There's Only 1 Race: The Human Race.

Sooo..I had to say good bye to my family in Mozambique. Not “I will see you next week,” or, “I will see you soon,” or even, “I will see you in the next couple of years!” No, I had to say good bye. It was hard. It felt so strange. I have been living with these wonderful people for nearly six weeks then it felt like all of a sudden it was over and done with. Before I had to, however, I had a really sweet moment with my [host] mom. Prior to traveling into Mozambique, we had a day of shopping in a mall just outside of Johannesburg and as a team, we chose to purchase a pair of tennis shoes for each one of our host moms and then reveal the gift during our last week with them. I figured it was a thoughtful and nice idea, but it didn’t mean much to me at that time. Man- it started kicking in when I started to get closer and closer with my family. My mom and her six children chair approximately 4 pairs of flip flops. One of my brothers has an old, ripped pair of white sneakers only to wear with his school uniform but other than that, those are the only shoes they own. It makes me feel a little ridiculous thinking of how many pairs of shoes I have waiting to be worn in my closet back home. For the most part, they walk around bare foot- unless it is the hottest part of the day-between 12:00 and 3:00 in the afternoon-when the sand is hot enough to give my feet blisters, or if they need to walk somewhere to fetch water, go to the market, or visit a friend or neighbor’s home. (I have tried to walk barefoot when they do, and only wear shoes when they do, so my radical Chaco tan lines have realllly faded). The concept of giving my mom a pair of shoes- specially sized and chosen for her- is such a huge change in what they are used to. It’s hard to describe how special that moment was when I got to crouch down, loosen the laces, and slip them onto her feet. With a big grin on her face, she said she would go to the market the next day. Bernadette, our community partner, made the all of the mother’s biscuits with jam, which they never get the opportunity to eat something as extravagant as that, and cups of cold juice- such a treat when all you drink is well water that is as hot as the day is. I felt so small but so full of joy when I got to sit next to her for the last time and look at the black and purple sneakers I bought just for her while she slowly consumed the rare delicacies. Right before we hugged one last time, she took the tennis shoes off because, as she said, she didn’t want to get them dirty on the walk home! She loved them! She was so happy- so proud.

I, along with the rest of the team, have made it a vital priority not to give things to the people we meet in the communities we live in. Giving is not a bad thing-it is a wonderful thing; I have just experienced that in this exact situation. But what I have to offer is far better than whatever it is the people are asking for-God’s love and His love through me; that is why I am here on this trip. Not to see how many hundreds of people I can convert or to give money where I think that it is needed. Often times when I think money or objects are needed, they might not be. We as Westerners believe when something is broken- it must be fixed, or when something isn’t as productive and efficient as possible- we have to make it better! But that is not the case! Life isn’t lived like that here. It is lived from a completely different perspective and world view. And it works. If we try to come in and push or give our ways of thinking on these people- it does them no good to allow them to learn and grow and thrive on their own. Like the wonderful saying, “If you give a man a fish, he will eat for a day. But if you teach a man to fish, he will eat for life.” Not only do these thoughts go along with giving, but they go along with teaching. My way isn’t always the best way. Even though doing something a certain way may work perfectly in the United States that does not mean it will work best for the people and environments here. It is been a continuous struggle seeing the little that the people I have been surrounded by live with and what seems to be ineffectiveness or lack of efficiency in their work. If I could just give them this, or give them that, if I could just buy them a whole new wardrobe so they don’t have to wear the same thing week after week, if I could show them that if they fetched water this way, or walked this path back home-it would save time, or if I could just sponsor their food portions for a week..a month..a year-their life would be better, right? Well, it could be in some ways. No doubt about that. I know they would be happy- who wouldn’t? But by doing these things, it continues to build the wall higher..and higher..and higher. I am talking about the wall between white and black. In their (the ‘poor’ African’s) mind, there is an undeniable stigma between races. This is something I did not prepare myself for coming into this trip. In the Western World, we have Racism- there is no denying that. But Racism here is like nothing I have ever seen before. To try to put the severity of this issue into a few paragraphs is asking too much, I could continue on for quite some time. Here is one example: they think that because we are white that God will hear us when we pray, bless us when we ask, and just plain love; but because they are black God does not hear them when they pray, He does not bless them, and He does not love them. They believe lies like that with their entire being. It breaks my heart. They think that since I am white I am pretty and because they are black they are ugly..hideous. Are you kidding me?! They are BEAUTIFUL. I even trained..haha..my littlest sister, Lucia (2), to scream, “Bonita!!” after every time I said her name. She got the hang of it..and even started yelling it after I would say our other sisters’ names, or after saying Mama. (Bonita=beautiful). I think they finally got the idea with how gorgeous I think they all are. Again, I don’t want anyone to think I am saying that giving is a bad thing- I am just saying that sometimes, the wrong help can do a lot more damage than good. So when I got to build up my mom solely with our friendship and love, and then got to bless her with a gift- it was a beautiful thing. It wasn’t that I just handed her something I thought she needed, I caringly laced her up in a gift I gave her because I love and respected her. That pair of shoes is now more important to her than it would have been if some white stranger tossed ‘em to her with a smile and a thumbs up. Some people have asked why we are staying with host families. We have been given the opportunity of a life time and so have the families. The message of a white person living on this Mozambiquen’s level  communicates with each individual as well as the community as a whole that they have meaning in life. This then allows the wall I hate with a passion to begin to crumble. It has been an incredibly powerful honor to be a part of that. I thank God for placing me in this battle between lies and truth.

