What My African Family Has Taught Me

Just a few more minutes, and then I'll get a shower and a meal and take a Sunday afternoon nap. That's what I told myself. Famous last words. 

I was in my way home after a wonderful weekend. Seven girls from summer Bible study spent the night with me on Saturday night, which meant turning every sofa into a couch, dragging out every mattress onto the floor, and transforming the living room into a slumber party extravaganza complete with a meal, devotional, several wild games of Uno, popcorn, chocolate, and a movie that kept us up until midnight. The next morning, we all got ready and went out to the village church  together, where the girls helped me do children's ministry. 

The girls all fell asleep in the backseat on the way home, and I was practically asleep after I had dropped them all off and was only two hundred meters from my house. That's when I was pep-talking myself about a shower and meal and a Sunday afternoon nap. That's also when I unintentionally sunk my car in the mud. 

You see, there is this big puddle that collects water in the rainy season, and I always go around it. But this time, I went a little too far around it and found myself sinking into the muddy grass on the other side. At first, it wasn't too bad, but the more I tried to get out, the more my tires spun, the more mud was flung, and deeper and deeper I sunk.

My friendly neighbors all came out to see what the ruckus was about, and they soon collected shovels and started attempting to dig me out. We tried rocks. We tried planks. We tried forwards and backwards. We tried lifting and pushing and rocking. Finally, I called my teammate who brought his truck and a chain, but my vehicle was heavier than his, so he just spun out. He went to get our other teammate's car of more equal size, only to find that the four wheel drive didn't work, so he just spun out, too. By this point, my right side tires had almost completely disappeared under the mud. I'm telling you, it was an excellent job I did - sinking my car in the mud. After three hours of problem-solving exercises, we finally called a dump truck who came and rescued my truck from a watery grave. I've learned that it's always nice to have a friend with a dump truck. 

The whole shenanigan showed me an amazing side of the character of Africans. They were up to their waists in muddy water for me. They stopped on the side of the road on a Sunday afternoon to help me. Women carried rocks. Men dug with their bare hands. Most of them didn't even know me. None of them asked me for anything in return. They saw I needed help, and they gave it to me for free and with a smile. 

I was reminded of something on this crazy Sunday afternoon. I realized just how much I need the Africans - way more than they need me! I came here to help them, but they have helped me exponentially more. I came to serve, but I have been served and loved. I have come away with more blessings than I could ever have given. I wanted to teach them, but instead they have taught me. 

They have taught me how to cook with their local foods and supplies. They have taught me to wash clothes, to shop, to drive, to speak. They have taught me how to not waste a single thing. How to eat with my hands, how to keep a garden, how to dress like they do and tie a scarf around my head. 

They have taught me how to behave in certain situations according to their culture. They have taught me how to joke with them, how to laugh with them, and how to laugh at myself. How to have humor in the midst of difficult times. 

They have taught me how to welcome strangers. How to show genuine hospitality even in the midst of poverty. How to accept and love those who are different from you, and how to find similarities that overcome the differences. 

They have taught me how to work hard, like really hard. How to work as if you are working for the Lord and not for men. 

They have taught me how to ask without shame. How to persevere when you want to give up. How to keep asking and seeking a solution until you find one. 

They have taught me to trust God in discouragement. To sing when you are down. To worship with your whole body. They have taught me how to pray harder and with more faith. How to fast. How to prepare and give a message of encouragement on the spot and how to always carry a word of truth in your back pocket for an opportune moment. They have shown me how to apply God's word to my life. They have taught me to believe in miracles. They have shown me what real faith looks like. 

I have learned how to share biblical truths across cultures and how to show love across language barriers. Because of them, I now know God as not just white, not just African, but a beautiful fullness of all peoples and cultures that he created. 

I washed the mud off my feet and hands, and I thanked God getting me out of the mud. I thanked him for my helpful friends and neighbors. I thanked him for Africa, the home he has made for me here, and for all the people who make it feel that way. I have learned so much of him through them. 

I don't normally try to sink my car on Sundays, but this turned out to be an experience I will never forget nor regret, not just because Geoffrey said, "I don't think I've ever seen a car stuck this bad", but because of what is served to remind me of:  just how much I need my African friends, neighbors, and family, and just how much that have taught me, shaped me, and shown me of God.