"God, You Have Finally Done It!"

I’ve been doing outreach into a few of the brothels of Jos for the past eighteen months. In that time, I think two girls have left and moved into our halfway house: Neither of them stayed. There are girls with whom we have spoken time after time; girls who, every time we speak with them, are planning on leaving the hotel and turning their lives around next week, next month, next year……… and they’re still there.

Granted, a few girls leave the hotels, but we rarely know where they go: Whether this is a positive step, or to an even darker place than that they have left. The one’s who have left and are trying to set up a new life, have so much working against them: So much temptation to fall back into their own ways; their familiar routine.

As we step into the Hotels each week, we are aware that we are stepping into a battlefield: Satan has a hold of these ladies, and the dark, stinking, dishevelled hotels in which they live. It’s easy to get discouraged in this ministry; easy to look at the ladies’ situations through human eyes, and believe that there is no hope. It sometimes scares me how quick I can be to feel the hopelessness of their situations, forgetting that we serve the almighty God, and with Him there is always hope.

Each time I pray for this ministry, I thank God for all that he is doing in the lives and hearts of the ladies we meet, but we rarely see evidence of this beyond an uncomfortable shifting, or a few tears as we share truth with them, and by the next week they either don’t want to know, or have disappeared (we pray to a better place!)

Thankfully, this ministry is God’s, and not ours. We are His workers, and all we need do is listen to Him, take up our shield of faith and obey.

Precious reminded me of this. Precious is a lady, who lives in the first Hotel we visit each week. In this Hotel live a number of ladies, who we have spoken to time and time again, to what seems like little avail. Every week is different, but in recent weeks we have frequently been in and out of this hotel within five minutes, because they just don’t want to know; or so it seems. Seriously, this is the only place I have ever been where sitting on a stool listening music counts as being “busy” (or at least busy enough to not have to speak with us).

Precious has been to our outreach centre before, and has spoken with us in the hotel, but never showed us a response that convinced us she was actually hearing what we had to say. That was until Wednesday.

We were doing our outreach the same as we do every week, and were in this first hotel. Keesha, Rahab and I had walked through the whole place and sat and spoken with one lady along the way. We were literally by the exit, when we decided to greet the last girl on the corridor. Very little conversation really took place, but when we asked her if she knew Jesus, her response made me curious: “No. How can you know Jesus in this place?”

In a place where so many ladies will pay lip service to being a “Christian”; sleep in rooms with bible verses and phrases declaring the power and sovereignty of God on their walls, maybe put on some worship music between watching pornographic movies, just acknowledging how far she was from knowing Christ was significant. We told her that we agreed with her, and went on to tell her briefly about our house. Immediately tears came to her eyes. “If there is really a place like this I want to go.”

“Ok,” we said. “Pack your bags and we’ll take you there now.”

I should probably mention at this point that we say this a lot. This is usually the stage of the conversation at which they laugh, and begin to tell us all the reasons why they can’t leave now, but of course they will allow us to help them in one week / month etc etc.

However, when we said this to Precious, she actually started packing!!!  The three of us stood nervously in the corridor outside her room, and all prayed that she would not let anything get in the way of the decision she had just made! Over the next little while there were so many times when I was convinced she was going to change her mind, and just continued to pray that she wouldn’t. She didn’t, and thirty minutes after we had first greeted her, Precious was sitting in the back of my car on the way to the half way house!

Every day since then there has been reason to be encouraged by Precious’s life. She truly desires to live a life glorifying to God, and is growing in her understanding of what this means every day. Keesha, who works in our ministry house, has been able to spend some time with her each day. The testimony Precious has shared with her speaks of months of unhappiness, knowing that she was not in a place where she could truly know Christ. Time after time she cried out to God. Time after time she made plans to leave and something would stop her: A friend would get sick, or she would just be short of the money she thought that she needed to leave. The day we met with Precious in that corridor, she was sitting there with a true desire to leave. A few days later, when Keesha asked her what was going through her mind as she sat in the car on the way to the house, Precious said that she was just repeating one phrase over and over: “God, you have finally done it”.

Matthew 7 verse 7 says, “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will opened to you.” Precious asked, and the door was opened. She did not leave that place through anything we ever did in our own strength. It was all God. “God, You have finally done it!”

“God will make a way”.

