Yesterday we went to a remote village where our micro-finance project was inaugurated, a place in North India where my wife and I worked as missionaries for five years. This is where our first son was buried.
We traveled four hours
across one of the most backward areas of the country. Then we got off
the road to follow a path that led us deep into the wilderness where I
thought no one lived. We found ourselves at last in front of a cluster
of houses set in the midst of paddy fields, mantled with yellow mustard
flowers. Life was still and silent, except for the occasional chirping
of a lonely bird.
We were welcomed with traditional tribal dances and sat on a stage covered with a plastic sheet that fluttered in the strong winds so loudly that we considered getting rid of it. The village doctor, the only local VIP, had been asked to say something to welcome the guests but stood frozen for a couple of minutes and gave up without saying anything.
This village is poverty stricken and primitive. It would be no exaggeration to say that if we do not do anything here, centuries would go by and nothing would change.
I am happy that this is where our first micro-finance project has been established. In this area 3500 women from 35 villages will receive small loans to start businesses and help their families (to learn more about micro-finance as a tool for native missionaries, see below).
Let us pray that next year thousands of people in this remote corner of India will be celebrating Christmas for the very first time.
Ebenezer Samuel
