Small but Mighty

Our foundation supports a preschool in the Matola-Santos community, located near our factory and home. This preschool is directed by none other than our wonderful Berta. She started the preschool about a year and a half ago. At this time, most of the children in her community project attended school in the morning, so the project children left at her house in the mornings were mostly preschoolers. Therefore, it only made sense to create a preschool for these little ones. 

In the beginning, it was lovely. There were only nine children in the preschool. I loved going there to sing, play, and squeeze their chubby little cheeks. 

Yet each time I went there, it seemed to me that they were multiplying. Nine turned into 13; 13 turned into 19, and so it continued until one day I stopped to count… I counted 29 children! This is when I had my “less is more” talk with Berta. There was only one teacher for these 29 children. They had nothing available to them. No toys. No books. No crayons. Not even chairs to sit on. These dearies sat and slept on the cement floor of an outside area. I spoke with Berta about how difficult it is for one teacher to meet the needs of 29 two-, three- and four-year olds. Yet Berta would look at me with her sad, puppy dog eyes and say, “But in my heart I cannot say no to them.” She knew that by helping these children, she was helping their parents. She gave the children a safe place to learn, play, and nap while the parents were free to then go out and work to earn much needed money to support their families. So since Berta could not turn any needy child away, I decided I had better help her transform her heart’s desire into a viable solution.

Last January, we covered the cost for her and 4 women who would be her teachers to attend a two-week preschool teacher training workshop. They learned how to manage a classroom and teach a preschool curriculum. We then purchased this curriculum and provided a workbook for each student in the preschool. 

Berta then held an official registration for children and before I knew it, she had 4 full classes of children containing 20-25 children in each class. They started their lessons in late January 2016. Throughout this past year, it has been the highlight of my weeks to go and visit this preschool. I enter through the gate to be mauled by 100 children who almost knock me to the ground as they swarm me and wrap themselves around my legs. I make sure to physically connect with each and every child with a kiss, a hug or a touch in some way. Their love and exuberant joy fill me with love and joy as well. Our foundation has helped in many ways this year with many different projects to improve the preschool. I also try to get there as often as possible, not just to garner hugs, but to teach Bible lessons with a craft or to sing a song or tell a story.

We have completed a variety of projects including opening up the rooms by removing the dividing wall, adding a window and a ceiling fan, and painting the walls. Thanks to generous donors, we provided toys, watercolors, pencils, crayons, books...all the things that help the children learn and play.

Fast forward to December 3, 2016. Berta scheduled a graduation ceremony for the five-year-old class. We literally arranged our plane tickets to return back to Mozambique after celebrating Thanksgiving with our family in the US just to attend this special day. It meant everything to Berta. The graduation was to begin at 9:00 am. Almost every event here occurs in what we term “Mozambican Time”. When a time is given, you can count on the fact that nothing will happen until one to two hours later. This happens with workmen who are coming to your house, public events, meetings, and even weddings. I left my house at 8:20 to begin the short drive to Berta’s. At 8:25 I got a call from her asking if I would soon arrive. I found this strange seeing that the graduation was not scheduled to begin until 9. Add in the fact that this is Mozambique. I really believed I had lots of time and could not understand why she was so concerned about how close I was to the preschool. A few minutes later I arrived at Berta’s, parked my car, walked down the short lane to her house, and pulled open the large sliding metal gate to enter her property. I was shocked beyond belief to see before me rows and rows of parents lined up in plastic chairs quietly waiting for the graduation to begin. There was not a seat left! And it was only 8:34!! I sheepishly passed by them to enter into the preschool building. There before me stood two lines of five-year-olds dressed in their finest clothes. Everyone was ready to start…they were all waiting on me!! I did a sweep of the room to locate Berta. At first I did not see her, but then I did a double take. I could hardly recognize her! She was beautifully dressed in a smart white blouse and a capulana that matched with all of her teachers'. Her hair was a new style for her that made her look so fashionable. She had gone all out to look her best. After a quick hug, she shooshed me off to a chair in the audience, and the ceremony began.

Music blared from the stereo as 25 five-year-olds came marching out with their hands waving in the air. Their teachers, all wearing matching capulanas around their waists, and Berta proudly entered in with them. They assembled before us in two lines- girls in the front and boys in the back. A message was shared with the parents by a young man from Berta’s church. He spoke to the parents about the critical responsibility they have to teach their children in godly ways. This was followed by the children singing the National Anthem of Mozambique. Every day in every school in Mozambique begins the children lining up outside of their classrooms singing the anthem. And this is a good thing too…because Mozambique has to have the longest anthem of all the countries in the world! The children’s singing was of course lovely, but soon, the children from Berta’s project who had gathered to watch joined in, and this was followed by the parents. For me, this was one of those, “I can’t believe I am here in Africa and having this experience” moments. It left me in awe.

