The scorching heat of this arid region of Central Africa soared above 100 degrees Fahrenheit as we trudged through the scrubby undergrowth lining the dusty trail leading to the village. Small clouds of dust puffed out from my feet with each step. But the dry heat didn’t bother me too much since Laurie and I had just recently moved from the hot, humid tropics of Papua New Guinea, where we had served for many years as AFM missionaries to the Gogodala people. Recently, though, we volunteered to become field directors for this remote project and were visiting Ali Brooks at her post of duty.

I noticed the village only when we were already upon it. The sun-bleached thatched roofs and mud walls of the round huts were a natural camouflage for the village in this dusty, windswept environment. We were greeted by a half dozen smiling children and some colorfully dressed women. The men of the village were evidently out in the fields tending their cattle. An old lady sat cross-legged on a mat outside one of the huts, fingering a string of beads that hung around her neck. The people looked different than the Central Africans I had met in town. The Fulani have features more like Arabs. They were tall and thin and had pointed noses.

An old man in a green robe came out of one of the huts and sauntered over to greet us. Ali introduced this friendly man as the village chief. He stretched out his leathery hand and gave me a hearty handshake. He then momentarily ducked inside his doorway and returned with a large woven mat, which he unrolled on the sand in front of his hut. He motioned for us to sit down. Happy to have us there but not able to speak a word of English, he struck up a conversation in his tribal language. Fortunately, one of Ali’s workers fluently spoke the tribal language, Fulfulde, enabling her to translate for us.

I wondered what, if anything, they might serve us for food. Ali had informed us that they would most likely serve a meal and it would be considered rude for us to turn them down. She said that they would often kill a goat to serve their guests. As vegetarians, we were relieved when the ladies finally brought out a big dish of tasty rice with no meat. We considered it safe to eat since it was fresh off the fire and hot enough that we could hardly touch it with our hands. It was like handling a hot potato as we tossed a ball of rice from one hand to the other until it cooled enough to eat.

After a while, the village chief and another man quietly slipped away from the group and went to the far side of the yard, where they knelt with their faces to the ground. It was time for people of their religion to pray. Many people in this part of the world rigorously follow these rituals.

The village chief has offered to build a round hut for Ali to stay in this village. With all of the changes occurring in the world, he even acknowledged that it might be good for their children to learn how to read. Since there are no schools for their children, Ali could be a door of knowledge for the people.

We long for the Fulani people to know Jesus as their Savior and pray that their hearts will hunger for the truth about God, who sent His only Son to redeem our lost world.

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