It was a hot, sultry day in that little town near the Western coast of
Africa when Afa Bibo came. He had had a long, long journey from his home
among the Ntum people far to the south of Efulen. So he, as well as the
men who had brought him, was glad when they saw the rude little hospital
looming up at the end of the path.
Years and years before, when Afa Bibo was just a little baby, his mother
and father, because they were superstitious and ignorant, had deliberately
infected the little one with yaws, one of the most loathsome of African
diseases. Little by little the disease had spread through his system till
now, a boy in his teens, he was gradually losing his sight. So they had
brought him to the white doctor who had done so much for boys and girls in
the neighborhood, to see if he could also help Afa Bibo.
It took only a glance at the one eye to know that the sight was gone
forever. But there was a chance that the other might be saved. To be sure,
the inflammation was there and much damage had been done, but still there
was a chance. So they put him under the care of the nurse and began the
fight that was to tell whether he was to be one of the many African blind
ones who suffer so much and help so little, or whether he was to be like
other boys.
It was a long, hard time for the little fellow. The eyes must be washed
with a solution that was very painful; he must spend long hours not only
lying in bed but with all light shut from his eye. He grew very weary with
it all. But after the months had gone, Afa Bibo went out of that hospital
with an eye as clean and white in the ball as yours or mine.
Of course, he was anxious to go back to his people and tell them what
wonderful things had been done for him, but the Doctor said,
"Afa, you can do much with your one good eye, but if you will stay right
here and go to school with the boys for a time, you can do much, much
more. You can be as good as one man, two men, and perhaps as much as
three. If you will stay, you can be a big man in your own tribe. It may be
you could be a teacher and tell the boys there how to read and write or it
might be--yes, it might be--you could be a doctor and make other boys to
see, just as we have done to you."
So Afa Bibo stayed in the mission school and learned to study, and to
work, and to think. For a time he felt badly to think he had only one eye
when all his companions had two, but little by little he seemed to have
forgotten it.
Then came the day when the Christian people of that little African church
were to pledge a definite number of days of service in carrying the
message of the Christ to others. Some were to go out and teach; some were
to carry Testaments and tracts written in Bulu to others; some were to
help about the mission station so that there might be a better place in
which to teach the ones who came. Some were to raise extra crops so they
might have something to give to those who went far out to teach. Every one
could give something, even though it was very different from what another
gave.
As it neared the time for the service, the black people might be seen
coming from all directions. Some had walked five miles, some ten, and some
even twenty. All had something to eat so that they might stay to hear all
the good news that could be given in a day. They filled the little bare
building which the boys of the school had builded for a church; they
filled the window spaces; then they filled the yard about the church. Oh!
there were very many of them and all were eager for the service to begin.
Holding the roof of the little church were large poles which had been
painted white and on these the pledges were to be made. So as the service
began, many looked at the poles and thought what a wonderful thing it was
to be allowed to give of themselves to the God who had become their own.
Soon the pledging began. First to go was the old chief who had given up
his twenty wives that he might become a Christian. He was old. What would
he give? First he made a slanting line and then he crossed it. Ah! that
was ten days of service.
Then others were ready, and some gave ten days, some one or two weeks, and
some could even give a month. The lines covered one pole and then another
as the people passed down the aisle and out of the building.
Last of all came the boys of the school. How could they give? They were
only boys. But they could take of their play time till they had gained a
day or more to give. One marked after another and last of all it was the
turn of Afa Bibo.
Very near to him stood the kind doctor who had made him free from the pain
and able to see the way as he came to the white pole. So he smiled one of
his rare smiles as he passed him. Then he made a slanting line and crossed
it; another and crossed it. That was twenty days. No boy had given as much
as that. But he was making another--twenty-five days. And he crossed the
third. Then with his shoulders square and resolve in his face he went out
with the rest.
As the missionaries sat before their home on the following day, they saw
Afa Bibo coming across the yard to them. Calling the doctor aside, he
said,
"Doctor, I am not satisfied with what I pledged yesterday. I want to give
more."
"But, Afa," said the doctor, "already you have pledged thirty days. That
is a great deal for a boy to give. A pledge to God from you must be as
binding as His promise is to us. Work out the thirty days and then come
back and give Him more if you like."
"But I am not happy about it," said the boy, "I want to give more."
"I think you had better leave it just as it is, for I am sure you do not
know how long thirty days will be when you begin to give it all. Run along
and do your lessons. I think you have given much to God," said the
Doctor.
Then Afa slowly came very near to the doctor. Looking up into his face, he
pulled down the lower lid of the good eye showing it to be white and free
from all soreness and pain.
"Doctor," he said, "do you see that good eye? Well, God saved me that eye
and I have more to be thankful for than any one else in all that big
churchful yesterday. I owe him more than thirty days. Please, sir, I want
to pay back a little of what I owe him. Let me make it thirty-five."
So together the doctor, who had given his life for God, and the little
black boy, who was just beginning to give, went to the church and put
another black mark on the tall white pole. And Afa Bibo went out to work
his thirty-five days for God.
Were you to go among the Ntum people to-day, you would find there a man
who is beloved by all because he has loved to give of himself to his
people. He has a kindly face and a loving heart. It is Afa Bibo, the boy
who is still eager to pay for his one good eye.