Teaching the Teacher.. a Cody post



Daddy and Mercy



It has been a full week. My reintroduction to Mercy has been great. Dad is a little more terrifying in real life than he is on the computer screen. However, she has quickly warmed to me and we’re good buddies. She is so much bigger than when I last saw her in early October. She took her first steps the day I left last October. Now she is all over. She has grown so much also. Much taller and much heavier. It won’t be long until she is the one carrying Melissa in the sling. She understands English perfectly (and selectively), and even speaks it every now and then. She has so many words, and can say anything you want her to, as long as the mood is right. She is still as much of a clown as ever. She loves to play and laugh and tease. She is personality plus…no fear of strangers, and she makes friends everywhere she goes. Mercy is also crazy about Melissa’s hosts, Herb and Ellen. She calls Herb ‘papa’ and Ellen ‘ja ja.’ She is never lacking for an audience. It is so good to be with her.
  Friday we left at 5am for a village called Kyzonga (sounds like Chizanga). We were accompanied by Herb and Ellen, our friend Abdul, as well as Pastor Fred. Fred has helped start four churches in towns around Kyzonga, and is connected to several pastors in the area. He had put out the word that we were coming. Once in the village we turned off the main road and drove up a rough dirt road into the hills beyond the village. We drove past many people pushing their bicycles towards the main road, loaded down either with giant bushels of bananas or jerry-cans full of water. We passed several clusters of homes, each with children in front. Without fail, as we passed the children would yell, “A muzungu!” Smiling, laughing, waving, and of course we waved and smiled back.



We finally arrived at Pastor Benjamin’s property, which is where the church is located. Mud house and mud church are separated by only a few feet...wide enough for people and chickens to pass through. Pastor Benjamin had been working hard all morning, as he does every morning. He was wearing his work clothes and a large brimmed hat and greeted us vigorously. Several children eyed us cautiously, but welcomed a hand shake, and smiled when we greeted them in their language. It was thirty minutes past our planned start time and there was one man standing outside the church by his bicycle, and one elderly woman in her Sunday best. Fred told us it would be a small crowd, but they would be arriving soon. The size of the crowd was of no concern to any of us.


By western standards none of us would recognize the building as a church. It is a small mud structure with sheet metal for the roof. The mud building is surrounded by a partially completed brick structure. Progress is measured by the rows of bricks. Herb noted that there were two more rows this time than his last visit in October. Inside, earthen floor is distinguished from earthen walls only by a layer of grass strewn on the dirt like the finest carpet. The pulpit is on a ‘stage’ which is nothing more than a raised mud platform. The wall behind the stage is covered by a large white sheet. The seating is a series of handmade wooden benches. The instruments for worship were three traditional drums, much clapping, and beautiful voices. There is, of course, no electricity. However, there was one detail that would be familiar to most of us. On the cross beam, which runs across the room, just in front of the pulpit, is a clock. Apparently being a village pastor does not exempt one from careful time management.


We were shown wonderful hospitality by Pastor Benjamin and his wife. We were taken into their home for tea time; fruit, hard boiled eggs, and African milk tea. It was a gracious meal. When we went back out to the church the room had filled with people. Pastor Benjamin was in his suit, as were the others. There were about seven pastors who came, some with their wives, and some with others from their church. At our peak we had 100 people crammed in this little room. I was conscious throughout that they had all given up a day of valuable work to come and learn about the Old Testament.

Cody preparing to teach



The beginning crowd

Pastor Fred translated effortlessly. I brought with me simple workbooks and pens for everyone, as they have few if any resources. Due to the language difference the workbooks were not of primary importance, but will be used in the days ahead. As I taught, the temperature in the room began to rise. With my head closer to the metal roof than anyone else I was only affected slightly more than the men in their suits, and the women in their dresses. In case you ever teach in the village, you need to be aware that the mothers have different ideas of decency when it comes to breastfeeding their children. At first it can be alarming, but you can keep your eyes on your notes until junior is finished.


After two hours we stopped for lunch. It is amazing to me that they were able to feed everyone. Lunch was rice and beans for the general population, but some different foods for the pastors and their company. We had matoke in ground-nut sauce, posho, greens, cassava, pork stew, and a version of eggplant that looks like peas, only bitter beyond comprehension. To drink we had water which someone had collected that morning from the bore-hole. It was boiled then spiced with ginger to give it a better taste. I ate and drank with gratefulness.


One pastor and his group had to leave after lunch in order to begin their walk home…ten miles. They walked ten miles that morning, sat through two hours of teaching, an hour for lunch, then another ten miles to get home. We noticed that out of this church full of people there were only four bicycles outside. Everyone else walked.

A couple of the pastors' bicycles

I taught for another hour after lunch…temperature rising…people still arriving…eyes focused on Fred…pens scribbling furiously…and multiple outbursts of loud praise at the goodness of the Word. It was a remarkable privilege to have been taught by our brothers and sisters that day.