Noise!

Wow. Last night was the most extreme version of a nightly occurence here--noise. Occasionally it's nice (e.g., deluge of rain on the tin roof), occasionally absent (e.g., when power goes out), but usually it's simply a frustrating hazard of living in Yaoundé. In the neighborhood surrounding our home are numerous establishments that make or play loud music. Probably some sources are private homes, most are little bars and similar gathering places where people party late into the night. Much of it is fueled by drunkenness.

Last night was almost incomprehensible. The singular greatest noisemaker in the neighborhood is not far beyond the fence that surrounds the soccer field (a few lots away from what is essentially our back yard.) Last night the music began about 10 pm, very loud. (i.e., With our white noise machine on, earplugs in and pillows over our heads it still sounded as if it were in the next room over. The pounding of drums and the voice of an announcer/DJ whipping people into a frenzy was especially obnoxious.) The music has been going continuously since 10 pm; as I write this it is 7:41 am.

I can't quite imagine how the people living even closer to the bar than us can survive; I'm going to ask a Cameroonian friend at school for some cultural insight as to why this practice is apparently permitted and/or not objected to by the general public. Before getting any answers to that though, let me pass along an amazing glimpse of Grace that overcame the drunken racket earlier this week:

One evening as the party music began, Heidi burst through the door in the boys room where I was saying goodnight and said, "David! Come hear this! Someone's singing the Hallelujah Chorus!" We went quickly to the back window and, sure enough, through the haze of blaring revelry could be heard a small choir singing Handel's famous lines. Even better, it was delightfully "contextualized"--the rhythm was slightly different, the harmony altered too, both distinctly African in their flexible and unfettered joy. What a powerful image of the way the simple word of Gospel, in all its humility and frailty, can pierce the oppression of hopelessness and despair!

The reason we are sent here is to help get the "musical score" into the hands of the "choir." We are here to aid the process of translating the Bible into the language of those who, without it, could not sing its saving tune. Please continue to pray for this process (and, admittedly, for some quieter nights...)

Grace alone,

David