If you read my previous blog, then you know Zambia has been tough;
emotionally, spiritually, physically. Within 2 days of being in Kitwe, I knew that God was making a drastic
change within me; a process of brokenness and refinement, one that has proven
to be less than “fun”, one that leaves me with a choice to sit back
or to act.
During our first conversation with our contact, Pastor Alowesha said he was
happy we would see situations with our own eyes so that we could take the
stories back to America. I hesitate to write what I see and truly feel
sometimes; I don’t want to type the pain and suffering of someone’s life story
into words that can be easily ignored or seen as insignificant. I try to
protect people from the reality of what I experience sometimes, but I’ve
realized that it’s really not about me; in a way I’ve hindered God’s plan to use
me as a small piece of the puzzle to help take the scales off your eyes, while
he’s been taking them off mine as well. So, I will warn you that if you want to
stay in the bubble of comfort that we so often live in then you
should probably stop reading. Seriously.
Our first day of ministry began at the pace of a snail; the fact that our
team had been living apart and communication is difficult in Africa led to
misunderstandings of when and where we would meet. There had been many
miscommunications the first few days, so I was trying not to let my frustration
seep out; I felt like I’d been sitting idle for days and was ready to do
something.
Pastor Alowesha told us that we would be going with the HIV outreach
committee to visit with HIV positive people in their homes. We finally met up
with Pastor and a group of about 5 men and women, then began walking to a small
village about 20 minutes from where we’re living. My interaction with people
that are HIV positive has been little to none, not for any particular reason
other than I’ve never knowingly met anyone with HIV; I know that some people
lose a lot of weight so I thought their appearance might be similar to someone
with cancer, but I really had no clue what to expect.
As we walked into the first home, we took a seat on the floor and allowed our eyes to adjust to the dim
lighting in the small room. I saw a middle-aged woman sitting in the corner;
she had the appearance of a healthy Zambian woman, but her sickness and the
condition of her heart were revealed in time.
We were introduced to Mary, the middle-aged woman that was left widowed
because of AIDS; Pastor told us that she, along with her 6 children, also have
the disease. We sat in silence for a few minutes, none of us knew what to say.
How do you carry on a conversation with someone that has just told you that
their entire family has basically been given a death sentence?
I glanced around and took in the condition of the room; a small beam of
light from the window pierced through the darkness of the house…no furniture
or food was within sight. Heat flooded my face. The heat was coming from a
small pan filled with charcoal that serves as the family’s “stove”.
I breathed a sigh of relief when Jake finally spoke; he asked Mary to share
some of her story with us. Mary raised her head and looked at each of us, tears
streamed down her face as she said in a quiet voice, “I have a difficult
life”. Those were the only words she could get out in between the sounds
of her sobs.
After regaining her composure, Mary then told us about the past few years
of her life. Her husband passed away from AIDS, which left her widowed. Mary’s
husband’s family then took away their home and the rest of their possessions,
leaving them homeless and destitute. A woman with no education or work skills
ultimately became the sole provider for herself and their six children. It’s
difficult for her to acquire a normal job; her children are very young and it’s
nearly impossible to get a job in Zambia without “bribing” someone first.
So, if you are already poor then how could you possibly afford to put food on
the table for your family, pay for your children to go to school, and bribe
someone to give you a job?
This is an unrelenting cycle from generation to generation in many countries
in Africa. Parents die from AIDS, which then leaves the children orphaned.
People in the community try to take care of the children, but there are just
too many. The orphaned children don’t have money for an education so then they
can’t get a job and maintain an income when they get older. The cycle
continues.
I had no words for Mary; I could only sit and cry with her. I felt her
burden of pain and weariness, one that channels across any cultural lines. We
made plans to visit Mary again and offered to help her cook a meal, which seems
like nothing in comparison to her great need.
After saying our good-byes, I walked to the side of the house to try to
gather my thoughts; I was fighting the tears, but they just wouldn’t stop
flowing. One of the women from the church began walking towards me, but was
stopped by Pastor. The look in his eyes told me that he could see that I was
struggling with the fact that so many people lived like this; he simply said,
“She just needs a minute. …she’s seen it with her own eyes and now she
understands.” I have seen only the slightest hint of the effects that AIDS
has on this continent, but now I do understand.
I understand that the thing that really matters is to care about someone’s
situation. To listen to their story. To forget about anything that I think is a
problem in my own life, which realistically doesn’t even compare to her pain.
To look at the person next to me and realize they are crying out for someone to
care, for someone to love them. We just took the time to listen and she
revealed the inner-most parts of her heart. It’s so easy to narrow our focus on
our own tasks, without ever glancing at the people around us. There are people all around you that simply need someone
to care about their story. Will you listen?
