Intense – that is the best word to summarize the week spent in the village of Ndiadiane. The first day the team arrived to greet the chief, a concerned young woman latched onto one of the New York ladies and quickly pulled her inside her compound. There inside the hut, she pointed to her older brother, Latir, slumped over with severe burns all over his back, arms and head. We had not been in the village 5 minutes, when we realized that we had walked into a crisis situation. About 25 years old, we were told that he suffers from seizures and the night before had thrown himself into a huge pot of boiling water cooking on the ground. The heat of the fire and water literally melted his skin off while he shook through the duration of the seizure. I’ve never seen such extensive burns and raw flesh. It was difficult to imagine his pain or even look at. Fortunately, there was a doctor and nurses on our team who could make an assessment. The team decided that we needed to bring him to the hospital that night and treat his wounds. On a lighter note, on the way he did ask me for some money to buy tobacco but I told him “I think you’ve had enough fire for one day”.
The team returned to the city of Thiès that night and prepared for a 3 day/2 night camp-out in the bush. This was the third visit this year from one of our supporting churches, Eastern Hills Bible Church, who have committed to building a long-term relationship with a rural unreached village. Ndiadiane is truly off-the-grid. There are no street signs only dirt paths and 
ancient landmarks; there is no electricity or running water only wells and hard living. Every meal is cooked over a fire, every grain is pounded by hand, and every field is cultivated with simple tools. One night I enjoyed eating peanuts roasted in the shell, the dried plant used as kindling and while the embers were still hot we picked through the blackened shells in the sand. The team brought tents, a portable potty and plenty of granola bars. We slept under an open African sky and woke up each morning to the baying of donkeys and crowing of roosters. Our meals were prepared by Jaqueline, the wife of one the pastors from the church in Thiès. I was especially proud of how well the six ladies on the team adjusted to the rustic conditions, lack of showers and long days of ministry. There were also seven men, three pastors from San Diego, three from Syracuse and myself. I was amazed how God forged such a wonderful team of gifted individuals who had never met before but quickly built friendships and discovered their unique role on the team.
The first day, the medical clinic kicked off with the help of 5 Senegalese nurses from the Christian hospital in Thiès. We experienced the normal challenges of language, organization and diagnosing tropical illness through interpreters. But approximately 150 people were treated before we closed up shop and got ready for dinner. The first night in the village, a special celebration was planned by the chief and he had arranged a griotte (musical drumming group) to play. After the sun went down, people began to assemble and without any prodding the kids began to dance. There is something special about dancing in the dirt with an African village that removes barriers and provides a common activity for expressing joy. It reminded me of the stories my great-grandmother, Winifred Campbell, told me of the good old days when the farming communities would organize family square dances - old and young alike would gather and dance with dirt from the field still stuck in their boots. In Senegal, the sabar dance is an organized art form. A circle is formed and individuals enter the middle for a few moments while the rest clap to the beat of the djembés. The women and men dance at different times and the Americans did their best to mimic the moves and keep up with the rhythm. I brought my Carvin acoustic guitar and played a couple of songs in the Serere language that I have learned, then the team sang a couple of praise songs in English after we had the words translated.
We were still waiting for the chief and elders of the village to join us, when one of our translators told me privately that the party would need to stop immediately because the chief’s wife had just died. The news was not to be shared publicly yet, so we paid the drummers and wrapped up the program. A few moments later, the sounds of joy were replaced by wailing and mourning. All through the night, we heard the cries of the village as they responded to grief. Hundreds of people began to assemble outside the chief’s compound and suddenly the intensity mounted. The elders of the village decided to cancel the health clinic in front of his hut and our team gathered to pray for wisdom and a Christ-like response.
The choice to camp out in the village was an intentional decision made by the church in New York to try to connect on a deeper level with the people. Little did we know how providential our presence would be. That night we received a crash course on what to say and not to say when there is a death. Soon the team was ministering to the extended family and with the help of translators, learning to walk a difficult path together. Later that night, the team leader, Mike Rufo, and I had the privilege to talk at great length with the chief about his personal loss. He really struggled with the weight of carrying the needs of his village (sickness, a collapsed well, poor crops, depletion of young people working in the city etc.) while also dealing with his own grief. We did not know how this tragedy would affect our ministry, but in that moment, we knew that God wanted us to be here during this time for a reason.
