Kokotsha–meaning knock knock and take
This month my team and I lived in the middle of nowhere. For the past few weeks, we called a small village in the southern kalahari known as Kokotsha, home. We lived in tents with no electricity (only that at Oum Hendricks home), no running water, and no wifi. We called a “short drop” our toilet and a black tarp wrapped around a tree, our shower (complete with a bucket and beer cup). We cooked over a campfire most of the time because the small camping stoves they provided us with took forever to heat things up–especially big caste iron pots. Plus food just seems to taste so much better being cooked over a fire.
The sunsets and sunrises were magnificent…the colors hardly seeming real. the Milky Way was visible by night, taking my breath away each time as I gazed in wonder at this beauty that was dreamed up by my king.
The days were hot and dry, but the nights turned cool and breezy–a nice reprieve from the desert heat.
We were in our tents ready for bed each night by the time the sun went down (7pm) to avoid the scorpions and snakes that come out at night. Most of us woke up when the sun rose, too (around 6 am).
We were smack dap in the middle of a sandy field abundant in hidden burs (ouch!) and ant piles. Our desert home was surrounded by a low wire fence. We often had kids staring at us and watching from a distance, then mustering up the confidence to come inside (it didn’t take them long, though, as they soon showed up at our tents every afternoon). We felt slightly like animals in a zoo–a spectacle for the locals–but we were learning to ignore the attention.
The real zoo lived outside the confines of our home. The donkeys and goats, the sheep, and chickens, always making their presence known. The donkeys have turf wars and call each other with their mournful bray. They really do sound half like dinosaurs and half like they are moaning in anguish. This ruckus carried on all through the night making it difficult for us foreigners–unaccustomed to such noises–to get much sleep.
Ministry this month was what we made of it…it was pretty much an “ask The Lord” month, where we formed our own program and went where we felt The Lord was taking us. We were the first team to come to this village, and in a way, we were pioneering the area. From all the village officials we met, and people along the way we talked to, there seemed like an overwhelming sense of hopelessness there. The first week, maybe week and a half, we battled with a lot of spiritual warfare. We struggled with a sense of hopelessness and apathy….lacking the motivation and the energy the really engage with the locals. We learned through the chief and through the Vdr (basically a social worker) of many of the problems facing the people of Kokotsha.
I felt discouraged–discouraged by the form of ministry and discouraged by people’s responses to us. In the beginning, people constantly demanded things of us, like food or money (even for tobacco). I questioned The Lord, how do I even begin to reach them when all they want is material goods? How do I reach the people here when they walk away when I don’t offer what they want, only what I have–Christ? I felt almost like wasted space. What was I doing?!
Through my struggles and prayers, The Lord reminded me of a devotional I had read about Jesus multiplying the fish and loaves. It was the story of the young boy who offered up his meager lunch of fish and bread to Jesus. And with his simple lunch, which didn’t look like much, Jesus multiplied what he had to feed a multitude. I was reminded that I came into this month with what I had on my back, and not really sure what I would be encountering. So I questioned why I was there…perhaps more than any other month on the race. I wondered what difference, I, a single girl, could make there. Even more, What difference could we, a couple of white girls living in tents at the edge of town, make? I don’t have much to offer in terms of material goods. All I have is Jesus. I was so consumed in my inadequacies of producing any change there that I took my focus off The Lord and the fact that He can change any situation. I was saying “but look at me!” When Jesus was saying, “no, look at Me!”. It was a reminder to refocus my gaze on my Father and offer Him whatever I do have. It’s His job to do the multiplication and it’s my job to simply be willing to surrender what I have. The Lord is doing things here in this community even if we can’t see it with our eyes yet. I believe it is largely a spiritual battle. There are many strongholds here that need to come down. And so I told The Lord that I would give what I have to offer, trusting Him that He would multiply the effects in the community. I asked The Lord for Him to open my eyes to what He was doing and to enlarge my heart for the people there, the children there.
This month I saw the faithfulness of The Lord as He did enlarge my heart. I felt that I was able to break through some kind of wall in my own heart and mind to begin investing in the people there.
And through the relationships that we all began to build, we learned how to bake bread from scratch over hot coals; we sat with Ouma and Koekie, helping them with laundry and learning how to really get clothes clean when hand washing; we were taken to the bore-hole in the bush, where they got us our water and we were able to see the wild horse drink; I learned all the children’s clapping games and even tried to learn their string game; I sang songs with the children and danced silly dances; we were taught hymns in Afrikaans by the Titus family who patiently sat with us and sang with us; they gave us a farewell braai where they cooked us goat and a chakalaka dish; and we danced in the night rain to polka music that blasted out of the pickup truck speakers while they tried to teach us their traditional dancing.
Each of these experiences, I believe, wouldn’t have happened if we had still been stuck in that place of discouragement, apathy, and exhaustion. The Lord was faithful to enlarge our hearts. Even if we can’t see huge changes, I believe that seeds were planted. A way was being made, perhaps even for future teams to come share the love of Christ and encourage the people there. A way was being made for The Lord to come and reign in Kokotsha.
Isaiah 40:3-5 // A voice of one calling: “In the wilderness prepare
the way for the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low;
the rough ground shall become level,the rugged places a plain. And the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all people will see it together. For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”
So, as we left, Ouma said that we must remember when we go back to America that we are all her children.
What precious memories and relationships came out of that difficult month.
I am almost fully funded!! I just need a little more to get me there.
Thank you all who have supported me this far. I couldn’t have gotten here without you. Your love and prayers has truly meant the world to me. If you feel led to help me reach the final goal, please click the “support me” button up above.
Blessings!