I fell in love with my family and with our community partner, Bernadette’s, heart along with the work of reconciliation that she has accomplished and continues to accomplish in Macuba. Mozambique is the true, deep, real Africa- and I cannot say enough how much I loved it.

For the past few days our team has been resting at our Community Leader’s home just outside of Johannesburg in Centurion. It has been a huge blessing to just relax a bit, and really just hang out. It feels as though we were tired and in need of a refresh- and our time here has been exactly that. It has also been quite interesting going from life in a hut in Mozambique to staying in a more modernized city. Believe it or not, I got hit with a bit of culture shock. During one of the stops at a gas station on our bus ride from Maputu to Joburg, we had the wonderful opportunity of stopping for a bathroom break. It was strange for me to sit on a toilet instead of squat in the sand, it was strange that I didn’t have to use one of the rolls of toilet paper I have been carrying around with me the last month and a half, it was strange that there was a sink with running water to wash my hands in-soap dispenser and all, of course the automatic air-dryer for my hands caught me off guard, but especially the closing and locking door for privacy. It didn’t bother me since those are all such nice things to have, but each and every one of those details stuck out to me like they never have before. Oy-what is it gonna be like when I get back home?? I’ll make sure to write things like that down and post some of them on here. J

Here we go.. the last leg of our trip. Is this real? It doesn’t feel like it. I ask that question nearly every single day. Its crazy! I love it! We leave this morning for a six or so hour bus ride to Lesotho (seems like a blink of an eye after our 68+hr bus ride to Macuba). I am not quite sure the details of what is in store for us, but I know it includes learning about farming God’s way and partnering with people in the community to assist them with the work in the fields! It’s going to be a completely different experience than the Rez, Vredendal, or Macuba- and I can’t wait to see what the Lord has in store. My understanding is that us girls can only wear our skirts-I can honestly say I never pictured myself farming in a skirt-wahoo! Ima do work.

Loving, missing, and praying LOTS.

In Mark 9:23, Jesus states, “Everything is possible for him who believes.”  

Mama with her new tennis shoes!

My infamously favorite cashew tree standing strong next to my house.

Casa de Banjo -> Gas station bathroom.

My mom helping set up the mosquito net..from previous blog!

3/4 sisters. Lucia (2), Vitoria (9), Inacia (4), and I eating some mangas!

Bonita Lucia!