We’re in Africa, in case you’ve
forgotten.
forgotten.
I thought upon arriving in Africa we
would get sent off to random places and get the chance to use the
tents that we’ve been carrying around for months. Well, it’s
month 3 in Africa, we’re in Tanzania, and the closest some of us
have to come to ‘tenting’ is setting them up in the house we’re
living in so that a couple of us can have actual personal space. I
have been longing for the ‘Africa’ experience. To be in
the middle of nowhere with no shops around, no electricity, no
running water — you know, all the stuff the Race promised us that
we would get.
would get sent off to random places and get the chance to use the
tents that we’ve been carrying around for months. Well, it’s
month 3 in Africa, we’re in Tanzania, and the closest some of us
have to come to ‘tenting’ is setting them up in the house we’re
living in so that a couple of us can have actual personal space. I
have been longing for the ‘Africa’ experience. To be in
the middle of nowhere with no shops around, no electricity, no
running water — you know, all the stuff the Race promised us that
we would get.
Well, we got it. In the form of a four
night trip to a village.
night trip to a village.
This month my team, Shekinah, is living
and doing ministry with teams United and Agape Life Song. The 14 of
us are living in a 6 bedroom, 2 bathroom house and we have running
water and electricity…well, T.I.A., so we have running water and
electricity when they are actually on. Just because it seems like
the place you live can have those things doesn’t mean you actually
get those things. We literally pray for the water and power to come
on. Anyways! We’re all together this month, and it’s freaking
fantastic!!! I love these crazy people! Plus I’m only sharing a
bed with one other person. Luxurious! Our contact, Pastor Chacha,
arranged for us to be split up in twos, paired with a translator, and
sent off in various directions to the small villages around Iringa to
do ministry.
and doing ministry with teams United and Agape Life Song. The 14 of
us are living in a 6 bedroom, 2 bathroom house and we have running
water and electricity…well, T.I.A., so we have running water and
electricity when they are actually on. Just because it seems like
the place you live can have those things doesn’t mean you actually
get those things. We literally pray for the water and power to come
on. Anyways! We’re all together this month, and it’s freaking
fantastic!!! I love these crazy people! Plus I’m only sharing a
bed with one other person. Luxurious! Our contact, Pastor Chacha,
arranged for us to be split up in twos, paired with a translator, and
sent off in various directions to the small villages around Iringa to
do ministry.
Ashley Robichaud was my lovely second
half for this trip out to the village of Makifu. We left the house
in a rush around 12:30 on Thursday afternoon, worried that we would
miss our 1:00 bus. Just because you think you’re going to leave at
1pm doesn’t mean you actually will. It means you’ll leave closer
to 2pm, which is what happened. So we sat in a stifling hot bus for
over an hour, sweating our butts off and praying “Jesus, make this
bus move!�
half for this trip out to the village of Makifu. We left the house
in a rush around 12:30 on Thursday afternoon, worried that we would
miss our 1:00 bus. Just because you think you’re going to leave at
1pm doesn’t mean you actually will. It means you’ll leave closer
to 2pm, which is what happened. So we sat in a stifling hot bus for
over an hour, sweating our butts off and praying “Jesus, make this
bus move!�
The 90km trip from Iringa to Makifu
took almost 5 hours. 90 KILOMETERS in almost FIVE hours. I’m not
joking. And it’s not a nice paved road, it’s a bumpy, lumpy dirt road. Travelling by bus in Africa is not for the faint of heart. About every 3 minutes we would stop to let someone on/let
someone off/let people off to get various snacks and animal parts.
No joke, after a long pit stop at some random place this dude walks
back on the bus with a long goat leg. The whole leg, hoof and all.
took almost 5 hours. 90 KILOMETERS in almost FIVE hours. I’m not
joking. And it’s not a nice paved road, it’s a bumpy, lumpy dirt road. Travelling by bus in Africa is not for the faint of heart. About every 3 minutes we would stop to let someone on/let
someone off/let people off to get various snacks and animal parts.
No joke, after a long pit stop at some random place this dude walks
back on the bus with a long goat leg. The whole leg, hoof and all.
