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Yesterday I had one of those moments where it seemed all too familiar, as if I was living in a Book I have read. I was preparing for a communication workshop for disabled children and adults. And, for my "health talk" on hand washing, I needed water. So, I went to the nearby borehole to pump water. I greeted the people sitting under the tree who were trying to escape from the morning heat. One man greeted me in the usual way (and in Dagaare), "Good morning. Did you sleep well? How is your house? How is your husband?" I did well in answering his questions in Dagaare. But, as I told him, "I have no husband," I half expected him to say, "You are right. You have had five husbands and the man you are living with is not your husband."
But, alas, I have not had five husbands and I am not living with a man. And, this guy was not Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, but a local man, most likely a Muslim. I was able to tell him about a Book that I have read, about a story of a Great Man who met a woman at the well and asked her about her husband. And, I continued with the story...Seeds were planted. May God's Holy Spirit do the watering!
