All These Miniature Men

“Holes! Holes!” the watchman exclaimed, eyes bulging with anxiety. Villagers had apparently been quite busy making their own entryways in the compound fenceline. Breaking in at strategic locations, they'd been able to hide their evidence for several days while sneaking onto the property for nightly “surveys.” 

Time to do a little surveying of our own, I thought. Hoping not to draw too much attention, Mark and I went out at sunset to study the compound’s perimeter. 

It was at the edge of the soccer field where we discovered the first “hole” – a man-sized cut-out in the wire fencing.  Frustration set in as I pondered this added issue. Seriously, are we not giving enough already? Clinic services, free schooling, feeding program, deep-water well, evangelistic outreach…. Now people are cutting our fence so they can sneak in and see what else they can take from us? What an ungrateful -

Out of nowhere, a tiny voice was heard informing its friend, “There’s a yellow person there!”

My eyes shifted from the fence to the surrounding area, trying to see where the voice had come from. Bobbing heads appeared from behind the brush fencing of our neighboring village. Having caught my attention, more voices suddenly chimed in. “Yellow person! Yellow person!” Then one, recognizing us, cried above the rest, “Nadera! Maalim!” (Darah! Teacher! [that is, Mark])

Mark and I chuckled as the munchkins emerged from behind the brush wall and ran full tilt towards us. Two little girls with beads clattering around their necks stopped abruptly in front of Mark. Extending their arms to him, they asked, “Teacher, how are you?” Mark’s giant hand enveloped theirs as he stooped to greet them.

A taller boy of about 8 years strutted into our midst, obviously the leader of the pack. “Ah,” Mark whispered to me, “it’s Lochin’s younger brother.” A sweet-faced child with gentle features and a leader’s confidence stood before me. Soft enough to be a girl, I thought, but he walks with the air of a miniature man!

Lochin’s brother, “Grass,” led the troop in following our every footstep around the compound’s immense perimeter. His bubbly voice chattered away, as though he were giving the children a grand tour of the place.

After a while, Mark and I stopped to examine another man-sized hole in the fence. The children stood just behind our examining eyes. “Hoiti-koi!” they repeated in astonished tones. When Mark drew a tool from his pocket to make repairs, the wind dismissed their hoiti-kois and picked up their delighted wheys.

On to the next hole we marched. Our company was growing. Two boys of about four years each had appeared on the scene. I wondered if they were twins. Gapped teeth shone from their timid grins as they begged entrance to our curious group. These two stood at the back, eyes wide with wonder as we made a spectacle of ourselves looking over the fence. As we walked ahead, I heard the soft shuffling of their feet in the dry weeds underfoot. And my heart melted at the occasional whisper from their lips.

Nakedness clothed the tiny frames of these youngsters. Frames outlined in the pale dirt of Eastern Equatoria. How I would love to introduce bubble baths and rubber duckies to these little ones, I thought. But then, I could only imagine the fear which would likely plague them at the sight and sound of a rubber duckie. A strangely textured, brightly colored bird which makes noise but is apparently dead? And you want to put that in a tub of water with me?! …Hmmm, maybe not such a great idea. Glancing back at the growing number of miniature men, a sobering memory came to mind.

“How many men in the village drink local liquor (moonshine)?” I’d asked one of our strongest Believers a year before.

Lopua thought deeply before responding, “Ten out of ten.”

“Can that be true?!”

“Of course,” the other young men agreed. “We can’t think of any Toposa men in our villages who aren’t drunkards. All of our fathers, our uncles, our elder brothers and cousins…even our mothers.”

With such a memory, my thoughts of bubble baths and rubber duckies seemed sheer foolishness. How easy in a place like this to be caught in the ‘humanitarian mindset.’ Shower on the temporal basics. Sprinkle in a few material luxuries. Neglect the spiritual battle within. No lasting good can ever be accomplished with such a scheme.

I watched Mark’s knife come out again. He worked carefully to cut away the thorn branches which would have engulfed my scattered brain. The kids stopped their scampering to observe.

“Why is he doing that?” one of the girls asked Grass.

“Just watch,” he said. “The teacher is cutting thorns so his woman can walk.”

We were at the far corner of the perimeter by then. Mark and I laughed to see the kids running on ahead. They obviously wanted to beat us to the next section of fence.

“Another! Another!” Grass soon exclaimed, the other children echoing his chant.

Mark stepped around the brush to see where our friends had gone. I took my time navigating the path.

To think, by the year we’re celebrating our first grandchild, these kids may not even be alive! Any who have survived that long will be ‘walking dead’ addicts of the local brew. Skin stretching thin across their arching backs. Blindness overtaking their sight by the strength of ‘ngagie.’ Old men singing night and day about their mothers and favorite bulls. …Is this the life ahead of these children? Am I looking at the future alcoholics of Toposaland?

Grass lifted his voice again. “Maalim!” he cried. “Look, look!”

I heard a hush come over the group as Mark pulled another tool from his pocket and went to work. This was the greatest entertainment those kids had had all week. Helping the foreigners survey the fortress.

My thoughts turned swiftly to two other ‘youngsters’ who had long been a help to us on the compound – Lorot (Path) and Lopua (Dust). The transformation Christ wrought in their lives was so encouraging to recall. Unlike their peers and countless influences in the village, these two had not become addicts of the strong drink. They’d become addicts of the Word. To have seen them standing in faith during the past four years was a miracle too great to tell. …Could THIS be the life ahead of these children? Am I looking at Christ’s future ambassadors to Toposaland?

 “I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse.

Therefore choose life, that you and your offspring may live, loving the Lord your God,

obeying His voice, and holding to Him, for He is your life and length of days….”

Deuteronomy 30:19, 20

“And this is eternal life, that they know You the only true God, and Jesus Christ 
whom You have sent.”

John 17:3

May God raise up for Himself a generation in this land which has experienced a pleasure far greater than the temporary drowning of fears and discontentment. May He call out a people who have experienced the Spirit’s life-giving joy and are clinging with sobriety to an eternal hope!

In Christ,
Mark Philip & Darah Olayo

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