Week in Chipinge

How I long to live in Highfield or Mbari!! Every house is battered in some way, few windows are intact with some replaced with boards or paper. The people rising so early to try to make money in whatever way they can – people shouting, bargaining, even fighting – the clash of poverty and desperation. Hardly no clean air to breathe either because of Kombee fuel and smoke from cars, burning rubbish and side way litter. The smell of sewage prevails in Mbare! Not knowing where the next meal would come from, not being able to rely on clean water from the tap, if they work at all. Never having electricity or living with the ‘cheers’ as ZESA comes back on. Walking around the dirt tracks and crammed housing, jumping over the puddles to the next, burst pips to drains, on the stone pavement that is crumbling away. Walking alongside people who have huge holes and tears in their clothes, but who will still polish the shoe that has no soul. Walking through the thickness of the crowds, dodging through men and women, all in the same boat and struggling – no work, bad education, forgotten generation.

But why Mbari? In this place, I can close my eyes and walk with Jesus. I see him jumping the pipes that are burst, I can feel him shouting out the price for the dodgy items for sale. I can see him working hard to make a living, struggling for food and water. Where I see Christ, and feel Christ, I want to be – there – with him, discovering and learning more about Jesus, as he teaches me more about myself too. in that learning, I learn to trust him for everything – for food, money, work, wisdom and so much more – love too. When I watch my pockets for robbery or theft, I do so to avoid temptation from onlookers. There can rob me if they so wish, because this is the place Christ is. When I sit in the darkness waiting for electricity to come back on, so be it. I will use that time to contemplate Christ’s presence. When I go searching for food, I will not give up because I have confidence in God to supply for my every need, not want, even if it’s a few grains of maize from the roadside, maybe its all I need. When I run out of bread, Christ is the living bread. When water is dirty, Christ is the cleanest fountain. When money runs out, I remember that is passes away to allow for the divine to take its place. When I am abused or called names for being white, I remember Christ’s suffering that comprehends all colour and race.

The hustle and bustle of the bus stands and conductors fighting for customers and venders boarding the bus to do their best to sell the little they have – the most odd and wonderful things sometimes. “2 for $1, ma socks, ma bananas, ma chips – caskets – knifes – balloons – tooth brushes” and so much more. The bus got fuller and fuller as we waited until there was only standing room. Luggage overflowed the bus and people’s heads appeared from the tops of bags. As we sat waiting for the bus to leave, people waved more items through the windows for sale. People looked twice to see if a white man had really boarded the bus. I see little children begging and I also see Jesus standing with them – his figure has become so clear to me! More “zvakanaka bananas ne socks!” I heard a baby screaming from the bus next to us, while his mother sells air time to the customers near by. Two young lads drinking heavily next to me – cheap alcohol. What amazes me is how these buses travel with 500 tons of excess luggage on top – often they arrive at the bus station tilted or extremely slow.

Penhalonga Mission

Penhalonga is in need of help at St Augustine’s Mission. The church is more split and divided and at war than ever, even though the nuns there want to be CPCA (Anglican Church). The priest issued a letter stating that CPCA members were not allowed on the mission – this includes Father Nicolas and myself. Life for the orphans on the mission is made extremely hard because of this split and divide. No one has remembered the orphans in their distress! The renegade bishops and his excommunicated priest take food and other aid and materials that are given to the orphanage home, saying that we cannot accept gifts from the CPCA members – i.e. us!

Travel to Chipinge

I travelled to Chipinge this week to start a Tariro Youth Project Cluster Group. On the bus journey to Chipinge there was a small girl with severe burns on her face. She was a friendly and lovely little girl. I wanted to sleep, but she wanted to wake me up. I want to write, but she took my pen – it was that sort of relationship all the way on the four hour journey – great hey! After a time of playing games with her over the space of a few seats, I noticed her father, who was a police officer. He has severe burns on his hands. Before I could even ask what happened, he said that he rescued her from a house fire. What love! A father who risks his life for his children. It reminds me of us and how we are with God. We bear the scars of sin but God continues to risk himself to get us and pick us up. Jesus bears the scars of sacrifice – a father who risked everything for me.

Chipinge

Chipinge was a great trip in all. We now have youth groups in Chipinge and its surrounding area, helping and reaching out to the orphans in that place. I met my first child headed family. An 18 year old who had to look after all his younger siblings because his parents died last year. They are struggling, don’t attend school and rely on help for food. This is the sort of orphan/s that TYP can really help, equipping teenagers for tomorrow.

Gaza, in Chipinge, is a high density area, not as crowded as Highfield, but more poor. The houses are a mix of some brick, some tiny rooms, some small flats, but most are just wooden shacks. What amazes me is how homely they make their shacks! We were welcomed in a dark room with beams of light streaming through the wooden panels, which formed the walls. To be honest, our garden shed in Harare is better than this was! The sofa was made of a plank of wood covered in material. We received our welcome and love and a huge beaming smile from the old lady who lived there. She is now looking after three teenagers and two other smaller orphans after her son in law dumped the children with her when his wife died last year. She simply cannot cope. Thankfully someone has help send two of the boys to school, but the rest don’t look hopefully of attending. She told us she spends her time looking for food for them all, something asking neighbours (also in shacks), as well as giving up her own meals to supply for ‘her’ children. I remember this lady as she had a huge tooth missing at the front of her mouth! Again, I hope that the TYP working in that place will help families of orphans like this one. She told us she was sad. Sad because she was tired of being tired! Sadness of trying and trying but seem to be getting no where for the children or for herself. This is the place I want to be badly! I want a shack likes hers!

