Strangest man in Africa

I stepped outside of the Pemba, Mozambique airport to walk toward the small plane that would take me to Nairobi.  I felt the heat of the day and was thankful I was able to check my heavy backpack.  I stepped onto the plane and felt a strange sensation on my skin.  What was that cool, blissful feeling?  Oh, it was air conditioning!  I realized that I had not felt that sensation in weeks and it was heavenly.

I conversed with a gentleman next to me who lives in Canada and works for Samaritan's Purse.  Then we both sat back and relaxed for the rest of the trip.  We landed in Nairobi and I found myself in line beside a doctor and health advisor from Nigeria who was also trying to navigate his way through customs to catch a flight.  We exchanged contact information and have stayed in touch through LinkedIn.  

Once I got through customs, I found the terminal where my flight would be taking off from but I had several hours to wait.  I bought some water, then found a spot to sit.  I watched people from all over the world move through the international airport.  There were people from nations, religious sects and cultures that I had never seen before.  I could tell from their special attire, head coverings, bodily markings and groups with matching hair/beard styles that there are tribes in this world that I know nothing about.

After reading several pages from Mozambique Mysteries, a book that my bunkmate had left for me when she flew home, I was ready to get up and move a little.  I remember praying for God to show me who He wanted me to encounter while in this airport.  I believe God always has things for us if we are open and stay aware.  I watched as people rushed past me, not even giving me a glance.  I am so curious about people so I am usually observant about those who are around me.  One man passed by me that stood out more than others.  He was a large, white, middle-aged man who wore oversized, frumpy clothes and carried a clear, plastic duty-free bag which looked like it was being used as his suitcase.  I thought to myself "that is probably the strangest man in this airport!"

I made my way down the terminal, stopped to buy some macadamia nuts for a snack and found my gate.  I took a seat and began eating the nuts.  The next thing I know, someone sits down next to me.  Guess who it is...of course, the strangest man in the whole airport!  He chose me!  Well, when I had prayed, I had a different idea about who God would lead me to, but decided I would just "go with it".  He was dirty, had an unshaven beard, messy hair and reminded me of a homeless person just based on appearance.  He asked me my name and made small talk.  I had a very hard time understanding him because he had a unique accent.  Here's what I gathered.

He is from the island of Jersey off the coast of France.  He had just spent some time in Madagascar walking through the trees and watching glow worms which light up at night.  He highly recommended that I take this journey too.  Well, I am not so sure about that, but I thanked him for his input.

I decided to share my snack with him.  I asked him if he wanted some nuts and he gladly accepted.  I poured a bunch in his cupped hands and he proceeded to put them in his shirt pocket.  Throughout our conversation he pulled out 1-2 nuts at a time and munched away happily.  I realized that I had not even asked his name even though he knew mine.  So I said "what is your name?"  Seemed simple enough.  He mumbled something like "I dunno" and asked me what I meant.  He made it seem like this was a much more complex question than I imagined, adding that I could mean his birth name, his hari krishna name, his.... and kept offering various possibilities.  I replied with the one thing that came to mind "What does your mom call you?"  He said "Oh!  Stewart."  Now we were getting somewhere!  We were really connecting:).  lol

Suddenly he stopped talking and looked at me.  He moved his arm up, down and around as if outlining my whole being and said "what is this, who are you, what is your voyage?"  I began to tell him about my background in recruiting and new pursuit of a vision God gave me as a child about serving in Africa.  He was very intrigued and began asking all kinds of questions.  He asked if I was a mystic, a seer, a dream catcher, and a whole bunch of other things I was not clear on.  I stopped him and said that I didn't know about all those things he mentioned, but simply told him that I have a relationship with God, that I was a Christian.  I told him I pray, that is, talk to God and follow the peace He gives me.  Clearly he was on a spiritual journey and was trying to find the source of Light.

