The furlough itself was difficult for Mary. With four black children trailing behind her, she stood out in a crowd. Often someone would recognize her, and then she would be barraged with questions. Also, the missions board had arranged huge receptions for their most famous missionary. In Glasgow, Mary stood for over an hour shaking people’s hands as they left the reception. All of the fuss exhausted Mary, who longed to be back among “her” people in Calabar. The Foreign Missions Committee, on the other hand, was worried about her obvious poor health and wanted her to stay longer in Scotland. However, Mary, in her usual stubborn way, simply said to the committee, “If you don’t send me back, I’ll swim!” She probably meant it, too. She got her way, however, and in December 1898, she was once again on a ship bound for Calabar.
When she got back to Duke Town, Mary received a warm welcome, though not a happy one. Many sad things had occurred while she was in Scotland. When she left, the Calabar mission for the first time ever had all of its upriver stations manned by missionaries. Eight new missionary recruits had been sent out for this purpose. But six months later, five of the new missionaries were dead from disease, and two others were too ill to continue and had returned to Scotland to die. The deaths of the missionaries had brought to an end the mission’s hopes of expanding farther inland. There was no way the mission could send more missionaries to certain death. Mary, however, had set her sights on the Aro tribe, the most ruthless cannibals in Calabar. But given the situation in Duke Town, she did not discuss her plans with anyone there. The people would have thought her crazy for even considering going there and would have forbidden her from going.
In December 1899, a year after returning to Calabar, Mary’s adopted daughter Janie was married to a young man who had been one of Mary’s brightest students. The marriage, however, became unstable after the couple’s first baby died. Janie’s husband blamed himself for the death, telling himself that it had happened because he had dared to marry a twin. He left Janie, who returned to live with Mary. Mary welcomed Janie back and was doubly glad for the extra help. She had developed rheumatism, a crippling disease, which when added to her frequent bouts of malaria meant she was often unable to care for the many babies and small children that were brought to her for protection. She had many little wooden boxes that were used as cribs, and even in her sickest moments, Mary would lie in bed rocking the boxes from side to side to comfort the babies. Sadly, most of the babies died. They were usually quite sick before being sent to Mary’s hut. Nevertheless, Mary and Janie took care of them. Mary believed it was important to show the Africans that every single life—even the life of a tiny baby with little hope of survival—was important to God.
Also in December 1899, a series of events began that would eventually open the way for Mary to work among the Aro people. The Aro were a shrewd people who had used witchcraft to become the strongest and most feared tribe in their area. None of the Europeans knew exactly how this witchcraft worked, at least not until Christmas 1899.
That Christmas a group of one hundred sick and dying Africans dragged themselves into a British army outpost and collapsed. The story they told was chilling. Eight hundred of them—men, women and children—had gone to the town of Arochuku on a religious pilgrimage. The Aro had convinced them that a great and wise witch doctor lived there. However, it was a trap, and the pilgrims were attacked when they arrived. Some were taken to be cooked and eaten, though most were sold as slaves to tribes farther inland. The group of one hundred people had barely managed to escape to tell the story.
When British troops heard the story, they were outraged and sent news of the incident back to military headquarters in London. It was eventually decided that Great Britain should use force to show the Aro they could no longer do such things. In August 1901, one hundred fifty British officers and several thousand African troops gathered in Duke Town for an attack on the Aro. Mary got to see them before they left because all missionaries in the area had been ordered to return to Duke Town. The British government was worried the Aro might kidnap missionaries in remote areas and use them as hostages.
Mary was not at all happy about being ripped away from “her” people, but for once she could do nothing about it.
Finally, in November the troops marched into the interior. Hundreds of people on both sides were killed, and after many days of fighting, the few surviving Aro tribesmen surrendered. However, this did not mean that peace was restored to the region. The Aro had been the controlling force in the area for so long that their defeat created chaos. Various other tribes began fighting each other for the top position of power. All Europeans were banned from entering the area except British vice-consul Sir Ralph Moore and his troops. Mary worried and prayed about what would happen to the Aro people, whom she wanted desperately to reach with the gospel message and show a better way to live.
In the meantime, Janet Wright arrived in Calabar to help Mary. Janet was one of two young girls Mary had spoken to at Falkirk during her first furlough. She had asked Mary to write to her, which Mary did, and now Janet had decided to become a missionary herself. Mary had great confidence that Janet would make a wonderful helper. Janet was particularly adept at learning the Efik and Bantu languages and was soon speaking them both well.
Mary had to wait until June 1903 to finally become involved with the Aro. She was traveling upriver from Duke Town to Akpap, and one of the passengers traveling with her was Colonel Montanaro, the commander of the raid on the Aro. The colonel was on his way back upriver to Aro territory. He and Mary struck up a conversation, and he soon told her that the British troops could not stop the fighting in the area. Before they had reached the beach near Akpap, Colonel Montanaro had a stunning idea. He begged Mary to continue upriver with him so that she could speak with the Aro chiefs. Of course, she agreed without a moment’s hesitation. This was the opportunity she had prayed for.
