Tegatatoo

While in Africa, we were able to visit an IDP camp. IDP stands for Internally Displaced Persons. These camps were established during the civil war that lasted for twenty-three years. When people were forced from their village, they found refuge in these camps. Since the war is now over, these camps are being destroyed and people are being forced to return to their native villages. Sounds simple, right? Well, then one has to throw in the factors of most people have been born and raised in these camps, most do not have a savings account that will allow them to relocate and take care of their needs, there are no real estate brokers to show them the latest hut that just came on the market, and most do not have any means of transportation besides their two feet. A little more complicated than a move in the U.S..
But that isn't what we were there to experience. We went to the camp with another ministry called Every Child Ministries. As we were driving down the dirt road, we pulled off next to a large tree. They explained it was their prayer tree and it was their custom to stop and pray before going any further. After a moment of prayer together, we traveled to a rectangular hut. The hut was larger than the round huts, had no walls, just a grass roof. Inside their were four split logs for people to sit on. This was the Baptist Church. (Sorry, I can't remember the real name of the church). Someone was sent to get the straw mats for us to sit on. As soon as we arrived, the women and children began showing up. Children from the local school filled half the church to eat their lunch of rice and beans. The pastor took time to share a message with the women who had gathered to greet us. Many of the women stood up and told their stories. Some made the comment, that although they had not committed their life to Christ yet, they planned to do so as soon as things were perfect. Mama Miriam jumped on this opportunity and she shared with the women that there is no such thing as perfect that the time is right now. She shared the parable of the soils and what soil did the women want to be like. Three women gave their lives to Christ that day...Heaven rejoiced.


As with Kasubi, I found that the women were proud. They were proud of what they had, of their children, and of who they were. I had seen a young mother come into the hut with a tiny baby that looked like a newborn. She saw me watching her, she smiled, and motioned for a little girl to come to her. This little girl, who we later learned was six years old, then proceeded to bring me this tiny baby. I still don't know if it was a boy or a girl. But I dubbed him "Baby Wilson" and was instantly in love with his big brown eyes that seemed to take in my every move and understand my every word. He could not have weighed five pounds, but he was so alert. I found out later that he was a month old. I loved holding this little guy, talking to him, and loving him. His mom watched my moves and by her facial expression, I could tell she was proud of her baby and was pleased that I loved him so.
We met a little girl that stayed by Cindy's side the entire time we were there. I can't remember her name, except that it started with an "I." She brought Baby Wilson over to me and then stayed. She was fascinated with Cindy's hair and brushed her hands through it. She touched my tattoo, and took in our every move. She had a sore on her foot that looked horrid, but she didn't complain. She had an open wound filled with flies, but never winced when it was cleaned with a wet wipe and put a band-aid on it.
After all the school children were fed, bowls filled with rice and beans were placed in front of each of us. They fed us first, and then the women that had gathered shared what was left. As if the meal was not enough, suddenly a covered tray was brought out. Soda...in the middle of no where, we were served Coke. Having nothing but water with us, we offered the women the new water bottles that we had. We quickly realized that this was a bigger treat than the soda. They began handing the bottles back for someone to take off the safety seals. They didn't know how. Something so basic, a simple water bottle was a bigger gift than we could imagine.

Cindy took an empty water bottle and poured some of her soda in it for the little girl. As she took a sip, we were pretty sure it was her first taste of soda ever. Her eyes grew big and immediately her facial expression showed she liked it. She drank and would motion for more. We, of course obliged. I took pictures to show her that her tongue was orange like the soda. Cindy began singing with her, teaching her our favorite new song, "I belong to Jesus."
We went on a walk through the village. Seeing the huts that had been destroyed, the local market, and of course the people. The children flocked. They posed for the camera, grabbed our hands to walk with us, and laughed. So happy, with so little. As we walked, I realized the little girl who had been walking hand in hand with Cindy, was now taking her water bottle of soda and giving all the little children sips of her treasure. She could have kept it to herself. She only had an ounce or two in the bottle, but she chose to give it away.
As we ended our walk through the village, we were invited into a hut. There a woman, Naomi, had prepared a feast for us. We entered her hut and found chairs placed neatly in a circle around a little table and then food was placed on the table. The meal consisted of boiled potatoes and some type of warm peanut mush. (I will be honest and tell you that I was thanking God for the lack of light in the hut, while praying to survive the situation.) The visitors ate and the locals watched. Then came another round of soda. Now, looking around the hut, I realized there was nothing else there, no other furniture, no bed, no storage of food (besides the gigantic bag of rice). There was, however,a toothbrush and toothpaste tucked into the grass of the roof! We thought we had been given so much, then Naomi brought in her only chicken and presented it to Bill. Her ONLY live chicken.

Before we left, the women sang and praised God. It didn't matter that I did not know the words of the songs, I knew the message behind it. We left camp that evening with a rooster and a chicken that had been gifted to us and to Every Child Ministries. We name the chicken Fluffy Mc Nugget and left it at the Zion Project, thanking God it was too late for Mama Miriam to fix fried chicken that evening!

I think about my experience atTegatatoo a lot. I learned something there from the women who by American standards had so little, but gave us everything. They had no idea who we were, but they welcomed us. They trusted us with their children and their stories. They invited us to be part of their life. They loved us without asking for anything in return. Then when we thought they had given us all they had, they reached deeper and gave us more. I pray that I can learn to live and to love as freely as these women. I pray that I can trust in Jesus with my entire life, giving Him my all, without asking for anything in return. No holding back...all to Jesus, my blessed Savior.