As our strange conversation continued, I heard my flight announcement and explained that I needed to leave.  I told him it was a pleasure to meet him and reached out to shake is hand as we departed.  He pulled his hand away and said reverently "I don't want to touch you".  In that same moment, he began to lower himself to the ground, exposing the array of tattoos all over his arms and neck.  He got down on his knees and did some sort of bow.  I stood there in the middle of the airport watching him on the ground and had no idea what to do!  I just told him to take care, wished him well on his journey and I went to catch my flight.  

As I boarded my next flight and contemplated that very odd scene, here is what occurred to me.   The act of giving (or sharing) breaks down barriers. The other men who I had encountered that day, from Canada and Nigeria, seemed much more dignified and accomplished by most standards.  It would have been very easy to ignore Stewart and dismiss him as a scary weirdo.  The most unusual person in the huge international airport came and sat down next to me.  I believe that something happened when I offered him my snack.  Perhaps I was meeting a physical need because he might have truly been hungry.  However, I think our meeting would have been nothing more than a polite exchange if I had not invited him in to join me through a simple gesture.    

I can't begin to understand what led Stewart to the forests of Madagascar to seek the glow worms, but I believe that he, like all of us, are on a journey of discovery.  Everyone, at times, asks the big life questions.  What is this all about?  Is there a higher power?  Everyone is seeking something or someone.  There are people all around us who may need something we have, whether it is a snack or a word of truth.   I pray that God always prompts me to live with eyes to see and a heart to give.  

My last day in Mozambique

My friends suggested we wake up early to watch the sunrise on my last morning in Mozambique.  The sunrises are glorious!  We stayed at the Iris base just across the street from the beach overlooking the Indian Ocean.  Pinch me!

We set our alarms, got up while it was still dark and made our way to the beach where we watched the dramatic scene unfold.





















I packed my bags, said goodbye to these beautiful people who had changed my life and answered their questions about if, and when I would be back.  I knew I could not promise them anything and explained that if it is God's will, I will be back.

Many people in my life gave money in support of my trip to Africa.  I was blown away by their generosity and even more amazed that the amount I received was the exact amount I needed to cover ALL the expenses.  I had overestimated my weekly supply needs (food, water, toilet paper, emergencies) and had spent very little.  I ended up with $300 that I knew I would not need in the remaining weeks.  I prayed about what to do with this money.

I ended up walking to the home of a missionary on the base, Mama Linda.  Linda is a woman in her 60s perhaps, who has given her life to help raise the young boys at Iris.  She is like a Mama to them.  I chose her because so many young men had told me about her influence on their lives.  These were young men, 15-25 years old, who devoted their lives to serving the Lord and the people in the community.  I knew something special was happening as she poured into their lives the Word, worship, prayer and teaching about godly living.  I introduced myself to her and explained that I had been blessed by people in my life and wanted to use the extra amount to bless the ministry for these young boys.  She nearly started crying and explained to me that she had been praying for the funds to help them!  She said that 30 boys had made the decision to be baptized and she needed money to rent a truck, pay for gas, food and supplies to drive them to the river to baptize them.  She said the funds would be sufficient to pay for this.  She prayed over me as I left to continue on my journey.  I walked away with my heart full as I saw the cycle of needs being met.  These 30 boys, the future leaders of the community, were able to be baptized!

What starts with a hand raised in need leads to another heart stirred to give.  Those who gave to me and my journey will never fully understand the eternal impact that it is having on lives on the other side of the world.  Thank you for your generosity!  I can't full explain what an impact this trip had on me to be able to witness lives being transformed....forever.

Love and gratitude,
Jen

Goodbye party

The day came when it was time for me to say goodbye to Mozambique.  Many of the friends I had grown closest to had already flown back to their home countries of Austria, Germany and the US.  Some new friends offered to take me out to celebrate my last night, which was music to my ears.  I had experienced moments of loneliness, which can happen when you are traveling by yourself and people you grow close to come and go, leaving you to your own thoughts once again.  So this invitation to celebrate with my new friends was huge for me.  We went to a local restaurant, ate chicken and fries, then played pool against some locals.