The ceremony continued with a series of activities where the children displayed what they had learned during the past year. Each of the 25 children went to a chalkboard one by one and wrote their name. Each child was rewarded with a round of enthusiastic applause by the assembly of proud of parents. This may not sound like a big deal to us Westerners, but here in Mozambique, it is a BIG thing for a preschooler to know how to write their name. Many children do not complete first grade knowing how to do this. The children continued on with letter and color recognition and even role played occupations they wanted to be when they grew up. As I watched the parents watch their children, I was amused by how many were recording the ceremony with their phones and electronic tablets. We Americans get busted on all the time for viewing our children’s accomplishments through the lens of a camera instead of just sitting and enjoying the moment. Let me tell you…we have nothing over the Mozambicans!!

The children then marched back into the building to don their graduation garb. They returned to the performance area wearing caps and gowns. 

Each child was awarded a diploma and a present bag to mark this special accomplishment in their lives. The ceremony concluded with the usual round of speeches by the director, Berta, the teachers, the cheffe of the area, and by me, the madrinha, or patron, of the preschool. They love their speeches here! The event concluded with a feast of food for the children, who were served at little tables, and their parents, who gathered around the food table and helped themselves to all that was left.

Berta and I stood back and just watched everyone gathering to share a meal and celebrate the accomplishments of their children. We took in the sight before us with a humble pride. What began with nine little ones had grown into this! A lot of sweat, tears, discussions, and efforts had gone into this moment in time. And it felt oh so good to see the fruit of our labor before us.  

Reflections upon Returning to my Home Away from Home

Family events and a busy schedule kept me away from Mozambique for most of this past summer. When I am here in Mozambique, I miss America. When I am in America, I miss Mozambique. I have resigned myself to the fact that no matter where I am, I will always be in a state of homesickness. As I was away in the US for so long this year, I started getting too used to life there…being with my children, family and friends…indulging in all that is good…relishing a life that is predictable and planned. It was so easy to settle back into life as I once knew it.

And while I yearned to return to Mozambique, when I arrived here, I was not so sure I was ready to face life here again. On my first day back, I wanted to hole up in our home and not go out. I wanted to just stay inside and cry for what I missed back home. But I knew that was not a good idea at all. So I made myself get up and go out. I reluctantly pulled out of my driveway and had to literally force myself to close the front gate behind me and continue down the road. I said a prayer, pushed on the gas pedal, and went on my way. And God met me right then and there.

As I turned the corner at the end of my street, I spied a random middle-aged man walking along the road. This is so very normal here as most people walk everywhere. My eyes were drawn to his, and his eyes locked with mine as I drew closer to him. Then all of a sudden, he broke into a huge smile and waved to me like we were best friends. My heart was immediately filled with happiness, and I thanked God for this gift. 

I drove to Berta’s preschool where all the women in the surrounding village came out to greet me and told me how much I was missed and asked why I had stayed away so long. The thought hit me…I was missed! I entered into Berta’s Preschool where I was literally swarmed by at least 40 little children who chanted my name as they hugged me to the point of almost knocking off my feet. Berta came out and cleared them away. She turned her attention to me. Her face lit up and she welcomed me with the biggest ever hug. This all had occurred within 20 minutes of leaving my house! The day continued on like this as I went from place to place. I was received with such love. A love that filled the hole in my heart.

I drove around from place to place most of the day. As I did, it was like a walk down memory lane for me.

I had forgotten how tired a person can look.

And then I saw how sweet was a baby’s face as it peeked around at me from his mommy’s back.

I had forgotten the smoke that stings your eyes and fill your nostrils.

And then I remembered the smell of freshly baked pao (Mozambican bread) at the bakery.

I had forgotten the over-stuffed vans that carry people around like they were cargo.

And then I saw little girls dancing freely along the streets.

I had forgotten the sight of garbage lining the streets, overflowing onto them in many places.

And then I saw the care and pride that people take of their little homes that you and I would be devastated to stay in for even just one night.

I had forgotten what it was like to see men and women picking food out of garbage dumpsters and eating it. Food that I would not even give to my dogs!

And then I had the privilege of gifting a man picking spoiled food from my garbage can in front of my home with a bag of fresh fruit and bread and water.

I had forgotten the hopeless look in the faces of the poor sitting around with no work, no opportunity, no dignity.

And then I had the privilege of holding a recently abandoned two year-old girl until she fell asleep in my arms.

I had forgotten what it was like to see children in tattered clothing and mis-sized shoes that were either too big or too small for their feet.

And then I had the privilege of buying a pair of shoes for a brother and sister who had none.

I had forgotten the irritation of being pulled over by a police officer and interrogated for no reason at all.

And then I was able to surprise a police officer doing legitimate work directing traffic in the middle of a busy intersection on a hot day with a Coca Cola to thank him for his service.

