Into the Darkness

A gentle breeze stirred the dust as I walked briskly toward the equipment shed; the beam of my headlamp caught particles as they flowed with wind's tide. I looked up and the stream of light disappeared into an ocean of stars. Although it was a cloudless night, the moon was not present to illuminate the inky world of night. My lamp revealed the four-wheeler, my object, and I hopped on and flipped the machine into first gear. I could see little of the world outside of the Quad's high beams; milky-way above, dusty path edged by palm plants and high grass here below.

I was on-call at the Doro clinic last night, so I four-wheeled the short distance in order to check on the infant in-patient. Deborah was only one week old; Rhoda, her mother, had given birth unaided in a grass hut. The baby had an infection, so she was receiving antibiotics and the family slept overnight at the clinic.

The clinic itself was an old cement structure, dimpled by machine-gun fire. It was one of the two buildings that survived a bombing in the 1990's; the former hospital-turned-barracks was converted once again into a clinic in 2008. When I arrived at the building, the light was still on although Rhoda and her infant were snuggled under a mosquito net. I checked the infant's vitals and administered injections and prayed for continued recovery. It had only been two days since the baby had been in respiratory distress, so I was excited to see her quick recovery.

As I rode back to base through the warm breeze, I felt such a peace and joy. How wonderful to have fellowship with the God of Light. I thought of Jesus' words in John 8; "I am the light of the world. He who follows Me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life," (vs. 12).

Just then, the four-wheeler's headlights caught a long black creature as it zig-zagged across the path. Having seen plenty of snakes here in Sudan, I guessed it to be a Night Adder. I ran it over and didn't look back. The snakes and wild dogs are the reasons I Quad if leaving the compound after dark.

Back at base, I switched off the engine and the sounds of the bush again met my ears. The night was loud with the sort of "white noise" that blends into a pleasant background symphony. The crickets were the strings, birds as woodwinds, frogs and pigs strummed bass, and wild dogs added their occasional brassy staccato. One sound that I wasn't expecting was the voice of the guard from the Nutrition Village calling for help. I heard that a child was struggling and someone had been stung by a scorpion; I grabbed the "zapper" and joined Grace for another trip into the night.

After turning off the four-wheeler's engine at the Village, I could hear wailing. My headlamp showed the wire gate, the path, the tents. As I approached, I called out that we had the cure for the sting. Crying was coming from the mother of a baby with breathing problems due to mucous. I ran to get bulb suction, the airway was cleared, and the baby immediately improved. Grace and I prayed with the mother and baby, and the air cleared of anxiety.

Meanwhile, the child's grandmother sat stoically in the dust. She had been stung on the ankle by a scorpion, and she indicated that the burning pain of the poison shot all the way up her leg. I placed four D batteries in the "zapper", placed a wire on the site of the sting, another wire on the opposite side of the leg, and allowed a small current of electricity to touch the wound. Within three minutes, the woman smiled broadly. The poison had retreated to the site of the bite. Amazing how the energy released in tiny sparks can "draw" poison back to its origin.

Later that night, the lights were off in our tukul, and Joanna and I spoke with each other across the room in the darkness. We heard the incessant drone of malaria-carrying insects outside of our tightly-tucked mosquito nets, and felt amazingly protected by the thin mesh. And as we prayed, we were conscious of the spiritual comfort and confidence that is found in the Name of Jesus Christ. Infinitely greater than mere physical protection, Jesus is our shield, our fortress, our light in the pervasive "darkness of this age" (Eph 6:12).