Eat honey, My son, for it is sweet

The trip became very slippery as the rain continued. At one point as we were climbing there was a cow standing on the side of the path. The cow slipped and began falling toward me. I backed up to keep from getting run over by the beast. AS we neared the village there was a spot where you could hear your voice echo for miles. Duncan was yelling hello to himself. So I yelled, "J-Roc." It bounced back and forth off the mountain walls.

The high altitudes were another great obstacle for us. Just a few feet 20 or 25 and I was highly out of breath. Well, as we were climbing the mountain the president of the women's federation offered to take my backpack. I refused. I didn't think it would show my southern gentleman traits which I had been brought up with. Half way up the mountain however I was drenched with sweat. She didn't have a drop of sweat on her. She offered again. So, I am not sure what happened next but somehow she had the backpack and we were off and up the mountain again.



When we arrived at the village we were greeted on a basketball court by a group of villagers. They served us some honey straight from the comb. It was some of the sweetest honey and a great way to rest from the long journey we had just been on.






Later, I found that Proverbs 24:13,14 says:

Eat honey, my son, for it is good; honey from the comb is sweet to your taste. Know also that wisdom is sweet to your soul; if you find it, there is a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off.

I was struck by the irony of a village whose lifeline and hope was being cut off through the pillaging of its women, serving as its welcoming dish, a bowl of honey. It reminded me that there is hope for this village.

As we were sitting there eating honey we heard a pig squealing in the distance. Dr. Mike asked someone why the pig was squealing and he was told they were preparing supper.

We met with the leader of the village and he answered a few questions for us. There were four girls who were dressed in traditional dress representing there village. Each dress cost 100 rmb to make or $12 US Dollars. In the village each person makes about 10 cents a day. So a $12 dollar dress would be worth about 4 months salary. I reflected that with 1.3 billion people in China, if you equally divided the Kroc donation you could give each person around $2. In this village that $2 would be equal to almost a month's salary.

Once we got passed the intial meeting Dr. Smith and I moved to a house with a son whose mom had been trafficked. The mom left for the market one day and never returned. Some other women saw her in a different region.

It was a very difficult interview. There we were, outsiders, who had never been to this village ot met these people and we were asking them questions about a time in their life when they had been completely abandoned by the one's they loved the most. The pain was obvious in his eyes.



As we talked with this family another lady was there who began to tell us about her situation. She had been married to a wonderful man. He passed away. She then remarried. This man treated her very badly. She explained that he dinks all the time. He is not a Christian. She explained that many of the men in the village had become Christians. The Christians were kind to their wives and had put alchohol aside. She was moved to tears and it was obvious that her pain was deep. As the tears streamed down her cheeks Peggy began to get out a tissue. Dr. Smith stopped her. He told Peggy that giving her a tissue would keep the lady from crying. He said that the lady needed to cry. He was probably right, being a PhD and all. But I couldn't help asking myself what was behind the tears? Perhaps the discussion about trafficking and leaving had brought to her mind the thoughts SHE had been having about leaving. I don't know this to be the case but it was certainly the sense I got. Perhaps her tears were not just about the sadness about the situation she was in but also tears of remorse about the decision she was contemplating. It must have been difficult for her to sit there and see the pain of the thirteen year old boy left without a mother and consider the way her actions could hurt her children and the rest of the village.