A Visit to Kubi

A visit to Kubi

Late Friday night, October 29

Tonight we are in Kubi. I am writing this from my hut, lying on a thick foam mattress (no sheets) surrounded by mosquito netting. Outside the villagers are having a lively conversation in Hausa. It’s at least 90 in here and humid. Drew somehow managed to fall asleep almost immediately, but I have not, so I take out my iPhone and start typing.

The road to here was smooth by Nigerian standards until we reached the last real city and made the turnoff to Kubi. Then it became a lot like the road to Pai but a little dryer. In the US, it would be the worst dirt road you had ever ridden on. Here, is it standard fare. The scenery was stunning as the mountains of Cameroon loomed off to our right, tall and bright green. In the foreground are fields of guinea corn and beautiful savannah trees.

When we finally arrive, we discover that the pastor had no idea we were coming or even who we were. He thinks we are with the borehole team from the government and appears less than pleased to see us, especially when Barb lets him know we were planning to stay until Sunday afternoon. We are brought into his conference hut where we sit for the next two hours while the leaders of the church sort things out. We plan for the worst, which means heading back to Yola within the next two hours. Kris has given us strict guidelines to not travel at night, when bandits may be out. After about the first half hour, the confusion is resolved as some of the tribal members remember Barb and Judy’s last visit in 2006. All is now well and we are welcomed with open arms, though still didn’t know we were coming. And so they prepare for our visit while we continue to wait in the hut.

The dean for the area pastors, Michael Abejo, arrives about an hour later and greets us all with great enthusiasm. He is happy to see Barb again and asks about Judy and the others who were there last. After a great deal more preparation we gather our bags and head to our huts. Tea is served and, as the sun goes down we are served dinner under the stars at a table next to our hut. Tomorrow we will visit other villages and take a motorcycle ride to the mountains. This should be interesting!

Saturday, October 30

Today was very busy with trips to outlying villages. The morning trip is to villages that border the mountains of Cameroon. Poor Anari, our driver, has 12 of us in the van with Michael and the other church leaders directing him down roads that are literally motorcycle paths through guinea corn fields and high grasses. Anari has the choice of straddling the path or keeping one wheel in the path and blazing a trail for the other wheel in the grass. His approach varies by road condition. We are all concerned that he’s going to bottom out and we will be stuck with a broken down van out in this most remote part of Nigeria.

The driving portion of our trip ends in a village that is primarily Muslim. From there we hop on motorcycles for the journey further up the path. Since there are only three motorcycles available, I am to wait behind while they deliver Drew, Barb and Deb then come back to get me. Instead, a Muslim gentleman offers to give me a ride on his cycle. It is quite a ride over narrow trails, through streams and down gullies. Somehow, I manage to arrive at the village first, even though they left minutes before me and we never overtook them. There are several men standing around when we pull up. I appear to be in the right place, since they have plastic lawn chairs set up for us. I just hope the others are coming soon and didn’t go to some other village instead. Finally an older gentleman walks up, welcomes me in English and hands me his student card for Bronnum Seminary and a picture of Pastor Judy Winzig’s family from four years ago. Now I know I’m in the right place!

The others arrive about ten minutes later and we hold a brief ceremony for all present. This is repeated at each village we visit—Michael explaining that the partnership is now with Lake Nokomis Lutheran, which he has them all pronounce. After the ceremony, we all head out for a twenty minute walk (which is actually 45) up to the next village. It’s a beautiful walk through a savannah surrounded by mountains. We repeat the ceremonies and head back to the motorcycles and the return trip to the Muslim village. From there it’s back into the van for the ride back to Kubi. But not for me:

A young man named Solomon who I met the night before wants me to ride back with him on his motorcycle. I eagerly accept as the ride is both faster and a lot cooler (it is at least 90 degrees in the shade). It is turns out to be a truly joyous experience. Ask me sometime about our stop to buy a cup of gasoline and the condition of the tires on that motorcycle. Over the next day I developed a nice relationship with Solomon with whom I have exchanged family photos. I am also introduced to his father and sit with him on the family front porch until the others arrive back in Kubi. The afternoon is more of the same, though the roads actually get even narrower, to the point where Anari finally says he will go no further. So we walk the last quarter mile to our last village for the day. There is so much left to tell, but this is already long, so I will end here for the day.

Sunday, October 31

Services are to begin promptly at nine in the morning, but are delayed for a while as we are taken to meet the village chief. Even though he is Muslim, Pastor Drew Flathmann is invited to lead us in prayer in his hut. It is quite a moving experience. The service is equally moving with songs of welcome from the women’s fellowship and the youth group. I have videos of each. The church is simple but of good size and fills up steadily as the service goes on. After two hours, we present our gifts for the congregation and receive ours: each of us gets an African outfit which they help us put on over our existing clothes. It’s already hot inside the church and this makes it even more so. Even I was sweating profusely, which is rare. And I wasn’t wrapped in a headscarf as Barb and Deb were. Pastor Drew then gives his sermon, which is translated into Hausa by Michael. Next is the offering, which is done separately for the men and women. First the women leave the building and re-enter from the back door, dance in single file to the front and leave their offering in a basket. Barb and Deb are near the front and, after depositing their offerings, greet each woman in the line with a handshake. Drew and I repeat this ceremony with the men. After another short, ten minute address of encouragement by a younger man (pastor in training?) the service is over, and it’s only a little after noon.
Within relatively short order, we make our way back to our huts, remove our western clothes from under our African ones, put the African ones back on and pack to leave. Shortly thereafter we are on our way! I could add so much more to this, but that will have to wait for another time. It has indeed been a life-changing experience!

John Becker