From what I could tell, the program is run entirely by young Mozambican men who volunteer their afternoons each day to help. As the children rush into the wide open space inside the church, these young men guide them to the place where they can sit on the cement floor. They are divided into two large groups. The boys sit on one side and the girls on the other side, with benches to separate them. This allows them to keep some order and when the time comes, they gather them by gender to line up and prepare to receive their meal. Each day they alternate who goes first, the girls or the boys. The children play together and take in the entertainment. That's right, entertainment! These young men get on the raised platform to welcome the kids, lead them in games, music, dancing and singing.
The first day I helped with this, I walked into the church and found most of the kids laughing and playing. I walked toward them and little toddlers began to jump on me. They are quite clever, athletic and just plain starving for attention. I welcomed the first boy into my arms and held him tight. Then I realized there were many others pulling on me, eagerly waiting for their embrace. I thought, "oh my, I shouldn't show favoritism!" I began to lower the boy and reach for the next child, but I realized, this little one had used his limbs to suction himself to me. He was glued to me and was not moving! He was bound and determined to stay in my arms. Clearly he had experience with this tactic. I could not pry him off and since this was my first day, I gave in and let him sit with me for a long time. There was one boy who really caught my eye. He must have been 2 years old or younger. His little eyelids kept closing and he would rock back and forth doing a little head bob as he tried his best to stay awake during all the excitement. He was so little and so tired. One of the young men, Jorge, who helps feed the kids every day reached for him and sat him up so he wouldn't fall over. Jorge explained that he was fatigued since he hadn't eaten that day. The poor little guy just needed some food!
Finally, it was time for the boys to line up, wash their hands in the water being poured from a bucket and stand to wait for their turn to receive their meal of rice and beans. I let the boy who had glued himself to me go and moved over to the girls. Several girls raced up to me and were investigating everything on me- my bracelets, my watch, my hair. Even though I couldn't communicate with them verbally, we played a game. You know when girls stand facing each other and begin to smack their hands together in all kinds of rhythms? We played this over and over. Each girl would stand waiting for her turn to try this particular rhythm I had shown them. Some would get it right away and others would struggle. We couldn't help but giggle and smile as we slapped hands faster and faster.
Once the boys made it through the serving line, the girls washed their hands and lined up for their turn. I moved over to watch and help serve food. There are these enormous pots that are filled with steaming rice and beans. A huge stack of colorful plastic plates are ready to be filled up, one for each child. There are also two other pots that are filled with water to use for washing and rinsing the plates right away. There are more kids than there are plates so as the children eat their meal, we would gather their empty plates, wash them, fill them back up with rice and beans and offer it to the next group of kids waiting patiently for their serving. Some kids brought metal containers to take their portion back home to feed the rest of their family. Sharing what they are given is a way of life and a way of survival.
I watched as older siblings (8-10 years old) would corral the little ones they were in charge of and make sure they moved through the line to get their portion. Girls would carry babies on their backs, strapped on by using a large cloth that swaddled them tightly like a human backpack.
One particular girl caught my attention. She was carrying a baby on her back and shepherding 3 little ones in front of her. The younger ones were so tiny and couldn't quite carry a plate full of food in their unskilled hands. This older sister held out her one free hand to receive the plates in her palm. She tried to balance the 5 meals, as she does every day, I am sure. In the excitement, one of the kids ran into her and the top plate fell, crashing to the cement floor. She appeared angry and her face scowled. She put everything down and began feverishly scraping up the food from the ground and placing it back in the colorful plate. Suddenly, someone offered her a brand new plate full of food. She again balanced all the food and gathered the family to move out to the front of the church where they would join the other kids eating their meals. As she walked away from the stressful ordeal, although she appeared expressionless, tears began to stream down her cheeks. My heart ached for that little girl and I shared my own tears with hers.
This girl carried not only the weight of that baby on her back and the kids in tow, but the weight of responsibility for these little lives. She was in charge. She had to be sure those kids got their meal each day because that was their portion, their daily bread.