Life here is hard for everyone. Yet it is a good life. It has its up and its downs, just as in every other place. But there is something very, very special about life in Mozambique. Something that makes you feel like you are making a difference. Something that makes you realize you are needed and wanted. Something that makes you feel just plain good at the end of the day.

Every time I have to say goodbye to visitors who have come to stay with us and experience Mozambique, I feel so very, very lucky. They have to leave. But I get to stay here. In my beloved Mozambique.  

Reflections upon Returning to my Home Away from Home

Family events and a busy schedule kept me away from Mozambique for most of this past summer. When I am here in Mozambique, I miss America. When I am in America, I miss Mozambique. I have resigned myself to the fact that no matter where I am, I will always be in a state of homesickness. As I was away in the US for so long this year, I started getting too used to life there…being with my children, family and friends…indulging in all that is good…relishing a life that is predictable and planned. It was so easy to settle back into life as I once knew it.

And while I yearned to return to Mozambique, when I arrived here, I was not so sure I was ready to face life here again. On my first day back, I wanted to hole up in our home and not go out. I wanted to just stay inside and cry for what I missed back home. But I knew that was not a good idea at all. So I made myself get up and go out. I reluctantly pulled out of my driveway and had to literally force myself to close the front gate behind me and continue down the road. I said a prayer, pushed on the gas pedal, and went on my way. And God met me right then and there.

As I turned the corner at the end of my street, I spied a random middle-aged man walking along the road. This is so very normal here as most people walk everywhere. My eyes were drawn to his, and his eyes locked with mine as I drew closer to him. Then all of a sudden, he broke into a huge smile and waved to me like we were best friends. My heart was immediately filled with happiness, and I thanked God for this gift. 

I drove to Berta’s preschool where all the women in the surrounding village came out to greet me and told me how much I was missed and asked why I had stayed away so long. The thought hit me…I was missed! I entered into Berta’s Preschool where I was literally swarmed by at least 40 little children who chanted my name as they hugged me to the point of almost knocking off my feet. Berta came out and cleared them away. She turned her attention to me. Her face lit up and she welcomed me with the biggest ever hug. This all had occurred within 20 minutes of leaving my house! The day continued on like this as I went from place to place. I was received with such love. A love that filled the hole in my heart.

I drove around from place to place most of the day. As I did, it was like a walk down memory lane for me.

I had forgotten how tired a person can look.

And then I saw how sweet was a baby’s face as it peeked around at me from his mommy’s back.

I had forgotten the smoke that stings your eyes and fill your nostrils.

And then I remembered the smell of freshly baked pao (Mozambican bread) at the bakery.

I had forgotten the over-stuffed vans that carry people around like they were cargo.

And then I saw little girls dancing freely along the streets.

I had forgotten the sight of garbage lining the streets, overflowing onto them in many places.

And then I saw the care and pride that people take of their little homes that you and I would be devastated to stay in for even just one night.

I had forgotten what it was like to see men and women picking food out of garbage dumpsters and eating it. Food that I would not even give to my dogs!

And then I had the privilege of gifting a man picking spoiled food from my garbage can in front of my home with a bag of fresh fruit and bread and water.

I had forgotten the hopeless look in the faces of the poor sitting around with no work, no opportunity, no dignity.

And then I had the privilege of holding a recently abandoned two year-old girl until she fell asleep in my arms.

I had forgotten what it was like to see children in tattered clothing and mis-sized shoes that were either too big or too small for their feet.

And then I had the privilege of buying a pair of shoes for a brother and sister who had none.

I had forgotten the irritation of being pulled over by a police officer and interrogated for no reason at all.

And then I was able to surprise a police officer doing legitimate work directing traffic in the middle of a busy intersection on a hot day with a Coca Cola to thank him for his service.

Life here is hard for everyone. Yet it is a good life. It has its up and its downs, just as in every other place. But there is something very, very special about life in Mozambique. Something that makes you feel like you are making a difference. Something that makes you realize you are needed and wanted. Something that makes you feel just plain good at the end of the day.

Every time I have to say goodbye to visitors who have come to stay with us and experience Mozambique, I feel so very, very lucky. They have to leave. But I get to stay here. In my beloved Mozambique.  

Maria- PROBLEM SOLVED!!!!

You may remember my previous blog about Maria… It was entitled, “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?”. (If you want to refresh your memory, you can find it at http://sunshineinafrica.blogspot.com/2016_01_01_archive.html).

Maria was the little girl who at the end of first grade was told by the school system that she was deficient and could not continue on to grade 2. Deficient!! How could anyone tell a 7 year old child that she is deficient? And why did they tell her this? She is unable to speak well and cannot walk well due to a mild case of multiple sclerosis. Since Maria could not return to school, she spent the next 3  years learning alongside the 3, 4, and 5 year olds at Vovo Berta’s preschool. Maria was far from deficient. She could write well and even read a little. But because she was not able to speak or walk well, the public school system cast her aside.

