This week, I asked my Dad to be a guest writer on my blog! I had an amazing week with my parents at Parent Vision Trip in Kigali, Rwanda last week. Having my parents experience “life on the Race” for a week is something I will never forget. Without further ado, here’s a blog from the one and only Alan Banks:
Stephanie and I are waiting to get on the bus here in Kigali to begin our 28 hour trip home. We will leave behind our daughter Alex along with memories that will last me a life time.
God has used this week in mighty ways. He used this week for me to see the spiritual growth of Alex and the other racers. He used this week for me to get a “small taste” of the life my daughter has been living for the past 7 months. And, He used this week to stir inside of me the idea that yes…I can make a difference.
Psalm 73:26 says: “My flesh & my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever”. To me, this sums up my trip to Rwanda. For the week I was there I witnessed abject poverty that spanned the entire “Land of a Thousand Hills” (a phrase associated with Kigali). I have witnessed masses standing around a polluted creek religiously day after day pumping water into yellow gas cans and carrying them back to their homes. I have witnessed homes the size of my dining room that housed entire families. And, the front door to these homes are nothing more than a colorful piece of cloth. I have seen communities where literally thousands of people live yet they do not have electricity, running water or bathrooms as we know it in our country. But most importantly, I have met face to face some of the happiest people I have ever met in my life. I was mentioning this to Alex one night and telling her how sorry I felt for these people and she said “Don’t feel sorry for them, Dad. They do not want that. They want you to love them and help them”. I am glad she said that to me because I looked at them from that point forward through a different prism.
I learned that cultures are different when you leave the United States. Often times…WAY DIFFERENT. One day I asked the local religious leader “Pastor Moses” where the closest ATM is to our compound? He said (In broken English) “It is not far, it is very close…I will take you”. Well, I thought he meant drive me. So, we began to walk. And walk. And walk. Twenty minutes into our walk I said “Moses, are we walking to Ethopia”? He said “Alan from Tennessee, you are so funny. It is only a mile or so more”. So, we walked for several miles for me to get money from an ATM that took 3 minutes to get. Then, we turned around and walked back to the compound. Therefore, when you ask a Rwandan a question make sure you understand the perspective they are coming from. To him…this was a nice stroll. To me…it was a workout.
When we arrived at the compound in Kigali I met a gentleman that worked there that I will call Pierre. He worked at the compound we were staying at and he was a loving young man and was the manager of the facility. He was 28 years old and as happy a guy as you will ever meet. And, he was a believer.
On the third day of our stay, he came up to me and asked if I, Stephanie and Alex would like to come visit his home so he could introduce us to his wife who was pregnant with their first child…and was due any day. I told him we would be honored to do this. When it was time to leave, Alex and the other racers were doing some other things so Alex was unable to go. But, Stephanie and I went anyway. As we left the gated compound and began walking down alley’s that I would not allow my wife to walk down at any hour of the day, about 20 minutes later we arrived at his home. A young man by the name of Drood opened the gate for us. Drood was a 19 year old that Pierre plucked off the streets 5 years ago because he was a homeless orphan. He has been under the care of Pierre ever since. As we entered the modest clean home Pierre quickly introduced us to his mother that lived with him as well. She was a stoic 47 year old woman that looked 35. Then, we met Pierre’s beautiful wife who was due to have their daughter any day. He met her several years ago at church.
As Pierre showed me around their home that consisted of a bedroom, a den, a dining area, 2 storage rooms and a kitchen that was located outside the main house, it was at that time that uneasiness began to set into my soul. As Pierre showed me the neatly made bed that his mother slept in each night in one storage room and the bunk bed that Drood slept in each night in the other storage room along with the “kitchen” located outside the home that consisted of 2 shelves, a chopping table, a clay pot along with a small convection oven that he used when plugged into a small generator on special occasions…God began to press me. In short, God used this invitation to Pierre’s home in order teach me something I needed to learn.
It started when I asked “Where is your dad”? He said, “My father was killed in the genocide of 1994”.
When Pierre was 4 years old, the genocide began. His father was a very wealthy construction man that had a lot of connections to the government. On day 2 of the genocide that saw 1,000,000 Tutsi’s killed by Hutu’s in 100 days…a group of men drug Pierre’s father into the street outside their home and hacked him to death with machete’s. Pierre’s mom watched this from a window of the home. Pierre said “She covered her mouth with one hand and covered my eyes with her other hand”. Since that time she has never been the same. Pierre went on to tell me that he works extremely hard to take care of his wife, his mom and Drood. He told me he never stresses over the $120 per month rent he has to pay and the $300 it will take to deliver their baby in March. He said “Mr. Alan, I am a child of God and He will provide for me everything that I need. I work when I am tired and I work at times without sleep because God gives me the strength to provide for my family”.
As the time came for Stephanie and I to leave his home and head back to the compound, Pierre had us all stand up and hold hands in a circle. Then, Pierre led a prayer that lasted about 3 minutes. It was a prayer that shook me to my roots. His entire prayer was asking God to bless me, to bless Stephanie, to bless Alex, to bless my other 3 kids, to bless our health and for God to give “my family” all the blessings from God. Not one time did he pray for his family. He prayed for me.
“My flesh & my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever”.
I had to travel to Kigali to learn and be reminded by a relatively poor 28 year old that our life is about faith, love and endurance. It is about reaching out and loving others. It is about providing shelter to the homeless. It is about leaning on God to be our strength in all cases. It is about finding happiness through Christ where we are standing. It is about blessing others and it is about understanding that God will provide us with what we need and joy in this life can only be found in Jesus Christ.
As I was about to leave Rwanda, it dawned on me that I thought I was flying 9,000 miles to see my daughter and help those in need. But, God had different plans. God brought a man to me to show me the true meaning of “trust in God”. Even though we had a hundred parents and racers dig miles of drainage ditches for a local impoverished community, what I found in Kigali was that God is the strength of a believers heart. And, if you completely trust in Him, God provides. God always provides His portion to beleivers forever.
Pierre. A man poor in worldly wealth.
But, the richest man I have ever met in my life.
