While in Zambia our team spent a few days in a small village near Lusaka visiting the sick, elderly. The first day we visited a widow and her children who had no food for the last few days, and no income to speak of. We walked around the village to talk with people, and stopped to buy some food for the widow’s family before we left. While we were waiting in the market a lot of children came around to watch us and shake our hands. Some clung to our hands as we waited, I had 5 little ones hanging on the right hand/ wrist and on my left hand were three more. They all just wanted to hold my hand and few of my team mates had some kids hanging on to their hands as well.
I should tell you that the African kids love to call out “Hello!” and shout “muzungo!”(white person) at every opportunity, which is every time they see us. It never gets old for them. Translation- “White person, Hello, how are you, fine!”; all in the same sentence they ask and reply all at once; it is quite funny to experience. Everywhere we go children call out greetings to us, and each time we reply they laugh hysterically and run away. They are so delighted and happy to see us that a mere reply sends them into giggle fits and smiles. I found it strange getting used to their reaction, but I was assured many times by interpreters that the children laugh, not at us, but because they are so happy to see us. Just visiting them and greeting them is such an honor to them. This fact humbles me constantly. Here, Americans, and whites are looked on as celebrities, honored guests to have in one’s home or visiting the community and everyone wants to meet us.
That being said, these kids were thrilled to have us to hold their hands and smile at them as we waited. We then started our 15 minute walk back to where we were staying, and kids continued to hold on and walked with us, all the way. The village we walked through had many narrow passes and ditches to hop over, winding the way back to the main road, and still they held on. As we walked and they hopped over obstacles and ducked under branches, never letting go of my hand, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of Jesus. The Jesus who walked into towns and was followed everywhere he went. People flocked to be healed, spoken to, blessed, and even just acknowledged. It broke my heart to realize that I was the closest thing to a blessed life they’d ever seen, never to experience, and other than a smile and prayer, I had nothing to offer them. Just holding my hand brought them close to prosperity and blessing, maybe it could rub off on them? Being present to acknowledge their presence, smile, touch their face and hold their hands was all I had but didn’t seem like enough. What a beautiful thing Jesus got to experience when he walked with people. He was willing and able to give people what they needed and wanted. Here I am a poor offering of love and yet that was enough for today. The children in Africa have touched me in ways that will be with me always. I’m so grateful to have walked with them in their villages, to see and speak of their lives as real to me.