We believed she had potential. We believed she deserved a chance to learn. We believed she could thrive and do well. So our company, Sunshine Nut Company, through our Sunshine Approach Foundation, is sponsoring her to attend primary school at Escola Luz e Vida (Light and Life School). The director of this school is an amazing woman who agreed to give Maria a chance.

Maria has been attending school for the past 5 months. Each month when I go out to the school to pay her tuition, I check in with the director to see how she is doing. The director has told me that she is a sweet girl  who works hard and is doing well. Those are very kind and encouraging words. Yet I was waiting to see concrete proof that she was succeeding.

Upon my return to Mozambique this past week from a trip to the US, my first stop was to go to Berta’s Project and check in on her and the children. As I was leaving Berta’s project, Maria greeted me at the gate with a huge smile. She was so happy to see I was back in Mozambique again. After receiving a long and tight hug, she told me that she had her grades from her first semester of school. I told her to bring them to the community feeding we sponsor the following day and I would take a look at them. If I had known what I would see on her report, I would not have waited!! She brought her report to me the next day. Grades in Mozambique are based on a point system with 20 being the highest value.  A grade of 14 or above is considered above average. Check out her grades (and her photo with her big, beaming, well deserved smile)…

Portuguese- 18

Mathematics- 20

Visual Education- 16

Music- 16

Physical Education- 16

Art- 15

Her final average was…17!!! 17 out of 20!!! Do you even realize how amazing that is?! For a regular, normal child, 17 would be amazing. For Maria, it is out of this world!!! I was overwhelmed and rejoiced with her and her parents as I looked at her report. I just could not believe it. I profusely lavished an incredible amount of praise on her as other children stood in the street watching on, wondering what all the fuss was about. Maria was so proud…unbelievably proud. Everyone was grinning…Maria, her mom, her dad, me, and all the children around us. Today, we are taking her family all the fixings for a celebratory meal...chicken, rice, potatoes, carrots, soft drinks, and a big cake that says "Parabens", Congratulations. We are doing this because this is not just a victory for Maria...it is a victory for her whole family. She could not have done this without them. Her mother and father take her by chapa (public transport) to and from school each day. This a a huge time commitment on their part, and they have been faithful in doing this every day. Therefore, we believe that all deserve to celebrate together.

It is because of people like Maria that we are here in Mozambique. This is why we established the Sunshine Nut Company. We believed that the people of Mozambique deserve hope, opportunity, and dignity. We wanted to transform lives. Our efforts here are challenging, and we go through many days where it feels like we are facing more challenges than we are enjoying successes. Yet today, little Maria brought us immense joy as she showed us that we are transforming lives. The pride in her eyes and the smile on her face and even the way she held her posture straight and tall demonstrated that her life has been transformed. It makes me so very sad to think of what would have happened to Maria if we had not been here to intervene in her life. There are so many more children like Maria who deserve the same chance that she has received. We will continue on and on and on, reaching as many children and adults as we can…and moments like today will fuel us to keep on keeping on.

Three Little Words

Time and time again, I experience first-hand that all people want is to be noticed and to know that someone cares. This is true throughout the whole world, not just here in Mozambique.

This was our third Saturday of feeding the children in the Matola-Santos community a meal. This month we started out small, feeding the 39 children in Berta's Project and inviting in about 40 children from the community. After taking care of the children in Berta's Project, we invite the community children to come through her gate. They wash their hands, receive their meal, and settle down to eat it. After they are done eating and the plates are collected, I sing with them, share a Bible story with them, and send them off. Our goal for our first month was to get ourselves organized and everything running smoothly. Next month, we will increase the number of children we invite.

Last week I told them the story of how God created the world. This week, I reviewed it with them. We reviewed what God did on each day and added in hand motions to help them remember it. I would show out (in Portuguese) and they would repeat after me: Day 1…God made…the day and the night. Day 2…God made…the great big sky. Day 3…God made…the oceans in one place, the land in another place, and the plants. Day 4…God made…the sun, the moon, and the stars. Day 5…God made…the fish (and we made fish faces, which made us all laugh hysterically) and the birds. Day 6…God made…animals and people. Day 7…(whispering) God rested (and we snored, making us all laugh hysterically again). They did not just repeat these phrases, they screamed them out with enthusiasm. I believe the entire population of Matola-Santos learned along with them. We had a blast!

At the end, we were exhausted. They were all sitting on the ground as I stood before them. And then…my world was wrecked. A little girl in a torn yellow shirt and pink tutu, stood up, came to my side, looked straight up into my face and clearly stated, “Mama Terri, eu te gosto.” (Mama Terri, I like you.) I melted to my knees and told her that I liked her as well. She wrapped her skinny arms around my neck and hugged me tightly, not letting go. As she did, the 41 children assembled before us began to cheer loudly and clap their hands. In this culture, it is not accepted for a grown person to cry, but I could not help myself. I cried. And I cried. And the more I cried, the more they cheered.

