The flames would be reaching high into the air, and the
intensity of the heat coming from the inferno would cause me to halt in my
tracks. Often my hands would be baking
due to them being the foremost part of my body facing the flames. I had to hold the nozzle out in front of me
and control the branch like stiffness of the hose supplying the water to the
nozzle in order to cool the radiant heat that challenged me. The hose had the desire to snake out of my
grasp and whip madly, back and forth, like the tail from so many dragons in
movies we’ve all seen. Then I would
proceed, dropping to my knees to avoid the searing heat banking down on top of
me. With the water spraying forcefully
out of the nozzle, I could advance, crawling and sometimes slithering on my
belly to stay below the searing atmosphere above me. Sometimes, I could see a few feet in front of
me, and through the blackest smoke I would make my way towards the orange and
red wall before me. For the times I
couldn’t see even an inch before me, I would just feel where the hottest part
of the room was, and go towards that source of heat. Often times, the ceiling would be falling
down around me, so I would be hyper vigilant towards the space above me,
listening for the tell tale signs of wood failing. That sound signifies a likely death, to the
one or more firefighters trapped beneath the timbers that come down and pin
their victim to the ground, then the fire tackling and piling on. I’ve heard that sound……..
"Here, the flames are hunger, the heat is disease, and the smoke is illness."
I’ve heard that sound here, too. Except that the flames are hunger, the heat
is disease, and the smoke is illness.
But I’m not the one facing the fire.
The ones holding on to the dragons’ tail are the people in the
village. They’re trying to beat back the inferno of
poverty. And like so many brave
firefighters I’ve known, they too just put their heads down and move forward, because
not to do that isn’t an option for them.
They wouldn’t consider turning their backs towards what could kill them;
instead, they just carry on. Because of
that, I have such admiration for the people here. I see them persevering through the day
without food in their bellies, or in their homes. They’ll work on an empty stomach to earn
enough money to buy food for that day. They’ll
forage for leaves from trees and bushes to cook over their open fires. They don’t have kitchens to prepare their
meager portions either, their kitchen is three good sized rocks to rest the pan
on. The pan is then heated from twigs and branches collected from the bush
earlier that day. All that was after
they swept the dirt in front of their mud home with strands of arms length
grass bundled together and tied with grass to make a sturdy broom; but not
before the water was hand pumped from a well that may or may not be close
by.
"I admire them because they live with the acceptance that it ain’t gonna change much."
But its not just that I admire them because they have a
physically hard life. I admire them
because they live with the acceptance that it ain’t gonna change much. No matter what NGO program (non-governmental
organization--or charity--the life blood of third world countries) is started for
them, or what training course, or what food is handed out, eventually it all
comes to an end. They know it, and count
themselves blessed for the moments it relieves some hunger pains, or disease,
or some other deprivation. And when its
gone, they carry on. People here don’t
turn their backs on the flames of hunger.
They push through the smoke of illness, on their bellies at times, enduring
the heat of disease, and sometimes they hear that awful sound of the roof timbers breaking, collapsing on and pinning
them, or someone they love.
"I love them."
I love them. Just
like I loved some of my firefighter buddies.
The thing that makes me mad
though, is the villagers didn’t agree to this.
They didn’t compete with others to get the best scores, or to perform
the best during the physical endurance tests.
They didn’t train intensely, and get handed special clothing and
equipment to make the job a little safer.
They didn’t sign on to be firefighters / poverty stricken. And
that’s why I admire them too. They do
the job in spite of it all. They face
down life’s infernos. I like that.
"I was supposed to write about what I learned in Kenya..."
This is already way too long, and I was supposed to write
about what I experienced and learned in Kenya during the one-month Organics 4
Orphans course (bio-intensive farming
organically and natural medicine).
But I can’t tell you what I learned until you know why I bothered to
learn. I learned because I love them,
the villagers. And I know for a fact
that God has me here to bring his love to them, His kingdom coming here in Chikhwawa, Malawi, as it is in heaven. We’re all here for
this purpose. I’ll be honest, this place
is a crap (manure) sandwich in terms of physical comforts and fun things to
do. I actually hate being hot and sweaty
all the time, dust blowing in my eyes, and relentlessly staring at poverty’s
doorstep. That said, however, it’s
beautiful here, looking through my spiritual eyes of course. Oh, and absolutely I’m not here because I
want to make a difference or feel like I’m doing something worthwhile for these
poor folks. The truth is, I want God to
make a difference here, and I want the villagers to know that God knows they’re
doing something worthwhile already.
So the Kenya story will come later. I’m sure you’re as tired reading this as I am
writing. So if you’ve read this far,
know that God andI love you too! Honest.
