The machine grinds to a halt
All around the little country of Senegal missionaries stared at their two-way radios waiting to hear the word concerning the amount of funds they had received. This would tell them how much had been given for their ministries in the past month—and make those funds available to them. Many were making lists in their minds of what they needed from Dakar and what they might get as a treat for their kids.
Plans were made and anticipation was building. Then the fateful words came over the radio, “There is no voucher statement this month, it’s lost in the mail.”
In those days mail was the only economical vehicle for sending and receiving information. It seems silly now, but back in 1992, we relied on the US Postal Service.
Immediately everyone scrapped their plan for ordering goodies and began to try to figure how they would survive for the month.
We lived in a small village in a remote corner of eastern Senegal ministering to the Malinke people. Our problem and that of the others who lived in the east was that we depended on the supply buyer in the city of Dakar to provide most of our fresh vegetables and fruits and other supplies.
Without money the smoothly oiled “financial machine” ground to a halt. Since missionaries didn’t have money, the supply buyer couldn’t buy and the plane couldn’t fly.
I remember feeling a little desperate as my husband, Jim, and I tried to figure out what to do without the needed supplies. We could easily do without fresh foods but we needed propane bottles to cook with and kerosene to run our fridge.
The answer to our problem came from a surprising source. A dozen or so Malinke tribal people wanted a ride in our truck to the nearest town. So they went around the village and took orders for goods and asked for gas money in return for buying supplies for the other villagers. Soon they came to us, having collected enough to buy gas to return from town, they came to us for a ride.
So Jim and our coworker, Paul Cheshire, headed for town with several Malinkes riding in the bed of the truck.
After they bought the needed supplies and those of the other villagers, there was standing-room-only in the bed. Jim and Paul managed to get a bottle of gas for each family and a five gallon can of kerosene to share. It looked like we might be able to cook and keep our fridge cool until more money came in.
One of the positive moments from this whole mess was that when my friend, Sira Maadi, noticed that our food supply was dwindling, she began bringing us supper every evening. It might be okra and millet, or manioc soup—certainly not our usual fair. But this dear sister in the Lord was showing her concern in the way she knew best—by sharing her family’s food with us. And we enjoyed every bite.
When the misplaced funds finally arrived, the bookkeepers and the supply buyers and the pilot were once again able to do their jobs. And we learned two valuable lessons:
- How essential the team who handles finances is, and
- That we could get by with much less if we needed to.
But I must say when the mail problem was straightened out and the oil began to flow and “the machine” began to work, things were much easier.