What's it like...?

"What’s it like to live in the village?"

It's a multifacted issue and there are many correct answers.

But here's a one of many.

There are many kinds of missionaries and they range the scale of … hardcore.

I, myself, would probably be in the middle range.

There are some missionaries who eat bush food every day and have no problem using an outhouse day in and day out. Missionaries who have come to terms with nature and take all of its forms in stride.

I am not this hardcore.

There are some missionaries who want all the amenities of home in the village. Missionaries who pack shipping containers from America with all the luxuries that will fit. No form of nature is permitted in their house.

I'm not that refined.

I don't use an outhouse, but I don't have a flush toilet. I don't care for bush food but am not stressed by dehydrated food. I don't appreciate bugs and pests and dirt in my house, but I'm not on a crusade, and most only invoke a sigh rather than distress, and geckos are always welcome in my home.

I'm at a nice middle place.

But you can only push someone so far.

I know how to make a roof in such a way that it keeps the rats out. But knowing and being present and equipped to direct others are two separate things. The chicken wire was in short supply and they only just got it spread out beneath the insulation. They didn't have enough to wrap it up to the tin. So all around my house, there's a gap between the insulation and the tin, gaping and inviting to any mouse or rat looking for a warm place to nest up with a kitchen down below.

And so, we have rats. They scurry around in the roof and we hear their scampering against the insulation. Occasionally, a neighbor's cat climbs up there and we hear him cull the residents.

Even this wouldn't be so bad if they didn't figure out how to leave their home and enter mine. But when the lights go out, the rodents come out.

And while this is less than desirable, I took it in stride.

We set out the one trap we have and each night we catch one rat and, at this rate, the ceiling will cave in under the weight of their rapidly reproducing coven. Horde? Murder?

For about two weeks, this was life, until my breaking point.

I woke to a rat scampering down my calf.

Mosquito nets are good for keeping out a lot more than mosquitos, but I found that at the foot of my bed, there was an unfortunate gap, between my mattress and the floor.

Our bedframe hasn't been built yet. Nails are short and the election is causing a lot of delays in getting people to and from town for more. So our mattress is sitting on the floor. This wouldn't be so bad except that I'm a very light sleeper and unfortunately, while mice can be quite quiet, rats can be very very loud.

With my head on the ground, they run back and forth inches from my face. They also like to run between the head of the bed and the wall. All that protects me, all that keeps my body from getting scampered on, is the mosquito net. And today, it failed me.

And now at 11pm, I'm at a breaking point. I can abide by this no longer! They have crossed a line! It will not be tolerated!

And yet…

What options do I have?

We can get more chicken wire to stop them from getting in, but that won't be here any sooner than the nails. And even then, how will we get them all out? I certainly don't want them stuck and dying up there! We can't poison them because we can't risk poisoning our neighbor's cat.

And besides, what can I do now? The rats are just as active in the living room and the couch isn't hung with a mosquito net. My two children won't be keen on me going nocturnal. It's only 11 and the end of this night is a long way off.

I can abide no longer. And yet, I have no alternative. And somehow, I don't spontaneously die.

I wake my husband shamelessly. (He has an unnatural ability to fall asleep in seconds, rats or otherwise.)

I convince him to empty the trap into an empty water bucket, assuring him we can wash it and we filter all our drinking and cooking water anyway, and set it again. We'll get more than one rat tonight.

And that's all I can do.

So I lay my head back down, separated from the raceway of rodents by a gauzy sheet, and pray.

I ask the good Lord to send another rat into the trap.

He answers.

I wake Jacob.

He resets the trap.

And falls back asleep.

I pray for another rat. I remind the Lord that the Lord gives sleep to those He loves (Ps 127:2). I remind Him that He loves me. I make explicit the connection and implication.

And somehow, despite the circumstance, I fall asleep.

And that's what village living is like.

It's living in circumstances that are outside of our home culture's normal until the stress gets to a point where you can't tolerate it any longer. And then, through the infinite power of God to strengthen you, you keep tolerating it.