I woke Etienne up from his afternoon nap a few minutes before we needed to leave home to go and clean the church, ready for tonight's prayer meeting. It was hot and sticky, so sticky in fact that I hadn't even bothered trying to sleep. The sweat just repulses me too much for my brain to switch off!
We opened our front door to leave and were met with bright sunshine and complete and utter silence. The sound of silence. Something that I didn't think really existed in Bénin. It was beautiful and it made me feel instantly peaceful.
I guess silent afternoons are the reality of 'chaleur' (the hot season).
There was a truck opposite our house, which would normally have several workmen chinking away at the metal, banging various nuts and bolts into place, but today, there were no workmen. Just two guys napping under the truck on their prayer mats.
The lady who usually sits under her make-shift shade on the corner, selling food and chatting or arguing loudly with other ladies, was braiding her little girl's hair, her hands moving slowly, her attention focused solely on her silent task.
There were no motorbikes whizzing past. No cobblers drumming on their wooden boxes-of-tricks to attract the attention of anyone in need of shoe repairs. No children running around and shouting.
Just silence. Beautiful silence.
Maybe I like chaleur after all.
May your Sabbath be full of peace and moments of silence as you contemplate the love of our wonderful Creator :-)
We opened our front door to leave and were met with bright sunshine and complete and utter silence. The sound of silence. Something that I didn't think really existed in Bénin. It was beautiful and it made me feel instantly peaceful.
I guess silent afternoons are the reality of 'chaleur' (the hot season).
There was a truck opposite our house, which would normally have several workmen chinking away at the metal, banging various nuts and bolts into place, but today, there were no workmen. Just two guys napping under the truck on their prayer mats.
The lady who usually sits under her make-shift shade on the corner, selling food and chatting or arguing loudly with other ladies, was braiding her little girl's hair, her hands moving slowly, her attention focused solely on her silent task.
There were no motorbikes whizzing past. No cobblers drumming on their wooden boxes-of-tricks to attract the attention of anyone in need of shoe repairs. No children running around and shouting.
Just silence. Beautiful silence.
Maybe I like chaleur after all.
May your Sabbath be full of peace and moments of silence as you contemplate the love of our wonderful Creator :-)
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