“Ramarsuk” (Neat Little Ramah)
Ice M Missionaries all over the world are perhaps too fond of multiplying Scripture names of their stations. In our own fields we have already three Bethanys and three Bethesdas. We should have had three Ramahs too, had not the natives of Australia themselves greatly improved the appellation of theirs by adding to it a syllable meaning “home” or mother’s place. It seemed so homelike to the Christian Aborigines, who moved thither from Ebenezer, the older station, that they at once called it Ramahyuck (Ramah, our home). Perhaps as the Ramah on the Moskito Coast is also known as Ramah Key, the northern station in Labrador, founded in 1871 to mark the cenutry of that mission, should abide plain, simple “Ramah,” otherwise the above combination would, I understand, have suited the genius of the language, and its significance. “Neat little Ramah” certainly expresses the character of the lonely missionary settlement.
The village, if one may dignify this small group of human dwellings by that name, stands on a little plain evidently won by degrees from the sea for the successive beaches can be traced. The mission premises, the old house, the new house, and the church with its little belfry, are one continuous building facing the bay southward, and exactly one hundred feet in length. Behind are the store buildings, and the low turf huts of the natives stretch westward along the strand. They are so like grassy mounds, that from any distance one would ask, “But where do the Eskimoes live?”
The missionary dwelling is primitive enough, even as enlarged. During our brief stay here, I have the honour of occupying the original house, built about twenty years ago. It is but a room divided by a curtain, but it served the first missionary couple here as dwelling-room, bedroom, church, and everything else. What a grand view there is from the window over the deep land-locked bay, in which the “Harmony” is lying at the only available anchorage. No one would guess that it would take more than half-an-hour to row across the smooth water, or in winter to walk over its frozen surface to the opposite shore, where, as on this side, precipitous bluffs rise almost from the water’s edge. All nature around is on a grand scale, and those snow-clad mountains, which look over the shoulders of the nearer cliffs, are quite Alpine in effect. Climb to the dizzy heights, which tower threateningly six or seven hundred feet above the station and you find you are not half way to the summit of the nearest hill. It must, indeed, be a magnificent view from thence towards the great mountains in the interior, whose everlasting snows cover long ridges at least five or six thousand feet in height. Seawards, the Ramah Hill, a remarkable perpendicular rock, surmounts the nearer cliffs. It looks as if, standing on the crag, one could drop a stone into the water at its base, 1000 feet below.
All this is grand, but grander still is the quiet, unconscious devotion of the worthy missionary pair, who live in this lonely bay, tending the little Christian congregation already gathered, and seeking the salvation of the heathen Eskimoes to the north. Of these there are perhaps sixty or seventy dwelling between Ramah and Cape Chudley; the northern point of Labrador. I am heartily glad Mr. and Mrs. Schulze have now a helper in Mr. Eckhardt, and trust the little missionary band will have increasing joy in souls won for the Lord.
It will be remembered that the fourth morning after leaving Okak we entered Nullatatok Bay through a thick mist. Beautiful days followed, showing the Ramah scenery to advantage, but the weather was rather wintry. Snow fell once or twice, though not in sufficient quantities to lie, and one morning we had ice on the bay. Yet at midday the sun was quite hot. The arrival of the “Harmony” at Ramah on Sunday (September 9th, 1888), interfered with the usual morning worship. We passengers came ashore for the afternoon service, Mr. Schulze read the Litany and then Mr. Dam addressed the congregation in Eskimo, centreing nearly all the black eyes in eager attention to the Word preached. The chapel being small, the people were rather near to the benches occupied by the missionary brethren and sisters, and this proximity was evident to the organs of smell. Several being away at their fishing places, there were only about a dozen men and boys and rather more women and girls with an extra sprinkling of lively and healthy-looking babies. Most were characterized by an air of independence amusingly illustrated at the close by the oldest man, who asked aloud when the visitor from London was going to speak to them.
And what of the spiritual life of this little congregation? In reply I will give neither my own impressions, nor the missionary’s testimony to his flock, apt sometimes to be influenced by his estimate of what they should be. I will call in a casual witness. Last year Eugenia, a Christian Eskimo from Hopedale, visited all the congregations, travelling to and fro by dog-sledge with the post-sledges. She remarked to her missionary: “The Ramah and Okak people, those are the best in the country. At Ramah I was quite shamed by their desire after truth. They said, ‘You know these things; teach us, we are so stupid.’”