So often, when we talk to our ladies on outreach, they express a wish to leave the hotel in which they are working. They tell us that they are unhappy with their situation, and they know that the work they are doing is not pleasing to God. They finish by saying “But God will make a way”.

Time and time again, I find myself saying (on the outside) and screaming (on the inside) “BUT HE ALREADY HAS”! Not only did God love these ladies enough to send His only to die on a cross for them, taking punishment for all of their sins,  but he sent people across the world to walk into their room and tell them about this love. All they need do is accept it, but so often they don’t. So often it feels like our words are falling on deaf ears and nothing is ever going to change.

It’s true that these ladies' lives have been tough. I could probably bring most of you to tears by writing some of their stories here: Stories of abuse; stories of rejection; stories of incomprehensible poverty; my list could go on, and there’s so much about them I don’t even know.

Some days it makes no sense. We’re offering them so much: Freedom in Christ and support and guidance as they turn their lives around. A place where they could stay ad not have to worry about rent, food or clothes. What do they have to leave behind except a tiny dark room, and a profession, which one-day will likely take their life, whether it be through illness or something else? Who would want to stay there? Why will they not just drop everything and leave with us?

Then, on other days, I realise the enormity of what we’re asking: If a girl grows up in a family that never tell her she has any value, and then through earning money she suddenly has a role; a position of significance and importance. She is the provider for many; the answer to their problems. No wonder it’s difficult to let go! Yes, we’re telling her about the love of her almighty Father in heaven, about the value she has in his eyes, and about how He longs for her to be his daughter, but how can we expect her to understand this when she has no Earthly comparison? Our family should be our first experience of what it is to be loved and cared for. If we’ve never known this, how can we understand something so much bigger? If we’ve had to suffer so much to receive what we feel is any appreciation, why would we let go of that, for something that honestly just sounds too good to be true!?! If our life has been full of broken promises and deceit, why would we believe anything that anyone has to say about anything?

I so often wish we could just pluck our ladies out of the repulsive place in which they are living, but they have to choose. They have to first be repulsed by where they are and what they’re doing. If not, it will only draw them back. God has made a way, but it’s only them who can choose to take it. 

A new Kind of Normal.

I’ve decided to give this another go….lets see if I do any better this time!

After months of being frustrated at how “normal” everything can seem just a day, or maybe even hours, after there has been some sort of trouble in Jos, I’ve come to the conclusion that as human beings, we need “normal”.

We all know how it feels to start a new school or job: To feel like we constantly have to take in new information and to have nothing familiar around us. It’s tiring! At times such as these, it can be difficult to see how we’ll ever get the hang of everything that so many people around us are making look so easy. However, one day, whether it is a few days or weeks later, it all just falls into place: Gradually things begin to feel “normal”.

That’s kind of what I feel has happened here in Jos, except in this situation the circumstances never stop changing. Before the first major trouble here in 2001, Jos was a peaceful city. Neighbours from different tribes and religions would share life together without fear of what one of them may turn round and do to the other.

Over the years, crisis after crisis has occurred. With each crisis, I expect people have felt slightly more resigned to the fact that there would be another; periods of unrest became “normal”.

Alongside this, has come a decreased tolerance for the “other side”. A city, which was once completely mixed is now almost completely polarised. It’s just “normal” that there are certain places you would not live because of your religion.

After years of on and off violence came the next stage: The bombs. When the first bombs occurred in Jos over the Christmas period of 2010 it was a big deal, and a long period of tension followed. A few months later there was the first suicide bomb attack in the country, and once again people were shocked. Over the passed 4 months there have been 5 bombs in Jos, but I haven’t missed a full day of work because of the trouble.

I think to say that everything is completely “normal” in Jos would be brushing over what is actually a pretty serious situation. However, all I’m trying to highlight is the way we adapt to survive. Yes, we have people working tirelessly on our behalf to get hold of every piece of information they can in order to make informed decisions about what is and isn’t deemed “safe” for us to do, but even their decisions seem to change in time, with no new information at hand.

For example, a bomb threat, with no timing, was given (or at least said to be given), regarding a certain building. For about a week everyone in our mission was advised to stay away from this building. However, in time people have returned. The threat has not changed, but people just need to get on with their “normal” life, having adjusted to the idea that the risk attached to being in this building has significantly increased.

