Traveling in Africa is a great opportunity and sometimes it comes at a high price. We decided to share a story that goes beyond the cliche whining about lousy roads. I will share it as if it had happened to me, but in reality, it happened to one our missionary colleagues:
Last week, I was within 45 minutes of completing my 11 hour, 300 mile drive out of the mountains to spend the night in Kankan before heading to Bamako for a Leadership meeting. Upon approaching a gendarme (literally: man of arms- I’ll call it a cross between police and military) checkpoint I was waved to slow down, which I did. (These checkpoints are common throughout West Africa and are used to check validity of papers and monitor who and what is on the road.)
I interpreted the next wave as a wave to continue driving but based on my rearview mirror, it had been a wave to pull over, so I did. Mid-apology for the misunderstanding, I was gruffly told to turn around and go back to the checkpoint.
Upon reaching the checkpoint, I handed over my paperwork and was issued a fine for 300,000 GNF (a little over $40). I pled my case that it was a misunderstanding but it fell upon a set of rude and busy ears. There were perhaps a dozen other people begging to have their paperwork returned-some agreed to pay small “fines”. I finally told him to write me the ticket and I would pay the fine in town at the office according to the law. He refused to write me a ticket but decreased the fine to 240,000 GNF to be paid on the spot.
I called my colleague in Kankan who gave my number to a pastor friend who called me back and asked to speak to the gendarme. After taking the phone, I heard the officer say, “This is between this man and the government, God has nothing to do with this.”
(Toyota cas a corner on the market for African Misisonaries- this is the parking lot at
Thanksgiving)
A few minutes later, my phone rang with someone else on the line asking to speak to the officer. While the officer was refusing, the call was dropped. I learned who was on the line and informed the officer that he had just refused a call from his colonel wanting to know why he wasn’t answering the radio and what category of offense I was being ticketed for. His face turned a little less angry and a little more serious. I was immediately issued a ticket for 140,000 GNF. He took the call the next time. The colonel said I was to be released with a ticket and the officer was to report to the headquarters in Kankan at 7am tomorrow with my vehicle title and driver’s license to settle the issue.
The next morning at 9, my colleague, his pastor friend and I visited the colonel to thank him for his help. The officer in question had not been heard from, but his captain was present to wash his hands of the situation. I handed my ticket to the colonel, ready to pay but he told me I would not be paying the fine. He radioed all the gendarme posts in the region to let them know that if the saw the man who hassled me, he should be sent to speak with the colonel. He then sent several men out on motos to find the guy. He looked at us and held up his hand saying, “Just as all the fingers are not the same length, not all of us gendarmes are the same.”
In order to reach Bamako, only 200 miles away on a pristine new road, we had to reach the border before it closed at 6pm and I still lacked a Malian visa. When we could wait no longer, my colleague offered to drive, we borrowed another truck, had new “mission papers” printed for border crossing and got our passports stamped 20 minutes before the border closed. The gendarmes there hustled to fill out our paperwork allowing us to drive across the point border and walk back to get the necessary papers. The next 3 border stops took a couple hours as we waited for the call (and response) to prayer, the officials to eat and fill out our paperwork. Everyone joked, we exchanged phone numbers and were wished safe travels while we promised to return soon and greet them. Despite having to work late because of our tardiness, we were very well taken care of.
Because my title and license were gone and my truck left in Kankan, my colleague had to drive me back to Kankan. This meant crossing the border 4 times in 5 days. The second and third times we were waved through in only 45 minutes with handshakes, phone numbers, jokes and food sharing. Once, we didn’t even get our passports stamped. The fourth time we were told that we had to have 1 year, multiple entry visas instead of the 3 month multiple entry visas. We were accused of being dishonest and trying to hide something from the government and don’t talk to me and sit up straight and this is the LAST time.
Not all the fingers are the same length.
The colonel did get my papers back. He didn’t offer an explanation and my curiosity pushed me to ask but it seemed rude. We paid him a visit with my boss’s boss who was at the Leadership meeting to thank and re-thank him for his service and hospitality toward our mission.
God provided us alternate plans when we got jammed, peace through stress (He wasn’t stressed), cash on hand when needed, introductions to new people, and RELATIONSHIPS to depend on. These relationships have been cultivated by our colleagues years before we thought about Guinea. It’s not WHAT you know it’s WHO you know, right?
Wasn’t this whole ordeal really just a parallel to our faith? I had done something wrong (a minor offense but still a blemish) and “the enemy” (for lack of a better word) held it over me. But I knew someone who would accept my confession and request for forgiveness because I knew him. And God tied up every lose end and opened every door along the way.
So as you form your opinions of people, remember “not all the fingers are the same length”. Also, watch closely because the tough parts of our lives might be God reminding us of our redemption.
Also, Happy New Year! (Freezer Defrost Day)
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