We stopped in Enugu on the way, in oder to exchange some US Dollars. I had attempted to do this at the airport, but my friend from the airline had told me that the rate was too low. She handed me about $40 in Nairas (Nigerian currency). We visited a place called Mr. Biggs. It is a fast food restaurant. I took photos of the menu. (Later in Nsukka we stopped and ate a meal. I had rice with vegetables mixed in, it was very tasty, and a cooked chicken breast. It was good, and I enjoyed it very much.)
The total travel time from the airport turned out to be 6 hours with our stop in Enugu, instead of 3 hrs. In Enugu I was able to see the first of the destitute orphaned children. Such beautiful faces, yet such an enormous need. Sometimes you will see many of them hunched together at intersections with the homeless women or with the lame and blind begging, others, sit with wheel-barrels ready to go to work for any amount of money. Most are illiterate.
Their ages range from 3 or 4 year olds to teens. Some are more ragged then others. I asked my hosts why they are abandoned and/or why they are parentless. They told me some mothers have a child secretly (they are unwed and their family does not know about the child, when the family comes to visit they are so emotionally disturbed and worried about what the family will do, that they will take the child to a close by town and abandon it. I can’t imagine this. Sometimes, children are survivors of road accidents and their parents are not identified. The state government is very lax in how it deals with these issues. Sometimes these children are left with a paid caretaker, while the parent is trying to make a living in another African country or another city. They send money to pay for the child’s care, but when something happens to that person abroad, then the money stops and sometimes the caretaker turns the child out.
I was amazed. There were many potholes along the way, making the trip slower than it had to have been. These pot holes are the size of cars, mind you. Nigeria has got on Texas when it comes to potholes.
As we traveled from Enugu to Nsukka we traveled the “old” road and not the highway. The driver (Joseph), who is a pharmacist and trained as a nurse, indicated that this road was more scenic and calm. I could see that from the time we left Owerri there were houses and villages all along the route. There didn’t seem to be any empty places that were uninhabited. I guess that is what happens when there are 120 million Nigerians living in a country that is smaller than the state of Texas. We passed homes of all sizes, some small ones almost resembling huts and others that were large two-story homes block homes. We traveled on into Nsukka, where we dodged way too many motorcycles. The motorcycle industry is alive and well in Nigeria.
The taxi service in Nsukka is mainly motorcycles, if you want a private car (taxi) you have to go to the “car park”, a lot with cars You see whole families traveling via motorcycle. Driving here is unlike anything you might have experienced anywhere in the U.S. I don’t even recall it being this bad in South America, living there as a child.
Once in Nsukka, we stopped to eat lunch. A 3 hour trip had turned into a 6 hour trip (Africa time). I learned quickly that “Africa time” can mean up to 3 hours different than the time that was given. Everyone just smiles and says “Africa time”. So you either fight it or smile too and live with it. The meal was great!
We then went straight to Williams brother’s “flat”. They live in a 3 bedroom apartment in a four-plex that is gated. His brother is a school administrator at a secondary school in Enugu and his wife has her own law practice. Her law practice is run out of the downstairs flat. Wiliams’ brother was very surprised to see me. He had not believed Williams, when he said I was coming. We chatted for a bit and he made sure each of his 5 children greeted me. He then told me that he would be performing an old Igbo tribal custom. He had one of his children bring a bowl from the kitchen area and offered me to round looking things. He said I didn’t have to eat them, but I should take them and put them with my belongings. He said they were Cola nuts. He said it is what Coca Cola is made from. In Igbo culture this is an old custom that signifies that the Host considers your visit to his home the very highest of honors.
I changed into African dress and we went to the planned outdoor conference Williams had been announcing in the village of Opi. Opi is a 20 minute drive from Nsukka. The village has a population of about 2000. Williams had rented some tents and asked a local singing group to come and perform. He was hoping the commotion would draw more people. It did.
Just before dark, people began coming from all directions filing into the community meeting ground. The singing group began playing and the typical African style dancing and singing began. Some of the songs were in Igbo, some in English. After an hour or so of singing, Williams introduced me to the crowd. After the introduction he prayed and then we sang for another half hour. When it was finally my turn to speak, I was already soaked from the heat and humidity. Happy to share what God had laid on my heart, I spoke to them. They listened intently. There must have been 400 or more. So many people were out of the reach of the area lit by the string of light bulbs energized by the small generator. I shared the message in English and Williams translated to Igbo. This was necessary because of my American English accent and the fact that many of the older people and younger children do not speak English. We moved together like a well greased machine through the presentation and into a time to invite people to make a decision for a personal relationship to Christ.
So many people present that night were depending on their own works, or a pagan god, or even their participation in a religion to merit eternal life. Some didn’t know what their eternal destination would be. When I declared to them the words of Jesus, “He that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out” and “I am the way the way, the truth and the life, no man cometh unto the Father except by me.” Some began to weep with rejoicing to know that they could be secure of going to be with God when death knocked on their door. Over 100 hands went up indicating they were asking God for forgiveness of their sin, receiving Jesus into their hearts, and rejecting any other god or false path to heaven. It was marvelous. I was so encouraged. It was a blessed night. After much African rejoicing and singing we concluded the service and went back to Nsukka to rest.
Upon arrival back at Williams’ brother’s home, we chatted for a while about Bev and my plans to come to Nsukka and open an orphanage and then dinner was served. They said that they weren’t sure what I liked to eat. I didn’t know what to expect, but I had said that I would eat anything they served me, as long as it didn’t make me ill or I was allergic to it (shellfish). They served me a tuber (much like a potato) that was mashed and had butter in it. They also served me something like “yucca” that was boiled and in a red pepper, crushed peanuts and Palm Date oil. It was very tasty and I was relieved. The bed had a thin sponge mattress, but was fairly comfortable. The electricity had been off for a couple of days, so when darkness settled in, we just used a lamp and flashlights. The family was so generous and kind to me. They showed me where I could take a bath; a shower room with all the plumbing, bit since there is no running water in the area, it didn’t much matter. They drew water for me and even asked if I wanted it to be heated. In the tropical weather, I surely didn’t need it heated. It is the end of the rainy season there, so the temperature would be rising as there would be more sunny days. The humidity was stifling, especially if you were inside with no ventilation. The bath felt good.
I had a slight headache so I took some medicine and my dosage of anti-malarial medication. I was tired after a long day of travel. We sat in the dark living room for a few minutes discussing what the next day’s plans would be. Then off to bed.
I laid there in the dark thinking of all the sights of the day. My mind kept racing back to the scenes of the orphaned children. I had seen many already, though I had not been able to snap too many photos, as we sped by. It was emotionally upsetting to see their sad faces and to think they had no hope of a better day. My prayer that night was that I could participate in bringing them Hope from Heaven. That I could muster up the funds needed to begin to put together a Place of Hope right in the heart of Nigeria and provide some of these lost children a beacon of light, a harbor of love and care. “Oh God, I cried, help me discover each element necessary.” The prayer ended with a hushed “please help me do this”… and then sleep came.
The next morning we arose early and I found that my clothes had already been whisked away to be washed. When I had unpacked the evening before, I had taken my dirty clothes bag out of my suitcase. Someone had decided they must be dirty and had taken them to be washed. As I moved about the house, I could see the five children were all busy about their Saturday chores. Two were busy in the kitchen getting meals prepared; another was dusting and wiping down furniture in the living area. One of the daughters was busy washing my clothes downstairs along with other neighbor children. She scrubs and rinses in a bucket, not even using a washboard. They scrub each piece of clothing individually.
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