"The missionary" drabbles by Richard Hunt

A trip

The missionary #4

Wow!!!!!

Today I went on a trip with some nurses … we walked to and into a foreign country!!!

Togo is only three miles away to the east. A well trodden path as we took turns pulling the little trolley. Down a hill and up and …

“Bonjour, Pere. Beinvenue a Togo!”

Being Canadian I had no problem with the language!

This is a visit to exchange British goods for French and vice versa. Oh, yes, and medicines too.

Heinz baked beans seem a favourite today, in exchange for Croissants, breadsticks and cheeses.

I shall make this a regular trip!

Arrival

The missionary #3

This is a lovely village, full of lovely people and with a superb hospital. I am honored to be able to serve here.

We are a short distance from the border with Togo (to the East), and 80 miles or so from the Burkino Faso border to the north.

I have a nice church and in truth I am well pleased to be here.

Of course I am a missionary and my first duty was to go round the hospital, which I have done. Sick or not - some are VERY sick - these people are happy and happy to meet me.

The journey north

The missionary #2

I am on a coach … cattle truck more like. It is over 250 miles to the village where our hospital and Church are. I’m sharing this coach with livestock of every kind - and humans!

Let me tell you about me.

I am Jon, and I was born in Toronto, Canada. I am fluent in English and French. My parents moved to the USA - San Bernardino - when I was ten.

I became a Priest and, looking for more, went to Cambridge, England, studying at St Edmunds College. I also became an assistant Priest at the Catholic Church in Cherry Hinton.

The missionary position

The missionary #1

Hi, my name is Jon. Flying from England to Ghana, shortly due to land at Accra.

I was at St Edmunds College in Cambridge before they sent me out here.

The previous missionary, a red-headed Spaniard, has had to go back to England with severe skin cancer. I am his replacement in a village with a hospital up near the border with Burkina Faso. This is my story.

The bus into Accra then another bus to the village.

I have been warned … at the bus station numerous children looking for “any money Father?”

“Yes, but it’s not mine.”