We have received the following letter with a request to publish it as the contents will no doubt interest many of our people. It gives a little insight into some of the trials and triumphs of the Gospel in connection with our Mission in Rhodesia.
Ingwenya Mission,
Bembesi,
1st October, 1943.
My Dear Friends,
I was lately on a visit to Murray Farm, one of our out-stations. It might interest you to know how this station came into being as a mission. As far back as 1926 a man called at our house one morning to tell us that he had been sent by some people to ask if we could not begin to preach among them and to set up a school. The people referred to were native squatters on the farm which we came to know as Murray Farm. Taking the messenger along with us to act as guide my wife and I set off for the place. The roads were not so good as they are now and the rough going soon told on the car. We had not gone far when a shock-absorber shackle worked loose, and the extra bumping which followed broke up some of the solder along the base of the radiator. Soon the car looked more like a steam-engine than a motor, but at last we did manage to reach the farm. We found that it was owned by a woman, Scotch too, but so antagonistic to the natives that she refused to give permission to us to erect a meeting house on her land. Finding we could do nothing we left the place. Our guide returned to his people to report failure. We returned to the car. For some distance we were able to find sufficient water to keep the radiator filled up, but on coming to one stretch of dry land, the engine got so heated up that it ultimately stopped altogether. Not anticipating such delay we had taken no food and nothing heavier in clothing than a blouse and a shirt. We got out to walk to a ranch if possible. We did discover a sign-post pointing in a certain direction but the homestead to which we presume it pointed was never discovered by us. We were later informed that these signs are sometimes as far as from 12 to 20 miles from the place they point to. The sun went down, and as if to decide the matter for us, we were unceremoniously chased by a wild cow. Our only refuge was the car. Into it we got and made the best of things for the night. Next day we left the car and after walking some distance got a goods train which took us to Bembesi. So ended our first attempt to open a station at Murray Farm.
Second Attempt.—We later heard that another farmer was willing to give ground in this locality. Again our friend the guide turned up, and I went to interview the farmer. He was Swiss, and so far as money was concerned a typical man of the world, otherwise, he was quite pleasant. He was willing to accede to our request for permission to begin a mission station on his land, but he made this condition, that all the school children should help with his harvest. I have emphasised the word help you will notice. The people put up a good building and a school was opened at the beginning of that year. Things went on well and the Word was blessed to a few. Then harvest came. The farmer went to the school and demanded the children to come and bring in the whole harvest. He required their services from morning to night. This of course was a very different thing from merely helping with the harvest. The parents objected, the Government would pay no grants as the school would not be in session the number of hours required by the law; and while I was willing that the children should help, I was not prepared to order the children to do the whole of the work of harvesting. So the place was closed and effort number two came to an end.
But by now the fire had caught. There were a number of regular church-goers and over 50 children. So we sat back, prayed and waited. We felt that the people could not be put off for long. And sure enough our guide soon appeared again. He had with him a ragged piece of brown paper, with pencil writing on it, in his hand. This was a permit given by the first madame we had visited. It said in language not too kind that she was willing for a place of worship to be erected. A strong deputation of chiefs and headmen had waited on her—more than that, they waited until she had given them this little piece of paper. It was no more than a scrap, but it represented to us the fulfilling of the purpose of God. His time had come. The law requires that there should be a written permit from a land-owner accompanying any request to build. Through our application went, scrap of paper and all.
So the people met together and built another meeting house and here the children met for school, and the people to worship for three years. A small body of believers was formed and we began communion services.
Then the farm was let out to a Dutchman for grazing. His name was Dittmann, but the natives pronounced it “deadman,” and sure enough he was the death of effort three. He ordered all the people off the ground. He would have no cattle grazing but his own. Without cattle our people could do nothing, as cattle are the backbone of their wealth; there could be no ploughing, no reserve of wealth. So they had to go where they could keep their cattle and get grazing.
But this time there was a difference. It was not merely the people who were dispersed, it was a Church that was dispersed, and like the Church in all ages it was dispersed only to grow in strength. One part got land only four miles away. The rest had to go ten miles further on, but in both sections there were male members who were able to hold services. So now there were two stations instead of one, and, a little time after, two schools. Those who went further away, had another short journey, and after that peace. The furthest away section, now called Inlisani, began to hold services at another place twelve miles distant. This place, Ivishi, now has regular services and a school.
See what the Lord has done. First He kept us trying while He was trying us. Then He blessed His Word until nothing could hold back the people. Then He gave increase—an increase born out of the agony of dispersal. To-day there are three schools where there had been one. Where there had been one teacher of standard two qualifications, there are now six—three of them of certificate qualification, earning the highest grant, and three of standard five qualification, and next year there will (D.V.) be seven teachers. There are three elders and two deacons where there were none before, and a warm-hearted and true body of people, among whom there were sixty members. There are five school rooms and two teachers’ houses, all built and paid for by the people.
I was here lately holding Communion Services, and had the great joy of examining eighteen people for membership. As I looked at the four elders (I took one with me from Ingwenya) and saw the order of the Session as it went on with its work I felt that if there was one thing I wished to do more than another it was to hide my face. The Lord had done it all but He had been pleased to use us as a means to do it. Why, no one can tell.
The Lord’s elect will be gathered. The time for that He has set. The services were late that Sabbath and the sun had gone down by the time we had finished. We expressed sorrow on this account, but after dismissing the people, some of the women came and said, “You need not apologise, it is nothing if the sun goes down, we were far too pleased to hear the preaching to-day. This is a happy day for us.” And some of them had still to walk twelve miles to their homes, and perhaps get a scolding if not a beating from their unbelieving husbands on their arrival for being so late.
I must conclude with a word of warm thanks for all the interest, all the kindness, all the encouragement, all the prayers you have spoken on our behalf. The foregoing will be to you a good commentary on the words, “In due time ye shall reap if ye faint not.” Stand by us as you have done during our temptations to faint, and together we will yet reap even more. The places I have written about are from fifty to sixty miles from Ingwenya, and there are hopes of our extending still further in this particular district.
The reward of the sower and the reaper be yours.
Yours sincerely,
JOHN TALLACH.