Stories from the Field

November 2004

Stephanie's Chickens

By Stephanie Taylor, semester missionary to the Zerma people

My time here in Niger is almost over, but the adventures and experiences haven’t stopped yet. I spent time in Niamey gathering more journalistic information. There's a Christian man here named Yakuba (their version of Jacob) who is truly amazing. He speaks perfect English because he studied and worked in America for many years. He was even a manager at a Wal-Mart in Oklahoma! Random huh?

Anyway, Yakuba is Zerma and he married a sweet German woman and they came back here as missionaries. I went to the service of the church they've planted here, and it was so neat. I really felt the nations and tribes coming together under God. Sitting there among those people, joyfully singing and moving and clapping unto the Lord, I heard in my head, “They will be my people, and I will be their God” (Jer. 24:7).

The service was in French, Zarma and another African language, so I didn't understand everything, but it was still a great experience. The neatest part of the service was during one of the singing times, when Yakuba called out, “We truly have an international celebration here today!” Then he called people up to the front individually or in groups of two or three, to sing a short praise song in their own native language, with the drums and clapping joining in accordingly. We had Zarma, Fulani, Hausa, Gourma, Tomashek—all the local African languages—plus French, German and English! I had arrived at the church with Phil (my supervisor) and Ben (another missionary) and, sure enough, we got called up for the English. There I was, once again performing musically! And in the hasty decision Ben and Phil somehow chose a song I didn't even know. I had to kind of learn it as they sang… I was stuck mouthing the words, looking like I didn't even know my own native language!

On another day, Yakuba took Faith and I out to a village where he ministers to the people and works with them to do medical, agricultural and construction projects. He had a mobile medical clinic out there that day, and we saw some sad sights. The worst was one mother who had twin babies. The boy was all plump and healthy, but the girl was severely malnourished. It was clear that she'd been over-nursing the boy and neglecting the girl, because having a son is preferable. So the girl was suffering on her brother's behalf. It was really sad. She came to the clinic to get medicine, but they said, "Listen, you just need to feed her—a pill is not going to solve your problems!"

I was able to go back to Ouallam, too, before leaving the country. I watched Teresa, one of the missionaries, teach a neighborhood health/Bible class, and I helped her work on one of the many picture books she uses to teach these classes. The book I worked on was actually for Don, her husband, who teaches illiterate village people about agriculture and farming techniques using picture books since they can’t read. This particular book was all about chickens. I drew many, many chickens. Once again, I realized how much of a suburbanite I am. I had no idea what a farm chicken should look like. On one page, I was supposed to depict an old chicken and a young chicken, because younger ones lay more eggs than older ones. Who knows what an old chicken looks like?! I suggested putting more gray patches among its feathers, as if they age the same way we do, but Teresa was like "Umm, no." So we went out back and looked at her own chickens; she pointed out the young and old ones. I think my final drawing was remarkably successful considering I have no life experience with live chickens. I just eat Chick-Fil-A.

Secondhand stuff here is highly prized. The other night, we went to explore the night market, which they set up all up and down this one street after dark. It's mostly used clothing and shoes from the Western world. The Africans call it Dead Man's Market, the rationale being that the clothing is in perfectly fine condition and no one would ever willingly give up such good stuff, so it must belong to people that died. I was surprised and excited to find fuzzy winter socks with little rubber gripper designs on the bottom. I am oddly fond of such socks, but they're hard to find nowadays, mostly because the 80’s are over. Also, they're incredibly uncool. Well, guess what? I found them at the night market! I was so excited because I even found a pair that exactly matched some that I used to have that fell apart. I was so happy, I bought two pairs.

It's been great to experience God taking care of all the needs I have (besides the fuzzy socks), physically, mentally, spiritually, etc. In a literal and a figurative sense, this verse couldn't be more appropriate: “The Lord will guide you always; He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.”

This has been an absolutely incredible experience. Thank you all for the encouragement, financial support, prayer support, everything. I don’t know what the next chapter will be for me once I return to the USA, but I know that God will lead the way. It’s been an incredible journey so far, even to Africa and back. May God get all the glory.