It is an almost everyday occurrence to be approached by someone asking for money, especially here in Africa. And I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that 99.999% of the time, its not a life-or-death situation. All too often, the locals see muzungus (people with white skin), assume we are extremely wealthy, and think its entirely appropriate to ask us to give them money, our possessions, or a handout of some kind.
I’ve made it a point to never give out money, especially when I’m asked for it. I do this for two reasons. The first being that, while I am comparably more wealthy than most of the people we encounter, I simply do not have enough money to give even a little bit to everyone who asks. The second reason is that I don’t want to set precedent. Meaning, that if I give money when an African asks me, they’ll think that it’s ok to ask the next muzungu they meet… and the next and the next and the next….
To be perfectly honest, I’d become hardened to those who approach us and ask for things. When you’re constantly bombarded with requests for cameras, money, school fees, your watch, and computers, you eventually become apathetic. I’m not proud of it, but I lost sight of why I came on the World Race to begin with. I started getting straight up angry when people would take one look at my skin and decide it was acceptable to come and ask me to give them whatever they wanted.
And then God intervened.
Josephat was introduced to us towards the beginning of our month in Tanzania. We were able to get a break from the door-to-door evangelism (yes, again) and spend some time with the 108 orphans that he and his wife care for on the outskirts of Mwanza. He is deeply in debt and is struggling to find incoming donations in order to fund the work he is doing for the kids. We told him that we didn’t have money to give, but we would love to come and play with the kids, teach them Bible stories, and love them. We spent a few days there and then it was back to evangelism.
During our last few days in Mwanza, Josephat called asking me for money for food in order to feed the kids at his orphanage. My first reaction was to say no, so I told him that I didn’t have any money, but I would talk to my team and call him right back. My team and I discussed our options: give Josephat money for food, go buy food and give the food to Josephat, or don’t do anything knowing that it could mean 108 kids going hungry.
The main question I had was this: what would Josephat have done if we weren’t able to provide? Would the kids have empty bellies or would someone else, a local African perhaps, step up? The immediate need he expressed (food for the orphans) was not the real problem. The real problem is that he continually finds himself without food or money to buy food. My desire was not to purposefully let the kids go without food, but to avoid creating a situation where Josephat would continue to expect and depend on donations from muzungus. Instead, I wanted to empower him to strive for a more permanent solution for feeding the kids. I want to see Josephat work toward creating a self-sustaining orphanage where the kids getting fed everyday isn’t dependent on inconsistent and random donations.
But there was still the problem facing me that there were 108 orphans who needed to eat that day. I didn’t know how desperate their situation really was. I didn’t know how long it had been since they had eaten, whether or not there were any other means of getting food, or if stepping in would cause more complications and dependency. And I suddenly realized that it simply didn’t matter.
Matthew 25:34-36, 40
I realized that inaction wasn’t an option. So my team and I came up with a solution and asked our amazing translator and friend Mosses to help me go to the market and buy food to take to the orphanage. We had 60,000 shillings (just under 40 USD) and that was enough to buy 30kg of maize flour to make ugali and a gallon of cooking oil. From the chaotic and hectic market, Mosses and I hired a metal cart to help us get the food to the stage (translation: bus stop) where we would catch a dala dala to meet up with Josephat. Mosses and I fought our way into the dala dala, paid the extra 1000 shilling bribe for the huge bag of maize flour, leaked oil all over my lap, and finally were spit out at the stage where we met Josephat and transferred the food to his vehicle.
Nothing in Africa is easy.
As I sit reflecting on the situation, I’m so glad that I didn’t choose to be passive in the situation. I’m glad that I can look back confident that I did everything I could for “the least of these.” I’m glad that there are 108 kids without families who went to bed with food in their stomachs. I’m glad that the love of Jesus can be expressed through maize flour and cooking oil.
I received an email from Josephat a few days ago, and this is part of what he wrote: “Laura… you have helped us. You did not let the lies of the enemy of God’s will lead and decide for you. You have been a blessing to us. Thank you.”
I was struck by the truth of what Josephat wrote. The enemy doesn’t want us to help the “least of these.” The enemy has used the constant requests for handouts to make me callous and hard-hearted towards helping those I encounter. I’m humbled and grateful that God broke through that barrier and reminded me why I was in Tanzania in the first place.
I’ve been working on a website for Josephat because I wanted to leave him with something more lasting and a way to help him get the word out about his orphanage. Its been a challenge in itself, but its finally up and running. You can check it out at http://watotowaafrica.org/