Sure enough, Colonel Montanaro’s confidence in Mary was well placed. Mary was able to get the various sides to agree on a peace treaty, and before leaving several days later, she had an open invitation to return and set up a school to teach the Aros “Book.”
Mary knew she must act quickly on the invitation. The raid on the Aro had broken the spirits of the inland tribes, and for the first time, the British were now able to press inland with no resistance. They planned to build roads, bridges, canals, and docks throughout the region. Mary felt she had to reach the inland tribes with the gospel message before the area was overrun with soldiers, government officials, and traders.
In July 1904, with special permission from the British government, Mary began the first survey of the inland tribes of Calabar. Soon afterwards, Janet Wright, who was carrying on the work at Akpap, became ill and had to return to Scotland. She was replaced by two new women missionaries recently arrived from Scotland. These two women had difficulty adjusting to the situation and wrote back to Scotland complaining that no one could live under such difficult conditions: rats ran around the rafters of the mission house; it was impossible to get a good night’s sleep; the food was monotonous and tasteless; the list went on and on. As a result, the two missionaries were recalled to Duke Town, and the station at Akpap was declared “too primitive” to man. Of course, everyone knew that Mary Slessor had thrived there, but by now the missions board had concluded that Mary could thrive where other missionaries could not even survive. Mary was one of a kind!
For the next ten years, Mary, aided by her daughter Janie, worked among the inland tribes. The two women conducted Bible studies, treated the sick, negotiated to stop the fighting among tribes, and saved the lives of twins. Mary also spoke out about the treatment of women and slaves. Anyone else would have been killed for challenging tribal customs and the authority of the chiefs in the way she did. But there was something different about Mary—a lone white woman carrying no gun and with no escort. Mary walked in bare feet and wore a simple dress and no hat. Wherever she went, she sang and talked of peace. She spoke the inland languages as well as the natives, and she taught people to read and write. It was as if she had been sent to help the tribes during this difficult time.
The wheels of the Foreign Missions Board in Scotland moved slowly, and Mary was always several steps ahead of it. However, the board did take her work and recommendations seriously. When Mary recommended that a place called Itu would be a good site for a mission hospital, the board agreed with her. One of Mary’s longtime friends from Edinburgh donated money to build the hospital, which, much to Mary’s dismay, was called the Mary Slessor Mission Hospital.
No sooner had Mary adjusted to the idea of having a hospital named after her than the British high commissioner asked her to take on the newly created role in the region of vice-consul of the native court. This meant that once again Mary would be helping to resolve disputes and stop the fighting. Despite the fact that Mary was getting older and her health was worsening with each passing year, the high commissioner convinced her that she was once again the only “man” for the job. Mary agreed to take on the position, fearing what would happen if she did not and someone with no understanding of local customs was sent into the region instead.
As promised, the British began constructing roads across the area. With the roads came a new opportunity for Mary, who discovered that she could cover much greater distances each day by riding a bicycle. Mary had a bicycle sent to her from Scotland, and soon she was whizzing up and down the new roads through the region. However, Mary’s health continued to worsen, and soon, instead of pedaling a bicycle, she was being pushed around in a cart.
In 1908, one of Mary’s supporters in Scotland sent her fifty pounds with the instruction that she spend it on herself. Mary wrote back, “Dear Friend, I need nothing. My every want is met and supplied without my asking.” What the woman in Scotland had no way of knowing was that Mary Slessor had virtually no material possessions, nor did she want any. Mary worried over spending money on a new Bible for herself, preferring to give every penny she received to help run the churches and schools she had started.
In the early morning hours of January 13, 1915, Mary lay gravely ill in a tiny mud hut in the village of Use. She had been ill so many times before, but this time it was different. Mary knew she was dying, and so did Janie and the other children who gathered around her to keep her company. As the night wore on, Mary kept tossing her blanket off and struggling for breath. Then, in the early hours of the morning, she awoke and was offered a drink of water, which she refused. Instead, she spoke her last words. In Efik she said, “O Abassi, sana mi yok.” She was asking God to release her from her pain. He did. A few minutes later Mary died.
As a rooster crowed while the early morning sun crept over the horizon, the drummers at Use beat out the sad news. Eka Kpukpru Owo—the Mother of Us All is dead. The news reverberated around the region as successive drummers drummed the news on to the next village.
The following day, a beautiful mahogany coffin was sent upriver from Duke Town, and the body of sixty-seven-year-old Mary Slessor was laid in it and carried downriver one final time.
There was not a person in Duke Town who did not know of Mary’s death. In Mary’s honor, all government buildings and schools were closed, flags were lowered to half-mast, and police lined the road from the dock to the mission house. Mary’s funeral service was packed with people from the three tribal regions of Calabar—people to whom Mary had given thirty-nine years of her life in reaching them with the gospel message. The fact they could all gather together in one place without attacking and killing each other was perhaps the greatest tribute to Mary Slessor’s work in the region. Mary’s body was laid to rest in a grave on the mission compound beside those of the Reverend and Mrs. Anderson.
