Isaac in Africa

As I drove out of the African village of Nhamainga this afternoon, crowded in a van full of American volunteers, I had this thought: “That was the single coolest thing I have ever done.” I had just spent two hours teaching five young African boys how to sew a drawstring backpack. It was absolutely incredible. I just sat on the ground in the community hut, and taught these amazing youngsters where to sew—most of them were already experienced at threading needles and the basic backstitch, all they lacked was materials and instruction. I can’t describe how wonderful that moment was. In an instant, I loved these kids just as much as my fourth graders. Oh, I love them!

I keep saying incredible, awesome, wonderful, but it just doesn’t do justice to the experience. I mean, I’m actually in Africa, meeting the people, hearing their stories, and giving of my time and effort to bless their lives. I’ve wanted to do this for my whole life. At the same time that it’s so completely normal that I just get in a van and go out into the field to work, it’s also completely surreal, like how could I, me, actually be living this moment as though out of a good feely movie or inspiring documentary. I love it. I love it.

That was just one of several remarkable experiences I’ve had over the last two days. On our first day out in the field, we visited a boy’s orphanage in the jungle area outside of Beira. We played soccer and volleyball with them. It was so awesome! I was talking to one of the older boys for a minute and he was telling me that a lot of the boys here actually have one or two parents, but because they didn’t have conditions to care for their child, they sent them to the orphanage. The proprietor there, an American who created this orphanage in Mozambique, pays for them to go to private school, and gives them a place to sleep and eat. The boys were so nice, and so kind. The last time they had visitors was a year ago when the Care for Life volunteers came. We only stayed two hours, but I honestly wanted to stay and just live there.

Finally, the last experience I’ll tell you about right now was at the House of Innocent Saints girls orphanage in Beira. They laid out some mats for us, and we sat outside on the dirt and made flowers out of construction paper and pipe cleaners. I sat with Rosa and Maria. Isaac, a little boy looking no older than 8, came and sat next to me. I asked him how old he was, and he said twelve. I was shocked. He also said he was in the third grade. He was from the boys orphanage down the street. We don’t volunteer there because there are 250 boys, and we don’t have enough supplies or manpower. As we drove away, I was overwhelmed by my feelings. This precious child, so kind and polite to me, without parents, without shoes. The thousands of other orphans in Mozambique that never get visited, that never get pipe cleaner flowers, that never get a loving hour of attention. I waved fervently at Isaac as we pulled out, and I swear I saw him wipe a tear away. I know I was wiping tears away.

If I left today, the experiences I have already had will have altered me forever. I have seen, with my own eyes, how some of the poorest people in the world live. I’ve talked to them, played with them, taught them, and loved them. I will never be the same.