Around 7 o’clock the bus pulls over,
once again, on the side of the road, but this time it’s our turn to
get off. Praise the Lord! We push and shove our way off the
overcrowded bus and get off to be greeted by basically the entire
neighborhood. We hear countless “Karibuni�s and “Buona sa
fiwe�s, shake everyone’s hand twice and say “Asante� and
“Amena� until we are led across the street to the church house we
will be staying in. Steven was our 17 year old translator, he was
just about the only person for miles that spoke English, so we talked
through him and listened to him for the majority of our stay there.
once again, on the side of the road, but this time it’s our turn to
get off. Praise the Lord! We push and shove our way off the
overcrowded bus and get off to be greeted by basically the entire
neighborhood. We hear countless “Karibuni�s and “Buona sa
fiwe�s, shake everyone’s hand twice and say “Asante� and
“Amena� until we are led across the street to the church house we
will be staying in. Steven was our 17 year old translator, he was
just about the only person for miles that spoke English, so we talked
through him and listened to him for the majority of our stay there.
The people lived in well constructed
houses, some of them had grass thatched roofs, but most had tin
roofs. There was no running water, no electricity, no shops for
miles around. We were surrounded by mountains and fields. The sky
at night was dazzling and breathtaking.
houses, some of them had grass thatched roofs, but most had tin
roofs. There was no running water, no electricity, no shops for
miles around. We were surrounded by mountains and fields. The sky
at night was dazzling and breathtaking.
The chickens roamed as freely as the
children. Water was fetched from the nearby well to cook and bathe
with. The outdoor squatty potties had no doors on them, so it was
always a gamble going, you never knew who was going to get a free
show.
children. Water was fetched from the nearby well to cook and bathe
with. The outdoor squatty potties had no doors on them, so it was
always a gamble going, you never knew who was going to get a free
show.
It became readily apparent that I had
no clue who’s children were who’s, and I wondered where all the
men were. The village consisted mostly of women, hard worked and
happy, with hoards of children running around them at all times. The
men were off to ‘work’, whether that be in nearby fields or far
away towns. We were cooked for by these women, they took care of us
like we were family or honored guests. They even snuck into our
house in the mornings when we were off doing door-to-door to sweep
and wash the floor for us. If you’ve never seen an African woman
hand wash the floor, it’s a very impressive sight.
no clue who’s children were who’s, and I wondered where all the
men were. The village consisted mostly of women, hard worked and
happy, with hoards of children running around them at all times. The
men were off to ‘work’, whether that be in nearby fields or far
away towns. We were cooked for by these women, they took care of us
like we were family or honored guests. They even snuck into our
house in the mornings when we were off doing door-to-door to sweep
and wash the floor for us. If you’ve never seen an African woman
hand wash the floor, it’s a very impressive sight.
The village was everything I’d
thought Africa would be physically, but the community I saw there was
stronger than I ever expected. Even though they weren’t
necessarily related by blood, they served each other in such a way
that you would have thought they were one giant family. When they
came to worship God the old and haggard stood up to lead us in songs
of praise, the children got up and danced and sung for their Heavenly
Father, the mothers gathered together and opened their arms to give
and receive blessings. The boys hit the drums, the men played
percussion instruments made of nails and bottle caps, and the small
congregation made such a noise for the Lord that the trees and rocks
in that community will never, ever have to cry out.
thought Africa would be physically, but the community I saw there was
stronger than I ever expected. Even though they weren’t
necessarily related by blood, they served each other in such a way
that you would have thought they were one giant family. When they
came to worship God the old and haggard stood up to lead us in songs
of praise, the children got up and danced and sung for their Heavenly
Father, the mothers gathered together and opened their arms to give
and receive blessings. The boys hit the drums, the men played
percussion instruments made of nails and bottle caps, and the small
congregation made such a noise for the Lord that the trees and rocks
in that community will never, ever have to cry out.
Come day three it didn’t matter that
we didn’t speak the same language or look the same way. We played
with their children, chased their chickens, laughed as the rain came,
and snuggled up with the little kids as the sun set and the stars
came out. The village blew me away. It was more than I bargained
for.
we didn’t speak the same language or look the same way. We played
with their children, chased their chickens, laughed as the rain came,
and snuggled up with the little kids as the sun set and the stars
came out. The village blew me away. It was more than I bargained
for.
