A Short Sketch of the Life of Mary Slessor of Calabar
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A Short Sketch of the Life of Mary Slessor of Calabar: Part 1
Born 1848. Died 1915.
Having obtained the promise of protection from the chief men of the district she determined to go. When she moved to the Okoyong district she took with her five children who formed the inner circle of her household, the eldest a boy of eleven, the youngest a babe in arms, all of whom she had rescued from tragic deaths. Under her loving care and careful training these children grew to be a great comfort to her and in later years a great help in her work. From time to time their number was added to-and today these boys and girls are all helping to carry on the work she began.
On her arrival in Okoyong she was allotted a room in the woman's yard or harem of Edem the chief, which had been previously used by one of his free wives, who had left its mud floor and mud walls in a filthy state. Here she and the children had to live for many weeks. Two cows occupied the apartment next; goats, fowls, cats, rats, cockroaches and centipedes were everywhere. It was not these things that troubled her, but the moral and physical atmosphere of the harem:-and these were such that she wrote of these days, "Had T not felt my Savior close beside me I would have lost my reason." But her days were full, "mothering her bairns," nursing the sick, and teaching all whom she could gather round her, old or young. In her simple, direct way she would tell them the story of Jesus and His love. Some of the younger ones learned to read quickly; but singing was their special delight.
The natives are never in a hurry but with a great deal of good, humored patience and persuasion on her part she finally prevailed on them to make a clearing in the bush and build two mud huts for her which were to be used later for rear parts of the Mission House proper.
And in course of time this, too, was, under way under her directions and no small amount of labor on her part.
About this time Mr. Ovens, a Scotchman of the fine old type, offered his services to the Mission at Calabar as a carpenter. For a number of years this good man served the Lord with hammer and saw, in this dangerous field, adding much to the comfort of the missionaries and instructing the natives in this useful art. On his arrival in Calabar, he was sent at once to Okoyong to finish Miss Slessor's house, and under his skilled hand the work was progressing splendidly, when something happened, which brought everything to a standstill for several months.
Since coming to Okoyong, Chief Edem had, faithful to his promise, protected her and shown her much consideration and now his eldest son had met with an accident, which at the end of a fortnight resulted in his death: and Mary. Slessor was sick with fear, knowing the customs of the country. To Mr. Ovens she said "There is going to be trouble; no death of a violent character comes apart from witchcraft." She had a number of times encountered the witch-doctors but this was to be her fiercest fight and her greatest victory.
`The natives believed that sickness and death were unnatural, and that death never, occurred except from extreme old age. When a, free man became ill or died, sorcery was alleged. The witch-doctor would be called nay; and would name one individual after another, and all bond or free, were chained and tried and there would be much grim merriment as, the victims writhed in agony. To prove a, person's guilt or innocence, boiling oil or the poison-cup were resorted to. In the one Jest boiling oil was poured over the hands and if the skin became white and blistered it proved the victim guilty, and he was punished accordingly. But the surest and least troublesome test was the poison-cup. If the body ejected the poison the person was innocent; but if guilty the investigation, sentence and judgment were carried out simultaneously!
The fact that a man's position in the spirit-world was determined by his rank and wealth in this one, demanded the sacrifice of much life, When chiefs died. A few months before Miss Slessor went up amongst them, a chief of moderate means died, and with him were buried eight slave men, eight slave women, ten girls, ten boys, and four free wives. These were in addition to the men and women who died as a result of taking the poison ordeal. Even when the death was due to natural decay the retinue provided was the same.
When Chief Edem's son died, he shouted, "Sorcerers have killed him and they must die. Bring the witch-doctor." When the medicine-man arrived he laid the blame of the tragedy upon a certain village, to which the armed freemen at once marched. They seized over a dozen men and women, the others escaping into the forest, and after sacking all the houses returned' with the prisoners loaded with chains, and fastened to posts in the yard which had only one entrance.
