In writing the last update I forgot to share about our neighbor’s wedding.  Bagui is an older gentleman, maybe mid fifties or early sixties—I’m not even sure if Bagui is his real name, but it’s painted across his house in large bold letters, so that’s what I’ve been calling him.   During our time here Bagui has been the poor, old batchelor, coming and going at random times, somewhat unkempt, and missing most of his teeth.  He’s always very cheerful and very friendly.  He’s the one that asked me to help him fix up his house and invited me to his wedding.  He became so insistant that I agreed and fully planned on driving him to and from the wedding.  The date was set for Sunday, January 27^th.  He had told me this two months in advance and confirmed it every chance he saw me. 

     Finally, the weekend of the wedding arrived.  I was all set to go that Sunday, having carved out the time and made sure there was gas in my car.  However, the Saturday before the event we had some shopping to do.  When we returned from Kamsar, the ladies next door were outside preparing a large feast, like they had done at Tabasky.  Just then one of them ran up to me and announced that the date of the wedding had been moved up and our neighbor was getting married that day, probably even as we were speaking—through this event I’ve learned that Africans make plans quite differently than us Americans make plans.  When we plan an event, we check and make sure all the details line up, then fix the date and announce it.  When Africans make plans, they announce the date first, then check on all the details.  The assumption is that everyone is flexible and can change at a moment’s notice, so it’s not so important to keep the exact date.  Of course for us Americans, it’s totally preposterous to change the date at the last moment as it will inconvenience everyone else’s plans and most people won’t be able to make it—I  was shocked at this sudden change of plans, a little bit offended that he hadn’t confirmed this with me (I was after all supposed to be the guest of honor and the chauffeur), and yet relieved that I wouldn’t have to drive all that way after all.  I was even more relieved as our neighborhood waited and waited for the arrival of the bridal party and the beginning of the party.  As the hours ticked by, I thanked God I hadn’t been able to go, imagining myself stranded in a strange village, waiting in the hot sun for this bridal couple to finish greeting all their relatives, friends, neighbors, acquantainces, etc… 

    

     Finally, about 10 p.m., just as Jen and I were laying our heads down to sleep, a loud cheer rang out, and the bridal party drove up.  The celebrations began, and loud voices could be heard for the next three hours.  At 1 a.m. the music started and went on for probably another four hours, being intermittently interrupted by a rather annoying D.J.  Finally all was quiet and it was just about time to wake up and go to church. 

     As we were driving out that morning, Bagui ran up to the car.  He was beaming.  Dressed in slacks, a sports jacket, and a golf hat, he quickly apologized for the change in plans and invited us over to meet the new bride.  Jen and I politely walked over, trying to figure out from amongst the crowd which one was the lucky girl.  Hiding in the back, behind a large group of girls her age, was the saddest person I have ever seen.  Here was a beautiful, young girl, maybe 20 years at best, on the of her wedding, and she looked miserable.

      Like most marriages here, this was an arranged one.  We were told that due to his age, the bride would probably be mentally handicapped or have some kind of major defect.  But from what we could tell, she was completely healthy, very pretty, with no visible defect at all.  It’s possible she was somewhat promiscuous or disobedient in her village, or possibly her family could no longer provide for her and just wanted to get rid of her as fast as possible.  Either way, it was such a sad sight for us to see.  It did, however, shed light on the issue of family.  From what we’ve observed, there is a severe lack of love within the families here.  Couples regularly fight and yell at each other; husbands often beat their wives; infidelity and affairs are very common; parents yell at and beat their kids; kids are disobedient and rebellious, etc…  It’s become apparent to us that when marriages start off without any love, when women are simply given to a man to fulfill his domestic needs, when a man is free to marry as many wives as he wants, and when kids just become a bi-product of those relationships without love or mutual affection, then the whole system breaks down.  And then when you factor into this the absence of any real love with the Father, the situation begins to look quite hopeless.  Indeed, life amongst these Muslim communities, and within the Jahango especially, is rather bleak and broken.  The only thing that seems to hold the society together is a strong sense of duty.  People stay “married” out of obligation (actually divorce is nonexistent because a man can just remarry any time he is dissatisfied with his wife, or if the wife were to leave him).  Families and neighbors help each other out of obligation.  People follow the rules out of obligation.  They are even very religious, simply out of obligation.  If one were to break these obligations, the community would retaliate by publicly shaming them, rejecting them, and cutting them off from this support system.  Therefore everyone conforms.

      Now I’m sure there is probably some good that exists in these communities, and perhaps I’ve exaggerated the situation in my mind, but it does reveal the depravity of sin and life without God.  In order for man to live a happy, joyful, fulfilled life, God’s love must be central.  Without it, everything breaks down and becomes painful and difficult, a life filled with despair and hopelessness, like the young girl now trapped and bound to a man almost three times her age who will never really love her, never really understand her or care for her.  Instead she will spend the rest of her life feeling used, fighting for every inch of freedom and dignity she can get.  It saddens us to watch this, but it confirms for us yet again the need for Jesus.  Even if the stories of Jesus were all a lie, even if the gospel weren’t true, how much better life in Christ really is.  Christian homes and families may not be perfect, but the foundation God gives us in love and marriage is far better than any other I’ve seen.  At least here there is hope.  At least here there is freedom to choose.  At least here there is a power and a motivation that helps us to work things out and care for each other when everything seems to be going wrong.

     Thank you, Lord, for giving us love as the foundation of marriage and family.  Thank you for giving us the perfect example of love in the image of your Son and His love for the Church.  And thank you for the privilege of reflecting that image in our marriages.  Help us, God, to love one another, to stay faithful and pure, to honor and serve each other, to care for each other.  Help us to be examples to the world of what strong marriages should look like.  May they be drawn to you when they watch us carry out our relationships before them.  Amen!