Each day, we can never know what is in store for us; what
types of experiences will come our way. How often have you gone out on a
regular day and seen something unexpected and wished you had a camera there to
capture it? Our cameras are never around when we need them the most. Yesterday
I had such an experience in a most unexpected place.
I was asked to take a friend to catch a bus to South Africa.
She arrived at my house around 6:30 am so we could go wait in the parking lot
for her 7 am departure. Africa being what it is, the bus arrived about an hour
late. We waited in my car and passed the time with conversation and people
watching. We began to notice more and more elderly people arriving to our
right. They sat down on the sidewalk outside in numbers that grew by the minute
until about 40 people filled the space.
There is something that I just love about older people. They carry
such a dignity to them. They have such a history behind them. They have stories
to tell and experiences to share. I especially admire the elderly here in
Mozambique. The average life expectancy in this country is 40 years of age. If
this were true for us in the US, most of us reading this blog would not be
alive right now, and I would not be here writing it either. People who make it to senior citizen status in
Mozambique are revered, as they should be. Imagine the stories these people
have to tell! They have lived through their country’s rise to independence from
colonialism, they have lived under both communism and democracy, and they have
endured a 17 year long civil war followed by severe flooding- both of which
ravaged the land. They have experienced all of this hardship as well as their
own personal struggles to survive in this third world country.
They were all so content. They came using walking sticks for
support. The upper part of these brown sticks were worn smooth and white from
years of use. Some struggled just to
step up the curb to get on the sidewalk. Others had no shoes and came
barefooted. A woman came leading a blind man who used a white-tipped walking
cane. Women carried bundles on their backs, tied up with capulanas. The
majority of people by far were women. Only a few men were in this group. They
sat and patiently waited, conversing amiably with one another. One older man
caught our attention. He had such a friendly face and seemed so gentle and
kind. There was something about him that made you want to go up and hug him. Another
old man arrived in wearing a blue suit jacket. It was old, worn, and showed the
wear of many, many years, but we were touched by his desire to look his best
for this outing. The women were all wearing the traditional capulanas. They
were a beautiful tapestry of colors and patterns.
Then the gate near them began to open. They stood and made a
line. A young Muslim girl wearing a beautifully ornate head dress began to pass
out bread. One at a time, they filed by accepting a small roll from her hand. The young girl did not smile at them or speak
to them. Her face was passive as she went through this duty her family had left
to her to complete. As the people passed through, they then began to form
another line on the opposite side of the door. We later discovered this was to
file through a second time for the extras. We marveled at the generosity of
this Muslim family, who clearly have done this every Friday for some time. We
marveled at the sadness of a people, who would be so desperate for a small
piece of bread that they would wake up early and walk who knows how far to sit
and wait to receive it. We marveled at the discipline of a people of faith, who
so obediently carry out the command we all have received to care for the poor.
And it made us question how obedient we are to this same command.
As they filed through, a woman wearing a capulana decorated
with bunches of grapes arrived late. I vividly remember her because I intently
began to watch to make sure she at least got one roll. The first handouts had
already been completed, so she took her place about two-thirds of the way back
in the line of people waiting to receive a second roll. I kept my eyes directed
on her as person after person received their second roll. I prayed asking God to make sure that these
extras lasted long enough for her to receive a bread. And she did! In fact, she
received the very last of the rolls! Thank you Jesus! There is always enough!
After the bread supply was depleted, the people filed off,
down the sidewalk, and around the corner. I had already been told that on
Fridays, Muslims are required share a portion of their earnings with the poor. This is why you often see old women begging
for money out on the corners at the street lights on Fridays. I don’t know if
this is true everywhere, but it is here. Amy told me that the elderly go from
place to place on Friday accepting these gifts. A butchery near our old house
prepares little bags of meat and passes them out every Friday. Another place
passes out vegetables, and another may pass out fruit.
So now I am left with how to process this and what to do
about it. I see need here every day. Most times I am overwhelmed by the extent
of need there is. It is more than a person could fill in a lifetime, and it can
make me feel so small and inadequate. Each day I see people begging, people
wearing dirty, tattered clothing and going without shoes, and people just
sitting with despair written all over their faces. But then I remember that I
serve a big God who owns the cattle on a thousand hills. I remember that Jesus
said, “Blessed are the poor, for they shall inherit the kingdom of God.” And I
remember that, as Heidi Baker teaches, Jesus died that there would always be
enough. And I am blessed by so many of you who have given to the people here,
some of you who have not even visited here! I realize that if we all do a
little bit…whether it be passing out a small roll to a hungry person, sending
money to buy pillows for children to lay their heads on at night, donating
shoes, sacrificing our time and comfort
to come and play with orphans or build a church…together we can make a
difference. Together we can be the hands and feet of our Father.
Through our
actions we can show His love for His people and let them know He sees and He
cares.
