Protocol

By Pastor Steve Nute

 

It’s one thing to try and hail a taxi at 11:00 P.M. in a strange country that has demonstrated its willingness to defoliate your money tree. It is quite another to be guided to a cab in that same country in broad daylight by an experienced native. The cab that we paid $40.00 American for the night before cost us only $4.00 that fine African morning.

11:00 A.M. Fully loaded and on our way to the internal airport , We saw a few beggars, their limbs twisted beyond use, seated in the median strip as our cab rammed in and out of the sardine school in an attempt to reach our destination on time.

Our destination was on old 727 or some similar sized passenger jet. Its destination, which judging by its vintage was dubious, was to be Enugu , which was then Anambra State ‘s capitol. Enugu was one hour by interstate from Our destination of Awka.

As we boarded, I became aware of something for the first time; Doc and I were very white. I have never had any racial prejudice, and I thank my parents for that, but I suddenly understood the loneliness of being different. I sat between two of the kindest people one could ask for on that flight, one a computer pirate, the other an Angel from God.

    Sister Florence may never know how God used her that day to set the doubting heart of this preacher straight . It was a joy to see her take out her tattered Bible and begin to read.

I struck up a conversation and soon was seated once more in the seat of faith that God desired me to have. I knew that all my trials had not been in vain, I knew that God would use even me, a weak vessel, to produce some worthwhile fruit in this needy land.

I thought of this sister recently, I came across her address in my journal and was able to send her a new Bible. I wrote her thanking her for her kindness and telling her how God had used her in my life for that time.

We landed roughly at Enugu and deplaned far out on the runway with a fine view of the airport complex. It seemed a pleasant enough airport, a neat structure off across the runway and palm and banana trees sticking up into the dusty sky. It seemed a pleasant place that is until Doc decided that it would be nice to have a photo record of this nice little airport.

 “Give me your camera”, the lady said rather forcefully, “Right now.”

Doc, getting the idea by now that every one was after whatever they could get politely told her No. That did not seem to be the answer she wanted and she was soon joined by several others who had the same design. 

Ephraim spoke up “Give her your film quickly.” And Larry did just that.

Ephraim was hauled off to the security area to answer questions and Doc and I, forsaken once more, just stood and waited for our bags.

A few minutes of waiting brought Ephraim back. He had explained to them that we were new to Nigeria and we didn’t know any better.

I should say we didn’t. I had never bothered to be thankful that I can stand up and take a picture any time I want. Or to be grateful that people don’t see every little thing as a breach of security in the Great land of my birth.

Was I afraid? At that time I was not quite as fearful as had been the previous night. I guess that the lessons of Mohammed Murtalla Airport were slowly sinking in. God brought us here and He would be quite capable of getting us home.

We gathered our bags and headed out.

As we exited a loud commotion arose and we craned our curious necks to see what was up. It seems that the Airport security people and the airport taxi people were having a disagreement. The security people won and none of the airport taxi people were allowed on the ground, Oh Joy.

There was one tiny beat up Renault from a different cab company and Ephraim climbed in to go and get us a taxi suitable to transport us and our luggage the hour long ride to Awka.

Sitting in the shade on the airport steps I had a strange feeling of well being. I knew that we were in safe custody and was beginning to know that the police were really the good guys here. Larry kept those relationships friendly by plying them with his copious supply of sweet stuffs.

What a full day it had been thus far, and little did we know that it wasn’t over yet. A cornucopia of new experiences awaited us as we headed toward the next sunrise.