Lest you think life in Africa is all work and no chocolate, I give you Nongo Toddies and African moon pies. July 21 was my 28th birthday. I celebrated by eating far too many moon pies. You may be wondering the same thing my friend was: “how on earth did you get moon pies?! That’s hilarious! I thought you could only get those down south!”

Yes, well, they were a cheap, West African imitation called “Bifa Soft.” But they seemed a little like home at the time. And if one is good, a whole box is better.

Thankfully David doesn’t like African moon pies. But he does like “Toddy,” a chocolate malt drink mix we found at the local market. We call it Nongo Toddy since we live in Nongo, a neighborhood within Conakry. We mix it with milk powder and water. I add a scoop of instant coffee just for some kick.

This week in Pular language studies I learned words for members of the family. I drew ‘Binta’s’ (my language helper) family tree for practice. When I drew a fourth child for her baby due in September, she looked a little surprised.

Although Binta is a Christian, I try to take every opportunity I can to share Bible truths with her. I told her that God created her baby and that it is a real, live human being. A lengthy discussion ensued about the fate of unborn babies and children in Guinea.

Binta said she was taught that ‘Allah’ did not breathe life into an unborn child until the mother is four months pregnant. It was only when a missionary showed her pictures of gestation that she knew the truth. She was amazed at God’s handiwork; at how He forms a baby in the womb.

Sadly, abortions are all too common in young, unwed mothers in Guinea. I have also been told of babies who are used in spiritual rituals and sacrifices.

Mothers who do not want their babies will put them in a gutter for the massive rains to sweep away; or on the beach for the tide to carry out into the ocean. The more fortunate babies are bundled up and left in the grass, or by the road for someone to find. This was the case for a tiny, two week old baby boy found last week. Fortunately, two colleagues volunteered to adopt him.

And what about older children whose parent’s cannot provide for them? Just today I heard of a van full of ten naked children, ages 4-7 being smuggled across the border to be sold as slaves or prostitutes. It is possible that their parents sold them for food money.

In the U.S. we kill babies before they are born. In Guinea, mothers facing poverty and despair struggle with killing their babies well after they’ve given birth to them.

Today, while standing on the roof of our house and looking out over the ocean, I saw a man sitting on a wall by the edge of the sea. He was fishing using only a fishing line with a hook and bait. He had no pole. He would bait his hook, throw it out into the ocean as far as he could, and wait for a bite. He baited his hook and cast his line over and over again before he caught any fish.

Remembering Jesus’ phrase, “You will be fishers of men,” I began to ponder the ways of the fisherman. He can bait his hook with the tastiest worms and cast his line with great skill. He can fish in the best spots at the right time of day, but ultimately, he cannot force the fish to bite. When he goes out, he doesn’t know if he will have a great catch or not. In reality, his catch, or lack thereof, is in God’s hands.

In many ways, missions is the same way. We work to present the Gospel in the clearest way at the right time and place to the right people. We ask God to open their hearts. We pray that they will choose to put their faith in Christ. In the end, however, we cannot force anyone to believe. Regardless of the catch, be it nets full to bursting or nothing at all, we are still fishers of men, and we will cast our nets again and again and again.

I bought Lott (a type of fish) from a door-to-door vendor yesterday. We don’t eat fish. “So, why did you buy a kilo of fish?” you ask. That’s a good question! Lott is a very mild fish, and is actually quite good when breaded, seasoned, and fried. It actually ‘tastes like chicken!’ That, and well, we thought we’d be adventurous and try something new.

So, I get the fish inside and realize I have never actually cut up a fish before. I’ve watched the ladies at the fishing beach scale and gut them, but never actually cut them to prepare for frying. I did my best, though I’m sure a Guinean would have shaken her head at the meat left on the bone.

Perhaps tomorrow I’ll try frying it and see how it turns out. While I’m gathering my spices, what’s something new you can try this week?