Are you a Jew?

No matter where you are in the world, taxi drivers seem to love to chat. After just crossing the border from Malawi to Zambia (on foot) McHale and I needed a ride to Chapata, the closest town, about 20 miles away. One driver approached us and let us know that he can take us there for 40000 kwacha ($8). We agree. As we were loading the bags in the back he paused, looked me up and down, then asked, “Are you a Jew?”

At first I was a bit taken aback by this question because I had never been asked that so abruptly, but I still managed to reply, “Yes, I am.”

The driver was so excited.

The mixture of religion is amazing in Africa. Everyone we met seemed so open about their beliefs and very accepting of others.

In the car we chatted even more. I knew that you were a Jew, he said to me, you look like a Jew. However, he then began to tell me that I should become a Christian. He was a Christian, but not always. He used to be a Muslim. He was very devout. But one day he had gotten bewitched (we heard that alot). He had gotten sick very suddenly. His neck was sore and it felt like something was always pulling his head back. The pain was terrible. When his Christian friends prayed for him, he got better. So he decided to become a Christian.

And I should become a Christian too, he continued. It's very easy. All I would need to do is let Jesus into my heart. But how does one do that? Again, very easy, I would just need to talk to Jesus, and ask him. But I wouldn't know what to say. The driver offered to assist me with that and started to utter, “Oh Jesus, please help my friend...”

Around this time, the car screeched to a sudden halt beside a guy leaning on his car by the side of the road. The driver made a motion for McHale to lower her window (she was in the front, I sat in the back). He then leaned over her a bit and yelled to his friend, “Hey! Have you ever seen a Jew before? I have one in the back!”

The friend slowly shifts his eyes, then his face, from the driver, to McHale, then to me. My window was closed (the road was quite dusty), and he stared at me for a moment like an animal in the cage. The two men then exchanged a few more pleasantries and we continued driving to town.

All this time, McHale and I were desperate to keep a straight face. We were both about to explode with laughter, but we couldn't. We didn't want to be rude to our driver. But we could see in each others eyes that we were hurting from holding this laughter in.

Around this time we were just approaching the town, and the driver said to me, “I have a Bible for you.” I protested. I couldn't take this man's Bible. I claimed that McHale was a good Christian and had one with her and she could let me read hers. He thought about that proposal for a moment, and decided it was acceptable, but only if I promised, as we were exiting the taxi, to let Jesus into my heart.