Miss Slessor went to Mr. Ovens and told him he would have to stop all work, for this was going to be a serious business. We can't leave these prisoners for one moment, she said, "I'll watch beside them all night and you'll take the day." And time and time about in that filthy yard, through the heat of the day and the chill of the night, these two brave souls kept guard opposite the wretched band of prisoners, with the half-naked people, armed with guns and machetes dancing and drinking about them. As one barrel of rum was finished another was brought in, and the supply seemed endless. The days went by and Mr. Ovens lost patience, and declared he would go and get a chisel and hammer and free the prisoners at all costs; but Miss Slessor begged him to wait a little longer.
Prayer had been her solace and strength during all these days and nights. She had told the father and uncle of the dead boy that there must be no sacrifice of life. They argued that only those guilty of causing his death would suffer. Her only reply was to sit quietly on guard. The chiefs became angry. To have a white woman-and such a white woman amongst them was good, but she must not interfere with their customs and laws. The mother of the dead lad became, violent. Even the slaves were openly hostile and threatening. The crowd, maddened, by drink run wildly about, flourishing their guns and swords. "Raise our master from the dead," they said, "and you shall have the prisoners.”
Mr. Ovens had gone to the hut and Miss Slessor was keeping vigil when a stir warned her of danger. Several men came and unlocked the chains of one of the women-a mother-and ordered her to the front of the corpse to take the poison-cup. Miss Slessor was in a dilema. Was it a ruse to get her out of the yard? If she followed, would they bar the entrance and wreck their vengeance on the others who remained? "Do not go," they cried, and gazed at her pleadingly. But she could not see a woman walk straight to death. One swift appeal to God and she was after the woman. The table was covered with a white cloth, and upon it stood a glass of water containing the poison. As the victim was in the act of lifting the glass she touched her on the shoulder and whispered, "Run." She gave one quick glance of intelligence into the compelling eyes and off both bounded, and were in the bush before any one realized they were gone. They reached the Mission House where the woman was quickly hidden and Mary flew back to the yard. "Where is she?" the prisoners cried. ".Safe in my house," she answered. They were amazed. She herself wondered at her immunity from harm. It might be that the natives were stupefied with drink-but she thought of her prayer.
By her patience, tact and quick wits she finally succeeded in gaining the release of all the prisoners, but not before she had had many heated arguments with the father of the dead boy, when he would become very, angry. He said he must at least do his son the honor to give him a retinue in the spirit-land, but neither would Mary consent to this, and finally he was buried and only a cow had been placed in the coffin and her joy was great. But her troubles were not over.
A party of natives coming to the funeral met another party returning, drunk with excitement and rum. Recalling some old quarrel the latter killed one man; fighting became general between the two' factions and many were wounded. This kept the whole district in an unsettled state for many weeks more, and there was much blood shed.
When peace and order were once more restored, Chief Edem came to Miss Slessor quietly and alone, one evening, and kneeling down held her feet, thanking her again and again for her wonderful love and courage, for her action in forbidding them to take life at his son's death and for all the peaceful ways which she was introducing. "We are all weary of the old customs," he said, "but no single person or House among us has power to break them off, because they are part of `Egbo, system.”
And one by one, secretly and unknown to each other, the free people came to her and thanked her gratefully for the state of safety she was bringing about, and charged her to keep a stout heart and go forward and do away with all the old fashions, the end of which was always death.
Yes, it is just as true, whether in Africa or Europe or America, "the wages of sin is death," but it is just as true "the gift of God is Eternal Life through Jesus Christ our Lord." Rom. 6:23. If there is any one who may read this story who is sinning against God in refusing to accept His Wonderful Gift, may they accept it now as freely, as gladly as it is offered.
(Continued from page 8.)
(To be continued.)
A Short Sketch of the Life of Mary Slessor of Calabar: Part 2
Born 1848. Died 1915.
It would take too long to tell even briefly how Mary Slessor won her way into the hearts of the people of Okoyong and how she won the hearts of very many of them for Christ. How in the early days of her stay there she had gone, at the risk of her life, to attend the chief of a distant tribe who was thought to be dying and who sent for her. She had never seen him and his tribe were much feared by those among whom she dwelt. Her own chief was much opposed to her going. She never hesitated where duty called her; and she had the joy and satisfaction of seeing him recover; and of winning the confidence and friendship of him and his people. At another time she nursed a whole village that were down with small-pox, and many of them died.
