This month in Macedonia has been unforgettable. We have been staying at a church in Shutka, which is an outlying neighborhood of Skopje, Macedonia. Shutka is one of the poorest areas of Europe and one of the largest Gypsy settlements (Gypsies are also known as Romani’s).Trash litters the ground surrounding the main road and Shutka is referred to by locals as the “ghetto” or the “trash heap” but it is so much more. Shutka holds so much life. The streets come alive with dancing as music is played through boom boxes or car speakers. Kids run around with water bottles, splashing each other to stay cool throughout the scorching hot day. Toward the end of the main road is the market where cheap clothes, jewelry, accessories, and famous hamburgers are sold. At night everyone is out of their houses to enjoy the cool breeze. Weddings are frequent and often last three days. We hear the music and partying from across the street. Marriages are customarily arranged by parents and happen during mid teenage years. The gypsies are family oriented and usually live together in a small house. From a young age, women are taught homemaking skills and are responsible for child care, but also receive help from extended family.
Almedina is nine years old and the oldest of five kids. She has three little brothers, ages two, three, and four, as well as a six year old sister. She’s outgoing, lovable, and kind. She walks through the gates gleaming with excitement and a smile that is permanently plastered to her face. She’s the first one to hug you when she doesn’t even know you. It may take her two or three times to finally get your name down but she wont stop trying. Marlo is pronounced “Mah-lo” and never ceases to melt my heart.
Almedina has her two year old brother Vural attached to her hip every time she comes to the church for the daily “soup kitchen.” (Side note: babies normally love me but I swear this one is a grumpy old man at heart. He will not smile haha.) She sits next to me trying to get Vural to sit on my lap, unsuccessfully. She can’t play patty-cake or run around with everyone because she’s taking care of her brother. She doesn’t look upset about it, but I can tell she wants to be up and playing with the rest of us.
The other day we provided the weekly kids’ church and Almaedina was absent. She finally arrived at the very end. She wore a black dress with flowers on it and I told her she looked pretty. Well, I mimed to her, considering the language barrier. For some reason I couldn’t shake the feeling I felt sad for her. I pictured her life in six years: Beautiful, young, married, drained. And never leaving Shutka. Stuck.
At the soup kitchen earlier this week, some kids were being very aggressive towards each other. When two started fighting, Almedina’s little sister, La-Nora, got hit in the leg. She was crying pretty hard so I asked if she wanted her mama. Almedina immediately gathered her little brothers while I carried La-Nora. Walking to her house, Almedina motioned me to put down La-Nora so we could see where she was hurting. La-Nora cried harder. Almedina looked up at me with tears in her eyes, crying with and for her sister. It took everything in me not to break down on the street. Not one other child there would have felt another person’s pain like Almedina. A swarm of emotions flooded over me as I cried behind the church. It makes me sad that her future is already laid out for her. That she may never see anything but Shutka. That she can’t just be a kid. That she has to mature so quickly. That the joy and smile across her face may fade to a bitter frown because of the oppression laid on her. But then again, is it really so bad? This is all she knows. This is normal life to her.
I pray Almadina never loses that joy. That she knows she is beautiful, capable, loved, and worthy because she is made perfectly in the image of God. And even though this story is about her, it’s really been a tool through which the Lord speaks to me, about me. I may never know what happens to her, but I do know that my own perspective has shifted. I probably can’t change lives in a really drastic way in 3-4 weeks, but I can surrender these children of the Lord to His reign. He will always care for, nurture, and provide for them. I may come alongside them for a little while to provide respite and encouragement, but He does the heavy lifting. I probably won’t break down sociocultural barriers (ie, corrupt governments, maltreatment of women, etc) or incite revolutions, but I can share the joy of the Lord through these ministries.
Oh and by the way Vural finally let me hold him 🙂 He wasn’t smiling but he wasn’t frowning either haha.
Blessings,
Marlo
