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7 The Lord your
God is bringing you into a fertile land—a land that has rivers and springs, and
underground streams gushing out into the valleys and hills;
Shortly after we were married, we spent five years on a
rural mission station in Africa. I was sent there to teach math and science. We
lived in a lovely mud brick house that was plastered and whitewashed, and had
red cement floors. We had electric lights in every room and one electric outlet
per room. The electricity was only on from 6:00 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. If the
electricity didn’t come on, I had to shoulder my tool box and hike a couple
blocks and fix the generator. We often left the lights switched on, for obvious
reasons. Our kerosene operated fridge needed the wick adjusted every so often
or the flame would either go out or get too high and coat the ceiling with soot.
We had cold running water. I took a cold dip in the bathtub
each morning. During droughts I would leave water in the tub for days and take
a dip in it each morning. When we had water problems, I shouldered my tool box
and hiked a mile down to the water pump—we had no car—and fix the pump. This
might take only a couple hours or a fortnight. If the lights or water went off,
it meant the entire mission was without lights or water. When I didn’t notice,
someone would come and pound on my door—there were no telephones. When the
drains were blocked anywhere on campus, it was my duty to unblock them.
We had a small garden with one papaya tree in it. Often
someone would come by and pick my unripe papaya and come to my door and try to
sell it to me.
By contrast, now we live in a lovely home about the same
size in California. The house is wood framed with plaster walls. The floors are
cement and covered with carpet or tile. We have lights and several outlets in
every room and electricity all day long. On the rare occasion the lights go out,
we wait for only a few seconds, and they come on again. We have an electrically
powered fridge that needs no special attention.
We have hot and cold running water. In cool weather I take a
warm shower each morning. In hot weather I usually take a morning dip in our
swimming pool. Rarely does the water go off, and we are notified beforehand
that it will be off. When the drains get plugged, I phone a plumber. We have
several working phones that sometimes call us too often.
Two cars park in the garage. In the yard, we have a small
orchard with lots of citrus fruit, guavas, avocados, figs, and bananas that
supply us with more than enough to feed ourselves and the rats around us.
In the yard behind the first house I had dug a garbage hole,
where we dumped all our garbage—when it filled up, I would light it and let it
burn. It would sometimes burn for more than a day. Then I could pack it down and
add more garbage. Here at this new house, I place all the garbage in three bins,
which are emptied weekly, by the city.
Yet in both houses we found joy and love and comfort. It’s
not just what one has or lacks that makes it pleasant or unpleasant. The
attitude we adopt can make each sufficient and livable.
Thank You, Lord, for these common luxurious
necessities that You keep us supplied with in all circumstances.
It really makes one appreciative of the niceties of life when one has experienced the more primitive. Was the spring called the Tinti? Just wondering if it's where i think it was.
ReplyDeleteNo, the one I was at was in Tanzania. The Tinti is the Water supply for Rusangu Mission, Rusangu Secondary School, and (I assume) Rusangu University in Zambia. My Dad, C. F. Clarke, carved RSS out of Virgin bush in the mid to late 1960s. So I had the privilege of visiting the Tinti in 1967.
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