“If you want to make everyone happy, don’t become a leader, go sell ice cream.”
The country we were in doesn’t have enough workers so that I can share where we were or who we were with; please excuse my ambiguity. This is a story of living in unreached people groups and disaster relief.
We were in East Africa where the temperature and humidity are in constant competition to be higher; neither dropping much below 100 most of the year. Despite such high humidity, the country receives only an average of four inches of rain per year, which I’ll come back to. We were put there when our organization needed to reallocate some resources and manpower. The people in the squad intended for this country outnumbered the long-term workers there, which would have presented significant logistics and security concerns, but we’re also told they couldn’t get visas (which is probably the bigger show stopper). With our squad only 16 hours across the border, and the men’s team with only 7 people, it was an easy solution to still provide support to the long-termers there.
The train ride was a riot. Only intended to be an 8 hour ride, it turned into a 16 hour travel day with more than half of it spent in fear that Dylan accidentally started a gambling ring. He taught a man Speed (the card game) so they could play together. “Bit off more than he could chew” doesn’t begin to explain what happened. It got extremely competitive and soon became a group of nine local men exchanging money over each hand as they learned the game and began playing it themselves. It. Got. Rowdy. We didn’t know how to stop it. Guess who did. The same person that has the answers to everything – a grandma. An unknown older woman that didn’t seem to be related to anyone showed up, wrecked house, disbanded the group, and it got peaceful again.
The night we arrived, it began to rain. Hard. It continued for three days resulting in more than 11 inches; almost three times the annual average, all at once. This was a desert country. There’s nowhere for the water to go. If you think about what it might look like to pour 24 ounces of water into an 8 ounce cup, it’ll give you an image of what the capital city looked like; which houses more than 50% of the nation’s population, many of whom live in corrugated aluminum structures fortified with pallets, plywood, and tarps. So much of the very little has been destroyed.
There are a handful of teams in the area, each with their own priorities and focuses, but they work closely and coordinate well; the leaders of each group gathered and decided to shift focus and combine their efforts in disaster relief. And they just happened to have a few extra 20-something-year-old men to help.
The leadership met at a storage facility to separate relief packages and items for distribution. We helped load six trucks until their suspensions were sagging. Our host, who we can call “the old man” (because that’s his name for himself) laughed as each of us would move packages typically carried by two or three men. We got a lot of work done quickly. He attributed it to our youth and made sure we understood he was also capable of such work 30 years ago (and still today, he just doesn’t have to since he was blessed with “servant-hearted, strapping young men”).
On the first day of relief, these items were delivered to be distributed by churches, schools, and team offices:
- 25,960 meals
- 100 packages of blankets
- 100 packages of shoes
- Approximately 1,100 pounds of clothing
- Tarps on tarps on tarps!
After the first day, we ventured beyond brick and mortar distribution centers and into communities and villages outside the city center. Meetings with community leaders (who we can call elders) produced lists of households in the community with a household leader identified. Then each household would pick up a relief package proportioned by the size of the family and assigned to their name. It was very efficient and impressive how simple it seemed (but being part of the process, I know it in fact, was not).
What was impressive about the process is how beautifully delicate the conversation was to provide a means of fair distribution. The statement above to be an ice cream salesman was made from a perspective of realism, but the conversation also addressed honoring rather than shaming families as well as individuals. It empowered the elders and household leaders, and it recognized both short- and long-term impacts of relationship building and maintenance with the people of the community internally, and externally with the teams.
Aside from relief packages, we also helped in the community:
- repairs of cars and homes (seriously, Dylan can fix anything)
- waterproofing and sandbagging
- removal of mud, debris, and water
- classroom support
On an unrelated note, the community there welcomed us into their homes for Thanksgiving and after working hard, showed us how they play hard! But please continue to pray for this community; God has worked more on my heart here these 10 days than in my life so far. Please pray for me also – that I may come to know a way to continue serving this community even after we’ve gone. I’m sorry I can’t share more now, but feel free to ask privately. I’d love to explain.
If you feel called to support the organizations in this country, please reach out. I’d love to put you in contact with our partners; your efforts will be greatly appreciated and received very well. They’re also just great people to be friends with.
– John