When she first went to Okoyong it was the rainy season, and she found her hat and shoe an encumbrance, so discarded them for all time. She would tramp for miles through the bush in her bare feet and was never known to have anything the matter with them, although the bush paths abounded with snakes, jigger; and poisonous plants.
She never boiled or filtered her water or used mosquito netting, precautions which other Europeans consider essential to the preservation of health in that deadly climate.
Does it seem as if we were watching the career of a woman of hard, self-reliant, and masculine character, capable of living by herself and preferring it, unconscious of the natural weakness of her sex? In reality Mary was a winsome soul, womanly in all her ways, tremulous with feeling and sympathy, loving love and companionship and not unacquainted with nervousness and fear. Her womanly sympathy and tenderness were never better exhibited than in her relations with her dark sisters about her. She entered into their lives as few have been able to do. She treated them as human beings, saw the romance and tragedy in their patient lives, wept over their trials, and rejoiced in their joys.
When people saw, or heard of her toiling with her hands and of all the work she would undertake and accomplish, they were apt to imagine she possessed a constitution of iron, never realizing that her life was one long martyrdom, for she was seldom free from illness and pain. Still she seemed able to do things that would have proved fatal to other people. She had deliberately given up everything for her Master, and she accepted all the consequences that the renunciation involved. What she did was for Him, and as she was not her own and had taken Him at His word, and believed that He would care for her if she kept in line with His will, she went forward without fear, knowing that she might, through inadvertence, incur suffering, but willing to bear it for His sake and His cause. Her faith and devotion led her into strange situations, and these shaped the character of her outward life and habits.
At times the loneliness and isolation of the life would seem more unbearable than at others, especially when suffering much in body; but she wrote: "My one great consolation and rest is in prayer." So invariably was she comforted: so invariably was she preserved from harm and hurt, that her reliance upon God became an instinctive habit, and it conquered her natural nervousness and apprehension.
She had frequently to take journeys through the forest with the leopards swarming around her. "I did not use to believe the story of Daniel in the lions' den," she often said, "until I had to take some of those awful marches, and then I knew it was true, and that it had been written for my comfort. Many a time I walked along praying, 'O God of Daniel shut their mouths,' and He did.”
And yet naturally, she was as timid as a child. Once when at home in Scotland on furlough, she was walking with a friend and could on no account be persuaded to take a short cut through a field because there was a cow in it.
At one time she was traveling on the river in a native canoe when they were overtaken by a tornado. At another time their canoe was attacked by a savage hippopotamus. In each case the native paddlers were overcome by fear and it was only her courage and quick wits that saved their lives.
The dangers and difficulties of the work were innumerable and in her letters to her friends at home was the repeated appeal, “Pray for us here; pray in a business-like fashion, earnestly, definitely, statedly.”
At intervals is was necessary for her to return to Scotland to regain her health. The effects of the climate and repeated attacks of Malaria would completely exhaust her. It was always a joy and a delight to her to be in the home-land among her loved ones and dear friends. But as soon as her health would permit the Mission Board would arrange to have her address meetings in different places to stir the interest of the people in the work, and this was always a special trial to her, for she was naturally very diffident. On no account would she address a meeting if gentlemen were present, although they often listened from concealed positions, so eager were they to hear her. But there was often, expressed disappointment when instead of telling of the thrilling experiences of her life in Africa, she would give an evangelistic address. She, however, deprecated surface interest and would say, “If the heart was right and the life consecrated mission work would be well supported.”
