"Brother, it is time to beat the drums!" Dewin called.
Far across Lake Bangweulu the sun was rising, and soon the drums were rolling out their summons. The peculiar rhythmic, penetrating, haunting sounds of the drums of Central Africa can never be forgotten, especially as they sound in the still morning air.
In a few moments a crowd of people gathered at Dewin's door; his brother lifted Dewin to his position before the people. When everyone was gathered, Dewin began a hymn of praise to God, and all sang joyously and heartily. Then opening his Bible, Dewin read a portion, explaining it simply, telling all who were listening how much the Lord Jesus meant to him, and what wonderful things He could do for them!
Soon the' short meeting was over, and the people scattered to their homes, and to their fishing.
Dewin's home was on an island-little more than a mud bank-in the swampy part of Lake Bangweulu. The little island was densely populated, as are all the other islands in the Lake, which is over half swamp. Everyone fished, yes, even Dewin!-the little crippled boy-but he fished for men and women, boys and girls!
The people who live in the swamps are called BaUnga, or BaTwa. They are very primitive people. Some older people still wear the skins of water antelopes which have been pounded and worked until they are soft, and then decorated with typical native African designs. The hairy side they wear next to their bodies for warmth, for life in the swamps, even in the tropics, can really be chilly with the extreme moisture and dampness everywhere. The mud floors of their huts are always moist and soft, and a white man walking in the hut, will leave the marks of his shoes upon the floor. But the African's bare foot soon pounds it smooth again.
The native huts are very simply built of the reeds that grow everywhere in the swamps. They twine and braid them together like a huge basket, and then the walls are mudded over with mud dug from a hole where they know the mud has suitable sticking qualities. Not all mud will do, for should there be sand in it, it would crumble and drop off when it dried. The roofs are made of grass that soon becomes blackened and dark from the smoke that seeps out through them.
Outside the hut on the little verandah will be found the African's tools and weapons. There are the nets, the three pronged fishing spears-the prongs barbed so that once the fish is speared he cannot wriggle off again-the shallow baskets the women use for their particular kind of fishing, the larger fish traps, and perhaps a rough kind of harpoon that is used for spearing hippopotamus, will all be there.
The huts are packed closely together-so closely that their eaves overhang one another.
And, my! what a "fishy" place it is! Fish are drying out in the sun on the roofs and on racks made from reeds in any available open space. Fish are smoking over the smoldering fires within the huts on racks that seem to not only cover the fire but almost completely fill the hut. The natives sleep under the edge of this rack at night, and no one seems to mind the fish grease that drips and sputters over him! Fish heads and remains are thrown out behind the huts, and the whole village has a very "fishy" smell and appearance indeed!
Everyone fishes! African men and boys sometimes use their nets, and sometimes use their spears. The African will stand poised in the bow of his canoe, spear in hand. There is a sudden flash, as quick as lightning the spear darts down into the water, and then, up it comes with a wriggling, glistening fish upon it!
The women go to the swampy parts near the village with their shallow baskets made with a very close mesh. They usually go in groups of twenty or more at a time. They put their baskets in a line, and then, moving in mud and water up to their waists, trampling and shouting, they tread the mud and water on the sides of the baskets that are opened. Then they quickly scoop them up to see what they have caught. They catch mostly the small fish this way, and spend hours treading about in the swamp until they have enough for the evening meal.
Sometimes they get bitten by snakes as they pound through the grass, and then there are leeches, and other biting insects! But they go laughing, shouting, and singing all the while! When they have finished, whole areas are trodden down, muddy, and unpleasant to see; and most of the baby fish are gone too.
Everyone fishes-everyone it would seem-except Dewin! Dewin has never been able to run and hunt and fish like other boys. When you see him sitting in the doorway, you will see that his face is normal, unusually bright and happy. But his body is tiny, and dreadfully misshapen! He is so deformed that he cannot move from any spot without help.
If you see Dewin's face, you will look again! His shining eyes and pleasant smile, his bright intelligent look are most striking. For in spite of the fact that he is so deformed and helpless, and can in no way live a normal life, Dewin has no complaints. Rather, he finds life most joyous!
This is most unusual, for among the natives some misfortune of this nature is usually thought to have been caused by some other person, or persons, through witchcraft, or some other means. The afflicted person broods continually over his unhappy state, wondering how he can bring revenge!
But Dewin is different-he no longer bothers to inquire why?-but just accepts it as it is, realizing God has a purpose in it for good. He seeks to enjoy his life, and to use what powers he has, for Dewin has much fishing to do, too!
Dewin has found the Lord Jesus as his Savior, and has such a rich life of satisfying fellowship with Him that he has much to pass on to others! There are not many in the village who can read, so they gladly answer the drum summons in the mornings to meet about Dewin's door to listen to the Word of God.
During the day while the others are working or fishing, Dewin can only sit in the doorway of his little hut. But he has his New Testament there, and other little books that have been given to him. He sits and reads and meditates, and chats with those who pass by his door or come to call upon him. So Dewin fishes for human souls, and is able to give heavenly counsel to those who need it!
Dewin might have been tied, and laid in the path of an army of red ants, who would have swarmed over him by the millions, gradually eating him to a skeleton, for Africans usually have no use for the old or the helpless members of their communities, and many have died in this way. But the gospel has made that difference for Dewin! Normally he would have been despised and unwanted. But the gospel has so changed Dewin on the inside-that the outside doesn't matter!
Dewin is a loved and respected person in the village, though he is but a crippled boy, and the influence of the gospel in the village has been so great that they are willing to keep him-to feed and clothe him-that he might help them in understanding the ways of God!
Truly Dewin is busy fishing, too!
Truly the gospel is the power of God unto salvation!