In the bible we are called to be as “wise as serpents”. This includes being wise to the risks that surround us each day. We are also called to “not be anxious about anything, but to give all things to God through prayer and petition”. I find it amazing that even in the midst of uncertainty, God can calm any anxiety we may feel, and give us such a sense of peace, and assurance that the safest place to be is in His will, wherever that may take you. I believe that one method God uses to fill us with that peace is to help us adapt to the changing circumstances around us. He allows things to feel “normal” in the midst of craziness.

A Different Type of Garden Party

Gyero is the care centre / orphanage where I teach a discipleship class each week. Apparently it’s only 12 miles outside of Jos, but it often seems worlds away from life in the city. Today we had a party with all the staff who work there (literally all the staff, as we started with the opening prayer of “please keep our children safe, as they are alone whilst we are here”!).

The party started in the laid back kind of a way that things usually happen round here: We headed out of the centre at about 11, for our 10am start. We travelled along a dirt road and over a bridge that has definitely seen better days, to some large houses, which are apparently where the mine owners of the area lived in colonial days. One of these houses is owned by a barrister, who was out of town, but allows us to use his garden for events such as this.

We arrived, unloaded the food, set out the chairs and all took a seat….Things were going well. I was mildly amused by the goats, which were all safely tied up, but scattered around the garden, as I thought about the goat meat we had brought with us for consumption later in the program: Until yesterday this had been one of the small heard of Gyero goats, but that’s what it was bred for right?

One of the Uncles (house parent s) was leading proceedings. He did a pretty good job of convincing us there was a planned programme of songs, games talks and food, but I remain convinced that many of those who contributed were hearing about it for the first time as their act was announced.

Not long after we had got started, some cows entered the garden, along with a small group of children. Mildly amusing, but nothing too out of the ordinary, until as somebody was singing his special number, the cows began to move closer and closer to our circle of chairs. The performer lost his composure for a second, but quickly got it together again, the children moved the cows on with some prompting, and we continued with our program.

A few minutes later, another cow made a slightly more dramatic entrance: It was attached to 2 ropes, being lead by 2 men, and didn’t seem too happy at this loss of freedom. It kicked and jumped its way through the gate, before managing to break free and disappear round the other side of the house; luckily not to be seen again by us.

We continued through our program of songs and forfeits until the next interruption: One of the goats broke loose. He apparently had a problem with every other goat in the garden, and so proceeded to chase and head butt them around, until one of the on looking children managed to grab hold of his rope, and tie him back to the tree from which he had broken free. He continued to head butt the tree, but the other goats appeared to now be out of danger, so we proceeded with our party, and began dishing out the food.

A feast had been prepared! As pieces of goat meat were pulled out of the bucket where they had been waiting, the only slightly bizarre thing that I noticed was the fuzz of hair that remained on many of the pieces. As we ate, all went smoothly; all, that was, except the baby tied to the back of the lady next to me, who vomited at the first sight of food, and the intermittent thuds as mangos dropped from the tree above us, occasionally onto a poor unsuspecting victim.

Things were drawing to a close, and I was definitely of he opinion that there had been quite enough excitement for one day, when around 10 soldiers, complete with guns, marched into the garden. They spent the next 10 minutes just kind of wandering around: Apparently some cows had been stolen the night before, and so they had been sent to investigate.

Finally, the delicacy of the day was revealed: Intestine soup. It would have been rude not to try it, so I cautiously tucked in, ensuring that I tried some of each different looking piece in my bowl. My personal favourite has to be the “Towell” so named, because of the furry lining of the intestine wall!

Having finished the meal, we cleared up, packed the cars and headed back to Gyero, where we spent some time with the children (who had managed just fine with no adults around), before heading home. I can say with confidence that this was unlike any bank holiday I’ve ever had before!

Plan C....or was it D?!?

One thing that I learnt pretty soon after arriving in Jos, is to expect the unexpected! This makes planning kind of hard wok, and helps me to understand why it is not a strength of so many Nigerians.

For example, two weeks ago we had elections on the Tuesday, making it a none movement day. These had originally been scheduled for the Saturday before, but due to previous cancellations and Easter they ended up on that day. Easter Monday was also a bank holiday, but it was only announced on the Thursday before that the Hospital was actually going to observe this. Therefore, my 5 day working week became 3 days long.

