Fidjo

(Pictures: Our growing boy on Megan’s lap, oblivious to any excitement in the city; Grace & Tom making music together)

It was Sunday night and we were on our way to bed. I (Tom) had just gotten out of the shower and Megan was just getting in when we heard the report:

TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA...TA-TA-TA-TA

It was the unmistakable sound of automatic gun fire. Megan asked aloud if it could be fireworks, but we were both sure of what we heard. It is not a common sound here. We held our breaths waiting for more. Was this the beginning of a battle? But we heard nothing more. Only silence. So we went to bed and wondered if we would hear anything about it the next day.

Monday morning seemed like a normal morning. People were maybe a bit noisier than usual, but everything seemed the same. We didn’t really get the story until our house worker, Abdul, showed up. “An important man had been killed,” he explained. Assassinated. The man, a politician and soldier, was shot outside his home. He was taken to the hospital and quickly died of his wounds. “There’s going to be fidjo today,” Abdul said, “If you need to go to the market, go now, go quickly, and leave Grace here.”

After calling our teammates to let them know about what we had heard (an important team policy) I followed Abdul’s advice and made a quick trip to the market. The market was half closed and you could feel the tension in the air. Many of the sellers had not come in to work that day. Most people seemed cautious—ready to pack up at a moments notice. I asked some people if they thought there would be fidjo. (Fidjo is a unique word to the island language. It refers to any type of crowd response—anything from excitement over some good news to all out rioting.) The answers I received were circumspect but the feeling was unmistakable—fidjo was coming.

We spent the rest of the day at home, as did our teammates and all the school aged children in the city. We received reports of fidjo in different parts of the city—In the south, in the center, near the hospital, near the market, etc. Angry citizens were fighting with police and military who were trying to keep the peace.

As we sat at home and reflected on the situation we couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for the frustrated mobs. In a place where justice is routinely ignored, what can one do to stand up against injustice? Islanders fidjo. And yet it is an act of futility. The next day all had returned to normal. The fidjo was over. Students returned to schools; sellers to the market.. But no one has been charged with the crime. It’s hard to know if anyone ever will be. What did the fidjo achieve? The anger has subsided but the injustice remains. It’s times like these that we are reminded of why we have come to live and work here. We hope for a future with justice and peace. We pray that one day it will be so.

PRAYERS ANSWERED

All of our visitors have arrived safely (although some have lost luggage) despite the fidjo. The medical learning team has been oriented and is getting a good taste of island life and the medical establishments here. The visitors who are considering starting a new outpost on one of the other islands had a good trip. We are very thankful that our children continue to be healthy. Today is our 100th island blog! Praise God that we have been able to keep this blog going despite slow connections and busy schedules.

PRAYERS REQUESTED

Continue to pray for our team as we host visitors (there will be 4 groups consisting of 10 extra adults and 2 kids at our team day tomorrow). We are dedicating this week to pray about our future- we still have another year on this team, but we are already getting asked a lot about what we will do after that. Pray with us that we would have some direction and clarity on how to answer these questions.