Doing the Math Changed my Life

I groaned as I read the message. It was another scorching day in Sévaré, Mali, as I bunkered down in the one-car garage that we had converted into the Fulfulde Bible translation office. Sorting through the morning e-mail, I came across a request for our assistance at a translation software workshop in Côte d’Ivoire, our neighboring country to the south. Could we please come and help for two weeks?I thought about it … for like five whole seconds before I hit reply. “No, sorry, I won’t be able to come.” I padded the message, of course, with a whole list of reasons why. I mean, come on, our New Testament translation project was in its final stage, and I was already working overtime so we could meet our deadline for finishing. The workshop would take three whole weeks away from our project, counting the 1,000-kilometer journey over roads riddled with potholes. Did I feel guilty? Sure, a little. But they would find someone else … hopefully.A while later, another e-mail arrived. This time the request was phrased more as an order, so with a big sigh we packed up our three boys and made the two-day journey to Bouaké, Côte d’Ivoire.The workshop’s coordinator employed a unique strategy for training. He first spent one week training the teaching assistants, who, the following week, helped him train the participants. His goal: to mentor us as trainers, thereby multiplying his efforts. His strategy’s success would eventually catch me completely off-guard.Like me, Moussa Diakité, an Ivorian pastor and translator, was too busy to attend the same workshop. In fact, his excuses outnumbered mine as he had sermons to preach, ill church members to visit, and all 39 books of the Old Testament to translate—a project expected to last 12 years. But after some pleading and cajoling on my part, Moussa finally conceded to come for just one day. I suppose we should have said no and explained why one day of training was unacceptable. Looking back, I’m glad we didn’t. Moussa arrived at the workshop, and I got busy converting all his data into the format required by the new software program. The next day, I worked one-on-one with him for only one hour, showing him how to work with the new program before he headed home again. The story could have ended right there.The workshop finished, and we traveled home to Mali. But two months later Moussa wrote me the letter that changed the course of our lives: “Dear Doug and Priscilla, thanks so much for your help getting me set up to use the new software. I’m now able to translate about 30 percent faster than before.”Now, I’m no math genius, so help me out here. How much time would he save on a 12-year project by increasing productivity by 30 percent? And how much of my family’s time did it take to initiate that savings?This all happened in 2001. In 2009, guess who came knocking on our door with the complete manuscript of the Jula Bible. Moussa Diakité. And why he came to our door is the rest of the story. You see, we did do the math when we got Moussa’s letter. Suddenly that bothersome workshop, which we had to be ordered to attend, became an extraordinary opportunity to advance God’s kingdom. When we concluded our work on the Fulfulde New Testament, we followed our new calling—to make language technology training available to language projects in Africa and, eventually, worldwide.