I Need Africa More Than Africa Needs Me

*read through post for all exciting news*

The flight from Auckland, New Zealand to Johannesburg South Africa was almost 16 hours. Oh, and I was six months pregnant with Cohen. The flight attendant found an empty row and let me stretch out and prop my feet up. For as long as I could remember, I had wanted to go to Africa. While I had heard the sentiments of other church-goers that they were afraid to to say to God ‘Here am I! Send me!’ because He might send them there, I had said so kind of in hopes He might.

You see, I had this lofty idea I would go and change the world. By the time I was 25 and actually going I knew I might not change the world, but I was sure just seeing Westerners and knowing we would go back and share their stories would elevate these “down trodden third world victims”.

The images I had of Africa as a child- vivid colors of traditional garments and long histories of tribal dance and story telling- had morphed into a single image of a child with a distended belly in a swarm of flies.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to experience. I tried to think and mentally get in gear in the months before we left and even tried to cram in some last minute preparations of that dreaded 16 hour flight.

Africa wasn’t what I expected.

Sure, we were witness to funeral, we met children who have AIDS, we met lots of orphans who were being raised by the elderly or the oldest child in the family. I just had never let my mind get beyond the suffering… I prepared myself to be to experience only that. Suffering.

Imagine my surprise that the lasting impression I have of Africa is one of JOY. And not joy in spite of suffering, just JOY…the kind that has no strings attached. From the moment we got off of the plane, we were met with beautiful smiles and warm welcomes. Every family we met laughed and embraced us even as they shared what hardships that had endured. We met a man who had a boatload of children and several farm animals and he was literally GLOWING as he explained to us how they were learning to farm in the midst of drought and be the best stewards of what they had. One of my personal favorite experiences was the day we spent at a local school. The children had prepared for us a program, complete with dancing and singing and original poems and several plays the learned in English. At one point, the drug Shawn out onto the “stage” with them and strapped some hollowed out gourds to his legs and made him try to replicate their moves. If it hadn’t been for some missing shoes and the thinness of many of their bodies, we might never have known they were lacking anything.

Shawn was behind the camera a lot on the trip and I was never without my pen and notebook. Still, I often felt at a loss for what to write. I had planned on writing such gut wrenching stories of terror that everyone who read them would be compelled to empty their pockets and bank accounts on behalf of this charity. But I found myself wanted to write about funny moments during the day and dancing and a sense of community that gave context for everything else that was happening… even at the funeral we attended…the whole neighborhood came out in the best clothing and held each other and sang for hours and wept together… even in that saddest of moments, the note worthy event wasn’t death.

After our last church service in Zimbabwe (where we spent most of our time), I was in awe. The team of workers there, all originally from Zimbabwe, had sung with passion and harmonies that left every hair on my body standing at attention. I was too moved to talk; to moved to sing. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I listened to songs I was familiar with and others whose language eluded me and realized that it didn’t even matter: the Spirit was the same.

That evening, our little group stretched out on the ground outside our little house and watched the stars. We watched mostly in silence, knowing that for all of us, this trip hadn’t been what we had expected. My thoughts went most often to the sweet, nearly blind grandmother we had met- “GoGo Moyo”… she heard us coming and had run out to meet us, singing and jumping and embracing us… she is raising her three granddaughters and has buried all of her children and yet when we asked about her hardships, the translator listened and then began to repeat “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…” I thought about her words and her demeanor and those eyes blued by age but alive and dancing none the less. A shooting star flung itself across the perfectly black night sky and I knew the beautiful and royal people of Africa had given me more than I could ever give back; I knew that had made a permanent place in my heart.

Go Go Moyo

Isn’t that just how it is? So often when we go to serve, we find ourselves the recipients of something greater. I need Africa- I need her rich history. I need her creative problem solving and hard work and determination to survive. I need the strength of Her spirit. I need her JOY that comes not from having modern conveniences, but that comes from a well within. I need her hope in the face of great challenges. I need her faith that what God says is true even if you can’t see it right now.

I came with images of suffering in my mind, and left impressed with the spirit of these brothers and sisters. I no longer see Africa as a place we need to rescue because of their poverty. I see Africa as a place we need to partner with because of the great inner poverty we will sustain by not recognizing all that She has to offer us.

We need Africa more than Africa needs us.
I need Africa more than Africa needs me.

I have been asked to be a part of a few campaigns but nothing that has excited me more than this one. If you haven’t heard of Mocha Club, then I am excited to get to be the one to introduce you. Mocha Club is a community-based website where members can start a team and invite friends to join them in giving $7 a month – the cost of 2 mochas – to support a project in Africa. Mocha Club’s vision is to provide a way for people who don’t have hundreds or thousands of dollars to make a difference in Africa.

Share your thoughts in my comments, and even blog about it yourself. Join in the worthwhile cause of recasting the damaging images that force pity over partnership.

Come back Dec 1st to see what Mocha Club is doing about reforming that image. We get to be apart of more than just talking about it friends- can’t wait!

**I am going to be offering two large (framed) photos that Shawn took from our trip to South Africa and Zimbabwe. Winners will get to chose the photo they want. [To see some of the photo options go to Shawn's Photography website.] **

Here’s what you need to do:
1. Click on the above banner and it will take you to the Mocha Club website. Visit their links about all of the projects they are involved with and then come back tell me which project interests you most and also why.
and/or
2. Write a post on your own blog about the idea that we need Africa more than she needs us and come back and let me know when your article is published.
I will choose one winner from the comments about different projects and one winner from those who blog. I will be choosing winners this Friday!