A Secret Ally

“A friend loveth at all times; And a brother is born for adversity.” — Proverbs 17:17 (ASV)

For her first months at Ekenge, Mary lived in one room in the women's yard of Chief Edem's compound, with five children, two cows on the other side of the wall, and goats, rats and cockroaches everywhere. There was no privacy at all. In Okoyong, being left alone was thought terrible, and good manners meant never leaving a guest by herself. Mary longed for silence so she could pray aloud. So she took a machete into the bush and hacked at the undergrowth, praying at the top of her voice so the noise of the blade covered it.

The woman who made those months bearable was the chief's sister, Eme Ete, whom everyone called Ma Eme. She was the widow of a powerful chief. When he died, all his wives had been under suspicion of causing his death, and she had waited for the witch-doctor's verdict. When she was declared innocent, she fainted with the strain. Once Mary noticed marks on her arms and showed her own vaccination scar, thinking they were alike. Ma Eme said simply, “These are the marks of the teeth of my husband.”

She stood between her brother and his wives when he was drunk or angry. And she secretly became Mary's ally. At the risk of her own life, she told Mary who had been accused, who was chained in a farm hut, and when an ordeal or a war was planned. Later they worked out a signal: if Ma Eme learned a killing was coming, she sent a certain bottle to Mary asking for medicine. The chiefs came to believe the white woman could read their minds. A lot of that “second sight” was Ma Eme.

The secret had a cost. When Chief Edem fell ill, people were accused of bewitching him and chained. He recovered, and all were released except one woman, who was put to death. The chief sent word that nobody had been harmed, only a slave woman sold away. Mary knew it was a lie. But if she showed she knew, the chief would hunt for her informant, and scores of people might be made to take the poison to find out who. So she kept quiet. Protecting the person who warned her meant staying silent about a killing. She hated it, and she did it.

The friendship lasted twenty-five years. Ma Eme never became a Christian; she made offerings to the spirits every day of her life. In 1913 the two old women sat together a whole day remembering what they had done “hand in hand in secret.” After Ma Eme died, Mary wrote:

“My dear old friend and almost sister, she made the saving of life so often possible in the early days. It is sad that she did not come out for Christ. She could have been the honoured leader of God's work had she risen to it. I cannot fancy Okoyong without her. She made a foolish choice, and yet God cannot forget all she was to me, and all she helped me to do in those dark and bloody days.”

Mary believed Christ is the only way to God, and she grieved that her friend never came to him. But she would not pretend Ma Eme's mercy wasn't real. Jesus once told a story where the hero was a Samaritan, someone the religious lawyer listening would have looked down on, and asked who had been a neighbour. “He that showed mercy on him,” the lawyer had to answer.

You'll have friends who don't share your faith and who are kinder than some Christians you know. You can hold on to what you believe and still honour their kindness. Leave the judging to God.

One thing to do this week: think of someone outside your faith who has been kind to you. Thank them this week, specifically, for one thing they did.