Our Life-Saving Fund by T. E. BOWEN

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jun 23, 1910

Our Life-Saving Fund

By T. E. BOWEN

T. E. BOWEN

This may be a new name for the $300,000 Fund, but in very fact this is what it is. It is a fund for saving the lives of our missionaries, who are struggling at great odds where conditions are such that really it seems a miracle of God's protecting grace that they live at all.

That you may have a living picture before you, I wish to give the space of any appeal I could make to a description given by one missionary out in the Bombay district in India, Elder Geo. F. Enoch. What he writes might be said, with slight variation, by many others working in other fields. Read what Brother Enoch says of the actual conditions he faces in hot India, and try to place yourself in his or his wife's or child's place:—

“After it was decided that we should locate near Indapur, there were some vexatious delays; but we finally succeeded in making our forward move on February 1. Unfortunately, an attack of the grippe, which affected all of us, coincided with our date of moving. But the rapidly approaching hot season made it imperative that no time be lost, so we bade farewell to Poona, where we had spent a pleasant year studying the language and becoming acquainted with the customs of this new field.

“Our journey was sixty-five miles by rail. After that we were ferried over the Bhima River. From here to Indapur was fourteen miles. For that part of the trip we were to enjoy(?) the questionable pleasure of a ride in a springless bullock-cart. Unfortunately, all the bullock-carts were gone for that day. I will not write concerning that difficult journey,—of the hot sun, the lack of water, the hard dung floors on which we had to sleep,—but will only say we finally reached Indapur at three one afternoon, completely exhausted.

“At this time of year the country in these parts is all parched and burned; the heat is great, and water is very scarce. We dare not drink unboiled water. As there was no well connected with the bungalow, that first afternoon we were compelled to use the water the people brought us. They assured me it was all right. ‘It is the same as we use every day of our lives,’ they said, thinking that what was good for them should be all right for sahib. However, our native boy brought us water from what he assured us was a superior well.

“As early as possible the next morning we set out to investigate our water-supply. The first well was in a garden, and the people were busy drawing the water by bullock power for irrigation. This well was a little turbid, so our native boy urged us to investigate a second well. We found it near by, right in the center of a Mohammedan graveyard, and filled with dead leaves and semistagnant water. We turned back to the first well. It was a large well, twenty feet in diameter, with steps going down into the water. Imagine our surprise to find a man down in the well busily washing the dirty clothes which he had just removed from his body. Our expostulations were met with the all-sufficient reply, ‘But, sahib, he is a Brahman.’ Somehow we consider a Brahman's dirt no better than any one's else, so we inquired about other wells.

“The people, seeming willing to aid us in spite of our peculiar prejudices, told us of a well near the town dispensary, which had a notice board on it forbidding the washing of clothes in it. So we hastened there, hoping our troubles were over. We found it a well with great wide steps all the way down to the water. As it was early morning, the women were coming for their morning water-supply. A group of half-clad, dirty-looking women from the out-caste quarters near by came while we were watching. They descended into the well, and calmly proceeded to make their morning toilet. They were barefooted, so first of all their dirty feet and legs were well washed, then their hands, arms, and face. After thoroughly washing out their mouths, the contents were ejected back into the well. It only remained for them to wash their dirty water-jugs before dipping up water from the same place to bear happily away full vessels for drinking and cooking purposes. Truly the notice board was there forbidding the washing of clothes; but we wonder how much boiling our medical friends would recommend to make such water fit for human consumption.

“Further inquiry disclosed a good well without steps, well protected; but alas, it was in the caste quarters, and we could not draw water from it, for we would defile it! The irony of the situation amused us in spite of our difficulties. But as it happens that water is one of the most necessary things in this climate, we finally settled the matter by employing a high-caste man at rather an exorbitant rate to bring water for us. What sort of philosophy can settle the questions arising in my mind as I sit on my veranda watching my half-clad (or less) water-carrier, not too clean, bringing with impunity water from the well I can not touch for fear of defiling it?

“Well, such was our entering into Indapur. The people have made us welcome in their way. We have started a school for the low-caste children. There are three native workers with us, two of whom have their families. Our daily program is something like this: Marathi morning worship, 7 A. M.; Marathi Bible class at noon for native workers; preaching in high-caste quarters at 7 P. M. We are getting nicely settled in our work, and are glad we are here. For one hundred miles to the south, and forty miles in all other directions, lies village after village where the name of Jesus has scarcely been heard.

“Next month the thermometer will register close around 115° F. in the shade, and we have only the uncertain tenure of a government bungalow, in which we can not properly protect ourselves from the heat. Do you wonder that we are very much interested in that big fund for missions, and will watch with anxiety the way our people respond to the call for it?

“It will take perhaps a thousand dollars to build the cottage and the well. If you were in our places, would you not pray for a cottage and a well? We have faith that our prayers will be answered, and will try to conserve our strength as best we can until help arrives.”

Is not the $300,000 Fund truly “Our Life-Saving Fund”? Every dollar sent in helps to relieve just such situations as described above. Who will be first in throwing out a life-line to some missionary?

Takoma Park, D. C.