at the architect’s drawings, listed significant improvements to the layout of the site and building designs, and roughly estimated that if his ideas were implemented, Steven’s team could halve the building costs. This one-hour meeting could potentially save SOW in excess of £100,000 (of money they don’t have and need to raise). Steven was understandably very excited.

Following on from Pau’s meeting with him, I met with Steven to discuss our ongoing relationship. With the cessation of Urban Saints Global, I restated my team’s commitment to SOW, underscored by coming to serve here whilst in the crucial 12-week redundancy period of my employment.

Steven stated that he intends to work with Jonny to put in place a 2-week summer school and three more 2-day training events for the Soma young leaders; to increase their Bible knowledge and continue to work on their Bible teaching skills. ‘If you don’t know it, you can’t teach it, if you can’t teach it you can’t pass it on.’

Jonny is thrilled that SOW for whom he volunteers as a full time Crosslinks missionary, is prepared to commit to the people in Soma for whom he has a heart. He is the only British missionary that he is aware of in The Gambia, apart from the WEC team.

Jonny is due to marry Beth (from Cornwall) in September and together they will explore their ability to commit to mission life here in the long term. Please pray for them.

As for me, well The Gambia is one of those nations that I find it difficult to work into. However, the people, particularly these young ones from Soma, have taken a piece of my heart, and won’t give it back.

 

Some African Proverbs

I’ve been suffering a severe case of “Blogger’s Block”… I imagine no one’s missed these contributions too much, but sorry if you have!

The (hardly revolutionary) conclusion has dawned on me that it’s probably better to aim for little and often, rather than big and rare. So I’ll endeavour to share little updates of things I consider to be interesting or inspiring or thought-provoking as they crop up through life and ministry here in the Gambia.

Something light-hearted for the time being… African proverbs!

I imagine (I’ve not exactly researched it) that all cultures have interestingly varying proverbs. West African proverbs, like West African food, certainly seem to have a unique flavour to them. Here are a few that I’ve enjoyed discovering so far…

"If you love the monkey, you can’t hate its tail."

Meaning: If you love someone and are committed to them, then you can’t pick and choose which bits of them to love - you’ve got to take the whole package! 

"The owner of a donkey knows the donkey well."

Meaning: If you own something, then you will know how to operate it better than someone else. Classic example: a local taxi will often have several body parts falling off. Consequently, I’ll commonly not be able to open a door to enter or leave! The driver leans over and jolts a scrap of some material with a particular motion, which seems to magically open the door.

"The tortoise wants to box, but the arm is short."

Meaning: Know your limits! Even if an ambitious tortoise really wanted to box someone, sadly he has to accept that he simply won’t be able to! (Why a tortoise is chosen to make this point I don’t know; it is a rather amusing image though!)

"If a snake misses you, when you see a worm you’ll run."

Meaning: Once you’ve had a near-miss with something, you’ll be much more cautious about it in the future! Imagine you have a close encounter with a dangerous snake… Next time you see a snake-like large worm you’ll run for your life!

I’ll keep my ears open for more… Till then, love your monkeys, know your donkeys, learn from the tortoise, and mind those snakes!

"Guide me..."

Some abuse Christianity by giving the impression that all it’s about is having a divine guide through life, which you otherwise basically keep running as you want to. Wrong. Jesus is Lord - He must call the shots. (Which he does with amazing grace and perfect love and wisdom!)

So Christianity is not merely ‘having God as your guide through life’; it’s about salvation and love and life and purpose and restoration. But it’s also definitely not less than that. Who’s guiding you? We need someone.

Guide me O Thou great Jehovah,

Pilgrim through this barren land.

I am weak, but Thou art mighty,

Hold me with Thy powerful hand.

Many sing a different song though. The theme tune of our contemporary individualised world (far more so in West, but noticeably influencing Africa) is the hugely popular ending of the poem ‘Invictus’ -

I am the master of my fate;

I am the captain of my soul.

Really? Does anyone really believe that? When cancer strikes / when your heart is broken / when your country or your continent or your world seems to be falling apart… you’re the master of your fate, are you?! We’re not. We need a guide who knows what he’s doing.