I think there was some divine intervention as we kept winning in pool which allowed us to stay on the table.  Turns out, there was a bigger reason we were there celebrating that night.  I looked over and saw my friends praying with some of the local guys at the bar.  They were sharing the gospel message to these guys who had never heard the name of Jesus.  Sometimes if you ask someone if they have heard of Jesus, they ask what village he lives in as they try to recall who we are talking about.  Can you imagine?  We use the name of Jesus in so many ways- sometimes in reverence, sometimes in vain, sometimes loosely with no acknowledgement of how sacred the name is.  Yet there are people all over the world who have literally never heard this name!

My last night in Mozambique became a time of celebration, but not because my friends were showing me a good time.  We celebrated 3 young men whose lives were changed forever.  I couldn't think of a better way to say goodbye to this place that I had come to love than over chicken, fries, pool and sharing the love of Jesus with these new friends.

I considered posting the picture I have of all of us celebrating with these Mozambican men at the pool hall.  However, the more I learn about the persecution that people face when it is discovered that they have become a Christian, I realize that exposing their pictures and names could jeopardize their safety.  People are being shunned, abandoned, kicked out of their homes, beaten or even killed for their faith.  The more I live, the more thankful I become for my freedom.  We are so free and don't even realize it until we see how others throughout this world live.  Thank God for freedom!

Friend me.

Sunday was my favorite day of the week in Mozambique.  I always looked forward to the church services.  I would put on my long wrap skirt, sandals and best t-shirt (recently bucket-washed and line-dried).  As long as my knees were covered, I would be acceptable.  Knees, above all else, MUST be covered in many parts of Africa.  To expose the knees is...well, I can't even say it!  

I made my way down the dirt path to the church and could hear the music from a distance.  I could feel the energy rise as I walked into the building and was greeted with smiles, hugs, waves and a warm welcome by all who were there.  What starts out in small numbers, ends with a massive group of men, women, children and babies from the surrounding villages who come to worship together.  

The service lasts hours and moves freely between singing, dancing, teaching, preaching and praying.  By the end, though we may be sweaty, we stand refreshed and ready to face another day.  

One Sunday I met a woman outside the church who was sitting with her daughter Manueta as they waited for church to begin.  Manueta found me in the service and sat with me.  We danced, sang and worshiped together.  We simply kept smiling at each other since we didn't speak the same language.  She didn't leave my side and would look up at me with beautiful eyes, full of delight in her gaze. After the service, everyone was invited to eat together in the cafeteria.  It is the one day when everyone from the community are welcomed to eat rice and beans with the staff and children who live on the base.

I was eating and talking with my friend Jorge, when a woman came up and squeezed onto the bench where I was seated.  I was suddenly wedged in next to this woman and turned to look at her.  She greeted me with a smile that seemed to say "I sat here with intention".  She began to speak to Jorge and he translated for her.  It turns out this was Julietta, the mother of Manueta, who I had met outside the church.  I acknowledged that I remembered meeting her and she then made an announcement.  Jorge said "she says she is ready to be friends".  I tried to hide my surprise and uncertainty of how to respond.  I said thank you and just kept nodding.  Jorge went on to translate her intentions.  She had seen me care for her daughter and wanted to be friends.  It was not a question, it was a statement and it was clear that the time was now, at least from her perspective.  

I was so surprised by her declaration and wondered what this even meant.  What does friendship look like in Mozambique?  What does she expect of me?  What am I signing up for?  We sat and ate together in relative silence since we did not speak the same language.  Over the next couple of weeks, friendship did become more clear to me.  I sat with her at services and as she waited for the food distribution for the widows.  I would hold her hand, give her a hug, walk with her and sometimes we just sat in silence.  