She said it often grieved her when at home to find so little depth and so little of God's Word in the speeches and addresses she heard. She believed that the only way to reach souls, whether at home or in heathen lands, whether high or low, was a thorough knowledge of the Bible as a whole, and to know Christ as the object of the heart's affection. To tell the love of Christ was her passion, and this was the secret of her power. To gain this power one needs to be much alone with Him. As another has said, “What secrets we get from the Lord in the wilderness with Himself; and if we care not for the secret of His presence, what cares He for all our boasted service. It is ourselves He wants, and it is only service flowing out of the joy of His presence that is worthy of the name. It is only such service that will stand the fire of the judgment, (1 Cor. 3:11-15), and bring joy in the day of Christ that we have not run in vain, neither labored in vain.”
Few have labored so long and so faithfully as Mary Slessor, nor under more trying conditions, and yet she often felt discouraged when she thought of the great needs of that vast country, and of how little she felt she was able to do to relieve their darkness and suffering. The appeals in her letters to friends at home, for others to enter the fields that were white unto harvest, were very touching. To one she wrote, “When Sir Herbert Kitchener, going on to conquer the Soudan required help, thousands of the brightest of our young men were ready. Where are the soldiers of the Cross? In a recent war in Africa, in a region with the same climate and the same Malarial swamp as Calabar there were hundreds of officers and men offering their services, and a Royal Prince went out. But the banner of the Cross goes a-begging. Why should the Queen have good soldiers and not the King of Kings?”
At another time in describing the kind of women needed for such a work, she said, "They should be consecrated, affectionate women who were not afraid of work, or of filth of any kind, moral or material. Women who can take everything to Jesus and there get strength to smile and persevere and pull on under any circumstances." And from time to time not a few such men and women did go to that difficult field and of their work Miss Slessor speaks in warm appreciation. It always vexed her to have her work lauded and she always insisted that she did no more than any of the others. But we know from "the others" that what she undertook and accomplished was simply gigantic.
A Government doctor who visited her soon after she had moved to a new station, writes, “What a picture it presented, a native hut with a few of the barest necessities of furniture. She was sitting on a chair rocking a tiny baby while five others were quietly sleeping in other parts of the room, wrapped in bits of brown paper or newspapers. How she managed to look after all the children, and do the colossal work she did passes my comprehension.”
She was missionary, teacher, doctor, nurse, mother and even judge of the people among whom she labored. Another writes, "Her power is amazing-she is really their queen." "When visitors arrived they usually found her with a baby in her arms and a swarm of children about her-or on the roof nailing down the sheet iron which the tornado had shifted, or holding "a palaver" from the verandah or sitting in court -but always busy and always rejoicing in her work.”
She always had a wonderful vision of what the power of the Gospel could make of the most degraded, and she proved more and more as the years went on that she had a true vision. Her fame had spread far and wide and deputations of chief men would come long distances, sometimes a hundred miles to get her to settle their disputes, or to beg her to send them a teacher.
As soon as it was possible for the Board to send two lady missionaries to occupy her post at Okoyong, she set out to do pioneer work, traveling long distances and seeking out the best places to open a school, and here she would leave one of her boys or girls in charge. On returning to one of these places a few months later one of the women came to her and said, "Ma, I've been so frightened you would take our teacher away because we are so unworthy. I think I could not live again in darkness. I pray all the time. I lay my basket down and just pray on the road.”
This woman sometimes prayed in the meetings and electrified the audience, and she had begun to have devotions in her own home, though her husband laughed at her.
Calls came every day from other regions, and they would plead, "Give us even a boy!" Another brought a message from an old chief, "It is not book I want; it is God!" And most pathetic of all, one night, late, while she was reading by the light of a candle, a blaze of light shone through the cracks of the house, and fifteen young men from Okoyong appeared before her to say that the young ladies who had come to take her place there, were already gone, and they were left without a "Ma." She sent them to a shelter for the night, and spent the hours in prayer.
“O, Britain!" she exclaimed, "surfeited with privilege; tired of sabbath and church, would that you could send over to us what you are throwing. away!”
When two deputies were sent out by the church in Scotland to visit the Mission stations and report on the work being done, the people crowded to the meetings and said, “Take our compliments to the people of your country and tell them our need is great, and that we are in darkness and waiting for the light.”
(Continued from page 36.)
