What follows is the story of a dear school family whose four children currently attend Hosanna. It begins by following the journey of the father, Fikre, as he suffers hardship for his faith. A few quotes from an interview with Fikre (pronounced Feek‘rae) are included throughout the story.
The long line of feet shuffled across the shadowy soil. A figure broke from the ranks, darting for a nearby shadow. Fikre’s heart echoed the tramp of feet on the Eritrean earth. Had the guards seen him?
Seven months earlier, Fikre was worshipping with his Evangelical congregation. In June, 2001, soldiers stormed their building. Families were torn apart as police separated the men from the women and herded the believers onto trucks. After spending a week at a police station, the men were imprisoned at a military training base that doubled as a prison camp. It was the infamous Sawa camp. Seven months of darkness had begun.
Despite the foreboding uncertainty, some bright spots remained. One came from the opportunity to share the gospel with other prisoners. Fikre and his fellow believers were faithful to do this, but they lacked a Bible. Miraculously, God provided His Word through one of the staff members of the prison, who was a Christian and managed to procure a Bible for the starved believers. The prisoners carved the lone Bible into its separate books and divided it among themselves. This way one group sharing a cell or bunk could have Genesis while another group shared the Gospel of Matthew. Their spiritual hunger was satisfied as they passed the books and snatched quiet moments to read. Fikre read in his bunk when he had the chance, and hid the precious morsels in his clothing when necessary
“The government of Eritrea doesn’t want the gospel preached. All they will say to you is ‘keep quiet.’ If I know the right Word of God, I have to tell it. If I keep quiet, the fellowship of the gospel will stop with me. I have to pass it on. That is the responsibility of my generation.”
Because the imprisoned believers refused to stop shining the light of the gospel in prison, they could not be kept in one place for long. The authorities knew that frequent moving disturbed prisoners and prevented them from building close connections with each other. Consequently, every few months the prisoners were moved to a different prison.
It was on such a move that Fikre saw his chance. They were on a forced march in the early morning. The dim light of dawn was sufficient cover. He slipped from the ranks and hid in a shadow. The rest of the prisoners filed past. Time slowed. Finally, the last weary captive shuffled past. Free! Fikre fled for home. He was free. Or was he? Now, his life was lived on the run. The game of hide and seek had begun.
During the next eleven years, Fikre moved around the country. During the week, he taught school to children, and on weekends, he traveled to preach. He was careful not to preach in the same area where he worked as a teacher. This helped him evade the spies who kept him under surveillance.
“I run. I preach. I run. I preach.”
In June, 2012, trouble began to brew. While Fikre was away from home, his wife, Tshaye, received a secret warning from a relative who worked in the government office. The relative had overheard that government officials were planning a raid on Fikre’s house. Someone had reported their Christian gatherings.
Frantically, the family hid all evidences of Christian material. Books were hidden, cassettes stowed away, and Biblical commentaries tucked out of sight. The tense family waited for the expected raid. Fikre was still not home.
Then they came. Police swarmed the neighborhood. Tshaye and her three children peeked out the window at the officials in the street. First, the police questioned the neighbour across the street. Next, they grilled another neighbour.
The police asked, “Are they having meetings?”
The neighbours responded, “No.”
“Then who is disturbing here?”
The neighbors gestured at the house across the street. “That neighbor is disturbing us. She is fighting with everyone.”
The disruptive neighbour they indicated was the same one who had reported Fikre’s family for illegal meetings. She was possessed by demons. The presence and fellowship of believers waged war with the spirits, causing her to react with shouting and crying. This was the disturbance of which the neighbours spoke. God had ironically turned the police’s investigation against the instigator herself.
Though they were spared, Fikre did not dare stay any longer. He fled the country, leaving behind his home, his pregnant wife, and his three children.
Later that month, Fikre dialled his home. His wife answered. He told her he was in Khartoum, Sudan. He also told her that whether their unborn baby would be a girl or a boy, he wanted to name the child “Amen.” This signified the surrender of his heart to the will of God. He explained that “Amen” means “I agree.” This was the prayer of his heart during his time of separation and hiding. He wanted to agree with the will of God for his future, whatever it would be.
“Whatever is facing you, always say ‘Amen.’ I agree. When you complain, you complain to God. Nothing comes to us outside of the will of God. Whatever is coming to us, we say ‘Amen.’ ”
Stay tuned to hear more of this story. In the next part, Tshaye makes a brave journey with her children in hopes of being reunited with her husband.
Learn more about the persecution of believers in Eritrea.
https://www.opendoors.org/en-US/persecution/countries/eritrea/?ref=wwmap
This is a video from a man who risked his life to film inside an Eritrean prison.
Caleb is part of the website team. He enjoys interacting with students and their parents when he gets a chance.
4 Responses
I enjoyed this. Looking forward to part 2.
It’s very sobering to read about how much
our brothers and sisters in Christ suffer for the sake of the Gospel. May Christ be lifted up in all our lives.
Thank you for sharing this; I look forward to hearing more!