Church Visit in the Bush

Two weeks ago, the whole family drove about 45 minutes outside of town to visit a little church in "the bush". Of course, 45 minutes isn't much, but it really is the bush! People live in little huts and grow crops to feed themselves. There is no electricity or running water, and the nearest health post is quite a distance away. The quiet and beauty of the area is so nice to see, though for those living there of course it is nothing new.

This little church was started by some of Kevin's students, who walk every Sunday from their homes about 30 minutes away to pastor the little group of believers. Kevin received a warm welcome there last year, and he wanted us to come and meet them this year. I really wish we could take each of you along to visit, as it is impossible to convey the whole experience in a short post here. So, I'll just give a few details.

We picked up the evangelist along the road so he could guide us to the spot, and after bumping for about another 30 minutes along dirt roads, we came to the church. Made of stick and daub, with a straw roof, the inside has mud benches and was decorated with bits of paper and flowers (from nearby bushes) hanging from the low ceiling. We were about 30 minutes early for the service, and we settled near the car to wait. Every few minutes, someone would come over to greet us as they arrived, while the boys ran around exploring and the elders met inside the church to decide on the program for that morning.

When it was time for church, we all assembled inside and the singing began. We all sang together for a little while, and the drum beat the rhythm, then there were several special presentations of little choirs. Each had prepared two or three songs. Then it was time for announcements, which were given in Makua and in Portuguese, then for the preaching. Kevin gave a sermon of 45 minutes or so, translated into Makua by the evangelist. Afterward, there was a time to pray for various people, then the offering. This is often an exciting event, and this was no different. While the singing got louder and louder, people dance up to the person holding the offering plate and put their money in. Then, each of us was grabbed and brought up to the altar as an "offering". A few seconds after you arrive, someone comes along and takes you back to the arm and leads you back to your seat. Quite fun, if you know what is going on! Neither Toby or Ben did and they started to panic a bit until we helped the "grabbers" to reassure the boys.

After the service, which lasted about 3 hours, we sat and chatted with a few people while our lunch was prepared. A chicken had been killed when we arrived that morning, and this was prepared in an oily sauce with tomatoes and onions. A big plate of white rice was also ready for us, and this was put on a table inside the church with two cokes and a fanta for us. A salad with lettuce and tomatoes was put out for us too. It is always interesting to see who will eat with us, and this time it was just us. I'm not sure why the pastor eats with us sometimes, and sometimes not - perhaps it has something to do with how much food is available. But this time, it was just for our family. We used to feel really bad about this, but now accept the gift for what it is and eat heartily and with thanksgiving. The boys have adjusted and usually eat the chicken happily, along of course with the rice.

After we finished eating, we came outside and thanked them for the meal, then it was time to go. A couple of church members piled in our car to take advantage of the ride, and we bumped off again toward home. We had left home at 7:30 that morning, and returned at 2:30 that afternoon. You can see why the boys and I don't go every Sunday! But we enjoyed this trip out to see these lovely believers and encourage them. Kevin wrote about this over at his blog as well, but I wanted to put up some more photos. - Cami

Baptism

Last week, we had the privilege of attending a baptism for believers from my church. This is the little church that the kids and I attend weekly, since Kevin is "on the circuit" most Sundays, visiting his students' churches and encouraging pastors. There are quite a few new believers in the church, which was started by a couple who have lived in Nampula about 7 years. He is Mozambican and she is South African, and we are so happy to be part of this church that they started (one of three).

There were about 15 people who attended, the maximum that Pastor Moses' truck could hold, and we convoyed with them in our truck. We bumped down the road past our house for about 30 minutes to reach a river that has a good amount of water (hard to find now in dry season) and there Kevin was able to help a bit with getting people in and out of the water and assisting the pastor. Toby, of course, was right in the middle of whatever he could get in the middle of. Always wants to be part of the action! Ben fell down into the cold water (after numerous warnings to stay out of the water) and had to have his clothes changed. Of course, since I know Ben, I had anticipated this particular outcome and was prepared with dry clothes.

What a joy it was to see the happiness on these folks' faces as they publicly proclaimed their love for Jesus! We really enjoy knowing them and encouraging them and I hope to be able to help them in some way as we go along.

