Two things you need to know:
1) I've been using piki-pikis, the local transport, more regularly. A piki is a private motorcycle taxi. For a small price, a driver will take you to the door of wherever you want to go, and will often wait for you to conduct your business there, if you ask. When I'm wearing a skirt, I sit on the back side-saddle with my legs crossed.
2) The real rainy season, with daily rain, has finally come… about 3 months later than normal.
The other day I had to got to Crane Secondary School for a student story group, and had a meeting with a teacher at Mandela Secondary before it. Crane and Mandela are on opposite sides of town, but the meeting at Mandela was to be very short, and I had plenty of time for both. There's a piki station around the corner from my house, where several drivers wait for customers. As it comes time to leave my house to walk to the piki station, it starts to rain a bit. No big deal; it's just a little drizzle, and the sky is clear. Surely this will just be one of those two-minute showers we've had so many of. And I know I won't melt… so I set off. I haven't even gotten out of the neighborhood when the rain picks up, so I find a big tree on the side of the road to stand under. After a couple of minutes, the rain slacks off, so I start moving again. By the time I get around the corner to my friend Irene's shop, it's coming down hard again, so I sit on her porch until it's just barely sprinkling. It's now taken over 15 minutes just to get out of the neighborhood, but now it's time to go.
I start toward the road and a piki driver, Robert, sees me. He picks me up and we take off for town. It's still raining just a bit, but only a drop or two, so it's no big deal. We get about halfway down the main road in town and see that in the next block the sky is dark and there is an absolute downpour… and it's coming fast! Robert pulls over at a bank, and I hop off the bike and find shelter under the awning just in time. By the time Robert gets under the awning, the rain is coming down in sheets! The street is instantly deserted, with everyone hiding from the rain in shops and doorways. We sit for almost ten minutes waiting for the deluge to ease.
When it's finally slowed enough to not get soaked, Robert dries off the motorcycle seat and we try again. We go about two blocks and the rain starts coming down again. Robert pulls over again, this time at a soft drink depot crowded with people. People are apparently shocked to see a white woman out in the rain, as I hear lots of "mundu" statements, and see lots of sideways glances and smirks in my direction.
As soon as the rain slacks off, Robert decides its time to go again, and we drive off… less than a block this time before the rain chases us inside again. We take shelter with a barber who just smiles at the sight of a stubborn, dripping mundu. Another ten minutes later, the rain has really slowed, and Robert decides it's time to brave the road one more time. This time as we set off, the sky is clearing and the rain keeps slowing.
But now we've turned off the main, paved road onto a dirt road that hasn't been helped by the sudden downpour. There's lots of mud, several small rivers crossing our path, and heaps of now-muddy garbage scattered all over the road. We finally make it to Mandela, where my meeting really does take less time than it took to get there. We travel on to Crane with no problems, but the day's ride surely isn't the most enjoyable journey I've had on a piki.
God doesn't promise us "enjoyable". Or "comfortable". There are times when we're pretty much guaranteed to be wet, cold, or muddy when we get where we're going. Times when people will laugh at us. Times when we see people around us getting stuck, scared, stranded, or even falling over. Times when our plans get put on hold once, twice, or even five times before we finally get where we're going. Times when we'd really just prefer to go home, put on sweats, and curl up with a cup of coffee.
But that's not what we're called to do. He tells us to keep moving forward, even if it's just one step at a time. Even if our feet are cold and muddy and our hair is falling in our eyes from the rain. Even if it takes us three times longer than we expected. The one thing He tells us NOT to do is to give up!
So here's the upside to my perseverance: I get two more chances to share Jesus with girls at Mandela. And when I got to the village where the Crane campus is located, 6 little kids came running to meet me and give me huge hugs. What a blessing… definitely worth the muddy feet!
Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.
Galatians 6:9
