AFTER a few months' study of the language and the people, Miss Slessor found her life a very busy one; but she loved her work and was happy in it, and from letters written to friends in Scotland, after she had been about a year at Duke Town, we can gather some idea of how busy her days were.
All through her fourteen years of factory work she had been an early riser, and the habit so early formed proved of real value during her missionary life. On Lord's-day morning, after spending some time in prayer and Bible study, she would look out a few brightly colored texts and picture cards, and would send one to each of the chiefs and head men of the villages nearest Mission Hill, with a kindly message saying that Mr. Anderson would be quite disappointed if he did not see them at the meeting. She then made her way to one of the yards. A man was sitting at the door of his hut rocking himself backwards and forwards, and looking sullen and unhappy. "Why do you not come to hear the word of God?" Mary asked.
He shook himself and replied, "If your heart was vexed, would you go to any place? Would you not rather sit at the door of your hut and nurse your sorrow?”
After a few more words, Mary found that his only child had died, and according to native custom had been buried under the mud floor of their hut, the family sitting round the grave in dirt, despair and drunkenness. Mary spoke to him of the resurrection. He was at first surprised, then interested, and in the end took her inside the hut where the mother was sitting upon the grave with bowed head, crying bitterly.
Part of John 11 was read and very simply explained. The father said, "If what you say is true, that God took the child, I shall not mind losing him so much, but I think an enemy bewitched him, and that is why he was sick and died.”
The heathen Africans believe that all sickness and death are caused by witchcraft. Before leaving, Mary said to the mother, "Do you not find comfort in these words?”
“No," was the sad reply, "How can I find comfort when my child is gone?”
Mary put her arm round her and told her how her own mother had found comfort for the loss of her children in the thought that they were safe with the Lord Jesus, who carries the lambs in His bosom, and who when He was on earth had said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not." The woman was touched, and asked Mary to come again.
In the next yard there were only a few girls, all the older people having gone to work on one of the farms at some distance, but they listened quietly while she tried to tell them of the love of God and the power and willingness of Christ to save. In another yard she found a group of women, some sleeping on the ground, others smoking or talking over the news of the neighboring yards. They were in a way pleased to see Mary and listened to what she had to say, but she left them feeling that her visit had only helped them to pass the time, and not, as far as she could see, awakened any desire for better things, so she left somewhat sadly, but she could still pray for them.
The next visit was to a heathen house. The master was dead; the mistress, an old woman, hard, cross-grained and unlovable, sat crouching over the fire.
A group of half-starved, frightened-looking girls and women were quarreling over a pipe; the shrill voice and long arms of the old woman soon settled the dispute, and they asked Mary to speak to them. The room was full of skulls, charms and the remains of offerings made to the idols they served. The stench was dreadful, and the fumes of gin and tobacco made the air almost stifling. But at last she got them fairly quiet and attentive, and she felt encouraged by the hope that one or two really wished to hear more.
Another visit was to a village where lady missionaries had for some time visited and worked. The women were with few exceptions cleaner, and wore more clothing than those she had seen earlier in the day; but they were disappointing, for though several said that they wished very much to follow the "God-fashion," they were not ready to take the first step by giving up drinking, fighting and telling untruths.
Her first three years in Africa were busy and on the whole happy ones, for though every day she saw much in the homes of the people that grieved and saddened her, still she loved them, and many returned her affection with real love and confidence. Her work, too, in the day and Sunday schools was full of encouragement, and she formed some warm and lasting friendships, one being with a colored woman, Mammy Fuller, as every one called her, a gentle, unselfish, kindly Christian, a woman of a meek and quiet spirit.
In her early life Mammy Fuller had been a slave; and well did she remember the time when she, with thousands of other slaves in the West India Islands, had been set free, millions of British gold having been cheerfully paid for their release. She had gone from Jamaica with a missionary and his wife as nurse to their children, and when they left for England she remained, a humble but faithful and true-hearted helper in the mission at Duke Town.
To return to Miss Slessor. Much as she loved her work, at times a feeling of home-sickness came over her, and she longed not only to see the faces and hear the voices of her mother and sisters, but for the gray skies and cool mountain breezes of her native Scotland. So when her furlough became due she took it thankfully, and made all the haste she could to Dundee. Even in those early days she spoke to friends of her desire to go further inland, or as it was called "up country," to live and work among heathen to whom the gospel had not been carried.