Drums in the Night: Mozambican Odyssey, #1

It may not have been the very first night. I suspect the first night in Maputo we were so exhausted that we didn’t hear a peep after traveling from Chicago to London to Johannesburg, South Africa, to Maputo, Mozambique, with 3 children, 14 tubs, 6 carry-ons, and countless farewells.

But I remember the first night we heard the drums. We were told these were the drums of the witchdoctor. And as I sat on the porch and listened to the sound in the distance, it felt as though we had traveled back in time or even to another world, which, in a sense, we had. 

I wondered what the drums meant. Were they about us? Were they beating out, “Let’s go slaughter the new missionaries at 2am”? I had no idea, but I was not much afraid at the time. It felt like a mysterious adventure, and I felt that God was with us.

Looking back, sometimes I wonder at myself. I am not a brave person. I am a shy person fearful of many things. I can only explain going to Mozambique as God’s giving me peace and strength for what I was supposed to do. I know we made many mistakes, but I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.  

Maybe I need to take a lesson from my old self. If I could survive moving to Mozambique and living there for 3 years, which was both wonderful and extremely difficult, maybe I can face today’s challenges.