It was a good day. After the baptism, we all went back to the elder's house for a little party with beans and rice and the cookies that Catarina and I had made at my house the day before. The boys played with the kids and I sat and chatted with this lady and that, asking them to give me their testimonies. Some had attended church as children but just recently come to know what it really means to know Jesus, others had no knowledge of God at all before coming to know him. God has been working so much in the ministry of Moises and his wife Connie, and we feel very fortunate to know them! - Cami

Welcoming the New Arrival

After my ladies' meeting this morning, we all walked about 15 minutes further into the "bairro", which is the "slums" to visit one of our group members who had just had a baby. As we skirted around people's well-swept yards and stepped over old plastic bags, fruit peelings, and rags, I was (as always) the subject of great interest. Benjamin, who was with me, excites even more interest. Luckily he usually doesn't mind too much unless children try to talk to him and for some reason this bothers him. We finally came around the back of the stick and mud home of our friend. This house, like many of the others in the bairro, is constructed of rough-cut poles tied into a waffle-like frame and plastered with mud. They don't last very long, these houses, and often are in some stage of falling down. If the walls get very wet, down they come. The roof is a frame of poles with plastic laid over top, and straw laid on top of that. This is supposed to keep the rain off, but the numerous holes in the plastic don't tend to deter it that much. The house was about 10 feet long and 8 feet wide, the usual size, and next to the front door was a pot bubbling with beans. Likely the entirely of the day's meals. Inside, the young mother sat on a straw mat, leaning against the mud wall, the baby laid beside her, wrapped in a cloth. As I looked at the baby, I asked how far along the mother had been when it was born and was shocked that they said 9 months, since this baby looked extremely tiny and a bit drawn. I've seen other babies like this here, and don't know if they come out like this because they actually are premature (people don't tend to be very accurate in their counting of the months) or because the mother is ill. She looked well enough, but tired out with caring for this 10 day old infant. I am hoping there is someone there to help her with the handwashing of all the clothes, carrying of the water, carrying of the wood and building of the fire and cooking from scratch whatever they have available.

Inside the house, there was no furniture except a handmade table that had a cloth over it and a few odd items on it, like a large avocado seed and an empty bottle. The holes in the roof let in a little light, but otherwise it was very dark and I'm sure very cold at night (we are in cold season). Anyone who came from America would be absolutely horrified at the poverty in which this woman was living, but here unfortunately it is pretty normal.

Our little group of ladies went in, and the most senior held the baby while we sang a few choruses, with gusto. Most are in Makua, so I just hum along and clap, but was able to join in for the Portuguese songs. We sang songs like "God gives and God takes away" and "To follow Jesus is Good", things like that. Then we all prayed for her (at the same time), and a plastic bag of gifts was opened. These were purchased from the weekly offering that is taken at the ladies' meeting. There were two foot-long bars of homemade soap (purchased in the market), a capulana (a 5-foot length of colorful cloth used for a skirt, for a shawl, to carry a baby around in like a sling, a floor mat, to wrap your purchases in, for just about anything!), a package of sugar and three used shirts for the new mother. These were not displayed. No questions were asked about the baby like weight, name, or sex. I didn't dare ask because some people have some beliefs about sharing details about a baby, that I'm not completely familiar with yet. Having to do with the spirits and ancestors.

Anyway, so after doing all this, we went outside and sang another song, then departed. The mother didn't look very happy that we had come, just smiled a little. No thank you for the gifts, no little speech. This is totally appropriate in their culture, but I am not yet sure why! And no, there are not baby showers here either. As I gazed at the tiny baby, and exhausted mother, I could only pray that somehow God spares both of them. Infant death is so common here, and to try to get medical care is exhausting, involving a long walk to the hospital and a long wait. Many Mozambican babies do grow up and thrive, and I hope this little mite is one of them. - Cami

What Poverty Means

I watched a "Nooma" video lately titled "Rich" that talked about how Americans are some of the richest people in the world. And some of the poorest live right down the street from me. Do you wonder what their lives are really like? What does it really mean to be poor?

We see handicapped people out on the streets every day. People swinging along with crutches, hopping, dragging themselves on carts. You don't see this kind of thing in America. Most likely many of these people have a deformity from birth that could have been corrected by surgery. Some have injuries that could have been healed with proper care, others could benefit from a prosthetic. Their poverty means that they spend their entire lives in this state, and most are unable to work since even the able-bodied struggle to find employment. Many handicapped people beg in town.

