Rwanda. Africa.
I’m in a very unique moment in life. I am sitting in my dream. I am sitting in the place God said I would. I am living life in a fulfilled dream, promise, destiny.
When I was about 15 or 16 years old I was in the typical angsty teenage time. I wanted rebellion. I wanted to get out of my house, my city, my state. I wanted to just be in “real life” already and be a cool adult. A dear friend/older brother type/youth pastor/Zac gave me a book to read. He normally would give me a book and tell me to read it. Often these books helped shape my life. This one was called “The Revolution” it was a collection of short essays on different social justice issues in the world. Hunger, AIDS, Clean water, Capitol Punishment, Gangs…ect. The one on clean water was written by a lady named Jena Nardella who is the CEO of an organization called Blood:Water Mission. They work in Africa to build wells and work with getting clean blood to AIDS victims. My mind was blown and my world was shattered. There are people in this world without access to something as basic as clean water? How is that even possible? With the push of another dear friend/later brother-in-law/Michael I took that summer to raise money to fund a well project. It takes $1,000 to build a well. I was able to raise $1,400.
Over the next few years a love and a longing formed and grew in my heart for Africa. I didn’t know a lot. Just those pictures you see of tribesmen running around, naked babies dying of hunger, and the jungle. So I decided to become informed. I started to read any and every book I could get my hands on about Africa. I read news articles, watched documentaries and spent hours on Blood:Water Mission’s website. I wanted to be there. I wanted to love people. My decisions on the future were based off of getting to Africa. I tried my hand at a nursing school only to be kicked out due to lack of motivation. I wanted to be bandaging war victims not wiping old peoples butts. I google searched non-profit organizations in Africa in hopes of finding my path. I found one that seemed so promising but after going though the entry process it wasn’t anything that I wanted.
I was hopeless. Dejected. I was a failure that had told everyone that I was going to Africa and it all fell apart. I had even become “burnt out” on the Africa idea. I’d invested so much and had still never seen the land I dreamed about. Then the Race came into the picture. They always say to not pick your route based off the countries because that is all subject to change, but I saw two things on the January 2013 Route 1: Cambodia and Africa. I longed to go back to Cambodia. A place so unlike anything I would want or love but both had happened when I went in 2011. And Africa. Could this really be it? Is this how I finally get to the place that claimed my heart so long ago? I had always had a sort of relationship with Africa. It was always in the back of my mind. I was the girl obsessed with a continent. I had jewelry, shirts, paintings, Africa was my thing.
When our plane landed down in Uganda I didn’t know how to feel. I had just left Cambodia hours earlier and I was still mourning that goodbye. My biggest fear was that Africa wouldn’t match up to all I had always thought it would. You either love or hate Africa. What if I ended up hating it after being here? What if God was taking away my love for Africa to push me towards Cambodia more? All the thoughts that ran through my mind as we waited in the Uganda visa line. But once we got on the bus, once we headed for our home for the month, once we met Pastor Fatier, Richard, Vanessa, Frank, Sharmine and the church everything fell into place.
On our second day walking the 4 miles back from church to home I had sometime to think. Reflect on what was happening around me. I was walking on a road in the middle of Rwanda with the beautiful rolling country on either side of me. The sun was just beginning to set, the weather is the most beautiful weather we’ve had since leaving home, there would be dinner on the table when we got home and an adorable 18 month old to greet us. I began to cry. I can’t remember the last time, if ever, that I have cried out of joy. I was here. I was in Africa. All the years of learning, wishing, wanting, praying and crying were for this moment.
I had a picture book/coffee table book, also written by Jena Nardella and a photographer friend. In the book he had taken pictures all around Africa and she had included some of her journal entries. I would sit up in my room at night, turn on my lamp and just stare at their faces. The old lady who had so many years on her face. The little chubby girl who’s smile made me cry. The mom who looked sorrowful for passing AIDS on to her daughter. I am in the only dream or goal I’ve ever had. The only thing I wanted in life was to get to Africa and I was here. God’s faithfulness was surrounding me like the wind that blew across the countryside.
I’m here.
