Do not be afraid, for I am with you.
Genesis 26:24 NIV
It was a wonderful day, that Easter Sunday of the year 1981 in Bangui, capital of the Central African Republic. Our Spanish friends from a distant mission station were visiting us. The children were playing together and we were able to enjoy the peace and quiet. Suddenly we heard gunshots somewhere in the neighborhood. I followed the sound and saw the young people who were also living at the mission station in front of our chapel. I asked them if they knew what had happened. They were not quite sure but said that the shots had been heard from the other side of the street where a French businessman lived. There was a canal with a street on both of its sides between his house and our mission station. I observed how people gathered in front of the house until there was a crowd of people getting more and more noisy and upset. I was told that an African had been killed. Later on, we heard that the Frenchman had shot a thief. The situation became more and more uncomfortable and I went back into our house.
Our friends came from the guest rooms after their siesta. We sat and waited. The crowd set a straw hut on fire in our neighbor's garden and threw stones at the windows of the house. A few houses further away other expatriates were together at a garden party. They were hit by stones flying over the garden walls. A few cars were turned over and set on fire. The crowd became louder and more aggressive. Hours passed. Night set in. Finally, the police came and evacuated the French family. The father was arrested. Only then did the crowd start moving. They went along the canal, crossed the bridge, and came toward our gate. We had locked our house up and moved the cars out of sight. We were watching from our living room where we were sitting in the dark. Our telephone didn't work.
Later the son of our African pastor told us that the crowd wanted to enter the mission compound but some people in the crowd stopped them by saying, "They are different." The crowd passed our gate and settled on the other side at the main street corner where the people returning to town from their Sunday outings had to pass by. They were angry at white people and so when they saw white people in the passing cars, the first ones would shout, "Bunju, bunju!" (white men) and the next would strike the cars with big stones gathered from the roadside. About 50 cars were damaged and a lady was so severely injured that she could not continue on her way. We were praying that nobody would be lynched. It was a very dangerous situation. At last, soldiers came and dispersed the crowd with tear gas.
I have never before felt so helpless. We could neither have called for help nor been able to escape on our own if the crowd had surrounded our house. But God protected us. Maybe it was an angel who stopped the mob from entering the mission compound.
The situation calmed down and we returned to normal life. My husband left on a bush trip to hold meetings in a church at the distance of a two-day driving trip. Our missionary colleagues Francisco and Marie-Carmen returned to Bambari, about 380 kilometers away. Marie-Carmen was four months pregnant and due to the agitation, she had had light contractions in the night after the unrest. But everything seemed to be all right when they left with their pick-up. To be continued next week.