In cooperation with the Loma Linda University church, 15 individuals went on a mission trip to Tchad, Africa, March 16-30. Brandon Herrmann, senior English major, shares thoughts from this mission experience.

By the 10th day of our mission trip to Tchad, Africa, during spring break, everybody in our group had malaria. Malaria is not the most comfortable means of acclimating to a culture, but in Tchad, it afforded a keen understanding of the local perspective.

We arrived in Béré with medical supplies for the hospital and were ready to begin construction on a new church. We donated school supplies and planned a vacation Bible school for the children.

The spread of mud-brick huts were home to more than 60,000 people. There were no phones or running water, and I questioned how our limited supplies would begin to benefit this community. Gradually, I began to see the significance of mission work.

The VBS lessons were simple and relied on hand gestures and a translator, because none of us spoke French or the native language, N'Djeréé. We began song service under the shade of a mango tree. Curiosity intrigued the local children, and they flocked in to investigate. They pushed and shoved each other, all trying to establish a premier view of the foreigners.

We sang “Jesus’ Love is Bubblin’ Over,” complete with motions and clapping. They loved it and shouted their N'Djeréé interpretation of the English lyrics. As I watched, I recognized a boy who lived behind the mission. He had lost his right arm in a bad fall a few years ago, and was now standing at the edge of the children, close to the song leaders.

As the other children caught on to the motions, the song leaders called for volunteers.

Suddenly, Joelle Reuer, one of the song leaders, reached out and pulled the one-armed boy front and center.

I froze... Oh no, she doesn’t realize he only has one arm—he can’t clap. What is she thinking?! The kids will destroy this boy.

A few began to snicker and point. Embarrassed for Joelle and the kid, I nervously glanced back. There I saw Joelle kneel to the boy’s level and put her right arm around the boy’s missing arm. With her left hand, she took the child’s good arm and led him through the song’s motions—when they reached the clapping part of the song, the boy’s good hand met Joelle’s and he clapped for the first time.

The children in Béré demonstrated a rigid pecking order. To be recognized by their peers, older or stronger kids would assert themselves over the weaker children. No doubt this one-armed boy was routinely bullied and excluded, but Joelle gave him a meaningful experience by making him feel valuable—I could tell by his smile.

That feeling was just as evident in the Adventist churches we visited. One was in the bush half an hour outside the city. As we joined members in the shade of their mango trees, we all felt the inclusiveness of the Adventist world church.

As the final days or our trip passed, the divine breeze of humility (a.k.a. malaria) reinforced the lesson of equality. I can never consider myself above the people I want to help—my body is just as frail, and I am just as dependent on God.