Water is so precious. In the Hausa language of northern Nigeria, you can never just say "water." You have to say "drinking water", "sky water", or "cool water." Water is a treasure. You can't just talk about water flippantly without qualifying what it's used for, where it comes from, or what temperature it is.
I forgot about this last night. When I went to pick up my toddler son, Musa, from bible class at the College Hills church, he was holding a cup of water. I told him it was time to go. He held tenaciously to his cup of water. I repeated "let's go Musa." That cup of water was not budging from his tiny little fingers. When I pryed it from his clenched fists, he bawled. It was then that I remembered. This 23 month old boy remembers how much we valued water back home in northern Nigeria.
I just received a call from our home Nigerian city of Maiduguri. My first question to the caller was "Yaya ruwa?" (How is the rain?). He responded, "Ruwa ya yi gyara." This literally means "The rain is repairing" which really means it is softening up the ground for planting. A Hausa speaker will never say "The rain is destructive" because "ruwan sama" is a gift from God. No one but God can ever control when, where, how, how, or if it falls.
I'm a bit worried because the caller actually said that the rain will soon end. This means that the long dry season will set in. In a good way in Maiduguri, there will be no more flooding, less mosquitoes (carrying malaria), and driving won't involve worrying about splashing pedestrians near the puddles. However, for the majority of northern Nigerians, this will mean that planting is over. This will begin the idleness of the dry season. "The idle mind is the devil's ..."
This close of this year's "ruwan sama" (sky water) will mean that we have to twice or thrice weekly buy water from the companies in Maiduguri who sell it in tankers. Then, the Pompomari community surrounding our drip irrigation farm will beg for water. We can't turn them down because our sign says "Intl. Centre for Peace, CHARITIES & Human Dev." Thus, the perpetual struggle will re-ignite between the need to water our drip irrigation farm and the local needs of the neighborhood. My prayer is that the Lord will provide a deep well with a solar pump for our farm to also help our local people quench their thirst.
I forgot about this last night. When I went to pick up my toddler son, Musa, from bible class at the College Hills church, he was holding a cup of water. I told him it was time to go. He held tenaciously to his cup of water. I repeated "let's go Musa." That cup of water was not budging from his tiny little fingers. When I pryed it from his clenched fists, he bawled. It was then that I remembered. This 23 month old boy remembers how much we valued water back home in northern Nigeria.
I just received a call from our home Nigerian city of Maiduguri. My first question to the caller was "Yaya ruwa?" (How is the rain?). He responded, "Ruwa ya yi gyara." This literally means "The rain is repairing" which really means it is softening up the ground for planting. A Hausa speaker will never say "The rain is destructive" because "ruwan sama" is a gift from God. No one but God can ever control when, where, how, how, or if it falls.
I'm a bit worried because the caller actually said that the rain will soon end. This means that the long dry season will set in. In a good way in Maiduguri, there will be no more flooding, less mosquitoes (carrying malaria), and driving won't involve worrying about splashing pedestrians near the puddles. However, for the majority of northern Nigerians, this will mean that planting is over. This will begin the idleness of the dry season. "The idle mind is the devil's ..."
This close of this year's "ruwan sama" (sky water) will mean that we have to twice or thrice weekly buy water from the companies in Maiduguri who sell it in tankers. Then, the Pompomari community surrounding our drip irrigation farm will beg for water. We can't turn them down because our sign says "Intl. Centre for Peace, CHARITIES & Human Dev." Thus, the perpetual struggle will re-ignite between the need to water our drip irrigation farm and the local needs of the neighborhood. My prayer is that the Lord will provide a deep well with a solar pump for our farm to also help our local people quench their thirst.
1 comment:
Perfect blog story! Maybe one photo of Ibrahim playing in a Nigerian mud puddle, or of one of the workers lifting his hands to the welcome rain would add a little, but it stands alone even without a photo.
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