This Is Africa

A week or so after we arrived here, I received a text from another missionary that ended with ‘TIA’. “What in the world did that mean?” I thought. I must really be behind on texting lingo.  So I asked.  It turns out that it means, “This Is Africa.” Okay, so I wasn't too far behind.

“TIA” is used to explain away all the challenges, frustrations, headaches and incredibly long amounts of time it takes to accomplish what would be considered simple tasks in America.  We joke around with it.  Even the kids use it. When the power goes out in the middle of dinner, “TIA,” the kids all say.  When a package doesn't arrive that we have been waiting desperately for, all we can say is, “TIA.”  We have learned to be patient. There is no other way around it.  We can’t get mad or angry. If we did, we would all turn into bitter, resentful people.

Even though we use ‘this is Africa’ in a joking manner sometimes, there is so much more to it than that. This is Africa, with its poverty and lack of adequate health care, with dirty children and elderly that walk around with no shoes.  Where people don’t have enough food or clean clothes. Where I see twelve year old kids come into the hospital who are the size of Brandon who is eight. Where a simple bouncy ball lights up their face and their world.

Isaiah 40:28-31 says, “Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

This is how we see the Rwandan people, extremely hard working, never giving up and never growing weary. They soar on eagles wings.

I take care of a little eight year old girl at the hospital. She arrived at the hospital almost six months ago now with her mom at her side. Her humerus (upper arm bone) was protruding out of her right arm, the bone dead. It had been this way for some time. The pain this little girl had already endured is unimaginable to me. She has had many surgeries now and continues to try and fight off the infection. Last week, after she had come in many times alone to have her dressing changed, I asked where her mom was.  I was told that she had left the hospital to care for the children she still had at home. “Who is taking care of her now?” I asked. “The hospital,” I was told. This is a place where little girls come to the hospital after who knows how long with bones protruding from their bodies, where they stay at the hospital by themselves because someone has to take care of their brothers and sisters at home. This is their reality. As a mom, how do you possibly choose who to take care of?

Yep, this is Africa.

This is a place where children, sometimes as young as 4 years old, work to provide income for their family because their parents are too poor to send them to school. Their money will help their family eat. Where those fortunate enough to get a job will walk for miles to and from work each day. Where 50 mile long trenches are still dug by hand. Where the power is unstable and goes out several times a day, but somehow there’s fiber optic internet running throughout Rwanda.

Yep, TIA.

But, there’s also a flip side. One where, despite the poverty and suffering, people are friendly and meet you with a smile. Where people will go out of their way to help you when you need it. Where spirits are bright and laughter is prevalent. Where there is awe-inspiring beauty all around us.

Yep, TIA.

It’s all the above and so much more. It’s both “I can’t believe things can be this way” and “I wish things were like this in America.” It’s both “I hope things change soon” and “wow, they really have things figured out.” It’s the place we currently call home. And we’re so happy to be here!

Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me. -Matthew 25:40