under a starlit sky

As I sit quietly under an immense expanse of sky that is blanketed with stars, I am amazed.  Amazed at how I, a brown haired, blue eyed Mizungu, ended up here in the home of an old grannie and her two grandchildren, Simon and Rebecca. 

Despite being in Africa for 18 months over the past 3 years, there are still moments where I feel like I am in a dream.  This is one of those moments.  A moment where, in the darkness of nightfall, my heart wavers between sorrow and delight.  Soft playful singing escapes from Simon’s 6 year old lips, a sound which brings a smile to my face.  How privileged I feel to be here.  To witness such an innocent expression of inner joy that I have only prayed for.  I am mesmerised by the scene in front of me and I silently thank God for giving this young boy a song to sing.  For giving him a dance to dance under this starlit sky.   With nothing of material worth to be thankful for and everything to be bitter about, it is clear that Simon has CHOSEN joy.  He lives in a seemingly hopeless situation - His parents are dead; his grannie ill; no food in the house; no chance of attending school; no bed to sleep on or blankets to cuddle under…and yet Simon sings.  What secret does he hold that I don’t?  I know that tonight while I may sleep shivering, with my cheek on the hard, dusty ground and my stomach grumbling, I also know that I will return tomorrow to a cupboard full of food and a soft bed laden with clean blankets…and I am sure I will find something to complain about.  And yet Simon, lacking much, will still be here with a song in his heart.  It is at this point that I can’t help to think about the darkness that is hiding in mine – I feel ashamed – I have all I could have ever asked for and yet I expect more. 

I focus my eyes again on this boy, searching for some resolve.  Small bursts of dust rise up around Simon’s small bare feet, and as he continues his joyful dance under the moonlight, I get it.  This moment is just another piece of my journey; its another opportunity that God is using to teach me something.  How thankful I am for this truth!  Thankful that I am understanding more each day what it really means to rest in HIM, to find peace in his love despite my situation.  I am thankful that tonight I have learned that I am not just here for Simon and Rebecca, but that they are here for me.  It truly is a beautiful thing when God teaches us about REAL life through the faith of a small child. - a

Rebecca, Simon and their Grannie Scholastica outside their home in the rural village

Zambia.  Only hours before this photo was taken, I was walking down a narrow dusty path, a group of kids in tow (many whom were giggling with excitement – as it is a rarity that visitors come to their village) wondering where exactly Florence, a Maranatha Care worker, was leading me.  I had visited this community before (last year as a matter of fact, with my parents) but never had I been this far out.  I was told we had crossed the invisible line which separates the DRC and Zambia, but I would have never known this if I wasn’t told.  All I knew was what my senses could take in.  The best way I can describe my surroundings is to say it is just like most of us envision rural Africa to look like.  Children in brightly colored, dusty, tattered clothes running in and out of mud-walled huts with thatched roofs, dodging chickens and woman carrying piles of woods or buckets of water on their heads with an ease that only years of practice can bring.   Thin lines of smoke rising from fires started by hungry girls now busy balancing small aluminum pots over their weak flames.  The sound of goats baying and pigs snorting mingle in with the laughter and the shouts of “Mizungu” coming from all directions.  This truly was the “real Africa” and this was the place I spent a night in April.

Florence, Simon and Rebecca's Care Worker, travels 90 minutes by foot to visit and sometimes even  stay with the children.  She is a true servant, placing this family before herself...her compassion, love and sacrifice is humbling.  Here she is with another care worker, lighting the brazier to make tea.  Prior to this she had swept the yard, helped Scholastica out of bed and collected water 3 times in order to prepare our bath water

Simon helping to light the fire so that we have warm water to bathe ourselves and the children with.

Florence, Rebecca and I collecting water from a shallow well about 10 minutes walk from their home.  They use this water for drinking, cooking, bathing and washing their clothes

Simon letting out the 6 or so chickens that we slept under this basket just above our heads that night

To the left is the ground where the children sleep.  It is hard to tell, but all there is, is an old maize bag and one peice of cloth to seperate them from the cold, dusty ground. On the right is Scolastic's "bed" - a woven mat balancing on a couple of sticks.  We slelpt on the floor just on the other side of the room

The "shower"

Simon and Rebecca posing for the camera...they were adorable! Rebecca just giggled like crazy anytime I smiled at her or tickled her and Simon loved to do karate poses

Having tea and the peanut butter sandwiches that we brought. Simon and Rebecca savoured every bite!

friday fotos - zambia

Well we have just returned back to South Africa after about a month in Zambia.  We drove until about 11:00 last night to get back to our place.  A month in Zambia is way too short.  I am always left feeling that we need more time. 

