It was the golden hour. The sun was beaming slowly setting behind the mountains. Florence decided to take us for a walk to visit a nearby compound which is essentially a small village. Small 10×10 brick houses closely neighbored eachother. Small fire pits scattered in the front yards. Mud huts for cooking lined the woodline. The children starred at first as they hid behind trees or their parents. Most of them had never seen a maroongue (a white person) before. They watched our every move. Shortly after arriving you could hear them whispering and laughing. Jamie and Alleigh would chase them while roaring as if to be “scary” . They scattered like sprayed cockroaches while giggling.
And so it began, for the remainder of the time we had a small village of children following closely surrounding us as we walked. They ranged in age from 3-17. With their dusty skin, and bare feet they waited expectantly for our next move.
As they started to feel more comfortable they would ask us in broken English… How are you?
I answered back mushey mushey (fine fine) and they start laughing amongst themselves.
They would reach out their little hands to join ours as we walked.
One boy in particular caught my eye. It appeared as though he had cerebral palsy or another disability of some kind. His hands were contracted and drool ran down his chin. But his eyes were piercing and his smile was beaming. Another boy, I spotted seemed to be the runt of the bunch. He was being picked on, smacked, teased, and he would every so often stop to sit down and pick the sanspurs out of his little bare feet as the children poked fun at him.
Neither of these kids seemed to be accepted by the group. No one seemed to care for them or desire to be their friend. But Jesus would of walked with them. He sees them and loves them just the way they are. So I wanted to walk with them too. And that’s exactly what I did. Me in the middle with a child on my left and the other on my right. We walked, skipped, along while laughing, the the small village of children flocking behind us.
They followed us from house to house. We would stop and pray for people, hugging them, and tickling their children. The group of kids would stop and stare, wait patiently for us to finish, clasp their little hands with ours and we would proceed to the next house. This continued for an hour or so.
When our house visits were finished we hugged, shook hands, and said our goodbyes.
We starated off on a windy red dirt road, and when we turned around we could see about 50 kids running our way. Come back! We’re coming they yelled! They weren’t ready for us to leave. They followed us a mile or so back to our home stay and stopped at our gate as we entered our property.
50 little chocolate brown faces with gleaming eyes, and toothless smiles stared back at us, waving goodbye.
Some of those faces I’ll never forget.
I wish I had pictures to show you what I saw that day.
Often times I post pictures of my experiences for my friends and family back home to see. You see the monkeys, the elephants, the cool places we visit, the landscapes, and the adventures. To some it appears as though we’re on an 11 month vacation.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Well I have lots of photos, of cool places, cool things, and some incredible people. But there are some things we see that aren’t captured on film. A few things you don’t see that I will never forget.
Faces you’ll never see that will be forever etched in my mind. Things I’ve done I wish I could relive over and over. And places you’ll never see that sometimes I never want to leave.
You don’t see the mudd houses, the 10×10 brick buildings with tin roofs that sleep 8-10 people. You don’t see the malnourished children, whom more than half probably have AIDS, or life threatening illnesses. You don’t see their hand me down tattered clothes with holes or their rough bare feet full of sand spurs. You don’t see the flies that encircle them because their odor is so strong. You don’t see the wash basins with dirty stagnit water they use to wash their dishes in. You don’t see their wet clothes hanging on fences, bushes, and tree stumps waiting to dry. You don’t see the concrete floors they sleep on or the cob webs filled with spiders that decorate their walls and ceilings. You don’t see the African mudd caked to their legs and their face, or the dry snot that has streamed out of their noses. You don’t see the women and children walking for miles with bags, boxes, and barrels of corn on top of their heads. While they carry their babies on their backs.
For most of them, when it gets dark, they have no light, when the food runs out, they don’t eat, and when they get dirty if they don’t have a water supply, they don’t bathe. When it gets cold they are probably huddled together shivering because most of them don’t have blankets. When they get sick, they have no doctors. Most of them have probably never seen a doctor.
They don’t have shoes, very many clothes, or much to their name.
BUT they do have JOY.
The most joy I’ve ever seen in a person. I can’t capture that on film for you. I can’t reenact the giggles or the glow in their smiles when we show up. I can’t depict on film how tight they squeeze me, and how cold their little hands are. I can’t catch the tears that flow when we pray for them.
It humbles me to be here. To see them elated when we reach for their hand. To see them squirm during a tickle fight. To rock a baby to sleep when we hold them in our arms. To hear their shrinking screams when we chase them.
There is something to be learned from the people here.
They have PURE joy from the lord.
In western culture we have everything we could want at our fingertips. We live in the land of options and opportunities. Yet we are empty. Lost. Greedy. Ungrateful. And unhappy. We’re always searching for the next best thing. Always starving for more.
Some of these kids are literally starving, some of them have never been hugged or told I love you. They have almost next to nothing and have inexpressible joy.
It broke my heart to see the villages we went to, but at the same time, humbled me and filled me with such peace.
It showed me at face value what TRUE joy looked like.
They literally have nothing, but seem to posses everything.
They may seem unknown because you have never met them, or haven’t seen them in a photo. But God sees them. He knows them Each by name. He created them each on purpose for a purpose. Maybe it was simply to humble me and give me a new perspective. To see his children in a different light.
I don’t need a photo to remember them or know that they’re there. I’ve seen it with my eyes. I’ve seen the brokenness, the poverty, the trash piles heaped up.
But I’ve also seen the peace, the smiles, the love, and the pure joy. All the words in the world can’t describe what I’ve seen. And what I’ve seen is far more valuable than any old photo.