I cried because this little girl felt God’s love. I cried because this moment would not have happened without my husband I having taken a huge step of faith to reach out to these children. I cried because these 3 little words and this hug made all the years of sacrifice and tears worth it all. I cried because so many family members and friends support our work financially and through their prayers. It is because of them that I can do the work I do here, and they will never have the joy of having a little girl look up at them and say, “Eu te gusto,” and be able to feel her arms wrapped around their necks. I cried because many of the 42 children with me don’t have anyone in their lives who tells them that they like them.

Once I finally collected myself, and the little girl let go of my neck, and the cheering died down, I stood before 42 children with the biggest grins on their faces. They were elated. They touched me deeply, and it thrilled them. We sang “Jesus Loves Me”, I prayed for them, and they were dismissed to go home. As they filed out the gate, each and every child made their way to me, arms outstretched to receive a hug. Even the older 14 year old boys came for a hug! They wanted to be loved as well. I could hardly contain my emotions. After the last child was hugged and had slipped out the gate, I shut the gate and saw Berta looking on. She was grinning from ear to ear, having witnessed what had just happened at her project. It was good. So very very good. And it was all God.

So for all the children who had full bellies yesterday and felt the love of God, I want to tell each of you reading this story, “Nos te gostamos” (We like you). Imagine our arms wrapped around your neck and consider yourself hugged!

My Vovos

In Mozambique, people use different titles to address others. These titles are dependent upon their age. A young man is called “mano”, meaning brother, and “mana” for a young woman, meaning sister. As a person ages and reaches about 30 years of age, they become “pai” or father and “mae” or  mother. A person over 40 is called a vovo, which literally means grandparent but in actuality what they are saying is that you are just plain old. Technically, I am a vovo but I don’t let anyone call me that. I make them call me Mama Terri!

Some time ago, Berta told me about two vovos  that her 13 year old daughter Amanda was helping. Amanda would see this man and woman sitting outside their homes on her way to and from school each day. They were old and unable to walk. They had no one to care for them. So Amanda took it upon herself to bring them food from her family’s own meager supplies and to clean and mop their one room homes. I was impressed by Amanda’s care for them, but not surprised. She has the heart of her mother who runs a community project for 39 orphaned and vulnerable children as well as a preschool for 80 needy children and helps many families with their needs.

In my frequent drives through the community while going to Berta’s, I finally spied two vovos who appeared to be the older people Berta had described to me. Berta confirmed to me that these were indeed Amanda’s vovos. She told me the woman was the mother of the man. I didn’t just want to go walking up to two strangers! But now that I had seen them with my own eyes, my heart also was touched seeing them sitting in the dirt outside their little homes.

Our relationship started out slowly. I would wave as I passed by and they would wave back. I was never quite sure if the woman could see or hear me. Her son always saw me first and would point me out to her. She then would wave in my direction. I wanted more than just to wave at them, so I stopped by one day with food for them. The son spoke a little Portuguese. He has a speech impediment and is difficult to understand, but we make do.  His mother understood Portuguese but spoke Shongan, but we make do as well. Pretty much what happens is that  I “talk” at her and she “talks” at me. I used the little bit of Shongan that I know, which impressed her thoroughly. As you can see, our communication was a bit stifled, but that was just fine with the three of us. We simply enjoyed each other’s company. I even learned their names. The woman is Teresa (my name..Theresa!! How cool is that?! We all had a good laugh over that one, and it seems to increase our bond to each other). The man is Bento.

Their warm acceptance of me during that first visit emboldened me to go further and stop by more. Yet I did not want them to get the impression that I would bring something to them every time I drive by…I go up and down that road multiple times a day. They would get fat and I would go broke! So sometimes I stop with food and sometimes I just wave. I have taken them food many more times, as well as clothing and shoes. I brought a new capulana for the woman one day, which thrilled her!! (In fact, I see that she has it around her shoulders in the photo above.) It makes me want to take her one every day from here on out! Our communication remains a bit limited, to put it nicely, but we still get along just fine. Sometimes there are other ways to communicate than with words.

I must admit I was also a bit nervous what their neighbors would think about a white woman stopping in their area so much.  It is a tight dirt road, so I have to pull up onto someone’s property in order to be out of the way. I worried they would begin to ask me for things as well, which puts me in an uncomfortable situation. After all, as much as I would like to, I can’t help everyone. And I even worried they may just not like me being there. Yet despite my concerns, I have received a very favorable response. They already recognized me because I was forever driving by, but now they knew I cared enough to stop and care for these two people who do not have the capacity to care for themselves. During one visit the cheffe of the area (like the mayor) came to see me. He introduced himself to me and thanked me for taking an interest in these two people who live in his zone. So now I am not just a passerby. They are happy to see me come and stop.

