Many of you may remember the story about Mama in the January, 2002, Adventist Frontiers magazine. She was the mother of Jeanne, one of the young women I met in an adult education class I attended here in Natitingou to improve my French and meet some new people. Not long after I met Mama, she came down with cerebral malaria that turned into blood poisoning, and she died within a few days. But the story doesn’t end there.

I returned to Mama’s house frequently after that to see her children and say hi to her husband, Papa T. Then he started saying, “Why don’t you move in here? There is a free house.”

The children knew what he was implying and said, “Yeah, be our mama.”
Papa kept going on like that, and finally I decided I shouldn’t visit anymore. I told the older girl, Jeanne, “I can’t come to your house anymore—not while Papa is talking like that.” So after that, I would spend time with the children outside their home, and I would see Jeanne at school each week.

Papa is an alcoholic. Alcohol is a big problem in our part of town. We are known as the Tchouitchou (sorghum beer) part of town. People aren’t allowed to sell it in other parts of town. There are at least 20 beer sellers within a two-minute walk from our house. There is one directly behind us and another across the street. The customers can get rather loud at night with their singing, arguing, and fighting. Six children from alcoholic families come to church each week. They are usually poorly dressed and malnourished.

After the death of his wife, Papa’s drinking got progressively worse. He was grieving. He believed she went to heaven and he could talk to her, but it didn’t make it any better. Because he was constantly drunk, it was impossible for me to talk with him. He couldn’t even follow a simple conversation, much less a lesson on death or things of God. He had strong opinions, and I knew that even if I said something, he wouldn’t believe it. He had a very skewed view of God, but he didn’t seem to want to change.

I was able to have good talks with his son a few times and with the other children off and on. Then two of the girls went to live with their mother, Papa’s other wife, which left Papa with only Jeanne, her other sister, and the youngest boys.

Finally, about a year ago, a couple of months after my return from furlough, Jeanne graduated from her three-year seamstress training program. As is usual around here, Papa threw a big party for her. We went to the party, ate, and talked some with Jeanne, the other children who were there, and a bit with Papa who was already rather drunk. There were people playing the drums and traditional African music from southern Benin. There were the usual food and soft drinks. We watched the dancing crowd and admired the clothes of the latecomers. After a while when the people had gotten drunk and crazy, we went home.

Not long after that, Papa began to get worse. Jeanne told me he was drinking more, things were getting bad, and she needed to get the little ones out of the house. She, herself, was spending most of the nights out roaming the streets just to get away. The next time I talked with her, she said they had all left Papa and moved in with their grandmother, and things were much better. After that, I lost track of them for a while.

The next contact I had with the family was when Papa showed up at our house very drunk and wanting to tell us something, but he never got around to it. Thankfully, that day, our friend, Toussaint, was visiting and came out to give me moral support. Papa barked at us and made us both jump. Finally, he left. (Since he is older, it would have been disrespectful of us to kick him out unless, of course, he’d started to act up.) Later, he told us that he had come to tell us he was taking his two youngest children down to be with family members in the south where the other girls were.

A few months later, we heard from someone that Jeanne (now 16) was married and living with her husband somewhere near our house. Papa later told us the same thing, but I haven’t yet run into her.
Papa has gotten worse and worse. He has basically disowned the children who are still around. He has money from assets he owns down south and spends plenty on alcohol, but he never has enough money to support his two sons or help them finish school. Instead, he occasionally shows up where they live and harasses and criticizes everyone.

Recently, Papa came to our house again to tell us that he was going to have a program at one of the Catholic churches in memory of his wife and then he was going to die and be with her. This program is supposed to happen in a week. We will see. I asked his son, and he said he didn’t know anything about it.

Where I come from, when someone is in this much misery, you can act. Here, because of how society works, I can do almost nothing. I did recently take an opportunity to visit Papa—his son was there so we weren’t alone. Papa refuses to give up alcohol because he says it hurts too much. If only he could see what he has done to his family.
Please pray for Papa and his children.

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