Poverty means that when it is cold, you sleep close to each other since you have no blanket. You sleep on a bamboo mat instead of a mattress. You don't have a mosquito net and the house has no screening. Bugs and mice live in your straw roof. At night, you light the house with a small oil lamp. You walk to wherever you need to go, miles at a time. If you need medicine that the hospital is unable to provide, you go without or sacrifice something else, or borrow or raise the money.

Children do not drink milk or take vitamins unless they are very ill and the hospital dispenses them. They have no toys, usually, although sometimes one has something. They are washed in a basin of cold water with the harsh homemade soap available in the market. There are no children's books in the home, no crayons, no playground nearby.

If your baby has a fever, you must carry him or her for a great distance, and then wait for hours for treatment. If the nurse doesn't know what the problem is, and death isn't imminent, you'll be sent home to see if it gets better on its own. If there is a serious problem, you may eventually see a doctor for several minutes after hours of waiting. A prescription will be handed to you with no explanation of the condition or the treatment.

Your bathroom (if you have one) is a reed enclosure divided in two sections, one half has a stone in it and maybe a bucket-this is your shower area. You stand on the rock as to not get too muddy and dip cold water over yourself. The other half is a short-drop toilet.

Even if you need glasses, you will probably never receive them. The fuzziness in your vision is just something to cope with. If you are losing your hearing, there is nothing to be done. A tooth that has a cavity will be pulled, most likely after weeks of pain. The pinched nerves, arthritis, skin problems, back pain and other chronic problems that you have will continue until you can find a home remedy, visit a witch doctor for a cure, be healed in the church, or the symptoms go away on their own. If you have a headache or muscle strain, you have no medication for this. No bandaids for cuts, no antiseptic to clean wounds.

You carry water in buckets on top of your head daily, for cooking, bathing and washing the dishes. You purchase food in small quantities, paying higher prices. But there is never enough to buy in bulk. If you did buy in bulk, your neighbors will expect you to share. Meals are cooked over charcoal and it takes a long time to heat water and to cook anything. It is smoky and hot. You cook with oil rather than margarine, since it is cheaper. Hunger is just a part of life. You can't afford to purchase "convenience foods" like bread. Therefore, if you must be away from home for the day you do not eat unless you have some coins to purchase something someone else has cooked. Food at home is mostly corn porridge cooked in a pot over the fire, with some tomatoes, garlic and onion made into a sauce. Meat is rare. A coke is for special occasions, a chocolate bar unheard of.

You might have a cell phone, but rarely have money to buy the prepaid credit to use it. You pay a small amount of money to recharge it now and then at the market's small shop with electricity.

You do not travel as that kind of money is never available to you. Though you live only two hours drive from the ocean, you've never seen it and never will in your lifetime. Your clothes are well-mended and faded. Fit doesn't matter. You've never purchased a newspaper or a roll of toilet paper. You sit on a dirt floor in your home as the one chair belonging to the family is used by someone more important than you. Gifts are not purchased for birthdays or Christmas, though perhaps a cake might be baked one year or a special meal prepared.

Does it sound like I am being dramatic? Unfortunately I am not. This is the situation for probably 50% of the population of our town. Owning a camera, using a computer, or understanding how to use a library are things that will never happen to them. Now, none of this is to say that people are unhappy. It is only to say that when you are poor, much of life is more difficult. Things are complicated and tiring.

It is amazing to us what good humor people here have! We frequently see people laughing and smiling on the street. They are used to this kind of life, though we would like to see things easier for them and healthier for them and their children. However, ease of life does not equal happiness. How many Americans do you know who are really happy? I bet I know just as many Mozambicans who are. But people here do suffer, and we would like to see that change as time goes by. More distressing, however, is the poverty of thinking. They feel that God is distant, they do not understand who He is or how precious they are to him, they do not understand their faith or feel that there is hope for change in their lives. That is true poverty. - C

Trickle Down Economics

Of a rather different sort. We hear stories all the time of students who are asked for money by their teachers. The neighbor told me that the teacher sent home a note, telling her to send a bag of flour to the teacher or her child could not continue at the school. A young friend told me of how she missed an exam, and brought a doctor's note only to be told that she could not make up the exam and would not pass the class unless she gave the teacher a sum of money (that she cannot afford). We hear of a Christian young man who repeated the same year of university three times because he refused to pay the bribe asked by the teacher. Talk about integrity! We also hear of girls who are asked for sexual favors from the teacher (a common enough practice) in order to pass their classes. My young friend went to the director of the school and complained about the sum of money she had been asked for, and the director shrugged and said "I don't interfere in the affairs of the teachers".