My stops have also opened up somewhat of a relationship with the neighbors. One time as I was getting back into my car, I saw a  tiny girl with capulana wrapped around her foot. This is their version of a BandAid. I asked her what her name was ( Emilinha) and if her foot was hurt (Yes). She said she had a ferida (skin problem). I asked her if I could take off the capulana to see it. She shook her head yes. As I did,  I asked her to call her mother over. Her mother came and explained that the girl had burned her foot about a week ago. Removing the capulana confirmed what the mother had said. She had a wound on the top of her foot and it seemed to be healing nicely. I asked permission and then cleaned it with some antiseptic, put some ointment for burns and infection on it, and wrapped it up. I asked the mother to bring her a little sock to wear so that the would the bandage would stay semi-clean and in place. I instructed them to leave it on for two days and I would return to treat it again. For two days, little Emilinha waved at me and showed me her sock as I drove by. On the third day, I returned to clean and treat her little foot a second time. For two more days, she smiled, waved, and showed me her sock. On the following third day, the sock and bandages were removed to reveal a nicely healed foot. No more sock or pain for her.

As I treated Emilinha’s little foot, another mom came over with her baby who had a mild ferida on his arm. I cleaned it and put ointment and a BandAid on it. She walked off as happy as a clam. Sometimes all people want is to be noticed. To know that someone sees them and cares about their needs. I was happy to be that person for them.

Curious children tend to gather around my car when I stop. They like to see what I am doing. We chat as I return from my little visit and climb into my car again. Sometimes I bring them a candy or a balloon. But again, I don’t want them to think they will get something every time I come!! So sometimes all they get is a pat on the head. Even so, I get treated every time I come. They treat me to smiles and waves. What began as a kind act of simply waving as I passed by two elderly, forgotten people has now turned into a fun relationship with the vovos, their neighbors, and the children. I may not treat them to something each time I drive through, but they never cease to treat me to their smiles and waves. I have said it before and I am saying it again…I am blessed!

My Selfish, Guilty Pleasure (A mini-blog that I have to share.)

Today was a long, long, long Mozambican Day. Only someone who has lived here could understand what I mean by the term, “Mozambican Day”. For those of you who don’t live here…this is what it means. A day filled with frustrations, lost time, and going back and forth and back and forth and back and forth to accomplish one item that in a first-world country would take one trip and 20 minutes… tops. The power is out and the water has not come for days. You cannot take a shower, let alone even flush your toilet.  It is a day where everyone needs you, everyone wants money from you, everyone is trying to manipulate you, bribe you, or take from you.

Yet at the day’s end, as the 4 amazing employees who are helping me with a repair project on our Sunshine House (that should have taken one day to do, and we are now at the end of day 4, by the way), their spirits lifted mine. They put in a long day sweating under the hot African sun. Yet as they took their bucket showers, dressed back into their street clothes, and emerged smelling fresh and clean, their joy of being at the end of their work day spilled forth. We got into the car and headed off to the stop where they could catch their transport home, listening to one of the worker’s recently recorded CDs of worship music blaring from my car’s CD player. After dropping them off, I was feeling a bit rejuvenated myself. 

I drove down the road and was treated to a sight that I got to selfishly enjoy all by myself. In fact, it was so amazing, that I felt guilty for not having anyone to share it with.  It was simple. It was pure. It was full of joy. About 10 boys ran along the street ahead of me. Each pulled behind him a 5 liter plastic jug that was attached by a string. They swerved left and right across the road in front of me, laughing and smiling. It was absolutely beautiful. And it was all mine. All mine alone to enjoy. With tear-filled eyes, I thanked God for the opportunity He has given me to live here and to be a part of a world so different from the one I have lived my entire life in. A world in which I can be at my lowest point and ready to pack my suitcase and return home…but then…10 little boys playing with garbage fill me with such inspiration that I cry and count my life as blessed beyond measure. 

(No...my darling little Beto was not on the street playing...but this photo shows the type of container the boys had and demonstrates the happiness found in pulling it along behind you.)

How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?

How often have you heard someone say, “If what I am doing impacts only one person, then I will be happy”? While we often do say such a thing, deep in our hearts, we want to impact not just one person with our efforts but many, many, many more. We are here in Mozambique to transform  lives.

Remember when you were a gangly little first grade student? You were at the start of heading out into the world…climbing those stairs up onto that school bus for the first time, nervously entering a classroom, meeting a teacher and making new friends from outside of your neighborhood. The year passed by quickly, and you put all you  had into pleasing your teacher and doing your best. At the end of the year, you were proud to bring home your report card to show your parents. You felt such accomplishment at being promoted on to Grade 2. You were on your way! But first grade was not a similar positive experience for one little girl.

Meet Maria.

Maria captured my  affection the very first time I saw her at Berta’s project. She has a smile that endears you to her for forever. She is gentle and sweet to her very core. Her small stature makes you think she is younger than her years, which only makes her more captivating. Every time I see Maria, the song from “The Sound of Music” plays in my head, and I often sing to her, “How do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you hold a moon beam in your hand?” This makes us both giggle.

