Persecution among believers in Christ is still prevalent today in Jos, Nigeria. And by “among” I mean “from” fellow believers. As we all know, persecution can take various forms, and the kind I endured was centered on a game of Farkle (a dice game). Since I was the loser of this intense game, my comrades duct taped me to a conspicuous tree on my own compound for the entire night to greet the students coming in for a tournament the next morning (thankfully the tournament was the following week, and yes, this was during the school year). I was particularly nervous about my students seeing me duct taped to a tree, for I had no good explanation to give them. The deal was that I could choose a fellow sufferer, but I couldn’t bring myself to sentence a particular person, so I chose a name out of a hat (sorry Immanuel). Honestly, looking back, I should have chosen the instigator of the whole ordeal, Dustin, who is a short termer with SIM. Several guards passed by and laughed. One guard asked, “Is this how you people torture people? I like it! Are you going to kill her?” After hanging for 6 hours, my mind drifted to the consideration of acetic suffering to get a clearer picture of the physical agony of Christ on the cross. But that is a bit of a stretch in spiritualizing a lost wager!

Although games of luck don’t work out for me to well, games of sport are right up my alley. I joined a group of folks to watch the Nigeria-Kenya World Cup Qualifiers last weekend in Abuja. The travel there and back was just as eventful as the game itself. In trying to find the entrance to the stadium, I followed (on foot) the sea of people that looked like they knew where they were going (my dearest sister Rene, lovely housemate Dana, and great Irishman Micah were with me). Much to my bewilderment, the guards started flogging the masses with long tree branches as they scrambled in the gate. Once I shook myself out of my shocked confusion, I decided we should follow the OTHER mob of people, but I turned around only to see a single middle-aged man on his knees being beaten by two policemen, shouting things I couldn’t understand. The rest of the journey to the stadium was also surreal—as if from a movie.


By some miracle, my posse and I found the rest of our group in the packed out stadium. With a population of several thousand, there were probably 30 white people and 20 of them were with us. The stadium was surprisingly nice. Oh, and forget hotdogs and popcorn: this place sold roasted chicken quarters and suya (steak strips)! Nigeria won, for which I was extremely thankful b/c I’d hated to see the reaction of a loss with that many excitable people. I was also pleased to see that they were happy to see foreigners supporting their country’s colors!

Before you think that my summer is simply going from one game to the next, allow me to remind you that I’ve been taking Hausa language classes. It is going well and the guards on my compound love to challenge me and help me practice. There are 9 of us in a class, which is considered to be very large. With two Texans, a Dominican New Yorker, a New Zealander, and several jokesters, we have a lot of laughs in class! Here’s a couple of Hausa bloopers:
1) What he meant to say in response to ‘Hey white man’: “Hey black man!”
What he actually said: “Hey black dead!”
2) What I meant to say to a guy in my class: “Bring me some facial tissue.”
What I actually said: “Bring me some flesh tissue.” The embarrassing things that could have been insinuated there are endless!

The last bit of news is not quite as light-hearted. Marc, member of the “family” and Dana, my housemate both left on Friday. I’m usually pretty good at saying goodbyes even to the point that I may seem cold-hearted. But when Dana left, Rene, Briska and I were all boo-hooing. It took Dana and me a while to get connected, so it’s frustrating to have to let her go now. I have really grown to love our friendship and hate to see her go. Transitory relationships, however, is a part of life—especially the missionary life. I pray that God uses these experiences to teach me to love better.

At this time of having an “empty nest” and reflecting on my friendships back home, I’ve been reminded of a very appropriate quote, “All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on” (Henry Ellis). So true! Thankfully, I never have to let go of the Lord, nor does He let go of me!

Kari

This is me trying to pound yam--NOT EASY!! But is sure does taste good!