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.)