This is all just horrifying to us. I have contemplated whether I should interfere but after speaking to several people concluded that the student would be persecuted even more. Most people just pay the requested bribe and carry on.

Why are all these teachers so corrupt? Recently I learned that just to get into teachers' college, you have to pay a very large sum of money (more than one month's salary) to the director of the school. While in school, you have to pay the professors. Then there is another sum of money due in order to receive your graduation papers. Then, these new teachers are required to go out to remote villages to teach for two years before they have a chance of getting transferred back to the cities, where they want to live. After all of this, they are ready to get theirs. They feel that they are owed something. And it is quite likely that they still owe money or favors to whomever helped them get through teachers' college. And the people that they owe, owe someone else. It just trickles down from the top, poisoning everyone.

How do we stop this? We can't wipe it out from where we sit. And lest we congratulate ourselves on being so much more "modern" that people here, let's remember that only 40 years ago the New York City Police Department was so corrupt that criminals were getting away with murder. There has been just as much corruption in Western society over the years as there is now here in Mozambique. Why did it slow down in West (or go underground)? People had power to stop it. When people do not have power, others take advantage of them. When they have no money, when they have no jobs, when they have no leverage, they will be victimized by those who wield power. Either individuals acquire the ability to protect themselves, or they rise up as one to protest. I don't know which will happen here on a large scale first. - C

Vignettes

Today Toby learned how to ride a bike! He is already past due on this, due to the fact that the only place to learn is across town and we just never have time to take him. This morning, however, we went to see friends and took some time to finish the job. The grin on his face was enormous and his whole body said "Yesssss!". Here's a photo of him later on his bike, still happy and proud. You may wonder about the shiner. He fell on Monday night (five days ago) out of his 2-storey bamboo playhouse while trying to leap into a nearby tree. His experiment with gravity succeeded and ground met face, resulting in a broken blood vessel and resultant very impressive black eye. Although it was very sore at first, now it just makes him a celebrity.

Ben has been busy with his own little projects, of a somewhat different nature. Yesterday morning I came out of the back door to find him walking across the yard, pants pulled down enough to pee in the can he was holding in front of himself. Why he thought he needed to pee in a can while walking across the yard, I've no idea. He tripped and spilled pee down his leg, and then threw the can and started dancing around like he was on fire, shrieking with dismay! I was so helpless with laughter that I couldn't do anything to help him. A bath followed. Toby tells me that Ben had done this the day before, and he likes to fill up cans and dump them in the bushes. No, I don't know why. Sigh. I'm trying to teach him to pee in the bathroom, hoping this is just a phase. And no, I'm not going to post a photo! - Cami

Fiel Conference

Last week was the Fiel Conference. Fiel is an organization from Brazil that is involved in providing Christian literature in Portuguese. Their local coordinator, an American missionary, puts on this conference every year out at the SIL center and invites local pastors and leaders. This year, there were over 300 people! They bring in speakers who teach QUALITY stuff - this year, the topic was Christian Family, and there were teachings on what a marriage should be, how to order your home, forgiveness and peacemaking, and other things.

Kevin and I attended with three couples we sponsored - the men are all Kevin's students. What a privilege to spend time with these wonderful folks, who enjoyed the conference a great deal. What especially stood out to us was the quality of the teaching - we NEVER hear preaching like that. I don't mean good preaching as far as the style, I mean the content. What was taught was solid, biblical stuff. Not complicated, not mis-interpreted (as almost everything is here), but straightforward simple direction from the Bible, backed up with solid doctrine. It was so refreshing to us, and our students were astonished at the wisdom of the teachers.

It was very well-organized and we were provided with lots of good food at each meal, which our students also enjoyed immensely. The whole thing is subsidized so for less than $10 each were were able to attend 3 days of teaching and eat all meals there. Kevin challenged each of his students to take some of the things they learned back to their churches and share this wisdom with others. We are looking forward to attending next year as well.


Here are three of the folks who attended, Catarina and her husband Manuel, and Alberto. What beautiful spirits each of these people have and we are thankful to know them.

- Cami