One might complain that I’m being unfair to the poem. It's about resilience and fortitude in the face of adversity, and it’s stirring and honourable stuff. But it’s still nonsense to claim “I am the master of my fate” - I’m manifestly not! Just try specifying where you’ll be in 10 years’ time and what state you’ll be in. Can you really control that? No. We need a guide who knows what he’s doing, to see us through.

Last Sunday I visited a church in Dakar, and the pastor preached about Jesus as the Supreme Guide. Indeed He’s the only truly reliable guide we’ll ever have. The preacher spoke about the qualities of a good leader or guide - they need to be with you faithfully from beginning to end, need to be experienced and know the route well, and need to be trustworthy.

It made me think of Eric - the brother who so kindly and sacrificially accompanied us on our ‘interesting’ journey from the Gambia to Dakar… (read here) He came to join us, doing the long journey on his own first. He gave lots of energy and time to us. He stuck with us faithfully from beginning to end - never leaving us, always helping us. He knows the journey very well, knew how to direct us at every turn (there are no signposts on these roads!), and knew how to navigate us through the otherwise quite overwhelming and complicated border crossing procedures. Eric proved himself trustworthy and reliable at every hurdle - fighting to get us onto the ferry, finding mechanics when we broke down several times, knowing where to change money, choosing the best route to take.

I was hugely thankful to Eric. I’m even more thankful for what his example illustrates. His excellence as a guide for this journey is but a small picture of the kind of leader and guide we need for life. Only Jesus can do that. Only He will always be with us, always knowing the right way to go, always leading with wisdom and love and mercy. He does so in many ways, as any who follow Him will testify, but supremely through his precious word the Bible.

Mama’s favourite Bible verses speak to us with a powerful blend of warning and promise:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. 

In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.”

Proverbs 3:5-6

A certain recently inaugurated president (not the Gambian one, who seems to have a bit more self-awareness) declared in his inauguration speech - “I will never, ever let you down.” Erm, yes you will. We will all let each other down, as much as we may aspire not to. It’s called our sinful nature, and we can’t escape it. Yet.

So in this fallen world, we need one who can sympathise with us and who knows our human experience and world, yet one who is above it and beyond it in his character. Only Jesus.

An old chorus invites us:

Follow Him! Follow Him!

Yield your life to Him.

He has conquered death; He is King of kings.

Accept the joy that He gives to those

Who yield their lives to Him.

"Hold me with Thy powerful hand..."

[I could probably have called this post “Unusual Journeys 3” following on from “Unusual Journeys 1: The Boat” and “Unusual Journeys 2: The Bus”…]

I’ve been advised to go to Dakar, the capital of Senegal (the Gambia’s neighbour), for ‘a two week holiday’. Sadly the political situation in the Gambia is increasingly tense and there’s quite a serious risk that there could be civil unrest. I follow the advice. How was the journey? Well...

Step 1 - Preparations

Sunday morning - Eric arrives in the Gambia from Dakar to be our guide. I’m so grateful. He’s a relative of a Gambian friend of mine who now works in Dakar, where they live together. He’s done the journey overnight (as many do) since it’s a bit quicker and cooler. I take him to the house where he can rest before he does the same journey in reverse with us.

I head to church, leaving Mama to rest (she’s recovering from malaria). I have to work hard to persuade her to stay. We’ve got a long couple of days ahead of us though. I go and preach what feels like the most under-prepared sermon I’ve ever preached, but God wonderfully sustains me and upholds me. Afterwards there’s a long and drawn out meeting which I’d really rather absent myself from, with all the preparations to be made, but can’t. Trusting God.

Sunday afternoon - my legendary co-worker and very generous friend Pastor Steven seeks someone to help with the ferry queue - it can take many many hours to queue for a space on a ferry to cross the River Gambia, so one tactic is to find someone willing to sit it out for a small fee. Steven finds Sheiku (brother of a friend) to take the car and sit in the queue overnight. It should enable us to get an early ferry in the morning and get going.

I go with Sheiku to Banjul, hoping to gain confidence in him being with the car and to observe the size of the queue. All good. Hard to judge the length of the queue, not having observed it before. We packed what was ready into the car (sack of rice, a box of books etc), then after I return and leave Sheiku, I got on with packing my things. We plan only to be gone for 2 weeks, but who knows how things might develop. Could be longer.

