Repainting.

There’s something I’ve been thinking about for awhile now.

I know for people who haven’t been to Africa before, it’s hard to visualize this place.  It’s hard to imagine the day-to-day life of a world so utterly different from what we’re used to in America.  Everyone talks about the culture shock when they come here for the first time; the extreme poverty, the tiny houses and the dirt roads, the children running around with no parents.  They also talk about the way it puts things into perspective and makes you grateful for what you have.  In recent years we have become more socially aware and organizations like Invisible Children, RED, and countless others have opened our eyes in a brand new way.  It’s good; please don’t get me wrong.  Our eyes NEED to be opened.  We NEED to be struck with the painful dichotomy that exists between our American lifestyles and the majority of people in this world who can only dream of what we take for granted. 

BUT my fear in our eyes being opened is that we tend to see these people and these places as nothing more than projects.  We paint pictures of poverty and pitiful children who are crying out for some compassionate white person to write a check and make their lives better.  And yes, there is so much need here in Zambia.  It can be overwhelming at times.  It can be frustrating to know that the money we often drop on new outfit could send a desperate child to school for a year.  It can be agonizing to hear of 5-year-old boys dying of preventable and curable diseases like malaria.  This IS a third-world country, and that is painfully obvious to me every single day.

But what we often fail to see if the way that these third-world countries tend to be rich in ways that we in America are poverty-stricken.

Like joy.  I know many tv commercials use pictures of skinny, sad and hopeless looking people to help you understand the need that is in this world, but that is NOT the picture I see as I walk through these compounds.  Ask anyone who has ever traveled to a third-world country, and I guarantee you that one of the first things they’ll say is, “I was overwhelmed with the amount of joy these people had.  I mean, they have SO LITTLE, and yet somehow they are so happy and thankful.”  Zambians are literally the nicest people I have ever met.  You rarely see them without a smile on their face.  They sing with more passion that any worship team I’ve ever heard.  They dance like they’re in the presence of Christ himself.  And they laugh endlessly.  Even though they don’t have nice houses or cars or clothes or even food (or maybe BECAUSE they don’t have all these things), they wake up every day with hope in their hearts and a smile on their face.  And then I look at my home country; a place so battered with issues of jealousy and depression and suicide, and I have to wonder what’s wrong with this picture.  How have we missed the point?

Zambian culture is rich in tradition, based on the foundations of family, faith and work.  Zambians are some of the hardest working people I have ever met.  Even though the country has an 80% unemployment rate, by no means are the people just sitting around at home twiddling their thumbs.  They are waking up at dawn to work the ground before it gets too hot.  They are cleaning every corner of their houses every day.  They are walking miles to gather water and charcoal.  But they also understand the value of REST.  I think that is the one of the biggest differences I have noticed between Americans and Zambians.  No one “brings the office home” with them after they have knocked off for the day.  Once they’re home, they are HOME.  Time to rest, watch some tv and refuel for the next day.  On Saturdays, most shops close early so people can enjoy their weekends, and many stores aren’t open at all on Sunday.  They still get everything done that needs to get done, and I’ve never met a Zambian who seems stressed or overworked.

And their idea of family is totally different from the western mentality.  For people in the west, your “family” normally means your immediate family.  Your parents and siblings.  That’s all.  Those are the people who live in your house, and you see your “extended” family a few times a year.  But in Zambia, “extended” family is a foreign concept.  Zambians call their cousins “brothers” and “sisters” and their aunts and uncles “mom” and “dad.”  I have never been to a household where JUST the immediate family stays; normally there is an extra niece, nephew, sister, mother, grandmother, etc.  When a family member dies, there is always someone there to take care of the children left behind.  Most people you ask did NOT grow up just staying with their parents.  They may have spent a few years with their auntie and a few years with their bambuya (grandmother) and a few years with their elder sister and so on.  These relationships are not always perfect or loving, but they are carried out with a deep sense of loyalty and tradition.  Can you imagine if there was no need for orphanages or nursing homes because families just took care of one another?

On a side note, I think this value of family (and relationships in general), is at the heart of one Zambian tradition that used to confuse me.  When I first got here, I would have friends call me every day just to say “good morning!” or “good night!”  I must admit, it was slightly annoying, but I had to get used to it.  Now after having been here for 7 months, I’m starting to understand it.  I honestly think it’s just that Zambians value relationships SO much, that they hate going even a single day without talking to the people that they love.  So no matter how short the conversation may be, they simply want that person to know that they are thinking about them.  And I think that’s pretty awesome.

I wish I could carry a video camera with me at all times and capture the beauty that is in the people of Zambia.  I wish you could feel the excitement and pride that builds every time the Zambian National Football Team (reigning champions of the African Cup!) is about to take the field (like TODAY for instance).  I wish you could hear the endless chatter of the women at the market, sharing with their friends as they sell their vegetables and spices.  I wish you could see the debates that are televised on tv between high school students from around the nation; students who possess more knowledge and passion and articulation than I have ever seen.  I wish you could feel the hospitality of every home I’ve ever been to; people who offer the best of what little they have and who joyfully take the time to visit with new friends. 

Ultimately, I wish you could see Zambia the way that I have come to see it; a vibrant country filled with hardworking, joyful people who are bursting with potential.  They are not to be pitied or looked down upon, and if I have ever said anything to perpetuate that image, I apologize.  I pray that anyone who gives to Haven of Hope (or similar organizations) does not give with the motive of “saving the poor African children.”  Am I saying that we should stop helping people in third world countries?  Absolutely not.  I’m simply saying that when we DO help, we should do it for the right reasons.  Yes, these people may have a lack of resources and opportunities, but that does NOT mean that they lack the ability to love or dream or think for themselves.  They are each unique individuals, just like you and me.  They love their families, are proud of their country and have plans for their futures.  They may need a little help to ensure that they fulfill those plans, but that does not mean in any way that they are incapable of reaching them.  They are intelligent, resourceful, funny, kind, diligent and above all, HUMAN. 

When I read through the Gospel, I never see a picture of Jesus pitying the poor.  Yes, he loved them and YES, he called the rich to help them; but not because the poor are somehow LESS than the rich.  In fact, Jesus said, “BLESSED are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  I pray that we first-worlders continue to have our eyes opened to the need around the world, and I pray that we are moved to action.  But I also pray that we never lose sight of the PEOPLE.  That we never forget that having money does not make us better than anyone else.  That we look for the many ways we can LEARN from the people of third-world countries, who seem to understand what is truly important better than us.  And that we give because it’s the RIGHT thing to do, not so that we can feel better about ourselves.

If nothing else, I hope that my experiences in Zambia and this blog help to repaint a picture of Africa for those of you who have never been here.  I hope that you start to see its beauty more than its pain and its strength more than its poverty.  And I hope that in some small way, you come to love this place like I do.