As we visited with the villagers one day, we noticed a crowd forming. When we would leave one home, the person we had just talked with would follow us to the next hut. After a while, we had a crowd of people following us. I asked the translators what was happening, and they said the people wanted to hear what we said again. I noticed that some people had chosen to post their tracts (small sheets of paper containing the book of John that we had given them) on trees. It was wonderful to know that they were truly interested in what we were saying. The translator said that they didn’t have paper or pencils, so the only form of communication they had was by mouth. They wanted to be able to tell the story of what we had shared with them again to someone else. Once, I needed to write something down during a visit, and I used a Papermate pen that I was carrying in my bag. Our translator commented on how much he liked it, so I gave it to him. A world without anything to write on or anything to write with – I could hardly imagine that! The village school didn’t even have those things. We brought several packs of crayons, paper, and pencils for the school.

Part of our group had been assigned to the school. I was supposed to assist in teaching various classes since I was a teacher, but the first group that visited there was not received well by the headmaster, so I never got the chance. A woman in our group was a nurse, so a decision had been made to have some health related classes for the girls who attended there. School cost a lot of money so mostly only boys were sent for classes. There seemed to be a pervasive school of thought that AIDS was passed down through families. One of the chief/ pastor’s daughters shared this with me. She told me how someone in her family had died of AIDS so she would probably get it too. I told her that someone couldn’t get it automatically, that it was passed by bodily fluids or through pregnancy from mother to child. Sadly, I learned years later she had passed away due to an explosion while using a generator. She had been burned over most of her body. It wasn’t AIDS that killed her. The classes at the school that our group were coordinating covered AIDS, using protection during sex, and of course, abstinence. There was also a class for mothers, to teach them about prenatal vitamins and caring for their children. The headmaster had allowed the classes, but one day he came in and told everyone to leave. Maybe, he was being pressured from local officials.

Every evening, we provided a church service outside for everyone we had spoken with during the day. It was dark, but we strung up a light bulb which ran on a generator. People would come from far and wide as word spread. They would just all appear in the darkness and crowd around. One night, we were going to show a movie about Christ’s life and ministry. We had permission to show the movie on the side of the school building. People around there weren’t familiar with television or even pictures. We would take Polaroids of the children and give the pictures to them. They loved looking at themselves. On the night of the movie, crowds of people came – groups of women with children on their backs and older children running around, men standing around in groups, and even the elderly who could make the journey. On our way to the school, before the sun went down, we had passed many walkers. As our truck would pass, people would hold up an index finger. This happened a lot as we would travel the roads. I was told that a long time before us, a traveling mission group had come through and taught them that sign which meant one God. They knew we were missionaries too, and that was how they were communicating with us. A woman would always come to the services and bring a tall drum. She would play it and the chief/pastor’s daughters would sing and lead the crowd in song. Sometimes, the woman would let her little boy (he was about four or five) play the drum she brought. He was amazing. He would play like an adult, and he had so much energy!

The night of the movie, we set up the projector and started the movie. It played for a short time but the bulb blew out. The crowd was very disappointed. The chief/pastor talked with our missionary leader, and then the chief spoke to the crowd. He tried to explain the situation, and when they realized the movie would not come back on, they all let out a sigh. At every service, one of us would share our personal testimony. This particular night was not my turn, so I watched the crowd. After the movie cut off, the chief introduced the one in our group who would share his testimony. There was a group of men who would shout out throughout his story. The crowd would laugh at what they were shouting. This went on for awhile, and I could tell the men were drunk. They were stirring up the crowd. More people began to shout and laugh, and the crowd began to surge. There were hundreds of villagers there. Throughout the evening, young children would approach me and say hello in English. They were taught English in school, but hello was all they could say so far. Sometimes, they would talk to me, and my translator would tell me that they wanted to touch my skin or my hair. They weren’t used to seeing white skin and blonde hair. I would let them touch my skin, and sometimes the younger ones would let me pick them up and hold them. Back in the village at the campsite, we would play soccer with them. Little girls would run around with sibling babies on their backs, and little boys would chase them. We gave them a ball to play with because they had been using trash that was tied together to make a ball. We would sing songs with them and dance. We had bonded with many of the children, and I loved being with them. This night, the children were so sweet, but I felt the atmosphere was changing. As the crowd continued to grow and the drunk men whipped them into an angry mob, I began to wonder about our safety. It was very dark, but I could see the concern in the movements of our guides. I made my way through the crowd, keeping to the edges. The guide who drove our truck was blocking the entrance to the truck with his body. He shouted for me and some other women in our group to board the truck immediately. The crowd pushed against us grabbing and yelling as he blocked us with his body. We boarded the truck, and others in our group soon followed. The crowd surrounded the truck, but as soon as everyone was on board, the driver cranked up and drove out leaving the crowd behind us. I know that if we hadn’t left when we did, things probably would’ve turned out differently.