FOR many weeks after her arrival at Okoyong, Miss Slessor's life was one of constant strain and trial, as not even a mud hut had been built for her, though the chief made repeated promises that his people should begin the work. In the meantime a room in his quarters was given up to her and the four children she had brought with her. It was next to the one occupied by the chief and his head wife. Three lesser wives, who seemed to be always quarreling, were in the room just beyond, while two cows, small native animals that gave no milk, were very near neighbors. Fowls, dogs, cats, rats, centipedes and cockroaches were everywhere.
She was never even for a moment left alone. Much as she often longed for a little quiet time, she could not get it, for if, taking her Bible, she escaped into the bush, she was followed by people who wanted to tell their troubles, or ask her advice and help. Still she held quietly on her way, making friends with the women, nursing the sick, teaching the children, and doing cheerfully and ungrudgingly any little acts of kindness that came in her way.
The sister of the chief, Ma Eme, still stood her friend, but she herself had passed through a time of great trial. She was the widow of a big chief from whose funeral she had just returned when Miss Slessor went to live at Okoyong, and as the witch doctor said that one of his wives had bewitched him, they all had to take their trial on the charge of having used witchcraft. Each brought a white fowl, and by the way in which it fluttered after its head was cut off, their guilt or innocence was decided. Ma Eme was pronounced "not guilty," but the strain had been so great that on hearing the good news she fainted.
It soon ceased to be a matter of wonder to the devoted missionary that in addition to the number of infants who were killed, so many little children died. Their mothers were ignorant and took very little interest or care with their upbringing. If they lived it was well, if they died they would have no further trouble.
Miss Slessor wrote: "Centuries of hardness and cruelty have made these poor women as hard and unfeeling as they often seem, but when you once get really to know them, you can't help loving them, for they can be kind and unselfish even at great risk to themselves.”
One day a number of prisoners were brought in; several were women who had young children with them, some even infants in arms. Heavily chained, they were left on the ground all day without food or water, under the burning rays of an African sun. At dusk the guards left them for a little while, and in fear and trembling a few of the elder women stole out, and gave water to the children, dividing what was left among the mothers. Miss Slessor, who all day had been hoping for some such opportunity, had cooked a quantity of rice, which also was smuggled to the prisoners. If the women who carried food and water had been caught in the act, it most likely would have cost them their lives.
The slave children gave her a good deal of trouble. They were so wild and naughty that it seemed almost impossible to love them, but she pitied and, as far as she could, cared for them. They were without exception expert thieves, but as very little food was given to them, they were obliged to steal to live.
The free-born children fared a little better, but lying and cruelty were in the very air they breathed, and they grew up just like their elders. Yet all the time she was winning her way among the people; they felt she was their friend, that she really loved them and wanted to do them good. They trusted and in many things obeyed her, though some of the sights she witnessed were so very shocking that she wrote, "Had I not felt my Savior very near me, I should, I think, have lost my reason.”
There was a sound of singing among the trees of the forest; but it was not the wild war-song of Okoyong. Listen as the voices float on the heated air:
“Jesus, the Son of God, came down to earth:
He came down to save us from our sins;
He was born poor that He might feel for us;
Wicked men killed Him, and nailed Him to a tree,
He rose, and went to heaven to prepare a place for us.”
They were the children of her day-school, and we may be sure that as she led their song her heart thrilled with a deep, glad thanksgiving.
At first nearly the whole population of the village came to be taught, but as the novelty wore off the numbers grew smaller, till she only had about thirty regular scholars. Still, these made good progress, and were soon able to read easy words. The reading lesson always ended with a Bible story, and she taught them simple hymns and choruses, which they enjoyed singing so greatly that it was often dark before she could get away.
Miss Slessor longed to have a home of her own, but the natives were slow to come to her help. "There was no hurry," they said; there never is any hurry in Africa. One day to her great delight the people flocked to the ground and said they were ready to build. She must be, she soon found, architect, clerk of the works and chief laborer. After many delays a mud and wattle house of two rooms was built, with a shaded verandah, and a shed at each end was added.
The natives carried her few belongings, and for the first time she felt at home in Okoyong.