Sunday night - finish packing at 10.30. Manage to get through to some loved ones back home and try to put their minds at ease. Try to sleep, aware that I need to leave at 5.30 and have a pretty tough journey and day ahead. I get some sleep, but not the most peaceful.

Step 2 - Ferry Chaos

Monday - Pastor Steven very kindly drives me, Mama, Rufus and our belongings to the ferry terminal at 5.30am. I call Sheiku to see how he’s got on. He’s inside the terminal (which was our target), which means he should get on one of the first ferries. I tell him to get on one if he has an opportunity, and we’ll meet him on the other side, or if we get to him first we’ll meet him on this side and load up the car.

There are long queues on the road to Banjul even at this time, because of the military checkpoints. There’s an infuriating ‘system’ of drivers undertaking the queue off the side of the road and then squeezing in way ahead. Steven’s far too proper to do it that way, though I wouldn’t mind if he did right now. It’s just as well we got the car in the ferry queue yesterday. We make it to the terminal, where it’s very crowded and there’s no suitable place to pull over and unload the car.

I focus on keeping Rufus calm (he’s doing very well - not having a clue what’s going on), and we frantically try to find a ‘porter’, ahead of many others trying to do likewise, to help move our luggage (suitcases, food for us, food for Rufus, water, etc). We send off Eric to buy tickets. At the gate, in the midst of a pressing crowd, we surge through towards the ferry, needing somehow to find Eric again - meanwhile a ferry is boarding and loading and we’d love to get on. Has the car got on? The crowd is heaving, people hold suitcases and sacks on their heads. (I guess almost all are crossing for the same reason as us.) Then Sheiku comes running back towards us from the boat, announcing that he’s got the car on so we should come quick… Crowds are piling on to the ferry. It looks like we won’t make it. People are saying, ‘Go back, wait for the next one; it’s full; it’s not safe.’ Reluctantly we begin to oblige, but Eric is working hard to persuade someone to let us on. In the end he calls and urges us to come back up the ramp that the crowd has now vacated and get on board. The ferry is actually pulling away from the ramp and we jump on board and squeeze under the propped up barrier just in the nick of time!

Approaching Barra at sunrise

A sigh of relief. I chat to the guy standing next to me about how regrettable the whole situation is. When someone points out that my money belt is open and exposed, I notice that it is. That’s odd - it’s certainly not how I left it. Evidently some Artful Dodger managed to open it and pinch an envelope I had inside with an emergency stash of £250 to change in Senegal. Not surprising really - a crowd like that one we were just in must be a field day for a pick-pocket. Momentarily I panic that my passport was taken too, before remembering thankfully that it was in a different place.

As the sun rises, the crossing is a moment of tranquility amidst all the chaos and uncertainty. It does seem quite overcrowded though, and I recall that it’s not been that many years since an overcrowded ferry here sank during a crossing… Thankfully the water is fairly calm! I know already that this is going to be one of those days of continual prayer. I keep an eye out for dolphins, but not to be seen today.

Step 3 - The Border

We dock at Barra and drive off onto the North Bank, saying goodbye to Sheiku, whose job is now done. What a provision from the Lord - a huge help. Now the task is to drive across the border and up to Dakar, guided by Eric. It should be about half an hour to the border, then about 5 hours from there to Dakar. I know it could well be longer though for lots of reasons. I’m just keen to make it by dark - Dakar is a big and unfamiliar African city and I’d rather not have to navigate it in the night (dim lighting, crazy driving…).

Approaching the border, we call an immigration officer whose number I’d been given by a friend - he should be able to just smooth the crossing a bit for us by helping us know which offices to go to in which order to get stamps etc. He does so, and all the papers are sorted out for us and the vehicle. No one seems fussed that there’s a dog involved.

Meanwhile the usual street sellers of nuts and fruit offer their produce. A very timely provision of breakfast! Bananas and cashews. Thank you, Lord. It’s now about 9.00.

A similar procedure of forms and checks are required both by Gambian authorities on one side and Senegalese authorities on the other. Thankfully it’s all done fairly easily and we’re on our way. My one concern about papers was that my Gambian driving license still hasn’t come through (having applied 11 months ago, and chased endlessly since). I’ve got a receipt to show for it which seems to be sufficient. Phew. Off we go into Senegal! I breath a pretty big sigh of relief and we all in the car thank God for leading us so far.

