Skip to main content

Sunday on the base | The faces of Zimpeto.


Stepping into the large church hall which doubles as a dining room (blue benches for eating, cream benches for church), I was met by the sight of hundreds of children and some adults filling the many benches. All were dressed in their best as church is the main even of the week. I sat down next to some ladies on a bench. Friendly smiles and some hugs and kisses greeted me and it was clear to see that this was a day of joy that they had been looking forward to. Behind me a small lady with a huge smile and a worn face sat down with three little children. They're clothes were well-worn but made so very beautiful by the beautiful little persons wearing them.

As it neared the time of the church starting more and more people filed in. Children and staff from the base but also many many from the community nearby. I sat next to some teenage boys who look 11 but are 14-15 year old. Very sweet but also smart and they were constantly trying to fiddle with my pen and Bible and it brought back memories of taking streetboys to church in Brazil, where I sometimes found squiggles in my Bible at the end of a service. The church service was good and quite long, but good.

At the end of the service a young girl who looked maybe 14 started talking to me. She had been sitting behind me with her little 4 month old baby during the service and we had a nice little chat. I complemented her on her cute baby and she started talking about getting her baby baptised because she now had a job and a place to live. And then went on to say "and I have chosen you to be her god mother". It was one of those moments I was not prepared for and as a much as I would love to pour into every child and person I have met here, I knew that what she was asking probably meant a lot more then committing to pray for her little daughter. So as clearly as I could I told her I was only here for a short time and that unfortunately I couldn't be her daughter's god mother. She was fine with it and said she'd come back next Sunday and find someone. But it made me wonder what her life is like and if I was something that represented future for her little girl.

The rest of the day went by and everywhere I'd meet different people and see different faces; from those of other visitors and missionaries, to the smiling and joyful cooks in the kitchen and children forever wanting attention.

It was a good day.

Popular posts from this blog

Getting to know the local culture.

Life is a strange thing. Last week went…not much happened, and then it was over. The weekend was quite calm without too many wild and exciting things happening. Except, of course, a wee outing to watch the National Championship for Veteran Ploughing. Now, like me, you might be sadly lacking an understanding of what this actually means. So I am delighted to be able to enlighten you in this respect. It’s basically (for the “farm-language-illiterate” like myself) a competition where you use old (hence the name “veteran”) tractors and ploughs, and plough up a stretch of field which is then evaluated and the one scoring the highest sum (accuracy, depth, how well the soil is turned is all given points) wins. I must admit that this information I got by eavesdropping on a conversation next to me where a man was explaining to some of my friends how it all works. So that was a fun adventure….although we only stayed for a bit. What is sort of occupying my mind at present is my upcoming travel abr...

Taking in the familiar and a heart connected.

Amsterdam. It still has that muggy feeling in Summer, and a constant flow of people which if you stop to think about it, it's quite amazing that there would even be space to accommodate them all. But then I guess they are not all staying. Just passing through on their way to or from somewhere. It's always good for the heart to visit somewhere that was once home. The familiarity of streets and customs makes it easier to embrace what might be new as well as the joy of being reacquainted with old friends. Friends. So many of them to be found in this city, ready with hugs and good words that are uttered when seeing someone who was away again. Friendship. A treasure that cannot be bought. Cobblestones trodden by many, including myself. Sitting on a bench. Praying. Remembering the first time I stumbled upon this area lined with windows with red lights and curtains. An area which has come to represent no longer windows, but people to me. Some still behind a window. Others who have ...

Tuesday children's prayer | Handing out shoes and feeding toddlers.

No day is the same here. After getting up early (which seems to be what I do here), and eating breakfast which was bread with butter (accompanied by an amazing cup of coffee given me by an American friend), I headed to the prayer room for children's prayer. This is a prayer time where the children come voluntarily to pray before school on Tuesdays and Fridays. Entering the room I was so impressed by how it was full of children eager to pray. There were probably 60 or 70 children there, and it was amazing to see one after the other choose to pray for their families and people who are sick, and other subjects on their little hearts. It was so great and an experience that I will carry with me for a long time. After prayer it was "Shoprite" time, which meant piling into a bus with other visitors and missionaries for the weekly shopping trip. I didn't quite know what to expect, but I had a few items to buy and hoped it would be a stress-free experience. As we drove along ...