Faith, Hope, and Charity…and a Monkey

It’s my (Nancy’s) turn to write! I wanted to share a few things I personally don’t want to forget.

Our home is just off the main street in Monrovia. It is in a compound that we share with 5 other homes and is surrounded by 12’ tall cement walls topped with large shards of glass and a 3’ spiral barbed wire fencing. We enter the compound through large, heavy, metal gates opened by two security guards.  Every window on our house is caged with thick thatched metal bars. No one comes or goes without permission to the compound and there are security cameras alerting the guards of any misgivings. It sounds like a prison, I know, but in reality, it is our sanctuary. It is the one place we go that is away from the chaos of the city. We feel safe and we enjoy the beautiful tropical plants surrounding our home. Other than the fact that we lose power often, including many hours in the day when it is shut off due to fuel prices, we are grateful for a place to call home and to recharge when we can. One fun perk of living at this place are the stray pets that live in the compound: two dogs and a cat! They are excited to greet us in the morning and anxiously await our arrival at the end of the day. I want to think they like us…but I am sure it is because we give them food. We named them Faith, Hope and Charity. The cat is Faith because she is so faithful showing up each morning for her food.  Hope, the tan dog, is very shy and has not yet let us pet her but she will lick my hand and I can tell in her eyes she wants to be our friend. And then there is Charity. She is always happy to see us and welcomes any attention we can give her. People in Liberia do not have the same affection for their pets as we do America. If they do have pets, they would never allow them in their homes, which ironically, are most often dirt floors.  

We are certainly learning how different our cultures are regarding animals. We have a wonderful woman, Sister Jallah, who is hired to be our house help for a few days each week. One morning as Faith, the cat, was in our house eating breakfast, sister Jallah said, “The cat has big belly,” meaning she is pregnant. I asked her if she had any pets and she said she had one of Faith’s kittens and named him Jack. I asked her if she still had Jack and she said nonchalantly “No. My landlord ate him.” Surprised, I exclaimed, “What?!! Your landlord ate your cat?!” Sister Jallah said, “One day I can’t find Jack. I yell, ‘Jack, Jack’ and there is no Jack….I ask my landlord if he seen Jack and he said, ‘Oh yes, I ate him.’” Sister Jallah said, “You cannot eat my cat.” The Landlord said, “My wife is pregnant and need food so I put him in a bag and took him to the neighbor and she made soup.” Sister Jallah said to me, “I can’t get another cat until I own my own place, because my landlord will eat it.”

Another funny animal story is we were at a District Conference. Jeff had interviews so we needed to be there a few hours early. Surprisingly, many members came early as well so I quickly made friends with a couple of Liberian women. They were so beautiful in their native attire and colorful headdresses; I have to say I was a little envious that they can pull it off. As we waited for the meetings to start, we talked and laughed as we shared stories of our families and our lives.  In the background there was a church movie playing on the television called ‘The Lost Lamb.’ The sound of the movie was muffled from the rain outside and the fans blowing above, so we just watched the movie. It is a story of a couple of kids who went to their grandpa’s farm. The kids were feeding the sheep with baby bottles and then teaching them how to eat from their hands. The little girl became attached to one of the sheep. One day her little lamb was missing. The girl was searching all over to find the ONE missing sheep. (Symbolic to how the Savior would go after the ONE). My new Liberian friends were laughing so hard. I said, “What is so funny?”  They said, “They have SO many sheep, she should not be sad.” Just then, in the movie, the girl found her sheep dead on the ground. She cried and cried while her grandfather tried to comfort her. To me it was rather touching but to these women they could not understand. “Why is she sad, now they have dinner?” they told me. I said that in America we get rather attached to our pets, even those on a farm. They asked me, “So you don’t eat meat?” I said I do but it is because I never personally know the meat I am eating. I never see our meat as a live animal. I just go to the supermarket and buy it. It is a concept I have never thought too much about. To them, animals are for survival. To me, if an animal has a name, it is therapy, love, compassion and happiness….not dinner. 

On the topic of pets….. We now have a mission mascot, Vin Diesel…or Vinnie for short. He is a monkey!  Our driver, Brother Morris, just returned from a trip down south. On his way back to Monrovia someone was selling a monkey on the side of the road. Brother Morris bought the monkey and brought it back to his kids. I think the monkey is awesome, but Brother Morris is having second thoughts as it is now destroying his home.

The best part of this whole Liberian experience are the people, particularly the missionaries. We love them all. We are getting to know them all ‘small, small’ (that is Liberian for ‘little by little’). We finished interviewing all the missionaries last week. It was wonderful and often humbling to hear their stories.  They come with all levels of experience both in life and in the gospel. We respect where they are and hope to help them continue a forward path through life. Most of the missionaries have sacrificed much to serve, yet they do it willingly, because they love the Lord and see how the gospel has blessed their lives.  As a result, they want to share it with others. It is a privilege to serve with them.