I helped to serve these children as much as I could while I was in Pemba. I loved being a part of something so life giving. Not only are these beautiful children given nourishment for their bodies, but so much of what was happening was the filling up of their spirits. I was so thankful for this part of the ministry and amazed by the daily sacrifice of these young men to help care for the kids in the community. I mean, think about it. How many 20-25 year old men (or women) around you are giving 2-3 hours every afternoon to serve people? This is a messy task. You leave there with bean juice all over your clothes, your sandals and feet covered with smashed beans and you've held kids who are dressed in rags and don't bathe. I imagined if it were me, I would probably be eager to help in the beginning (as I was). However, after weeks and months and years, I would begin to see this task as tedious, time consuming, a burden and really getting in the way of the other "commitments" in my life. We would complain, wouldn't we? Not these guys. They serve with joy, with gratitude and with love.
I spoke to these young men to find out how they got involved, how often they help, and why they do this. I just had to know. Many of them said they prayed about being a part of something. They love to help the children. They see it a privilege to serve.
One of the most amazing people I met was Manuel. He is 20 years old, full of joy, energy and life. He recently lost both his mom and his dad to illness. He serves at Iris in many ways. There was a particular day when I could tell he was stressed. I asked him what was wrong. He explained that the food was not ready. It had not been delivered. He showed his frustration as he said "they know we need the food here by 2:00 every day". His pained face and words showed me just how much he cared. He said, "These kids... they haven't eaten today... they need to eat. They must have food." I realized in that moment that this wasn't just a good deed to him. This was the heart of Jesus for these precious children.
As I thought about how these 500-600 children come everyday to the church, it reminded me of childlike faith. They know that if they come, they will receive and be filled up. It reminds me of my own revelation of getting filled up. God showed me that there is a deeper significance to His "daily bread". Matthew 6:11 says "Give us this day our daily bread." Just as these kids expected to receive a plate that is piled full of rice and beans every day, we can receive our daily bread from our Father. Yes, He provides food abundantly for us every day, but He also fills our hearts, our spirits and our lives with everything we need. All we have to do is ask.
Some may look at the feeding program as an unsustainable model of handouts. Believe me, I considered this myself and realize that nothing is perfect about how we do ministry. I have heard over and over the quote in the last few months from so many people- "Give a man a fish and you will feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you will feed him for for a lifetime." I thought this might be in the Bible, but after researching it, realize it is a Chinese Proverb. It is so clear to me that God's hand is all over the nation of Mozambique. You can see it in the spirits of the people. You can see it in the smiles of the little children. I know that giving food and resources away every day may not be a lifetime solution. However, when I bend down and look into the eyes of one of God's children who hasn't eaten since the previous day's "handout", nothing seems more right than serving them a plate full of food.
Where does giving begin and end? Will there ever truly be enough? I wrestled with these questions while in Mozambique and since then. I found peace about this through the Holy Spirit and researching how Jesus lived. When I see a need, I pray and ask the Holy Spirit to guide me. If I follow that peace, I almost always rest well in my decisions. As Heidi Baker says, when we see the overwhelming needs around us, we can feel hopeless. However, God doesn't ask us to meet every need. He asks us to stop for the *one* in front of us. God will supply as we stop for the one.
This is Manuel...with my sunglasses on:). Below he is translating while a group of young women do a skit during the widow's ministry. The last photo is Manuel leading the kids and keeping them in line.
Manuel gives his time, energy and love to people every day. I watched how attentive he was to the children and looked for ways he could jump in to help anyone in the community. He stopped to carry a heavy wheelbarrow for an older man. He stopped to help a man balance a bag of grain on his bicycle as it nearly slid off onto the ground. He spends hours translating between English, Portuguese and Macua during services and outreach. His eyes were tuned in to people and it was a beautiful, very natural thing for him. He is a clear example of what it means to "stop for the one".
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