In my ongoing contemplation of how the geography of desert shapes people's lives physically and spiritually, I had a new realization this past week. It brings about indifference. Since I arrived in Niamey I've been searching for a word to describe the interactions I've had so far with the Nigeriens I meet in the street and in the market. I think indifferent is probably the best. Part of this is because I live in the capital city and I am just one of many expatriates that descend and ascend on the city on a regular basis. Some stay for years, some for just a few months. We come and go and interact with other expatriates in our own contrasting universe of air-conditioned homes, SUVs, supermarkets, and guarded offices. We have little "need" and time to form relationships with the people we are serving. Part of this is also due to the Muslim/Christian divide. I have never lived in a Muslim country before and still learning how to greet properly. And some of this is due to the nature of the land that is Niger.
This past week I went to visit five Health Centers that Samaritan's Purse supports. We left early in the morning and within minutes of leaving the city limits it is easy to see the barrennes that makes up the majority of the country.
Every once in awhile we would drive pass a village composed of a few mud huts, a mosque, and perhaps a health center. Each village rose out of the sand, like a mirage, indifferent to non-arable land desert heat and sun, and proclaiming an insistance to survive.
I needed to go on this trip for multiple reasons. Right now I'm in the process of deciding the direction for our health and nutrition program--what projects should be continued and what new ones could feasibly be added. For practical purposes, I needed to go and see the distance between the health centers, see their infrastructure, review their registration books. But really, I needed to go and meet the people. I needed to find connection.
I needed to meet the community health workers we support.
I needed to see mothers with their children and learn how we can better help them keep their children alive and healthy.
And I did. One of the last stops was at a health center where the community aids were weighing children and giving out supplementary food (unfortunately not plumpy'sup because we don't have any new supplies since the last order was declared contaminated by the World Food Program). As soon as I arrived as I was swarmed by many women with their young children eager to greet me, displaying gratefulness, not indifference.
And in my heart, I think my indifference to this place is beginning to ebb away. I've had difficult days wondering why God has brought me here when I often feel so useless and disconnected to the world around me. But I'm learning that God's silence is not the same as indifference. Slowly I'm beginning to see how I can apply here what I learned in school and elsewhere. And although I would prefer to be living in the community, with opportunities to form deep relationships with the people, by being in the capital city I have the prospects of helping a wider away of people. I guess in this case its quantity, not so much quality. Thank you for your continued prayers as I continue to discern how to connect and help well.
This past week I went to visit five Health Centers that Samaritan's Purse supports. We left early in the morning and within minutes of leaving the city limits it is easy to see the barrennes that makes up the majority of the country.
Every once in awhile we would drive pass a village composed of a few mud huts, a mosque, and perhaps a health center. Each village rose out of the sand, like a mirage, indifferent to non-arable land desert heat and sun, and proclaiming an insistance to survive.
I needed to go on this trip for multiple reasons. Right now I'm in the process of deciding the direction for our health and nutrition program--what projects should be continued and what new ones could feasibly be added. For practical purposes, I needed to go and see the distance between the health centers, see their infrastructure, review their registration books. But really, I needed to go and meet the people. I needed to find connection.
I needed to see mothers with their children and learn how we can better help them keep their children alive and healthy.
And I did. One of the last stops was at a health center where the community aids were weighing children and giving out supplementary food (unfortunately not plumpy'sup because we don't have any new supplies since the last order was declared contaminated by the World Food Program). As soon as I arrived as I was swarmed by many women with their young children eager to greet me, displaying gratefulness, not indifference.
And in my heart, I think my indifference to this place is beginning to ebb away. I've had difficult days wondering why God has brought me here when I often feel so useless and disconnected to the world around me. But I'm learning that God's silence is not the same as indifference. Slowly I'm beginning to see how I can apply here what I learned in school and elsewhere. And although I would prefer to be living in the community, with opportunities to form deep relationships with the people, by being in the capital city I have the prospects of helping a wider away of people. I guess in this case its quantity, not so much quality. Thank you for your continued prayers as I continue to discern how to connect and help well.
We long for silence, realizing that our only way out of the desert is to go deeper into it, beyond the breakdown of language to the "still point" where God meets us in emptiness.
The Solace of Fierce Landscapes: Exploring Desert and Mountain Spirituality
Belden Lane
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