Because we love these missionaries, it is difficult seeing them sick, sad or injured. With nearly 180 missionaries I spend most of my days as Nurse Nancy. Before we left for our mission, our son-in-law said that on our mission we would see how our past experiences have prepared us for certain situations. We are finding that to be true. Who would have guessed that Jeff’s passion for the show MASH would prepare us for healthcare in Liberia, as we deal with major illnesses and injuries with limited resources.  We do the best we can with what we have and pray that God will help us with the rest. Elder Kongolo, one of our missionaries, said we could share this experience. It was Monday afternoon. His zone was given permission to meet to play football (soccer) at a local park. At 3:30 we received a call from his companion that Elder Kongolo had broken his femur. Since there are no hospitals near the accident site, Jeff (President Thomas) and I jumped in the car to go pick him up. We had to drive through the busy market, and the cars were at a standstill in traffic – millions of motorbikes zipping through every opening like mosquitoes, and we were surrounded by kekes inches away from our car in every direction. People are tapping on the car windows trying to sell the variety of goods they are carrying on their heads. We could not see a way out of this mess, and knowing a missionary was in pain made this a stressful situation. I said a prayer out loud asking for a miracle. Shortly after my prayer the huge truck in front of us turned a corner revealing a simple local man in a green shirt who started directing traffic, telling people to move out of the way and directing only our car through the maze of vehicles and people. He walked along side our car for a while until he could see an end of the terrible chaos. We paid him a little money, which may be the only reason he was helping us, but to me it was a miracle. 

We got to the missionary two hours after the injury. He was in tremendous pain but so brave. We splinted his leg and tied it with a couple of elders’ ties and loaded him into the backseat of the car. We then started the long drive back over the bumpy crowded roads. We got to the hospital, and without going into detail, let me just say it is not the standards I am accustomed to. It was midnight before we got Elder Kongolo’s leg X-rayed and admitted. The next morning, Jeff and I felt very uncomfortable about Elder Kongolo’s situation. The hospital by US standards is poorly quipped, not very clean and not what we are used to in first world countries. We again prayed for help. Throughout the day, God sent many tender mercies to let us know he is very much aware of Elder Kongolo (and us). 

It reminds me of the scripture found in 1 Nephi 1:20 – Behold, I Nephi will show unto you the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he has chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance.

To name a few of those tender mercies; we were told in order to have surgery on the following day we needed 2 units of blood within the hour. Luckily, Jeff had the same blood type, so he was able to donate blood for the surgery, and because he donated, we now had priority to purchase another pint of blood.  We were also able to speak with Jeff’s first counselor in the mission presidency (a well-educated attorney here in Liberia). He told us that although the hospital ‘lacked some equipment, the surgeons are the best in Liberia.’ There was also an American medical student from University of Michigan that was here for a few weeks. He was part of the surgical team, so we were able to understand him, and he assured us that Elder Kongolo would be well taken care of in surgery. Those are just a few of the tiny miracles, but they were enough to calm our souls. The next several days were rough, but we kept relying on the feelings we had that God is in charge and watching out for Elder Kongolo. This good elder was amazing through it all. He is truly one of the strongest persons I know, both physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. (You may have seen him if you read a previous post.  Look for a missionary in yellow boots.)

There is no place to hide, our white skin, dress clothes, name badges and of course our car with 10 inch letters on it that say “MISSIONARY”. I often wish I could blend in, but because we don’t, I am always reminded that the name on my name tag, is that of our Savior, Jesus Christ. I represent him in the way I act, talk, listen to and treat others. We are always surrounded with people wanting our help. They line up with requests for help or money, and it is difficult to discern who and how to help. While I was in the hospital, I met a man who was familiar with our church. Apparently we had donated some teaching supplies some time ago to an organization he was involved in. I could tell he was wanting to ask for more money. He began telling me how Jesus helped feed the 5,000 before he taught his message, they needed to be fed physically before he could feed them spiritually. He then shared the story of the Good Samaritan, saying that he helped a man who was not of his kind. I could tell where it was going but knowing that is not our purpose of this mission, I told him that I totally agree, we are here on earth to help others and we need to follow the Spirit on how best we can do that. I told him we are not paid to do missionary work – we sold our home and our cars so that we could serve, even our missionaries pay their own way to be here. We wish we could give money to all those that need our help, but instead we do have a message that is far better than anything money can buy. I told him that sometimes the best service we can give is a smile, a kind word or even a prayer for them. His heart was softened, and he agreed. Later that day, as I was sitting in one of the five plastic chairs in the trauma center, a woman with a shredded and bleeding foot hobbled in and was standing waiting for care. I quickly noticed her and motioned for her to take my chair. I went over to lean against the wall while I waited. I didn’t think much of it, however, the man I was talking to earlier that day noticed my gesture from across the room and brought over his chair for me to sit in. I thanked him, and as we looked in each other’s eyes, remembering our earlier conversation, without saying a word, we both knew what it means to serve as the Savior did.

We were sad to say goodbye to our first group of missionaries completing their mission service this last week. We will miss them all dearly.  We hate to say goodbye to Elder Shakespear, our senior AP (assistant to the president). He is a rockstar – seriously carrying this mission and us for the past six weeks. He knows every part of this country, and considering most roads don’t have names or GPS coordinates, he has been our navigator throughout the entire mission. We have spent many hours in the car with Elder Shakespear learning the country and many hours at the office learning the mission. He has given it his all and endured to the end. It is also especially hard to say goodbye to Elder Bingham, our finance missionary, who has carried us through this transition and taught us all he knows about the financial happenings of a mission. He has done an excellent job and is so fun.

We had a nice send-off dinner at our home celebrating their hard work for the past two years. It was fun to hear their incredible stories. They have all grown so much both in testimony and confidence in who they are and what they can do going forward. We are proud of them and will miss them tremendously.

We look forward to getting to know the new incoming missionaries. We get four new elders this month, all from the United States. We are also super grateful for our new our office couple and longtime friends, the Blanchards.  We knew them when we lived in Colorado 17 years ago. We are thrilled and ecstatic to have them here, they will be a great help for the mission and the Liberian people.