The next morning, we received permission to move the clinic about 10 minutes away and set up a make-shift clinic in a small school building. While we were waiting for the Senegalese nurses to arrive, a few of us walked over to minister to the chief’s family as they waited for the body to be transported from the city hospital. The wails and weeping continued and 
then I heard a groaning that sounded a little bizarre. I walked over with my translator and watched as a young woman with a baby on her back collapse on the ground and begin to shake. Initially I was unsure of how to read this situation, but my Senegalese brother said, “Matt, this woman is possessed by demons”. The women from the village covered her in a sheet and poured water on her head to try to soothe her, but I went to get the members of the team to pray for this woman. They surrounded her and prayed in Jesus’ name for deliverance, peace and protection. (video clip) and then I began to notice other women lining up to be prayed for including Moussu, the daughter of the chief. Before we prayed, I asked the woman to remove any amulets of black magic and understand that the power of God cannot be mixed with Satanic evil powers. After we prayed for her, she left and cleansed her body of these evils objects and asked the women of the team to speak with her privately later. So after an intense morning, the team was ready to open the second day of the 
medical clinic - that day another 180 people were treated.
When the team returned to the main village, there were still many people coming to see the chief’s family. Earlier that afternoon was the burial. A deep hole was dug under a pagan pangole tree which is the traditional place of sacrifices and spirit worship – a vivid picture of their desperation to ensure safe passage for their loved ones to the next life. None of us were present for the burial rituals, but the village knew that we had expressed our condolences.
Late that evening, the women walked over to the chief’s house again and asked to talk to Moussu. She came out with another family member and the team spent a long time talking about Jesus and his power over the darkness. They read scripture, shared their personal faith stories and encouraged this young woman to become a Christ-follower. Another Senegalese believer joined the conversation and confirmed the reality of Jesus’ life-changing power. By the end of the evening, Moussu had decided to place her trust in Jesus only and begin to attend the small worshipping community that had been begun near her father’s hut. The ladies came back and praised God for the opportunity to follow up and minister to the chief’s family during such an intense week.
The third day, the clinic opened early and already lines were forming outside. One dear elderly woman, probably 90 years old, had walked 3 miles with her grand-daughter and great-grand son because he had a severe hernia in his groin. I gave her a chair, water and some egg omelet and the team decided to cover the expenses and bring them back to hospital when we returned to town later that day. While the medical team tried to see all the people waiting, the children’s ministry team organized a kid’s club under the big tent. It was great to hear them tell Bible stories, sing songs and tell the kid’s how much God loves them. It was even more powerful with a medical clinic meeting the physical needs of families. Mothers, fathers, grandparents listened to the God stories and realized that this group of foreigners was unlike any other they had ever seen. They knew God loved them, because He had sent them comfort and help in their time of need.
When the day was finished, we closed up the clinic and counted names registered. In three days, the team had provided medical care to over 500 people (not bad for a community with a combined population of around 1,400). Eastern Hills Bible Church had also provided 120 more mosquito nets, to add to the several hundred purchased back in May prior to the rainy, bug season. Already, the village said that they have never seen such good health for their children and attribute this to the protection provided by the donated mosquito nets - a simple investment, but one that has already saved lives. During the week, members of the team met with village leaders to begin a pilot program for a drip irrigation system that could greatly increase the productivity of crops year round while conserving water and energy to keep seedlings alive during dry season.
In a matter of three days, we covered the full gamut of human existence – suffering, healing, celebration, mourning, death 
and life, but there were glimmers of light and rays of hope piercing the darkness. Space does not allow me to talk about many of the other stories that happened during these three intense days, but God worked through us in an intensive way and I believe that He was glorified in our efforts. One of the pinnacle moments occurred on our last Sunday morning, when we traveled back to the village for “church”. We had invited the Chief to come to the service but we weren’t sure if he would, in light of the recent events, with his son being burned and his wife dying. But when 50 of us all crammed into that tiny thatched structure, there he was sitting next to Mike Rufo and a few other elders from the village. In front of them, was a group of wide-eyed children the next generation who have the opportunity to hear God stories and grow up in a place where there is hope. Seeing the enormity of the task and the faces of God’s image brought tears to my eyes as I preached a simple sermon.
The relationships between the Americans and the unreached village deepened beyond our expectations. The team responded graciously to the chaotic and challenging circumstances of life in the village – but now we understand the realities of life in a rural village. Even though this place may be off-the-grid to the modern world, God knows their name and is doing a specific work in this place. It was truly a privilege to join Him where He was already working!