Now that we’re within Senegalese phone coverage, Eric gets a call from his relative, my friend who works in Dakar. He’s glad to hear how we’re doing. News is though that the centre where we’ve booked to stay can’t take dogs. Ah. Thought he might have told us sooner… Slight communication breakdown there! He says he’ll try to find some options.

Step 4 - Into Senegal

The first difference I notice is all the horse-drawn carts - there aren’t any of them in the Gambia. I wonder why; seems a pretty good mode of transport. Otherwise it’s familiar countryside, like the Gambian bush. Dry trees and scrub (it’s the dry season); lots of bare Baobab and leafy Mango trees; small villages of round thatched huts, with fences made of palm tree branches; donkeys and goats strolling around. Familiar kites and vultures glide overhead. The sun is rising but thankfully there’s some cloud cover taking the edge off the heat. Still, it’s 30º by 10.30.

Having crossed the border by 9.30, if we have a smooth run we’d get to Dakar around 2.30pm. In my head I decide to aim for 4pm.

The road takes us along the edge of some fascinating salt flats. It’s strange and eerie, but kind of beautiful. In years / centuries gone by, the salt produced here would have been a highly valuable commodity for trade. It leads us along 100km up to quite a large city, Kaolack. We stop to change some money. I had £40 tucked into another bag pocket so manage to buy some CFA (local currency), which should tide us over for a bit and allow me to get more fuel if we need. On the other side of the city (at about 12.30) we decide to stop and have a short breather and rest before it gets any hotter. A tangerine that we’d bought at the border is a refreshing snack.

Having a breather after a good first few hours of journeying

We carry on and the road is generally very good - just the occasional big pot hole to keep you on your toes. At a couple of points the road was being repaired or widened, so we were diverted onto a very bumpy dusty road for a time. It makes me very grateful for the tarmac that we’ve been enjoying mostly! Wasn’t there just a few years ago.

I begin to notice something I wish wasn’t happening - the car doesn’t feel quite right. The accelerator isn’t giving the power to the car that it should. High revs but little output. Hmm. I wish I knew more about car mechanics! Some of this landscape we’re driving through is really very remote...

By 2.30pm we’re on the edge of a town, Mbour. At one point, the accelerator is giving nothing and the car pathetically decelerates so I whack on the hazard lights (not that anyone’s around!) and steer off the side of the road. Sadly Eric knows no more about cars than I do. We do the usual thing of popping the hood, not having a clue what to look for. I check the oil level and it’s ok. Hmm. We pray. After a few minutes we start the engine and it seems ok again for a bit, though clearly not right still. Thankfully it looks like we’ll make it into Mbour, where we pull over again and Eric finds a mechanic about 50 metres away!

The ‘mechanic’ appears and looks about 12 years old. Huh. Still possible he knows more than me I suppose. He has a look and decides to call his boss. Good. It’s a very basic ‘workshop’. The boss says he doesn’t really know anything about automatics. But he gives the air filter a bit of a clean and that seems to help. I guess some of those roads were seriously dusty. Right… So we seem good to carry on, praying that we’ll make it to Dakar where we can find someone to have a proper look.

The not entirely reassuring mechanic's workshop in Mbour

Step 5 - Approaching Dakar

It’s now less than 100km to Dakar - within reach! In UK terms that would be nothing. But this is Africa… As we progress, sadly the car is still struggling. We see Dakar in the distance - it looks big. It is. 2 million people or more, depending where you draw the line - more than all of the Gambia! The roads begin getting bigger and faster. The car isn’t doing great. A couple of times we have to pull over again, try to imitate the mechanic by cleaning the air filter, and carry on. It kind of works. But not really. I’m a bit gutted that we’re being passed by countless very old and dilapidated vehicles which seem to be going along just fine, whilst this big solid 4x4 is struggling. Hey ho - God is sovereign and knows what he’s doing; I’m sure he’ll teach me lots through all this!