One of the big reasons we went was to be a part of the Hands at Work annual celebration.  We had people from Canada, USA, England, Australia, Nigeria, DRC, Malawi, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, South Africa and Swaziland; as well as people from all over Zambia.  I am not exaggerating when I say it was such an incredible, deep, challenging and emotional time.  To see so many different cultures coming together is such a beautiful thing.  It is an honor to speak to the people who lay their lives down for the children; people who could be out trying to search for a better paying job, rather than surviving off their little gardens.  They have chosen a certain path, and sacrificed a more comfortable life for the sake of others.  Just to write that blows my mind and seems incomprehensible.  I mean, really think about that.  What is real sacrifice?  What could mean more than putting aside everything for the sake of a child.  For us living in the western world that is something we think about and push aside.   I pray that we all grab hold of this.  Giving isn’t just sending $20 once in a while when someone brings a collection jar to work.  It is sacrifice.   It is so huge and so foreign to most of us that we just can’t grasp it.  These people are real heroes in my life, and in the world we come from that is ridiculous because why would I look up to a person, who has purposely chosen to not pursue wealth, a bigger car, a bigger house, or a better title at work.   I’m not better than anyone and I’m not pointing fingers here, I think you can just see what I am wrestling with in my own mind.  Two worlds colliding.

As you can imagine it was an incredibly busy time.  The celebrations went so well, and Alicia and I were so encouraged.  Mixed in the craziness, we did have some time to spend time with old friends, although not enough. 

After celebrations finished we did a community stay in a very rural and extremely poor community.  I think Alicia will write a post about her community stay (which was a different house than mine) so I won’t get into it too much.  Other than to say it was unreal, amazing and heartbreaking.  Another volunteer, Tommy, and I stayed with a family of a little girl who had been very sick for the last while.  We slept on the ground, under mosquito nets, with rats running all around us.  The day after our sleep over at the house, we went to the community school to play with the kids for a few hours.  One little boy, maybe 5 or so, was clinging to one of our visitors from Canada and wouldn’t let go.  When it came time for us to leave as the truck drove away we waved to all the kids as they stood in front of their school.  All of a sudden the little boy who was clinging to the Canadian visitor broke out into a sprint after the car.  I just watched out of the back of the car, my heart has only felt that low a few times in my life.  The look on his face was desperate.  Oh man, it brings me to tears just thinking about it.  What is going on in his life, does he have anyone?  Devastating.  But then I saw the coordinator for the Community Based Organization come running around the corner and grab the child by the hand to comfort him.  It was such a perfect picture for me.  Just the feeling totally and utterly helpless, absolutely crushed, then to see this man dedicated to these children run around the corner and catch this little boy, protect him, give him hope that I cannot give because I do not come from where they live.  Man that was deep for me.

I cannot possibly write about every amazing experience we had, spending time with different families in Zambia.  We had such incredible times with Towela and Henry, as well as James and Sukai; the list goes on.  But I will have to just focus on one family here. 

At the end of our visit we went down to Kabwe to stay with our friends there Trina and Saul and their two little girls Sibo and Tapiwa.  This was something you dream about when you are sitting at home, trying to imagine what your African experience could be like.  Staying in the community, sharing a room, with a family that you have come to admire, respect and love.  They are more than friends to us, much more, and I hope that they feel the same way.  They live just on the outskirts of the village, so it was very quiet and the moon was huge so it lit up everything when we would sit outside at night, just talking. There is no electricity in the house, so we did a lot of talking, playing with the kids, playing guitar, singing songs and walking around the community.  It is an honour and a privilege to have such people in our lives.  Trina and Saul gave us their big bed and we slept with Sibo between us.  Then Trina and Saul slept next to Tapiwa on a single mattress.  We bathed outside in the bath house with a bucket of water and we loved the moments when we felt like Zambians.  These moments usually interrupted by a little child staring at you as they walk by, with a look that says, “How did you get out here?”, and probably wondering if you are lost.  I cannot put this time into words very well, but it is something I will take with me forever.  It is not every day you meet friends from such a drastically different culture and feel such a strong sense of family.  We love those guys. 

Tapiwa and Sibo showing off their new clothes and coloring together

Saul playing guitar with his new strings and Trina carrying the water for our bath

Tapiwa's many faces

Sibongile, trina and I being elephants