(To be continued.)
A Short Sketch of the Life of Mary Slessor of Calabar. Born 1848. Die: Part 3
(Continued from page 65.)
The Government had now a firmer foothold in the country and roads were being made and a railroad was under way. But in the districts where the missionaries had not reached there was often serious trouble between the natives and the Government troops. One of these tribes were so disturbed by the appearance of armed men that they persuaded a lad, who had been used as a guide by the soldiers, to lead them to the "great white mother" for her advice and help. She and they talked long and earnestly and they returned consoled and hopeful. Some time afterward the guide came down on his own account, bringing a few other lads with him. Her influence was such that they wished to become God-men; and they returned to begin the first Christian movement in one of the most degraded regions of Nigeria. Miss Slessor knew nothing of the place save that it was away up in the Northwest, on one of the higher reaches of the river, and a two days' journey by water. Some months later the young men again came to her, saying that there were forty others ready to become Christians and begging her to come up. She felt hardly able for such a long journey, for she was suffering all the time now, but she could not refuse them. She found the town larger and more prosperous than she had anticipated, but the darkness was terrible and the wickedness shameless. The younger, and more progressive men gave her a warm welcome, but the older chiefs were sulky.
The would-be Christians had begun to erect a small church, with two rooms for her at the end. That they were in earnest was proved by their attitude. She had eager and reverent audiences, and once, on going unexpectedly into a yard, she found two lads on their knees praying to the "white man's God." After a short stay in their midst, she returned to her own station promising to return later, but a serious illness prevented her. During the interval twenty young men from the district came to see her, but before stating their business said, "Let us pray.”
On her next visit to this district, Mr. McGregor, the principal of the Industrial Institute at the coast, accompanied her. The natives were delighted and asked if he were the man who had come to lead them out of darkness, and were bitterly disappointed when she told them he was not the man yet.
“Ma, you always say, Wait. We have waited two years, and again you come and say, Wait. When are you coming to us?" This was as great a disappointment to her as to them, and in the end she went to them herself, "I must go," she said, "I am in honor bound to go." She heard that services were being held regularly on Sundays and week-days, and yet none of them knew more than the merest rudiments of Christian truth; none could read. They were groping for the light, and worshiping what to most of them was the unknown God, and yet were already able to withstand persecution. She lived to see wonderful changes wrought in the hearts and lives of these people. At one of the places where she had stationed native teachers, messages came telling of the persecution of the infant church by the chiefs, who threatened to expel the teachers if they spoiled the old fashions. "And what did you say to that?" she inquired.
We replied, "You can put us out of your country, but you cannot put us away from God.”
“And the women?”
“They said they would die for Jesus Christ.”
As her bodily strength diminished, the work increased and became more difficult, but the "white mother" was always singing in her heart psalms of thanksgiving and gratitude.
If during sleepless nights of suffering she would feel burdened, she would rise and cry, “Calm me, O God, and keep one calm." Then she would go and look at the sleeping children, and be much comforted by the sight.
“Surely," she would say, "I have more reason to trust God than childhood has, after all the way He has led me.”
“My life," she wrote, "is one long, daily, hourly record of answered prayer. For physical health, for mental overstrain, for guidance given marvelously, for errors and dangers averted, for enmity to the Gospel subdued, for food provided at the exact hour needed, for everything that goes to make up life and my poor service. I can testify with a full, and often, wonder-stricken awe, that I believe God answers prayer. I know God answers prayer. I have proved during long decades while alone, as far as man's help and presence are concerned, that God answers prayer. Cavilings logical or physical, are of no avail to me. It is the very atmosphere in which I live and breathe and have my being, and it makes life glad and free and a million times worth living. I can give no other testimony. I am sitting alone here on a log among a company of natives. My children, whose very lives are a testimony that God answers prayer, are working around me. Natives are crowding past on the bush road to attend palavers, and I am at perfect peace, far from my own countrymen and conditions, because I know God answers prayer. Food is scarce just now. We live from hand to mouth. We have not more than will be our breakfast today, but I know we shall be fed, for God answers prayer.”