I think we’re on the outskirts of Dakar but it’s kind of hard to tell. I thank God that we’ve made it before dark! It’s now about 5pm. It’ll be dark around 7… But soon we have to pull over and stop. It’s just not safe to keep trying to creep forward. Eric knows where we are so hops on a bus to go and find a mechanic. Mama, Rufus and I just wait. I take Rufus for a short walk along the busy road in case he needs to relieve himself, and it’s good for both of us to stretch our legs.

After an hour or so, Eric reappears on the back of a moped. The rider takes a look and suggests I drive with my hazard lights on and he’ll follow to see what he can see. I’m not convinced but I oblige! After 100 metres, in the middle of a busy roundabout with trucks and cars hurtling past in all directions on all sides, the car grinds to a total halt. Yikes. Eric jumps out and, with one or two people who appear out of nowhere, pushes us free of the roundabout to the side of the road into a filling station.

Eric heads off again with this less-than-convincing mechanic to find someone to tow us the rest of the way through Dakar. He says it’s only 15km or so to go, but it’s a large and congested city. Mama, Ruf and I wait again. I buy a disgusting coffee to keep me going. After a couple of hours an old van arrives to tow us. We push the car around into position and the rope is attached. I sure hope the guy knows how to tie a good and sensible knot. We’ll see, I guess.

Step 6 - Tow Time

It takes about 1 minute for the rope to dislodge and we separate in the middle of fast-moving traffic again. The van driver has another go, using a supplementary rope that’s even thinner than the other. Continual prayer continues…!

I’ve never been towed before. If I had to request my first towing experience, I probably wouldn’t choose: by (flimsy) rope, attached to an old van that’s hard to see around, driven by a young care-free driver, through a big, congested, unfamiliar African city, in the dark. But it is what it is! Anyway, Mama reminds me that I said I didn’t want to drive through Dakar in the dark - I’m not having to, I’m being escorted! God answers prayers and provides grace in surprising ways!

It’s quite an exercise in trust. Can I trust this guy?? I have to! I figure out that steering slightly to the side means I can see round him a bit to foresee when he’s going to have to break - I’ll have to, since we’re connected by a short rope! We hurtle through fast and busy highways at an alarming speed, then around crazy roundabouts and through busier slower roads. Wow - this city sure is big. So different from the Gambia. It’s a similar size to Birmingham (UK), but with a far more mad traffic system!

After a second coming apart and re-attaching of the rope, we head down the side road of an industrial zone where the mission centre is that we’ve booked to stay at. We’re here!! After the chaos in Banjul, the ferry crossing, the border crossing, the hours of deserted Senegalese roads, the several breakdowns, the dodgy mechanics, and the tow van, we’ve made it. Praise God for seeing us through and providing all along the way!

Once we’ve paid the tow man, using up just the amount that I’d changed back in Kaolack, we dump our bags and are very glad to have arrived. Mama says to me, “If life had no challenges, you wouldn’t be alive.”

Step 7 - Final Challenges

One challenge outstanding - a home for Rufus. Sadly it seems like a pretty unbreakable blanket policy that no dogs are allowed in the centre. He’s permitted to stay in my car but even that feels like a generous exception is being made. After a day in the car already, when he’s used to roaming freely around the compound chasing lizards and birds and going for a walk with me to the beach, he won’t be best pleased about staying in the car overnight too! But he’ll have to manage. I just hope he doesn’t bark all night in frustration and keep everyone here awake!

A kind British friend of friends here has begun looking into options and emailed lots of people to see if anyone will take Rufus in. Thankfully, the next day, after visiting one local option (a dirty dungeon under an outside concrete staircase - thanks but no thanks), a lovely American couple agree to take him in and look after him! Hooray.

Other issue - the car. The next day we find a mechanic (hopefully a bit better than previous attempts) who thinks he’s worked out what it is. With my trying to explain the problem to him in French, and then me trying to interpret his French reply, I’m pretty clueless as to what he’s saying. But he’ll tow it away and have a proper look at it. One good thing is that parts will be much easier to find here in this city than in the Gambia.

---

What a day. Mama and Eric are perfectly used to this kind of travel, and probably think it was a relatively normal journey. A bit different for me - not so used to it! Early in the morning, my dear mum had texted me the words from the hymn: “I am weak, but Thou art mighty; hold me with Thy powerful hand.” I certainly am weak, He certainly is mighty, and he certainly heard our prayers and held us with his powerful hand!