Kabala

In Kabala we asked around about a good book college we heard about. Sargent Dimba, with his eyes still half closed, told us in Krio that he knew where it was and would take us there. So, Rita, Muhammad, Sargent and I all headed off down another back road. Sargent and I were in the back seat. As we would come to a T in the road or a split off, Sargent would say “Right” and point left. “He means left!” I would shout and we’d jerk to the left suddenly. “Oh, he he, yes, that’s right, left.” And then in a few minutes “take your left” now pointing right…  Eventually we made it to the college which is located about 20 minutes from Kabala town. As Rita turned the engine off, I could see a young white girl passing out pineapples slices to the excited national children. She looked up from the children long enough to smile sweetly and retreated into the house. Soon we met, Faith, the girls mother. Faith grew up in Sierra Leone, He Father and Mother started churches in the north East of the country. Faith greeted first Sargent in Krio and spoke happily to him as he smiled and remarked on the buildings conditions. During the war all the building at the school had been bombed. “When we returned to rebuild there were trees growing inside of the buildings and through the roofs. ( She said something in Krio to Sargent, Like ‘the forest never stops.’) We cut them down and used the wood to help rebuild.” Faith is beautiful. She conversed naturally and easily in Krio with Sargent and was evidently very pleased to see him again. As we spoke, Her oldest daughter walked past us with a national child on her hip and headed up the hill. Faith said of her, “ She is a good girl, hard working,  she is always helping the women to thresh their rice.” Later Abby greeted us shyly and respectfully also greeted Sargent in Krio. Faith life is beautiful, and she is raising her children with the same love and compassion that exudes from her own heart. She told us about their plans for the college, her husband and herself were simply there to advise while they were reforming the college. Her heart however is with the unreached of the SuSu and she longs for the day when they might be able to start ministry among them. I left the college feeling refreshed and hopeful for S.L. And I think Sargent did as well. As we drove out, he commented on how beautiful the campus was now. The last time he was on that campus he was an army Sargent and he had to drag the dead bodies strewn about the campus into a pit.  But now there are children laughing and playing, there are fruit trees planted all over campus, there are new buildings and there is hope.

Bafodia

When we finally reached Bafodia, we were very well jostled, bruised from banging knees against the doors and stiff from the long ride but joyous at finally making it. We immediately were escorted to the chief’s house where we greeted him with the traditional gift a Kola nuts. Parimount Chief Piri is a devout Muslim but since his youth he has known all about the Way. In 1947 Wesleyan M’s came and founded a Ch and School in Bafodia. The Ch building was erected in 1952 and still stands at the center of town. Chief Piri is extremely tolerant of Blvrs and even appreciative of all they have done for his Chiefdom with the building of schools. He was very interested in us coming back again, perhaps we might bring more education and teach the Way too? As we talked with the Chief, Michael mentioned having family in Kabala (back down the three hour road) and said he wished he could have found his Uncle Micah while he was in town. Soon after the Chief introduced an elder in the community, Elder Micah. Micah is a tall and built, he walks with a slight limp but that does not diminish his image of power. His face was smooth and he acts as one who knows himself well and is content. Rita immediately asked, “Michael is this your uncle?” Michael looked at the man and shook his head, “No, No, Micah lives in Kabala this isn’t the same man.” Micah began to ask Michael about this other Micah and then stood up to embrace him, “I am Micah your uncle!” Michael had not seen Micah for twenty years and did not even recognize his uncle sitting right in front of him. “He was a slim and young the last time I saw him! This man saved my life in the war! If it was not for Micah I would not still be here.” In the war, Michael’s father asked him to take a large sum of money across the border and back to his family in Mali for safe keeping. Michael was a young man then and as he was attempting to cross the border just after Kabala into Guinea he was stopped by the government police. The war brought on lawlessness and anyone caught with any money for valuables were often called rebels by the police and then killed. “They were saying, why bother with him, why bother! Just shoot him, just shoot him we don’t have time for this! Everyone knew me in Kabala, they all knew my grandmother and my family and me but no one would say so because the police would just say ‘You are a rebel too! They tied my hands so tightly behind my back with rope that I still have marks on my wrist. I know they would have killed me but Micah was a big man and in politics. He was in Freetown that week but he called them on the phone and told them, ‘That boy you are holding is my son, if you hurt him you will pay the price!” Because of Micah’s influence Michael was released and able to cross the border. Michael was extremely blessed to escape with his life. We did not meet a single person who was not in some way scarred by the war. In Bafodia, there was a teacher at the Wesleyan school who told us his story. He was a very young married man when the war started, His wife was still just a teenager. The rebels came and took his wife and little daughter away. He heard that they had taken his wife to Freetown and later he found out she had been shot by ECOWAS during an invasion. “They could not tell the innocent from the rebels, they just shot everyone.” He said, many young men were forced to fight at the front line for the rebels or one of the other factions, you had no choice, “You either go and they kill you, or you stay and they kill you.” People who were of no use in the war, children and old people were killed or maimed without regard. We heard a story of rebels debating over whether a pregnant lady was going to have a boy or a girl, they asked her what she thought it was, they made bets on what it would be. Then they said we know how to find out and took a knife to her stomach. Chief Piri also had his marks from the war, he was stabbed in the head and went to the states for medical treatment. He spoke of the fun he had in D.C. and meeting the old Wesleyan M’s who by then were in their 80’s and the restaurants he ate at but barely even eluded to the real reason of his visit.

 Before we left Bafodia the chief gave us a gift of a chicken… a live chicken. We tied it up in the back and pr that it survived the ridiculous drive home.  We had a hard time coming by any food that was not doused in hot peppers. So that night we gave our chicken to a lady at the guest house and repeated multiple times, “No peppers.” That was the best meal we’d eaten since entering Sierra Leone.