Being in Rwanda has been a blessing to me for many reasons. Catching up with my friend who is a missionary here, enjoying the beautiful scenery, and watching Jesus write a story of redemption for this country are just a few of the many things that come to mind. Our team has been working doing door-to-door evangelism, sharing Jesus in the homes of those who live near our host family. We often pray for those who are sick, listen to stories of those who have lost family members in the genocide, and engage in conversations about America or kids in school or really whatever they need to talk about.
This week, our hosts told us that there was a great need for English teaching so we agreed to do our best to teach some lessons. That morning, I met a lady who spoke little to no English but proudly showed me her notebook, and I knew she was headed to the church. I came into the church, and she was there hard at work with my teammate and Momma Pastor (the amazing wife of the pastor of our church).
We had decided before we left the house that day that we would split into two groups, one for beginners and one for more advanced speakers. I was excited about the beginner group and really wanted to emphasize conversational English, focusing on things like greetings and what you can ask when you meet someone new. My sweet friend I met on the road was practicing her new questions, writing them down in her notebook, and smiling the whole time. I sat down right when they were working on the question, “what is your name?”. I asked her the question, and she excitedly replied, “My name Matilda.” We helped her say it again, “My name is Matilda,” and cheered happily when she got it right.
Each time we would practice it, fix any mispronunciations, and celebrate her success. She would clap and grin, grabbing our hands to share in her pure excitement. It was simply beautiful. Matilda is a woman who honestly has little to gain by coming to practice English. She is in her late sixties, early seventies, so learning English won’t benefit her financially. It won’t change her life or her fortune.
But maybe that’s not true.
I think it will change her a little, because she gets to experience the amazing feeling of learning something new. She gets to experience the feeling of conquering something miserably more difficult that she probably thought at the beginning, persevering even when it’s hard. She gets to make new friends, with us as visitors but with others in her village too. She gets to share with her children and grandchildren the benefits of working so hard to learn something new. She gets to have a team of seven American World Racers who have become her personal cheerleaders. She gets to use some of that joy she has within her each time she masters a new phrase.
Matilda wasn’t just a face to me. She wasn’t just a student learning English. Matilda was an example. She was another example of someone we have met that overcame the horrific tragedy of the genocide but chose joy. She is a face that represents the redemption of this place, the story that Jesus is writing for them. She could stay home, she could be angry and bitter, she could live a life of fear. But that’s not what she has chosen. So I am blessed with this beautiful friend and student.
Last night after we finished church, she used one of our new phrases we taught her. “God bless you,” she said over and over again. She grinned bigger every time, knowing that we understood her, both our team and her knowing the depth of God’s love. As I left, I walked up to her and said, “How are you?” She answered, “I am just fine!” I laughed aloud, because she had no idea that using the word “just” in that statement was totally acceptable and also slightly ironic. People here always answer, “I am fine” when you ask, even if they aren’t. But Matilda wasn’t “fine,” she was “just fine!” And I know she will be “just fine.” And now she will have a little more English under her belt and hopefully a deeper understanding of God’s love through our interactions.
