A Look at Village Life... Part 6

May 5

Last full day. Bittersweet really. We are definitely looking forward to being home with a double bed and indoor toilet and fat, healthy dog, but will also definitely miss the joy and love and selflessness and peace here… sitting and reading and writing and praying and resting; going to be when we’re tired and getting up when we wake up; having nothing on the schedule other than casual visits to new friends; having fresh water from a deep bore hole; helping with simple tasks like sorting beans and preparing vegetables; listening to Mrs. Yanjisha as she sings and hums her way through her daysl and seeing a seemingly new desire they have to read the Buku wa Lesa (Bible) after seeing us do the same.

We could never repay the community here for their generosity and hospitality, yet they seem to be the grateful ones – simply because we’re here. We went to visit the Yanjishas’ daughter this morning, and snacked on freshly steamed pumpkin. Apparently people don’t sell pumpkin in Lubofo. If they have it they share it. It seems that way with a lot of things. Money is rarely exchanged – it is much more efficient to trade a chicken for a puppy or groundnuts for maize. They care for the community, like giving half a cabbage to an older woman who stopped by or the awesome way they support so many children through school. And when someone has a visitor (like us), all their friends give gifts of food in appreciation and to help. The Yanjishas have a lot of friends. And every time we go to visit the friends to thank them for a chicken or beans or vegetables, they send us home with more.

These people are missionaries, sharing God’s love and goodness. I’m afraid to see what happens as this area becomes more “developed.” Some might say the people here are living in poverty, but I think they’re the richest people I’ve met… and they’re so self-sustaining in their work, rarely needing to go to town for food or other things we would call “necessities.” They grow everything they need and if they don’t, one of the neighbors does. It’s beautiful really: this place, the people, the joyous contentment. If only we could all be so lucky.