Even though we boast a strong Christian past with our Anglican and Catholic creeds coupled with the cathodic charisma of multiple God channels, we tend to lack a basic passion for the Almighty.
In our lands of insurance and double glazing we seem to have lost the fear of God.
Churches are often empty or filled with the aged, the media mocks or conjures up some nice “Songs of Praise”, and the Bible is a fairly unread book for the majority of young people.
The average birth rate for a German woman is 1.3 kids – many women choosing never to even exercise their biological right to bear a child. The womb of Europe is slowly drying up – only mass immigration can save it.
The sound of happy kids playing simple games in the streets is becoming a thing of the past. Children’s laughter and wide innocent eyes are an increasingly rare gift to the passer-by.
By comparison, I am overwhelmed with the fecundous generosity of the markets of Yaoundé. Myriads of kids and babies are everywhere, draped over busy, hard-working backs, or running in a chaotic rag-tag band of vitality through the narrow streets. Mother earth supplies a rich, abundant source of nourishment for such an emerging future as happy, healthy and humble black faces beam the rising black sun of the future.
I’m aware that not all African nations are as bountiful as Cameroon, and that feeding the many mouths can sometimes raise a challenge in the more desert areas of the Sahel. Providing proper education and jobs is a Herculean task for all future leaders. However, I still feel that the challenges facing fecundity are less daunting than the tragedy of a drift into dry sterility.
God is alive and well in Africa. He moves, not as a geriatric monument, but as a wild, naked warrior. He is dangerous and passionate. He is growing deep in the culture and mind of Africa – He is black.
Churches abound like a full mango tree in each town and village. Men and woman dance and whoop it up on Sundays clothed in a dignified and beautiful Sunday best. Young people and kids spend hours with their hands raised in worship to a God who is as real as their mobile phones. Pastors are respected like tribal chiefs and the name of God is rarely taken in vain.
Africa is rich. God and kids thrive in this future Continent of blessing.
While I was walking around the grounds of the place I was staying, admiring the early morning birdsong and waxing lyrical about bounteous nature, a piece of that nature decided to rise up in the form of a huge black snake that tried to sink its fangs into my leg. Depending on instinct and adrenalin I just managed to avoid the fangs and run away!
Fecundity is wildly promising – but dangerous…and their has always been a snake in God’s garden.