Here are some of my first impressions of Gembu, Nigeria.
1) Dusty. Really, really dusty. Here, everything is covered in a thick layer of red clay dust that does not come off, even with vigorous cleaning. In fact, when I shaved my legs the other night (Yes, I know, TMI…you’ll live), along with my leg hair, I shaved off a layer of this dust. Guess I’ll be clean when I get home.
2) Full of life. While Gembu is a moderate size town of 80,000 (Including surrounding villages that extend several miles out through the valley), it is a town teeming with life. Clay houses, close markets with vendors, and lots of ripe smelling bodies (My friends, the B.O. is beyond belief! You get used to it though).
3) Loud. Long before the sun rises around 6:15, Gembu is awake and beginning its day. I reside in a house at the end of town, near a jungle of eucalyptus trees. However, in front of the house is a busy road where cattle and goats are herded by boy-shepherds. Every morning the children from the village walk along this road carrying pails and bowls on their heads, trooping to the stream at the bottom of the Gembu valley. Here, the children fill their containers with brown water and carry it back on their heads to their huts (It’s some serious balance, folks. I can’t even walk and chew gum). Along the way, the children chatter and sing, banging on their containers. And if this does not wake me, the mullahs do. Around 4:45 every morning the mosques in the village come to life with the prayers of the Muslim mullahs (teachers). Over loud speakers, they chant the morning prayers and fill Gembu with their sound. It is quite beautiful, except for the fact that I’d love to get another hour of sleep.
4) Slow. The pace is slow. The only people who are in a hurry for anything or to anywhere are the white men-all three of us :) .
5) Broken. Naturally, I was prepared for the destitution, but the poverty is surreal. Yet, it is the lack of hope in the eyes of some that really make my heart ache. On Friday I was working in the pharmacy of Gembu’s health clinic (FDA, look out!) taking inventory of the Anti Retro Viral drugs when a young women, perhaps 20, came in having just found out she is HIV positive. The pharmacist that I was working with proceeded to walk her through the process of taking her many medicines-a horrendous task considering the fact that these people do not often have more than one meal a day, no clean water, and have no concept of time except for sunrise and sunset; now she must regulate drugs that are taken 8 times a day, and often on an empty stomach. The countenance of this woman was that of embarrassment, fear, and hopelessness. She has no father or mother, lives with her neighbors because her brothers do not have the room for her in their homes, and now she will never have the opportunity for marriage. In her eyes, her life as she knows it has no future. My heart broke. All I wanted to do was walk over, embrace this woman, dry her tears, and tell her how precious she is in the sight of our LORD. Then a thought occurred to me, and I prayed, “Father, if my heart is weeping for this girl, what must Yours feel like, since I know you love her more than I ever could?”
She may not know it yet, but there is hope. Great hope. The greatest hope. Her life has meaning. I pray that she discovers the love the Father has for her before she dies-oh, how enamored our God is with her!
I feel as if I can go on, and on; and these are only my first thoughts. Hope you enjoyed a taste of Nigeria, friends. I do believe I am falling in love.
