Chickens for Bible Translation
Flying chickens and Bible translation—what on earth do they have in common? I would never have combined the two before working with the Maiadom people in Papua New Guinea, but now I see the connection. The first step in Bible translation is learning the language of the people. This can take time—several years in fact. But the relationships that are built during the process are invaluable.
Meeting the Maiadom
I started working with the Maiadom a few years ago. I mentored three of the national translators at a Beginning Translation and Literacy Workshop in 1999. At that time, the Maiadom translators requested help with a mother-tongue New Testament translation project. A few months later I joined them to assist with that project. As an outsider I knew I had to work fast to learn their customs, culture and language well enough to be able to help with the translation. I figured one of the best ways to connect with their community was to get involved in activities that are part of their culture. So I learned to weave a mat, sew a palm-leafed roof and wear a grass skirt or kosi while I also learned to speak their language.
Chopped, Split and Hollowed
But the greatest thrill came when I helped build an outrigger canoe. In only two weeks the translation team members and I chopped down a tree, split and hollowed it out, carved it, planed it and then tied an outrigger to it. It was beautiful! When the canoe was finished, the community held a dedication ceremony called a bandoie. Our local government leader, Council Henry, blew a conch shell early that morning to announce the start of the festivities. After painting my face and donning a grass skirt, the team and I launched our new canoe and traveled from one end of the language area to the other.
Bombed by Gifts
At the end of the journey, enthusiastic villagers greeted and “blessed” us by bombing us with gifts of yams, sweet potatoes, coconuts and mats for my house. Others ran down to our new canoe and smeared me with lime, betelnut juice, and ash from their cooking fires. Then they washed their hands in the ocean and splashed water on me—soaking me and filling the canoe with water. I began to wonder if the people were trying to bless me or sink me! 
Incoming Chicken
Then a man came running down the beach swinging something over his head. He released it; it soared through the air and pummeled me in the chest—a direct hit! The impact threw me off balance. Flailing my arms wildly, I tried to regain my balance in the wobbly canoe, but to no avail. I fell overboard. As I plunged into the water I realized I had just been hit by a live chicken!
Finally Home
I couldn’t stop laughing and neither could the Maiadom people. After all the struggles—to learn the language, to fit into their culture—it felt incredibly wonderful to know I was accepted by them. For days afterwards, as I paddled along the coast in the afternoons and heard villagers shout out greetings to me, I reflected on my purpose for building the canoe. I had indeed learned some of their customs and language during the process, but more than that, I had carved my way into their hearts and they into mine.
I felt a kinship with the people—I felt like I was home.
(Story by Karla Sligh)