Wild Child: May 2011

Tomorrow I am leaving this place called Africa. Here is one last thought before I leave this glorious continent I have come to love. I did not write the following post, but I definitely identify with it:

When I think of Africa, the following images immediately come to mind: Starvation. AIDS. Child soldiers. Genocide. Sex slaves. Orphans. From there, my thoughts naturally turn to how I can help, how I can make a difference. "I am needed there," I think. "They have so little, and I have so much." It's true, there are great tragedies playing out in Africa every day. There is often a level of suffering here that is unimaginable until you have seen it, and then it is difficult to believe. But what is even harder is reconciling the challenges that many Africans face with the joy I see in those same people. It's a joy that comes from somewhere I cannot fathom, not within the framework that has been my life to this day.

The images spilling out of my television showed circumstances that could seemingly only equal misery, and I was fooled. I bought into the lie that circumstance defines happiness. The truth is, in Africa I find hearts full of victory, indomitable spirits. In places where despair should thrive, instead I find adults dancing and singing, and children playing soccer with a ball crafted of tied up trash. Instead of payback, I find grace. Here, weekend getaways are not options to provide relief from the pains of daily life. Relationships and faith provide joy. Love is sovereign.

My new reality... I know now that my joy should have no regard for my circumstances. I'm ashamed by my lack of faith, but at the very same moment I am excited by my new pursuit. I'm forced to redefine the meaning of having much or having little. I'm uneasy with the prospect of change and of letting go, but just the thought of freedom is liberating. I want what I have learned to trickle down from my head into my heart - I no longer want or need the "next thing" to have joy.

I'm not saying that Africa does not need our efforts. It absolutely does need our partnership. But for me, I've come to understand that I NEED AFRICA MORE THAN AFRICA NEEDS ME. Why? Because it is Africa that has taught me that possessions in my hands will never be as valuable as peace in my heart. I've learned that I don't need what I have and that I have what I need. These are just a few of this continent's many lessons. I came here to serve and yet I've found that I have so much to learn, and Africa, with all its need, has much to teach me.

To God be the glory. Farewell, Africa, I'm gonna miss you. Peace out.

It's almost over. I can hardly believe it's just a few more days and then it's farewell to Africa. It has been an amazing ride, and one I won't soon forget. We've actually already said good-bye to Dondo and all our friends there because we decided to make our way slowly to Johannesburg, South Africa where our flight leaves. Right now, we're at another Iris base in Zimpeto, a suburb of Maputo, the capitol. Saying good-bye is so bittersweet. I will miss Africa and the people in it horribly. I'll miss the culture. I'll miss the churches. I'll miss the yummy food you can buy on the street for just pennies. I'll miss watching the village people as they go about their daily activities. I'll miss shopping in the market and bartering with the shop owners in my broken Portuguese. I'll definitely miss the soda. (Oh, my goodness, the soda. Did you know that for every soda you can buy in a normal store in America, you could find at least two weird ones in Africa you've never even heard of? AND they're all sweetened with real sugar! It's amazing!) I'll also miss the readily available and cheap fruit, a lot of which is unknown in America. But one of he things I will miss most about Mozambique is the hilarity that results when cultures collide. The western world has wormed it's way into bits of the culture here, while some parts remain mostly unchanged. It opens wide the door for for hilarious juxtapositions. The village people of Dondo just crack me up sometimes. They might not speak a word of English, they might live in stick and mud huts, but by golly, they all have cell phones with Justin Bieber music (which they blare through broken speakers at ALL hours of the day and night). That is one thing I will NOT miss! I distinctly remember this one time I was walking though the village, I rounded a corner and saw a group of 10 or so kids playing in the dirt. They all fell silent when they saw me and then, as if on cue, they all simultaneously broke forth into the beginning strains of "Baby baby". Some of those kids probably didn't even speak Portuguese, never mind English, knowing only the local tribal language of their parents. Clothes can also produce odd culture mixes. A lot of clothes get donated from the states through thrift stores and clothing companies that make misprints. I've seen little old grannies in the traditional African 'capulana' skirt with Spider Man or The Incredible Hulk t-shirts. I've seen people in church wearing snowflake pajama pants. I've seen little girls wearing t-shirts with American wrestling champions on them... the list goes on, but it's not just clothes. Once I met a guy who couldn't speak a word of English that had somehow procured an issue of the O magazine (in English, of course). He reverently flipped through the glossy pages, looking carefully at every makeup and perfume ad. It was all I could do to not burst out laughing, so I just smiled widely and asked via sign language if I could take his picture, which I did. (I would post it here, but unfortunately, I was unable to find it. If it hasn't gotten permanently deleted, I will post it eventually.)

So, I'm leaving all that funny craziness behind. *sniff sniff*. All of that said, I am so glad to be going home! I've missed my incredible family a TON. I've missed mom's amazing cooking. I've missed all my friends. I've missed all my instruments and impromptu music sessions at home. I've missed being in a country where I speak the language. I've missed my books. I've missed our woods and fields. Like I said; very bittersweet. I'm incredibly thankful for the opportunity I've had to come to Mozambique, and I'm very grateful to all the people that helped get me here; Africa has changed my life. How exactly, I can't rightly say yet, but I'm sure it'll become apparent.

I meant to post pictures of my trip here, but in general I've left the photographing to Janie who is much better at it than me. However, I did take some early on in the trip, so here are some of my favorites of those: