Liz Visits With the Villagers

Feb. 1, 2008
I have been invited to go to the villages to glimpse the work of the Presbyterian church. The Blantyre Synod works with 11 surrounding villages within the 5 townships that comprise the southern part of Malawi. The work done by the church is intended to serve the most vulnerable; orphans and child-headed households, and chronically ill (parents or guardians dying from AIDS). The Synod has built a grassroots structure, working with a committee of leaders from each village: the village chief and other natural community leaders. The village leaders identify the most vulnerable in their communities, assess their needs and determine with the Synod, the best strategies to meet those needs.

The early morning has been drenched with heavy rains. We close our umbrellas and scramble into the two seater cab of a pick up truck. Sewa Phokosa, the Synod’s Program Manager for OFIC, Orphan Families in Crisis, has organized a tour for me to see the work of her program. Sewa speaks English well. She is responsible for overseeing the program, writing reports and updates to donors and managing two other staff members. Rodgers is also with us. He works with OFIC on the ground floor. He is in the fields, contacting community leaders, trouble shooting and ensuring that programs are running well.

The first stop is a preschool. Usually they have 40 or more children in attendance but because of the heavy rains, many of the children have not come today. The children and 4 teachers from the village gather in a small concrete building. The building is cold and stark. There are no toys, no furniture, no crayons, not a scrap of paper in sight. There are a few worn and torn books, in English, in one corner of the room given by a “well-wisher.” Thirteen children sit quietly on the cold cement slab as the 4 volunteer teachers greet me.

After introductions, one of the leaders says a prayer. Then the adults share their work with me. They speak Chichewa as Sewa translates. Story after story is told of the trauma these children have suffered from losing one or both parents. The teachers, all volunteers, tell me how the children will sometimes act out, withdrawing, not wanting to relate to anyone, sometimes refusing to eat. They describe the strategies they use to treat the “whole” child. It is not enough to feed and cloth the child. They are suffering spiritually and emotionally as well as physically. They talk about how they try to take the child’s mind off their problems when they come to school but that task is nearly impossible due to the suffering these small children have had to endure. Their little spirits are crushed. We are rushed to finish the conversation because we have other community leaders waiting to meet us at other sites.

As we drive into the next village, children turn and shout “azungu,” white person, as the pick-up drives past and we lock eyes. The truck stops at the entrance of a small home where three young men meet us. Each teenage man has received a scholarship from the Synod to apprentice with a tailor and now they await the arrival of their new sewing machines donated through OFIC. They rush into their homes and come back out with dresses, school uniforms, and other garments hung over their arms, items they have sewn. They are very proud and excited to show them off. I admire their work. There is much laughter and joking. After a bit, I ask them to tell me about their families. Suddenly, the conversation becomes solemn and serious. They lower their voices. Each of them is the head of a child-headed household. Their parents died maybe three, five, seven years ago. They are the eldest amongst the children and have had to assume parental responsibility. Each of the boys had to drop out of school because they did not have the money to continue secondary school (middle school and high school), for which the government does not pay. They speak of the new hope they have found through the Synod. They cling to their hopes and share a few of their dreams. Perhaps the three of them will open up a tailor business in town. Maybe they will teach other teens how to sew. Again there is laughter.

Sewa has arranged for me to tour the home of one of the young tailors. This man lives with 3 other siblings, the oldest sister nurses her baby as we enter. The home is nothing more than one small cement room, divided by a curtain. No electricity, no running water. They show me their bathing area outside, tarps of plastic sewn together to make a curtain so the one sponging may have some privacy. The toilet is a hole in the ground. Everything is a neat as a pin. Any spot of open land grows maize.

We hop in the pickup and are off to observe a training given by one of the Synod staff and a government social worker. These men stand before a group of over 30 men and women of all ages. These are villager leaders who are on the sub-committees directed to oversee the villages care of the orphans and vulnerable children. They are in the middle of an exercise, making a “memory blanket.” Each participant is invited to draw or write a memory on a piece of paper, a memory of a gift they received from a loved one who died when they were a child. They are invited to share their memory. Tears flow as they tell their stories. The gift of perseverance, the gift of sewing and cooking, the gift of hospitality...Some silence is offered. Then the leader encourages them to do this same exercise at home with the orphans, to give the children opportunities to remember and talk about whom they miss.

The rains begin again. Heavy! The truck fights its way over the rutted dirt roads to make it to one final destination. The bridge into the village is flooded. We cannot pass through. Nevertheless, Sewa and Rodgers want to show me a project the villagers are managing. We turn and head up a steep hill. Before us is a huge field of maize, lush and green. The village chief has given this land to grow maize for the orphans and most vulnerable in his village so that they will not go hungry this year. Rodgers holds an umbrella as we stand on the hill and survey the crops. Suddenly, way beyond, in the fields below, we see a man waving to us, weaving his way through the maize. He is one of the community leaders who is waiting to meet us. Behind him come the rest of the committee, a large group of men and women, laughing, singing. The rain has subsided. When they catch up to is, we admire the crops, as the committee tells me of the hard work they do in the fields so the children do not go hungry. Surely they must have a plow or some type of machinery to work all this land. As my question is translated, they break into laughter and tell me their hands are their machines. Their white toothy smiles are brilliant against their black shiny skin. We all jump into the back of the pick-up for a photo and then we head for home.

This experience happened nearly two weeks ago. We find it takes us a while to process and articulate our experiences. Although the enormity of the problems are overwhelming, the sincerity, hope and love of these people is also overwhelming. “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome.” John 1:5