This week I also visited a dairy factory within Fr Paul’s parish and stayed at a Tanganda tea plantation and estate. I got to take home some lovely milk, but more importantly I drank loads of tea. I got to pick some tea leaves with the workers and saw the finished product, which I have here in a bag!

Mount Selinda

During the week I travelled from Chipinge to the Mozambique boarder. We visited an orphanage there. There I was saddened. It claimed to be a Christian home, but the children were clearly not looked after. One girl, who was 5 years old, who looked about 3, had severe learning problems. She could not walk and she could not talk. They left her in her cot all day doing nothing and with no one to interact with. This girl had severe ring worm in her arms as well as bruises on her arms also. I didn’t question the maids there about the bruises, but I asked why ring worm wasn’t treated when there was a hospital smack bang next door. I questioned why no one spent ANY time with this girl or why no one spoke to her. Even when they introduced her to us, they poked her and made her stand up against the cot, knowing full well she cannot stand! This poor little girl remained on my mind all night. I just wanted to take her with me and relieve her of her suffering. This girl was clearly abused, but received no help for her problems. I didn’t know what to do for her, all I can do for her is pray. Social welfare won’t act if I tell them and the maids at the home will deny any knowledge of this girl’s condition. The reason they gave for not talking or playing with her, is because she ‘can’t respond back to us.’

Setting up a home has not been easy. I have always had a dream to set up a home. A dream of a home for myself and a home for my family and a home for my friends. They say home is where the heart is, and this statement could not be more true. Home is where you find love. This is where my vision to open a home for teenagers begins – with love. Without love we are nothing. Without love families crumble and separate.

Where was I to start in building a safe place, a place of love, for teenagers? How could I help teenagers when all they had experienced in life was everything but love and a home? How could I love them and make them family?

Tariro House was officially opened on 29^th August with a house party and celebration. Here I was, in Zimbabwe – to me a foreign place – and I was to lead a home, build it up and create a safe environment for those who had never had it.

Byron and Edwin moved in before the house was opened. They helped, and continue to help me, understand Shona culture and living. Families work very different here. The role of women and men are very different also. Relationships are viewed on very differently and the gift of children is seen in a very different way to which I am used to.

After we opened a few weeks ago, Martin, Jawett and Harry moved in. Martin 23, Jawett 14 and Harry 15. Their stories are all different and moving. These young adults are all orphans, either from birth or a young age. They almost know nothing different – no experience of family life, rather institutions where they are churned through the system. I am determined to make a difference in their lives and transform them into loving, caring and motivated young adults.

My first task was not only making the house liveable, with lots of help from donors at Avondale Church and other people in Zimbabwe, but it was to operate discipline from the very beginning. Teenagers come to us unmotivated and discouraged because of all the problems that Zimbabwe has faced over the past ten years. Teenagers come to us with bad habits, which are even unacceptable in Shona culture. They have been ignored over these years. Ignored by the very people they thought they could trust. The teenagers we work with have even been ignored by their parents, making them orphans or disowning them from a young age. They have never had a father figure (or mother figure) to turn round to them and simply say ‘no that’s wrong, you cannot do that.’ Sadly they have had to learn the hard way and the hard way tells them that it is OK to be lazy. Because they have not been loved, they find it very hard to love. My first task is to motivate youngsters. We have to tell them that things can be better if they just get up and do something about it. We can provide the platform and the ladders to get going, but they have to own their lives. Discipline is not easy. It makes me look bossy and mean and it make me feel guilty and bad. However, discipline that springs from love and care for these teenagers can help transform their lives. Telling teenagers not to laze around when they could be creating work, to clean up after they have made a mess and to fix things when they brake is jolly hard work!! Out of this discipline I have noticed that I have gained respect from these teenagers. They acknowledge that I am trying to make a difference in their lives. I am waiting for the day, and I hope it never comes, when someone cannot accept that help and we have to say we simply cannot help them.

Harry came to us last week from a local children’s home near by. His story is very sad. We know he was in a juvenile prison in Zimbabwe for some time. He ended up here, not because he was an offender or criminal or not because he had learning difficulties or behavioural problems. He was simply in this prison because he begged for a new home after his previous care home closed. Thankfully the prison closed in January 2009 due to lack or resources, aid and supplies. Harry has not spoken much to anyone about what he saw, but the few stories that he had shared with us are disturbing. We are working with Harry to improve his school work and to ensure he has full and proper counselling as soon as possible. Saying this, over the past few days he has really come alive within the house. He has been able to relax a bit more, knowing he is loved and has a new home here with us.

In our home we have already experienced challenges, and somehow I have to prepare for many more to come. However, we have already experienced change and joy. We attend church as a family. We talk like a family and we are getting to know one another. We are working with one another to improve lives.

I have never been a father and I never will be by blood. I don’t truly know what it is like. I am learning however. My father was not with me for a few years of my life, but I can only see this as a blessing. It was when my dad did not see me I realise what I needed him for and how much I loved him. It was only when I was not with my dad that I understood what fatherly things I missed and needed. The same counts for my relationship with my mother. I understand how much I need that motherly love and care (still!) in my life, when I am not with her. In theory I have many parents now. I have sponsors and spiritual parents, I have friends who look out for me and fill the gaps that no one else can, but this does not compare to the love of a real father or real mother. I don’t know life without my parents, knowing they are not around. I cannot imagine what life is like for the teenagers I work with. One thing I do know is that God has always been a father to them and to me. It is because he is my father and their father that I really love these teenagers! He has given me a passion for them because he loves them the same way he loves me. Knowing God’s love makes me want to give it to others.