One day she invited me to her home and my friend Manuel went with me so he could translate and lead me back to the base.  We walked 20-25 minutes as she navigated us through the alleys and dirt paths.  Huts and buildings were on either side as we moved through the village.  When we arrived at her home she invited us inside and began to share with me the story of her life.  Her husband died and she has been caring for her children as a single mom.  She struggles to provide enough food for her family.  She told me that the day before someone broke into her home (not hard to do AT ALL with the huts) and stole the food for the week.  She prays for God to send her a husband to help her.  I listened and then prayed for her, for provision, for the family, her home and her heart.  

The next day she approached me and said that she was happy because she got her food back!  Someone had found out who stole it and they returned the food to her family.  I was so thankful because I knew the returned food was more than provision for the week.  The bags of rice and beans represented hope and faith.

It is very common for people to ask you for things they need.  People can be very direct and bold in this culture.  Julietta never asked me for anything.  What she wanted was friendship.  I learned that friendship is about supporting each other, sharing the weight of a heavy load and locking arms while standing in faith for answered prayers.  Friendship is about sharing hearts.  It can be through a smile, an embrace, or a word of encouragement.  Friendship can be just sitting together in silence, as the sun moves across the sky, holding fast to the promise of provision for another day.

Happiness

During one of the weekends I was in Mozambique, we traveled to a remote village that was so far off the beaten path that we barely made it.  Our team was packed into the back of the big green truck and after a few hours, we turned off of a main road.  The path became very bumpy and the truck slowed way down to keep from throwing us all out of the vehicle as it plowed over huge dips in the dirt road.  Do you remember those monster toy truck commercials where the kid is driving a remote control truck around the huge dirt mounds?  The toy truck kicks up dust as it gets airborne and flies through the yard.  Well, that is probably what we looked like.  At least, that is how it felt.

We finally, and thankfully, made it to our destination.  As we drove through the center of the village and parked the big vehicle, I noticed kids kicking balls around and adults standing in groups.  I imagined they were discussing the day's events and speculating about the visitors that they heard would be coming.  The people from the village were different than the others I had encountered.  This time, instead of kids running up to the truck and screaming with excitement, everyone kept their distance and eyed those of us peering from inside the truck bed.  I wondered what they were thinking as they stood in their small groups and continued to watch our every move.  

We climbed out of the truck and a feeling of uncertainty came over me.  I had heard that sometimes people can react with aggression or anger when people come into their village, even if the team is expected.  I watched the leaders of our group to gauge their level of comfort.  Suddenly, one of the other volunteers walked up to a ball on the ground and kicked it toward a group of kids.  One of the boys shyly cracked a smile and kicked it back, tentatively.  After a minute, the balls were flying all over the place.  I jumped in and began playing soccer with 3 boys.  We kicked back and forth, racing to get the ball before it hit the adults or ran down a hill.  We began smiling, laughing and shouting with excitement as the ball would get accidentally launched across the village gathering place.  The entire atmosphere changed from tense uncertainty to light-hearted fun.

As I kicked and ran around in my long wrap skirt and sandals, I couldn't contain the happiness I felt inside.  What a gift!  What pure joy to be connecting with these beautiful kids through a game of soccer.  The feeling just welled up inside of me so strongly.  After a short time, the game came to a lull and I wanted to find out the names of these children who had filled my heart.  I knew enough Macua to ask them.  The oldest boy responded "Alegria".  

My jaw dropped.  The world stopped around me as I realized the magnitude of the gift I had just been given.  I had just been playing soccer with a boy whose name means "happiness" or "joy".  Alegria would never know the significance of his name and how he impacted me that day.

Joy.  Happiness.  Alegria.

Alegria is the tall boy with the tan shirt in the middle.  You can see another boy holding a ball.  The kids there don't have real soccer balls, but they will not be stopped.  They are creative enough to use what they have.  They take a ton of plastic bags, scrunch them up into a round ball and tie string around them.  This is how they make their own and they work just fine.