Page 170 - Three Score Years & Ten
P. 170
“THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN” MISSIONARY WORK IN CHINA
Amy Moore
some encouraging remarks from Mr. Matthews, counter balanced by much red ink as he wrote
different ways in which I could have expressed myself better!
The summer passed, and with a change in the weather, we began to get out more. Our first trip
outside the city wall with the aim of visiting a large village about a mile and a half east of Chenggu,
was an eye opener to us newcomers. It was wonderful to get outside the dirty smelly city and to walk
along narrow paths of rice, maize or cotton all looking green and fresh after the recent rains. It felt like
a different world as I looked around me and then across and up to the mountains which surrounded
the fertile plain in every direction. I wrote at the time, “The mountains as we see them from here are
marvellous, sometimes covered in clouds, always changing colour, never at any time the same. The
sunsets are wonderful and the sight of a beautiful sky above all the dirt and degradation is like a little
bit of Heaven itself.”
That trip ended in disaster. Before we reached Five Dragon Temple Village, the rain came down in
torrents. Myrie had brought her umbrella for the sun and we had a groundsheet for use when we ate
the picnic lunch we had brought with us. We got some protection from the rain by putting the umbrella
up and pulling the groundsheet round the four of us while we sheltered under a tree. As the rain
eased a bit, we pushed on, but the paths became more and more muddy and, after Bertha had slipped
and fallen into a pool of mud, we decided to turn back. We hadn’t gone far when the rain came down
more heavily than ever, and as we were near a group of farm houses and a haystack, we stood as
near the haystack as possible and ate our picnic lunch. We must have looked a miserable sight as
we huddled together, balancing an umbrella over us and a ground sheet round us, while with whatever
free hands we had we tried to get Chinese breads and a tomato to our mouths. Just then an old
woman, very dirty and only half clothed, appeared round the corner of a house and invited us in. The
glimpse we got of the inside through the open door was not prepossessing, but anything seemed
better than standing in the rain. It was even worse than we expected! Dirty, of course, smoky and
dark and crawling with vermin, with flies everywhere and the pig sty taking up one corner of the room.
Boxes, clothes and everybody’s personal possessions were scattered everywhere, and the man of the
house was squatting on his haunches demolishing a bowl of rice. Baby was in a basket shoved
under the table and howling at the top of her voice, while mother searched for something we could sit
on. Eventually with Miss Cooke on a rickety chair, Bertha and Myrie on broken boxes, and I on the
handle of a wooden basket, we were able to answer some of the many questions hurled at us. “Where
were we from?” “Why were we there?” “Did we have children?” “Why were we not married?” etc. etc.
Miss Cooke explained the Gospel of salvation through Jesus very simply, and we gave them some
literature which, if they couldn’t read, somebody else could read to them. My heart warmed to them as
I watched them, and I commented later in my home letter, “It was good to watch their faces as they
listened to a message they had probably never heard before, dear, simple country people, even
though they are dirty and perhaps a good many other things they shouldn’t be, I found myself loving
them.”
The rain stopped and we set off for home, thankfully breathing in the fresh pure air out in the open
fields again.
Conditions in China, rarely peaceful at any time, were causing concern at Mission Headquarters
during the summer of 1932. A cholera epidemic in the province north east of us had taken the lives of
three missionaries, and a parcel of vaccine was sent through to us to ensure we had injections. It was
not long before we heard that in Fengxiang, just north of us in our own province, 16 women and 46
children had died in one day. We became increasingly careful of what we ate and drank. More and
more rumours of bandit attacks on the roads to the north were coming through.
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Contents
Amy Moore
some encouraging remarks from Mr. Matthews, counter balanced by much red ink as he wrote
different ways in which I could have expressed myself better!
The summer passed, and with a change in the weather, we began to get out more. Our first trip
outside the city wall with the aim of visiting a large village about a mile and a half east of Chenggu,
was an eye opener to us newcomers. It was wonderful to get outside the dirty smelly city and to walk
along narrow paths of rice, maize or cotton all looking green and fresh after the recent rains. It felt like
a different world as I looked around me and then across and up to the mountains which surrounded
the fertile plain in every direction. I wrote at the time, “The mountains as we see them from here are
marvellous, sometimes covered in clouds, always changing colour, never at any time the same. The
sunsets are wonderful and the sight of a beautiful sky above all the dirt and degradation is like a little
bit of Heaven itself.”
That trip ended in disaster. Before we reached Five Dragon Temple Village, the rain came down in
torrents. Myrie had brought her umbrella for the sun and we had a groundsheet for use when we ate
the picnic lunch we had brought with us. We got some protection from the rain by putting the umbrella
up and pulling the groundsheet round the four of us while we sheltered under a tree. As the rain
eased a bit, we pushed on, but the paths became more and more muddy and, after Bertha had slipped
and fallen into a pool of mud, we decided to turn back. We hadn’t gone far when the rain came down
more heavily than ever, and as we were near a group of farm houses and a haystack, we stood as
near the haystack as possible and ate our picnic lunch. We must have looked a miserable sight as
we huddled together, balancing an umbrella over us and a ground sheet round us, while with whatever
free hands we had we tried to get Chinese breads and a tomato to our mouths. Just then an old
woman, very dirty and only half clothed, appeared round the corner of a house and invited us in. The
glimpse we got of the inside through the open door was not prepossessing, but anything seemed
better than standing in the rain. It was even worse than we expected! Dirty, of course, smoky and
dark and crawling with vermin, with flies everywhere and the pig sty taking up one corner of the room.
Boxes, clothes and everybody’s personal possessions were scattered everywhere, and the man of the
house was squatting on his haunches demolishing a bowl of rice. Baby was in a basket shoved
under the table and howling at the top of her voice, while mother searched for something we could sit
on. Eventually with Miss Cooke on a rickety chair, Bertha and Myrie on broken boxes, and I on the
handle of a wooden basket, we were able to answer some of the many questions hurled at us. “Where
were we from?” “Why were we there?” “Did we have children?” “Why were we not married?” etc. etc.
Miss Cooke explained the Gospel of salvation through Jesus very simply, and we gave them some
literature which, if they couldn’t read, somebody else could read to them. My heart warmed to them as
I watched them, and I commented later in my home letter, “It was good to watch their faces as they
listened to a message they had probably never heard before, dear, simple country people, even
though they are dirty and perhaps a good many other things they shouldn’t be, I found myself loving
them.”
The rain stopped and we set off for home, thankfully breathing in the fresh pure air out in the open
fields again.
Conditions in China, rarely peaceful at any time, were causing concern at Mission Headquarters
during the summer of 1932. A cholera epidemic in the province north east of us had taken the lives of
three missionaries, and a parcel of vaccine was sent through to us to ensure we had injections. It was
not long before we heard that in Fengxiang, just north of us in our own province, 16 women and 46
children had died in one day. We became increasingly careful of what we ate and drank. More and
more rumours of bandit attacks on the roads to the north were coming through.
Return to Table of 170
Contents
