Malawi, Africa – a country of contrasts. Vast blue skies and red dirt roads; picture-perfect villages and markets; smiling, curious children – seas of them – waving at you roadside. Then there’s the stuff we read about: the harsh poverty; lack of food, safe water and work; diseases wiping out an entire generation… smiling, curious children who don’t have parents.
I never feel more alive and fully in God’s presence than when I’m in Africa; I think it’s because of these contrasts that assault me throughout my stay. I question, I pray, I feel. It’s hard to articulate the overall experience. It’s easier when you share the stories of the people you meet, one life at a time:
Joseph: He’s 33, the oldest attendee at our Youth Leadership Conference. His pastor lets him live in a small room in the church – in exchange for raising seven orphans, many of them teenagers. He makes containers out of tin and sells them to provide for his “family.” He carries his Bible everywhere and hopes to be a pastor someday.
Edward: He’s 19. Loves to write and wants to be a teacher. Quiet and soft-spoken, he talked non-stop when I asked him about his home life. He lives with a “stepmother.” His father abandoned him when he was two. He told his mother that Edward was a mistake. He kept repeating to me that he was a mistake. Not sure what happened to the mother.
Kennan: Also 19. Dreams of being a musician. Played the drum, sang and danced with abandonment – music was his escape. Some of his fingers are fused together (same with his toes) – defects from birth. He showed them to me and said people have made fun of him his entire life. His father died a few years ago, and his mother is dying… of AIDS. “She will be dead soon,” he whispered. I felt his fear. He’s being raised by an aunt. He can’t go to school because he doesn’t have enough money for the required fees.
Judy: 62 years young (picture of her attached; she’s the one in the middle.) Works as a caregiver for 21 orphaned children 24/7, no pay. “It’s for God,” she said proudly. She showed me the rooms where the kids slept – seven to a room, each the size of a walk-in closet. One twin beaten-up mattress per room. She cried when Pam prayed for her. She beamed when I told her she truly was a soldier of God.
Without a doubt, what leaves a permanent mark in your heart are the people. Despite their circumstance – their hope, kindness and hospitality overflows. Their joy is pure and comfortable. It confuses and humbles me, but grows me too. You really don’t understand community until you experience it in Africa. I leave richer than when I arrived.
Vic Villanueva
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