Beans, Rice & School

I love this place. Though my departure is months away, I already dread it, but I know, in order to better help the people here, I must leave. Nursing is my calling. This past weekend we went hiking, just taking in the beauty of the countryside. It’s breathtaking, the rolling hills and the tiny huts dotting the land. Something about this place feels like home. Lately I have been cooking for the kids with the African ladies. It is so much fun. We sit on buckets outside and wash vegetables, clean rice and pick stones out of the beans. You have no idea how hard it is to cook beans and rice. They don’t come in a nice little box around here. Its work, but they eat sugarcane and braid each others hair and have fun. It’s great. Right now the kids have just finished eating dinner and I can hear them playing football outside. Their laughter fills the air. It’s my favorite sound.

Today I was thinking about how fortunate we truly are in the states, especially when it comes to education. Even though it isn’t the perfect setup, we have it far better than many other people. Some of my children are twelve and can barely write their names. Somehow they were passed on from grade to grade to grade without knowing how to read or write. They are far behind, and it will take much work. They are fortunate to have the teachers from the City of Hope in providing them the chance to learn. I look at some of the workers in this village. They are fifteen or sixteen, not in school. They carry heavy loads and do backbreaking work, they have to support their families. My friend Paulo is twenty, he has been doing construction since he was fifteen. He never finished school, but now he wants so badly to learn English. After working hard each day he studies an English book by candlelight. He is looking for a way out. He always wears a big smile on his face though, and puts his heart into everything he does.

This week, as you think about your kids, or your friends or yourself, be thankful. We have opportunities at our fingertips. Our biggest worry in the west is “which of the thirty shirts will we wear", and my friends here wonder “what will I eat tonight”. We dread going to school, but my friend Paulo longs for education. Look around and be thankful for what you have, and if you find yourself having extra-give it away. Simplicity is the beauty of life. I have seen no better example than my beautiful friends here in Ntagacha.

The simple life

Life is so simple here, yet so lovely. Passing a herd of cows pulling a plow behind them is no big deal, neighbors come by to offer their crops, passion fruit and avocados, their children roam the village, knowing their neighbors will look after them, grass is cut by machete and cisterns dug with shovels. Most of all relationships are more important than work. How have we missed that, how have we in the western work found that getting things done is more important that building friendships? Let me tell you, it’s not. I love nothing more than to listen to the stories of the villagers around me. I love seeing their faces every morning and greeting them in their beautiful language of Swahili. I love how they sit under the trees in the afternoon just to catch up, thinking to their selves…things will get done, but right now you are more important. I love how one stuffed animal given to the children today will make their week. Why is it that our bank accounts are full, our houses overstuffed with things and our children have 20 + stuffed animals, but we aren’t happy? It’s the simplicity I have found here, that I love so much. It’s the small things, you know, those little tiny representations of the goodness of human kind and the resilience of the human spirit. Though my neighbors have little, they love much. I think that’s more than having all the money in the world.

I can’t tell you how lovely it is to see fifty beautiful faces each night before I go to bed, and each morning when I wake up. I realize I can do nothing else; my purpose is to help children, I want nothing different. They’re so innocent, you know, they have such fresh ideas, hopes and dreams. Even though these children have lost mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers, they are still thankful. Their smiles and laughter still fill the halls. They are so resilient, so adaptable; they are teachers in their own right.

Water!!!

Water, the giver of life! At home in the states, I don’t think we realize how precious water is, but here clean, uncontaminated water is hard to come by; it can mean the difference between life and death. The rainy season is over, and with our 50 additions to the housing here (the kids), our constant work projects and little rain, water is at a shortage. We are almost maxing out our well by pumping three times a day, and still we continue to run out. I can’t tell you what a relief the thunder clouds on the horizon were this afternoon; it meant the difference between getting baths and washing clothes and being dirty for yet another day. Every bucket, basin and wash pan was put out under roofs in order to catch all the water we could. Thankfully, now our cup runneth over. Tomorrow the children will be clean. The rain has not only refreshed the land, but our spirits as well. Our basins are full of water and our hearts are full of gladness. It is the start of another week at the City of Hope.