We had planned to go on outreach in the brothels on the Monday morning, as the previous week we had had to cancel due to security concerns. However, another commitment came up for the other ladies, who participate in this, which it was not done on the Monday could not be done for another 3 days (forgot to mention that Wednesday morning was also no-movement in case there was any trouble following Tuesday’s elections. Therefore 3 “normal” working days was actually 2 and a half). We therefore changed our plans for the outreach to Friday.  Still with me?

So, Friday came, and we went. As it was Easter and elections many of the women we would usually talk to had travelled, but some good conversations were still had. It was the birthday of Angie, one of the girls in the outreach team, so we had planned to go out for lunch to celebrate. We finished in the brothels by 11:45, and needed to leave for Gyero (Kid’s centre) by not long after 2. Plenty of time for lunch right? Wrong….the car broke down.

After a few frantic phone calls to various mechanics, drivers, husbands and friends we managed to leave the car in the hands of a mechanic, arrange a ride home for those who needed it, and borrow a car to take to Gyero, as mine would not be able to make it down the road we needed to get down (at least not without causing some serious damage!). We ate lunch in record time, and made it to Gyero only 10 minutes after the class was supposed to start. However no-one else had started, so why worry about little details like that?!

The class went well, and we then spent some time with the children….mostly dancing on the rain. What better way to end a slightly “unplanned, but it all came together in the end” kind of a week?

So what do I actually do?

Well there’s a question! I’m here with SIM (Serving in Mission) , and my primary role is to be a missionary. I work at a Hospital in Jos as a Physiotherapist each morning, and in the afternoons I have been trying my hand at a few other things: I teach a discipleship class of primary school aged children in a care centre / orphanage in a nearby village, I have been going on outreach into some of the local brothels for the last couple of weeks, which I hope to continue, and I am also looking to start teaching English at another project in the city, which focuses on training widows in tailoring.

Other than that, just living life can sometimes feel like a full time occupation! A lot of energy goes into what used to be quick every day kind of tasks like buying food, and then of course there’s relationship building. This is so essential in Nigerian culture, but when I have a list of all the things that I feel  I should be doing in my head, I sometimes have to remind myself of this.

You may have gathered from this little list that no day is ever the same! Today I came home to 200 doughnuts being made in my kitchen (not all to be eaten by us, I hasten to add), and a couple of weeks ago I sat on the roof of my friends car as we drove round a safari park.

I promise to tell you things in more detail soon, but just thought I should start by setting the scene.

First Thoughts

So, my plans for the afternoon have been halted and I have been saying for a while that a blog would probably be a good idea; I’ll let you all be the judge of that! I could get bogged down in what’s ok to say and what’s not, what’s interesting and what’s not….but then I’d probably write nothing. So instead, I’m just going to tell you about my life over the past 2 and a half months: The good and the bad, the entertaining and the not so entertaining. Here goes!

Here are a few things that I’ve learnt in my time here so far:

If you learn to greet in Hausa, you can participate in about 50% of the total conversation that occurs (often more) and if you repeat the same thing each time you meet a person, or even during the same meeting, it really doesn’t matter; if you think that something should take about 5 minutes, it will take 20mins – 1 hour; if you think that something should take 20 mins it will take 90 mins – 3 hours; electricity is a luxury and not a basic human right; You will hear “sorry” many times in a day, but actually getting a true apology is a different matter altogether.

Some things that I love: In those difficult, don’t have a clue what to say kind of moments, “sorry” is always fine; people saying “well done” every time I walk into a room – I don’t have to do anything worthy of praise; Colour– if you like it, wear it. There’s so much; Being surrounded by children, all of whom want your attention at the same time; fitting as many people as you possibly can into a car (and if we were actually Nigerian, still having room for a few chickens); driving behind lorries with slogans painted on them such as “Trust No-one”, and “God is in control”.

And some things that I’m learning to love (or just live with): Men peeing on every wall; glancing to the side as a motorbike nips past you, only to stare down the barrel of an AK47, slung over the shoulder of the driver of the bike; Nothing really looks like it should work, but everything sort of does, as long as you rest it in exactly the right position, and give it a good shake every now and again; No price is final, and you’ll always be made to feel like you should have paid more (if you’re not, then you probably should have paid less).

I won’t bore you with more, but I can assure you that the list could go on!