Natural Novacaine

Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness reveals Africa to be a land of adventure, loss, and conflicting cultures. It was. The bleak end of the Heart of Darkness suggests the ultimate evil of all human beings: both the imperialists and the natives maintain an existence of perpetual selfishness and corruption.

As I boarded the British Airways flight from London towards Abuja I expected several things: an emotional thunderstorm, a progression towards God, and divine inspiration. I expected these things because my experience suggested this would happen. The summer before my junior year I participated in a mission trip to Monterrrey, Mexico, and the city exposed me to poverty unlike anything I had ever seen in person. The rich elite left the lower class festering in a pit of filth and a state of joblessness. But, despite the culture shock, I was able to contain myself and control my feelings. I was able to feel. The music and evangelism and fellowship made me feel closer to Christ. It brought me closer to God. The adventure in Mexico exceeded feeling into an obvious progression of faith and relationship.

Africa would be the same, right? I knew the pverty would be worse than Mexico but it couldn't be THAT much worse. And besides, I was 18 now. I was becoming a man. I was closer to God than two years ago. I had things under control. Right?

The first day of ministry saw several activites come and pass. The first thing we did was visit a plot of land, purchased in order to construct a building for a women's ministry, for widows. The landscape revealed a concoction of jungles, mountains, and deserts. And the fading, single coat of paint on the blue building foreshadowed something greater. As we waltzed towards the land, confident in our own ability to conquer the Heart of Darkness I was called by four men to photograph them (the silver block around my neck attracted much attention). I walked towards them and my mind began to build it's blockade. These men were the first Africans I interacted with. Their broken English told me that they wanted to be like me. I don't know why. This came back to haunt me later (Bad Boyz Football).

The leader, dressed in dark pants and a blue striped shirt, beckoned me towards them. I pulled the cover off the lense and snapped the posing men. I looked at the display and then the men. Holes in shorts, pants, and shirts. Obviously no shower in days or weeks. Clothes hadn't been washed either. All the things I had been blessed with and not been thankful for also began to haunt me. We prayed and left.

From the land our driver, Baba, took us to a ministry where four or five Nigerian men build and donate wheelchairs for cripples around the city of Jos. A cripple himself, the leader showed us around the selfless display of Godliness and character. These men truly lived for others. The conviction didn't come like I expected it too. Oh it came-but not in a feeling.

Baba brought us next to Gidan Bege which, in the local dialect, means "House of Hope." As a home for orphan boys and widows, Gidan Bege provides both material and spiritual nourishment for people who otherwise would be deplete of such necessities. The nervous excitement in both the kids and our group suggested a likeness in all humans, and after a short time the excitement overrided the nervousness and a football match erupted in the small, cement, rectangular courtyard. Laughs and smiles seem to come easy to a Nigerian face, and the first day of ministry brought plenty of both.

Our next activity pushed my mind into numbness. Natural novacaine. Blind Town, as they called it, was on the outskirts of town. The funny thing about Blind Town is that, because of the extreme poverty, it shocks some of the local Nigerians as well as (obviously) the spoiled Westerners. The can navigated through the dirt roads and, as we entered the Heart of Dark...Blind Town....children flocked around us like fish around a whale. We got out and the men were able to meet the chief 0f the Lepers. When street kids or lepers came to Blind Town for community they came to this man first, the leader. Bumper, Papa, and I were lead into the clusters of houses, and we were moused through a maze in order to find the chief: his room was a rectangle about the size of a walk-in closet. He had no fingers or toes. He sat on cement floor and flies (the Lord of the Flies mocked me with his work) buzzed around his face. His eyesight was fading. We couldn't understand the mumbling, but we thanked him for letting us meet him. From his room we were led to the room of his wife. She sat on her bed, mumbling, eyesight fading, toes and fingers lacking. The flies buzzed in her room also. Cement floor, and, as you should have guessed, there was no running water or electrity. Oh, and remember, this was the chief and his wife. The chief. We left the palace, frolicked with the children of Blind Town, and were returned to our Crescent Baptist Hostel. To think, ponder, and ask God why.