Fear Not

Have you ever been pulled over by the police? If you have, go back for a moment and remember what emotions you felt as you saw those lights or heard that siren indicating the officer wanted you to pull over. Maybe you accidentally ran a red light....got caught speeding....ran through a stop sign? Mostly, you know you've done something wrong to be pulled over, right? For the average person who isn't a hardened criminal type, you know you will talk with the officer a few minutes, perhaps receive a ticket, be sick for a while about some fines you'll have to pay, and be on your way.

That's the culture I come from....that's part of my world view.

However, that is not the reality of where I currently live. We are pulled over by the police here on a regular basis. Rarely is there a valid reason given. But here, they don't need a reason. They do just because they can. And over time, that has caused us an increasingly frustrating amount of stress. Some times it really is just a guy doing his job.....we look funny to him....our plates are from a different country....and he's just checking our paperwork to make sure it's all in order. More times than not, though, corruption is at play and money is being sought. After almost two years of dealing with that, our patience wanes. So where you typically would have 100 feet or so of patience to get you through a situation, we are running on a mere 5 feet of patience that is pretty much gone by the time the officer gets up to the window.

The police speak French. And we don't. This has been the main contributing factor to our stress level in these situations. I can deal with not having French in the grocery store or on the street or in the market....but not in a police situation.

Our company currently has a policy that only allows for language learning in the heart language of your target people. Which is great. I totally get the rationale for that. And I support learning the heart language of our tribe. It makes a GREAT impact on the relationships that we form by doing so. But when that language doesn't help you outside of a 50 mile radius of your town and you have to travel hundreds of miles and cross over borders into other foreign countries without the national language.....well, that poses significant challenges and increases cultural stress ten-fold.

Typically, most police will ask for money. We say no. They ask again. We say no....again. We wait it out. Sometimes we wait up to an hour. Sometimes Rick has had to get out and sit on the ground, which is a last resort cultural cue that usually makes them give up. Sometimes we've asked them to take us to the police station, which they refuse to do because they just want to pocket the money. We tell them we'll pay a fine if one is required but we have to have a receipt, which they won't do because they want to pocket the money. But they always give up. Give us back our papers. And we go.

Mind you, all of this is in French...which we don't speak. And we are responding to everything in English or our tribal language which they usually don't speak. Many times they are highly offended that we can't communicate with them in French. We are in a French-speaking country after all.

And while we've managed okay with all of this on most occasions, there have been a few that have brought me to my imaginary knees seeking the Lord's help as I sat in the front seat.

One such occasion was earlier last month when we took off on a spontaneous road trip to the forest area of our country. We had our two good friends with us who spoke the tribal language and French. So what could go wrong, right? Yeah, well.....

We come upon a military camp and are stopped....of course. The guy walks up to the window with the bad attitude so many of them have. Rick's patience is gone already, remember? So when the guy asked for our papers, Rick held up the paper through the window so the guy could read it and see all the numbers, etc.

We have stopped "giving" them the papers some time ago, based on the advice of others who know the system better than us, as they would only walk away with our papers, passport, license, whatever it was and not give it back. They can do that. Just because they can.

The guy got highly offended because his authority had been ignored when Rick wouldn't hand over the paper. One thing lead to another and before I knew what was going on, they had called the chief, ten or so really scary guys (to me) show up, two motorcycles pulled up and were parked against our front and rear bumpers so we couldn't move, our friends were out of the car trying to smooth things over (which wasn't working), Rick was yelling (which he rarely ever does), and the chief was pulling out a camera taking pictures of all of us in the truck (who knows why?). That made Rick even madder, so he pulled out our camera and started taking a picture of the chief (which you NEVER EVER do).

And the downward spiral spun more quickly.

I was in tears....shaking sob kind of tears. In all our time here, I've never experienced fear, but that day, real fear gripped my heart for about an hour. These guys had guns. Our friends who spoke French weren't able to calm anyone down. I just knew my husband was going to end up in a foreign prison. Those things happen in places like this. I kept trying to get our embassy on the phone, but we were in the middle of nowhere with NO cell phone signal to call anyone. There was absolutely nothing I could do. All of the guys were taken to the tent behind us. The boys and I were left in the truck with an armed military guy watching us.

It was bad. And I prayed hard. All I can say is God heard my prayer because somehow things calmed, our camera was returned to us, the motos were moved and we were allowed to go.

This was the extreme case we've had. But two years of this has made me weary. And, honestly, because it's been happening almost EVERY single time we drive anywhere, I'm kind of scared to go out by myself.

This week Rick is out in the village with a team and I stayed back at the guest house with the boys. I have to drive them to/from school as they go each day for some testing. A friend of ours is here and her son is going, too. So I told her I wouldn't mind driving if she would tag along so I wasn't by myself.

She speaks French very well. And I knew it was just a matter of time.

Time was up today. We got pulled over this afternoon. I was amazed watching the exchange between her and him. So different from the experiences we've had. Knowing how to speak to them, understanding what they are saying to you, being able to engage them in friendly banter about the weather or sports or where they are from or whatever else....that makes ALL the difference.

We are working to learn French, by the way, on our own for now, but looking forward to more formal learning in the future. There will always be some cultural stress that gets me....but it won't be from not being able to communicate with the police. I WILL learn French.

And the next time I'm pulled over in the States, I may just get out and hug the police officer because he's doing his job, not asking for money, giving me a receipt and I can actually communicate with him about what I did wrong.

What really stinks about all of this is patience is a fruit of the Spirit that we really like to be able to show to the world around us. How much more we could show God's love if we could actually communicate!!

"Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the LORD your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you." Deu 31:6

One thing is sure.....we have a TON of stories and memories of God's incredible faithfulness to us in every situation these last two years! He has, indeed, been with us every step!