Like every other child her age, Maria attended Grade 1. She is fortunate to live in a complete family with a mother and a father, yet they are very poor. Their only income is the meager amount her father makes selling phone credit on the streets. It was a huge stretch for them to afford the required uniform that would allow her to go to school in their community. The $10 price of this uniform would have been days, if not weeks, of her father’s income. Maria’s year began and progressed the same as any other first grader- she had her first day, she made new friends, she worked hard to please her teacher and do her best work …but her year did not end well. She was told by the school that she was "deficient". That was the exact word they used! And in a country where everyone passes first grade and goes onto second grade, she was told that she may not continue on with her education. The reason…Maria has a speech impediment making it difficult for her to communicate clearly. She is intelligent. She can read. She can write. She can do everything but speak well. For this reason, she was cast aside by the school system.

To keep her from being lost to the streets, Berta has allowed her to attend her project all day for the past three years. This past year, at the age of 10, Maria was a participant in Berta’s preschool program. She came every day and continued her learning alongside the 3, 4 and 5 year olds. Throughout all of this, she never lost her bright smile or her joy. She has now turned 11 years old. Berta realized that keeping her in preschool to infinity and beyond is not helping her and is a burden on her program. She came to me seeking help.

I began looking into possible programs to help students with special needs. None were providing the open door we needed for Maria. They were too far away, and they were too much money for the budget of our newly created foundation. Then a tip from a local children’s center director led us to Escola Luz e Vida (Portuguese for Light and Life School). Escola Luz e Vida is a public school in that it receives funding from the government, but it is private in that the parents pay a small fee for their children to attend. It was started by a Brazilian missionary. While it is not a Christian school, it is run on Christian principles. The director works with the teachers closely and it is a beautiful little campus located not too far away in Matola Rio. The question was…would they accept Maria?

Berta and I took a chance and went out to speak with the director about our Maria. Her first response was that they are not equipped to help special children. As we told her more about Maria, her heart began to soften. Finally, she agreed to allow Maria to attend first grade at the school this year!!!!! Berta and I were elated!!!! 

We immediately began the process of enrolling her. Documents from the family and her previous school had to be hunted down, copied and presented. The registration fee was paid.  A “good, hard” talk was held with her parents about their responsibility in getting her to and from this school because it will require two chapa transport rides to get her there. A friend and employee of our Sunshine Nut Company (whose heart is way bigger than her wallet) went out and purchased all of the books and supplies Maria would need, as well as a beautiful pink book bag to put them in.

Then came today… the day that filled my heart. A lot…no…A LOT of work and time has gone into getting this one little girl into this one little school. At times, I wondered if it was too much time to focus on just one child. There are so many other needs that demand my attention. Yet today put that thought to rest, once and for all. I fetched Maria to take her to the school for the first time. She needed to be measured for her uniform. When I arrived, she had a smile on her face that showed how very excited she was. I don’t think it would have been physically possible for her to have stretched her mouth any further! She climbed up into my car, and I presented her with the beautiful book bag and supplies my friend had purchased for her. She was “over the moon”. Never in her life has she ever had such a treasure. We arrived at the school, and she held my  hand as we entered the gate and walked across the sandy play area to the school office. There we met up with the man who would measure her and sew her uniform for her. She was so nervous, yet his kindness eased her nerves. We paid him, thanked him and hit the road to head home again.

As usual, I am frustrated as I write this blog because my words in relating this experience are lacking the depth and emotion that was felt by us all. Every moment of this journey for this one little girl has been more than worth it. Her life is being transformed before my very eyes. These precious experiences are what makes all we have sacrificed and given up worth it. If we had not come, what would have happened to Maria? What would have happened to the many others whose lives we have been able to touch because of our step of faith as well as the kind and generous support of family and friends. Yes…Don is right…we are here to release the multitudes. And yes…I am also right…we are also here to help the occasional “one” that crosses our path. Whether it be for the many or for the one, we have been called here not to just help but to transform.

I dropped Maria off at home and drove away with a smile on my face that matched hers and a heart that was as full as I hope hers is. Yet today, another song from that “Sound of Music” movie played in my head. The one that says, “So somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good!” What did I ever do so good to have been so blessed?!

Xingomana- A Mozambican Experience That Filled My Soul

I have moments when I have to pinch myself and ask, “How did a little girl from a small town in the mountains of Pennsylvania end up here?” I feel this way when I have the thrill of an experience that I cannot believe I am privileged to be enjoying. In such moments, my eyes well with tears of indescribable awe, wonder and joy. These moments do not occur on a regular basis, but when they do, they fuel me to go on further. Our recent attendance at a Xingomana dance festival was one of these amazing experiences.

