A few weeks ago three others and I set off on a trip to Egbe (8 hours west of Jos). The purpose of our journey was to encourage the work of a recently established school for Fulani children.
If you're like I was, you probably don't have a clue who or what a Fulani is. Fulanies are the largest nomadic people group in the world. With 99% of the Fulanies being Muslims, they're also the largest un-reached people group in Nigeria. Fulanies live in mud huts and typically move yearly as their lives are dominated by the needs of their herds. So, as you can image, I jumped on the opportunity to visit one of these remote villages.
The construction of this school has been an amazing window into building relationships with this very close knit people group. The very nature of their on-the-move lifestyle makes developing relationships close to impossible. The husband and wife team that run the school are Christ-professing Fulanies themselves, who have given their life to try and tell their own people the good news of Christ through education.
After sitting in on one of the classes, some of the kids invited us to come visit their village less than a mile away. Although slightly apprehensive, being Christian in a Muslim dominated culture, we couldn't say no to the opportunity to get a peek into this very secluded lifestyle.
After taking a short walk through the thick bush, all of a sudden we looked up to see 10 or 12 mud huts with people, mostly women and children, scattered throughout a small village. It was the image that every westerner gets in their head at some point when they try to picture Africa. Completely surrounded by plant life was a small village with no electricity that created everything you see with raw materials found within a 500 feet radius.
As custom would have it, our first obligation was to meet with the chief of the village. Without his approval, our presence was not welcome. After getting the ok from him, the afternoon was spent touring and meeting people in the village (thru a translator), playing with kids, and watching the herd come in after a full day of grazing.
As we were about to leave the chief extended an invitation to spend the night. Thinking this was a once-in-a lifetime opportunity we took him up on it. We trekked back to the car, grab some simple sleeping gear and lights, and returned shortly after dusk.
When we got back, all of the children had gathered around a small fire for their nightly Koran reading/memorization. We joined the chief on a large mat as he instructed the children. With the chief's attention distracted by the kids, I took the time to make myself comfortable by getting horizontal and using my backpack as a pillow. Gazing up at the stars, the moment was surreal. I remember thinking how I could have never imagined when I was in college that at 25 years old I'd be spending the night halfway around the world in a remote Muslim village attempting to share the gospel. It's amazing the things God does when you give Him control.
Once the kids finished their nightly readings, the chief and another village member gave us their full attention. We spent the following 2 hours dialoging about one another's culture. Afterwards, we crawled, literally, into the chief's hut for the night. There we unrolled our sleeping mats on dirt floor next to his bed. Falling asleep wasn't the easiest thing to do. With no windows the mud hut acted more like an oven than a shelter. After an hour or so I finally managed to drift off.
I was abruptly awakened somewhere between the hours of 4 and 5 by the chief's out loud morning prayer which was taking place about five feet from my head. Feeling a little uncomfortable, I started doing some praying myself...not out loud of course. Around 6 one of the boys brought us some breakfast, goat's milk and some stuff that looked like soggy granola. Not wanting to offend our host I didn't refuse. This proved to be a mistake in the hours to come.
Upon finishing our breakfast we said our goodbye and thanked them for their hospitality. With a long car ride in front of us, we wanted to be sure and get an early start. Less than an hour or two into the trip home I got terribly sick. The unpasteurized goat milk that tasted so sweet going down early that morning didn't taste quite as good coming up. That 8 hour ride home ended up being one of the longest in my life.
Sitting here writing this now I can tell you that it was all worth it. Now had you asked me that during the ride home you might have gotten a different answer.
