Hello my friends! :) I know a lot of you have asked about my trip to Africa two years ago and I would explain the best I could, but I could never put my experience into words the way this woman did in her blog. Africa is still far better experienced than talked about (because words cannot do it justice) but this blog does VERY WELL at describing my experience as well, even though I went to Uganda rather than Zimbabwe. Please read it because every one of the 50 people in my group felt the same way… This blog was written by Kate McDonald. She is an amazing writer and her blog is: http://katemcdonald.wordpress.com Oh and please read the comments by a woman named Lisa too, because she actually grew up in Africa. I’d love to read your responses too! Oh how I miss Africa…
“<b>I Need Africa More Than Africa Needs Me</b> November 24, 2008 by katemcdonald
*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. 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!”
Comments by Lisa:
“Lisa Hey! I think Mocha Club is a GREAT initiative and I will help spread the word! Can I just say, though, that Africa is a HUGE place- a continent with hundreds of religions, cultures, histories and races- and I think we should be wary of describing/defining it simply in relation to us (i.e. The West) and what Africa needs from us or what we need from Africa. We should definitely learn from Africa and recognize or co-dependence, but I think that begins by recognizing it’s multiplicity and vastness. Thinking we understand all of it and what we need from it by visiting or reading about one place is problematic. Colonialism and the devestating effects of Imperialism have permeated our Western discourses concerning Africa and it’s hard to determine what is fact and what just is fabricated images of Africa. But language and terminology are important- we need to think carefully about how label and talk about Africa, so that we do not unknowingly perpetuate a colonialist tradition. I’m not in any way saying this in judgement- I hope that’s clear- this is something I struggle with myself and hope to get better at. I grew up in Northern Africa- Khartoum, Sudan- and have visited a few other countries around there. I’m often perplexed and confused by the discrpancy between that experience and my studies now (I’m doing an MA in English in London and a large part of our course involves Postcolonialism and how we define ‘The Other’ in relation to the ‘Self’ etc). My parents followed a call that had them leaving everything behind and settle in Khartoum in an attempt to change things and I reap the harvest of their courage every day. But I am also painfully aware of how easy it is to do more harm than good. Anyhow, I just wanted to slide these thoughts in here.. I love your blog Kate, it’s so raw and honest! My Dad always says that when you have been a missionary for a while you realise that missionary work is first and foremost for the missionary, second of all it’s for the church back home sending the missionary out, and finally, if you are lucky (or blessed!), you might be able to contribute something to the country you have been sent to! He always talks about how grateful he is to have had the opportunity to live Africa and all that it has given him, he always thanks his Sudanese friends for putting up with him… We need more African missionaries in the West! All right, I’m off but felt compelled to write this. Have a blessed week! x on November 24, 2008 at 5:09 pmLisa I just read over what I wrote and perhaps I did not express myself very well.. sorry! All I meant was that the notion of the African Exotic Other as a moral guide for the depraved West is a very old one… Africa has been denied an identity in and of itself and has only been employed as an abstract concept in order to define the West. It exists as it is whatever we theorize it to be. Mabye that wasn’t a whole lot clearer, but there you go! x”
https://www.mochaclub.org/ <a
your trip was 2 years ago already?? wow.