Our friend, Chude Mondlane, is the daughter of Eduardo Mondlane. She put together a festival of Xingomana dance in his birthplace of Nwadjahane to honor him on what would have been his 95^th birthday.  Her father was the founding president of the Freelimo Mozambican Liberation Front which was successful in gaining independence for Mozambique from the Portuguese in 1975. Sadly, he never was able to see this day. He killed in 1969 when a bombplanted in a book that was sent to him exploded. At his funeral, the Reverend Edward Hawley said that he “…laid down his life for the truth that man was made for dignity and self-determination.” He is a revered historical figure in the hearts of all Mozambicans.

It has been her dream to put this festival together. In fact, she has worked for several years to do this. She is an artist herself and desires to preserve the art culture of Mozambique before it is lost. Because of her perseverance, this event was the first annual national competition of Xingomana dance- an event that will continue for the years to come. We wanted to support our friend by attending the event, yet Nwadjahane is a long, long drive away. So we got out of bed and left our home at 3 am to arrive in time for the 8:30 start.

Driving on Mozambican roads is an experience in itself. To do so at night goes beyond comprehension, so we said a prayer for protection and headed off. At one point, we passed an overturned truck that left sacks of cement all over the road. Soon after that, we followed a pick-up truck carrying a full load of passengers in its bed when the rear left wheel and axle came off leaving a stream of orange sparks in its path as it struggled to come to a safe stop. We also had the multiple random, but expected, police stops along the way in which they look to make the roads of Mozambique “safe” for all by making sure you have a fire extinguisher, safety vest, relective triangles, and proper documentation in  your car. Never mind that no one pays attention to traffic lights or speed limits, and that stop signs are just a suggestion. We can all drive with the peace of mind that comes from knowing our fellow drivers all have proper safety equipment on board. After about 5 hours of travel, we arrived safely in the village of Nwadjahane.

The small village was teeming with excitement. Villagers were lined up along the dirt road that led to the festival area, ready to greet the incoming government leaders who would be attending. They were singing and dancing as they waited. Others were busy about the stage making final adjustments. Others were filling in around the performance area, securing a good spot to view the teams. Behind the stage stood 12 teams from all over southern Mozambique, dressed in their grass skirts and anxiously awaiting to begin. We found a shaded spot under a large tree in the back, behind the rows of plastic chairs for spectators. To our right, was another stage that was decorated in fabric of red, green, yellow, and black- the colors of the Mozambican flag. Chairs were lined up on stage for the government guests. One large, ornate chair was set front and center, reserved for the governor of the province.

Before long, a stream of trucks came rolling in carrying the special government guests. The villagers erupted into song, the trucks came to a stop, and the government people emerged and shook hands with the crowd. They were led up to the stage where they took their places. We were so proud to see our friend, Chude, sitting right next to the governor of the province with the administrator of Manajacaze on her other side. We know the administrator because of our work there. He is an eloquent man with a good heart. He spied us in the crowd and gave us a smile of recognition and a wave. A few minutes later, his assistant came to us and asked us to join the guests on stage. We were happy to stay out of the way and watch anonymously, but he would not accept our refusal. So up we went and settled ourselves on stage.

The event began with the introduction of the 12 teams who had already won their places in the competition by winning local competitions. Each team danced, sang, and whistled their way out onto the stage with shouts and applause from the audience. The air was electric with as much energy as I have ever experienced at any sporting event. Members of the teams ranged from small girls, maybe around 5 years old, to older women who were gray to moms with babies tied onto their backs. After they returned behind the stage to wait, the speeches began, starting with those is less prominent positions in the government and culminating with the governor. TV cameras and photographers were everywhere recording the event. And finally, the competition began! We were led off the stage to the area below where we sat down to view the dancers.

Xingomana is a cultural dance that goes way back. It was performed by wives for their husband. Historically, and even today, men are permitted to take more than one wife. The first wife is the head of the family. She has prominence over all the other wives. She is the head of the household and tells all the others what to do. The dance is the younger wives’ way of getting her back. Through the dance, they are able to flaunt their younger bodies and gain the attention of the husband.

The dance is done to the rapid beat of drums and the short blowing of whistles. The women are barefooted. Through their firm steps, they kick up the sand around them creating a dust that fills the air. They wear grass skirts that swish back and forth, accentuating their every move. The dance is fast and lively. All of this combines to create a beautiful experience that is thrilling. As we watched, my eyes filled with tears of joy and amazement. They were so amazing. They were so beautiful. And it then hit me…how did it happen that I had the fortune of being here to experience this?! I was a world away, not just in distance, but in culture and experience. It was a sight that few are privileged to see. I felt extremely privileged and overwhelmed by it all.

Don looked my way and saw the tears in my eyes. This brought tears to his eyes as well. He worries about me here. He worries about my happiness. He worries about how I am coping with all that happens to us. Yet through my tears, he saw my happiness. It brought happiness to him as well. Moments like this reaffirm to him that he does not need to worry so much.