Not everyone would count it a privilege to live alone so far as companionship of their own kind was concerned, amidst the perils of the African forest, exposed to all the dangers of that tropical climate and amongst a people of filthy habits, but Miss Slessor wrote to a friend, “Mine has been such a joyous service, God has been good to me, letting me serve Him in this humble way. I cannot thank Him enough for the honor He conferred upon me when He sent me to the Dark Continent.”
The love of Christ constrained her and that love transformed everything for her, and that too was the power that transformed the lives of such numbers of those poor people. For even the most degraded of the human race will understand and respond to the touch of real love. Love will overcome all, was her belief; and love, to her, included all the qualities of the Christian faith-simplicity, kindness, patience, charity, selflessness, confidence, hope. It has been said of some, "They loved the praise of men, more than the praise of God," but how different was it in Miss Slessor's case. The Governor-General of the Colony and other British officials who knew that her heroic work had done more than anything else to open up the country for the Government, felt that her services should be brought to Royal notice. This was done and the king conferred on her special honor, but the publicity greatly troubled her.
“It isn't Mary Slessor doing anything," she said, "but Something outside of her altogether uses her as her small ability allows." She did not say, "My plan," or "My scheme," but "What God wants me to do," and His approval was the only honor she craved.
She was much broken in health and her friends urged her to return to Britain, to spend the rest of her days in comfort and quietness, but she held to her post to the very last and to the very last doing the very difficult work of a pioneer missionary. To the very last breaking new ground.
Then came those dark days of August 1914, and when word reached her that Europe was at war, the tragedy of it all completely prostrated her. She became very ill and finally lay in a stupor as if beyond help. It was a scene that suggested the final act in Dr. Living-stone's life. The girls were crying. The boys stood alarmed and awed. Then they lifted her in her camp bed and marched with her five miles through the African forest to the river where they placed her in a canoe and took her two days' journey down the river to the nearest place where a doctor could be obtained. One of the lady missionaries from another station came to her and helped the girls nurse her back to health. In a very wonderful way she was restored and again took up her work for a short time.
For a time the horrors of the war lay like a weight on her heart. She had been trying to teach the natives that God wanted them to live at peace and now what could she tell them. But after a time she became calmer; she knew God has His own wonderful purposes in all that He allows, and she explained it as best she could to her poor bewildered people, and left the rest with God. To friends at home she wrote, "Thank God our nation is not the aggressor"-and to another, "May our nation be sent from its pleasures to its knees, and the church awed and brought back to Him.”
In January 1915 the end came and she went to be with her Lord and Savior, whom she had loved and served so long. As many stood about her open grave, weeping, one old colored woman said, "Do not cry-do not cry; `Praise God from whom all blessings flow,' Ma Slessor was a great blessing.”
And there on that far coast of Africa her body lies awaiting that soon coming day, when body and spirit shall be reunited; that day we look and long for, when "the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trump of God; and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord." (1. Thess. 4:16-17.) For "we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed." (1. Cor. 15:51-52.)
But her spirit had gone to be with Jesus and cannot we follow her to the very gates of heaven. What 'an abundant entrance' she would have! Can we not hear the Savior say, "Well done," and see His smile of welcome as He received her into the "Home" He had prepared for her. (John 14:1.)
And then there would be her dear mother to welcome her; she had gone to be with the Lord many years before. In the Glory-land "we shall know even as we are known." (1. Cor. 13:12.) And there would be also many other loved ones to greet her, and many of her black people whom she had loved, and who through her had learned to love the Lord Jesus, and who had gone before her. Many more would follow after; all to join their voices in the grand redemption song-"Unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood." (Rev. 1:5.)
May the memory of Mary Slessor's life of self-sacrifice stir our hearts to seek out fresh ways in which we can prove our love to Him, "who loved us and gave Himself for us." For we hear Him say, I gave My life for thee, What hast thou given for Me?”
“Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these ... ... ye have done it unto Me." (Matt. 25:40.) (Concluded.)