In America, when there’s a case of domestic abuse, you can call counselors, protective services or the police. But what do you do if none of these are available?

For us living in the village of Kotale where there are no law enforcement officers (or even laws it seems at times), life has interesting moments.

One day as I was sitting in the dining room with my language helper, Awi, practicing new Gogodala phrases, I heard shouts and screams coming from the other side of the lagoon. My first thought was that it was just kids playing, but the look on Awi’s face told me that something serious was happening. From our window, we have a good view of the lagoon and of Awi’s house situated on the opposite bank. Danny, our yard man, doesn’t normally show excitement, but he dropped what he was doing and ran to the back yard. Looking out across the lagoon, he shouted something I didn’t understand.

Listening more carefully, I heard a man and woman shouting at each other. By the sounds of it, the fight was more than verbal. People were running and shouting, grabbing knives and sticks. Young men from our side of the lagoon also began shouting and running toward the scene of the conflict.

“This could get bloody,” I thought. Anybody injured in this fight will likely come to us for help. Are we ready for this?”

Soon, though, things quieted down, and we finished our language exercises. After Awi left, I was outside talking to Danny when I spotted two men walking slowly down the path toward our house. One of them was limping, using a bamboo cane for support. “I think that’s the man who was in the fight,” Danny said. The other man was Kadu, a fellow church member. When we first arrived, he had adopted me into his clan and given my Gogodala name, Owape. Now he was helping the injured younger man toward our house.

I went up to the veranda to warn Laurie that they were coming, but she’d already seen them and was bringing bandages and antiseptic ointment out.

To our relief, the man’s injuries were not serious. He had some severe bruises and small gashes on his shin and elbow. As Laurie tended to the wounds, I got the rest of the story from Kadu.
It seems that this young man was an outsider from another people group who had married into the Gogodala. He’d become jealous of the way his wife was interacting with some of the young men of the village, and he’d gotten into a heated argument with her that erupted into physical violence. This had happened at least once before, and the woman’s brothers had threatened to kill him if he ever beat her again.

When the man and his wife started fighting, her brothers grabbed their machetes and chased the young husband. Kadu, whose house was down the path from the incident, heard the yelling and ran to the scene. He arrived just in time to snatch the fleeing young man and shield him from his attackers, bent on killing him. Kadu is a respected elder in the village, and he managed to calm the angry men down as the husband cowered behind him.

When he got to us, the young man was visibly shaken by the ordeal and appeared to be in shock. While dressing his wounds, Laurie instructed him to come back each day to have his dressings changed.
Kadu arranged for the man to stay with him that night so he could protect and counsel him. However, in the middle of the night, the man got up and left the village. The next day, there was no sign of him. We thought we would never see him again. But the second day he did come back, and his wife was with him! Maybe he learned a lesson from this. We pray that God will change this man and bring peace and harmony to their home.

What would have happened if Kadu had not intervened? Perhaps his courageous move saved a life.

Whether you care to admit it or not you and I are like this guilty husband. The Bible tells us that, because of our sin, we deserve death. But there’s good news! The Bible also tells us about a Man who stands between us and the eternal death that is seeking to destroy us. The question is, are you standing behind the Savior?

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