If I’m being totally honest, it
wasn’t an easy four days and nights. We faced frustrations, we
struggled to understand some things, and we started to smell pretty
funky towards the end of the four days. Our last day there, Ashley
was really sick. She appeared to have some sort of flu or food
poisoning and was unable to come to church that day. The ladies of
the village, who we called “Mama�, were worried. They asked if
there was anything they could do, and all we said was pray. So
during church, between worship and me preaching, the congregation
gathered in a circle, joined hands, and started praising the Lord on
Ashley’s behalf. When the songs stopped we all prayed out loud at
the same time, they prayed ferociously in words I do not understand
but the emotion and the heart behind the prayers I knew. I was
brought to tears by the love in their prayers, humbled by the passion
in their petitions to our Lord. As the day wound on and ended, they
would stop in periodically and check on her and whisper sweet things
in Swahili. Around 12:30 am I woke up with my stomach churning and
barely made it out of the house before I puked my guts out on the
ground. Pastor Gerrod and Steven came out and comforted me, made
sure I made it back in to my bed (poor Steven was so sweet as to pray
for me and then go puke because he couldn’t handle the sight of me
puking — that’s love). Again at 1:30 am the same thing happened,
but this time Mama Agape was the first one out. She knelt beside me
and softly rubbed my back and prayed for me in Swahili, then
basically carried me inside and tucked me into bed.
wasn’t an easy four days and nights. We faced frustrations, we
struggled to understand some things, and we started to smell pretty
funky towards the end of the four days. Our last day there, Ashley
was really sick. She appeared to have some sort of flu or food
poisoning and was unable to come to church that day. The ladies of
the village, who we called “Mama�, were worried. They asked if
there was anything they could do, and all we said was pray. So
during church, between worship and me preaching, the congregation
gathered in a circle, joined hands, and started praising the Lord on
Ashley’s behalf. When the songs stopped we all prayed out loud at
the same time, they prayed ferociously in words I do not understand
but the emotion and the heart behind the prayers I knew. I was
brought to tears by the love in their prayers, humbled by the passion
in their petitions to our Lord. As the day wound on and ended, they
would stop in periodically and check on her and whisper sweet things
in Swahili. Around 12:30 am I woke up with my stomach churning and
barely made it out of the house before I puked my guts out on the
ground. Pastor Gerrod and Steven came out and comforted me, made
sure I made it back in to my bed (poor Steven was so sweet as to pray
for me and then go puke because he couldn’t handle the sight of me
puking — that’s love). Again at 1:30 am the same thing happened,
but this time Mama Agape was the first one out. She knelt beside me
and softly rubbed my back and prayed for me in Swahili, then
basically carried me inside and tucked me into bed.
“Then the King will say to those on
his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the
Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was
hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I
was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and
you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in
prison, and you visited me.’ Then the righteous ones will reply,
‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty
and giv you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you
hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see
you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will say, ‘I
tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my
brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’� Matthew
25:34-40.
his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the
Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was
hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I
was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and
you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in
prison, and you visited me.’ Then the righteous ones will reply,
‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty
and giv you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you
hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see
you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will say, ‘I
tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my
brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’� Matthew
25:34-40.
We are the least of these. When we are
hungry, they feed us. When we are thirsty, they give us something to
drink. When we have no place to sleep, they give us a safe place to
lay our heads. When we are sick, they care for us. I came on the
Race to love ‘the least of these’, but the tables have turned.
The Race just isn’t about my ability to minister to others and love
them, it’s equally about my acceptance of love and being ministered
to by those I am with. I will never, ever forget the village people.
hungry, they feed us. When we are thirsty, they give us something to
drink. When we have no place to sleep, they give us a safe place to
lay our heads. When we are sick, they care for us. I came on the
Race to love ‘the least of these’, but the tables have turned.
The Race just isn’t about my ability to minister to others and love
them, it’s equally about my acceptance of love and being ministered
to by those I am with. I will never, ever forget the village people.
