As I walk along the road I hear people yell out Kywah, which means white person, as they lift up their hands and wave. All year we have stood out and especially here in Africa, we can be spotted for miles. A few of my team mates and I are working with a pastor that ministers to orphans and squatters. My heart hurt for these people.
Squatters are citizens that have no identity. They are either orphans or children that lived on the street, who end up getting married and building a homestead on land. These homes are often made of scrap metal, mud, boxes and anything else they can find to make a shelter. These people do not have an identity as most of them were not born in a hospital, which causes them to have no birth certificate. In Zimbabwe if you don’t have a birth certificate, you can’t get an identity card, which means the government does not help you out and your kids can not go to school.
The camp we were able to visit was made up of at least 4 different homes/buildings. There was about 20 people living amongst these shelters young and old.
As I continue walking into the homestead I spot a small little girl, who looked to be around the age of 3. She was busy doing laundry. Her little hands wrapped around a bar of soap, scrubbing away at a piece of clothing. In my mind I couldn’t believe that such a small child was hand washing laundry. As she looked at me with wide eyes, wondering why this white person was in her home, I bent down to her level, tickled her little belly and got a big smile. A glimmer of hope was in her eyes, she may help around the house, but she is still like any other toddler. Playing with the other kids, joining in on a game of peek-a-boo with my team mate Anna Beth. It was so cool to see the children laughing and giggling amongst the living conditions that I would consider less than ideal, but to them it is home.
It is a place where the women raise their children, and the young girls watch over their husbands parents. It provides them with shelter and a place to rest their head at night. The man of the house was a 93 year old blind man, who asked for prayer for his sons, as they were mentally ill. In this culture that could mean that they are drug addicts, alcoholics, abusive or have different mental illnesses. The women do most of the work, bringing in money to provide for the kids and the family. It is quite sad seeing how little of an impact men have on family dwellings here. This man was so grateful that we had made an effort to come to his house and pray over them.
Amongst all the hurt that this family has to deal with there was hope. They had belief in a God that would provide for them. They had nothing physically but had everything spiritually. We took down the names of each child and their family status and it was so cool to get to be a part of the beginning stages of HOPE Zimbabwe helping this family out and meeting the needs of the children there.
The coolest ending to the day, was that the little girl who caught my eye was named Rejoice. They have so much to rejoice in and the glimmer in her eyes tells me that she is going to be okay, because she is loved more then we can even imagine by God and he is going to take care of her.
Picture credit goes to Sarah Patty!
