Zambia is a strange dichotomy of the most hideous and most
beautiful things on this earth.
There are places like the special needs house at a local
orphanage where children who can’t walk lie in the same pee-soaked bed day
after day with flies crawling over them because there simply aren’t enough
volunteers to take care of them all.
Where the healthy children run towards any vehicle that shows up on site
because they are so desperate for any kind of love or attention.
And then there are days when you take 10 teenagers to visit
this orphanage. They clearly don’t know
what to expect, but they get off the bus and immediately pick up whatever child
is coming towards them with arms wide open.
And they not only push the children on the merry-go-round, they hop on
themselves. And they slow down their
game of football when they realize the smallest of the small boys wants to
play. And they walk into that special
needs house and see children with physical problems they’ve NEVER seen before,
and they walk from bed to bed smiling at the children and tickling them to get
a laugh. And they tell you later that
this experience made them realize how truly blessed they are to have even the
small amount of things they have in this life.
There are people who see a Mzungu (white person) and
immediately up the cost of something by 100%.
They come to your car door when you’re parked out on the street,
assuming you are some kind of millionaire.
Little boys sit by your table through an entire meal at a restaurant
angrily telling you to give him money.
Zambia, like everywhere else in the world, is full of liars and cheats
and thieves.
And then there are mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles
and grandmothers who have taken in 3, 4, 5, 6 extra children because all the
other adults in their family are gone.
They sell tomatoes or beans or cabbage or whatever else they can in
front of their house to make enough money to feed these extra mouths. They graciously invite you in when you come
to visit, give you the best seat and simply ask for God’s protection when you
ask what you can pray for. They don’t go
on and on about what they need or how much money they want you to give them;
they simply thank you for being here in Zambia to help the children.
There are children EVERYWHERE at all times of the day. Children who are forced to become grown-ups
at a very young age. Six year old girls
who carry their baby brothers on their backs.
Grade 1 students who come home to an empty house because the adult of
the family has left for harvest season. Children who sit at home for a month because they burned their leg with boiling water and haven't been to a doctor to get it checked out. Children whose older brothers die of "TB," which means the most likely died of HIV/AIDS. Children who get malaria as often as American kids get the flu. Children playing with broken glass; chewing whatever piece of plastic
they find on the ground; running through trash-infested streets in their bare
feet. Children who have nothing to do
and nowhere to go because they can’t afford the small fees to pay for school
uniforms and supplies.
And then there are
120 children who DID get to go to school today.
They chew on anything they can get their hands on and don’t always
listen when their teachers say “Nchongo!” (Stop making noise!), and their
playground fights could put American kids’ fights to shame, but they are the
future of Zambia. They walk up to 40
minutes one-way to get to school; they don’t take a bite of their nshima before
praying; the sound of their giggles is what the soundtrack in heaven must be;
they spend HOURS writing letters to their sponsors back in America whom they
love like their own family; they clean every dish and every inch of the school
before leaving each day; they carry the little ones all the way home when
they’re sick; they love without question.
Yes, living in Africa is hard. It can be frustrating and overwhelming. You can work tirelessly and still not feel
like you’re accomplishing much. But
there is so much good. And I choose to see
the good. I choose to focus on the
breath-taking moments of beauty that I inevitably come in contact with every
single day. I choose to thank God that I
get to see the generosity and the joy and the love; and I beg Him to help me be
a catalyst for change in the dark and heartbreaking places. I have no idea what is in store for me this
year, but I do know I will experience
both the horrible and the wonderful; and in the end, it is the good I will carry with me.
