Mama Gasaro – Part Two

After my visit with Mama Gasaro, the woman who lives across the valley from my house, I talked with some of the orphans in Extra Miles Ministry (a ministry to genocide orphans). Extra Miles started a benevolence committee that meets weekly to help vulnerable women. Mama Gasaro is one of many women who often go to ATN (our local non-profit organization) facilities on Saturday mornings for help and counseling. I asked if one of the orphans on the benevolence committee would accompany me to visit Mama Gasaro. It was decided that Gertrude would go with me. Gertrude is a genocide orphan in her mid-twenties. She attends a university here in Kigali. She is one of seven children in her family, however, her parents and all of her siblings were killed during the genocide.

Gertrude and I set off for the 1 hour walk to Mama Gasaro’s house. We had no way to tell her we were coming, she has no telephone, and I was not entirely certain I would remember the way. I did remember and Mama Gasaro was at home when we arrived. She was distressed because her baby was sick.

The baby has a heart problem and is often sick. We talked about her immediate needs to take care of the baby. Then I asked her if she had any ideas about what she could do to change her current situation. She told us that she wanted to study hairdressing. She had already researched and found a salon where she could study for three months. I asked Gertrude if she thought this was a good idea, she said yes. Gertrude told me that if Mama Gasaro knows hairdressing, she can find a job or perhaps even work out of her home. We prayed together, gave Mama Gasaro some money to take the baby to the doctor and made a plan to go together to the salon the next week.

During the week, I saw Mama Gasaro in my neighborhood. She was there to take the baby to a clinic. We talked for a while and I asked her if she would pray for the following two days. I asked her to ask God to give her an idea of how she could also help pay for the fees to study hairdressings. Her immediate reaction to this request was not positive. She said she had no way of helping. After she calmed, I told her just to ask God and see what happens.

Today Gertrude and I walked across the valley and met Mama Gasaro near the hair salon. Together we went and talked to the owner, a woman named Mama Fredy. Mama Fredy assured me that Mama Gasaro will be able to find a job or at least some clients after she finishes studying. I paid the fee and Mama Gasaro will start tomorrow. On our way back toward the valley, Mama Gasaro told us that she had prayed in the past two day. She told us that the idea God gave her is that after she finishes studying and finds a job, she is to help others. Praise God! I wanted to cry right there on the path. That is the kind of heart we are seeking. I have learned not to get excited early but to keep praying. Time will tell if Mama Gasaro will finish studying, find a job and help others. However, today I am encouraged and feel blessed that mine and Mama Gasaro’s paths have crossed.

Mama Gasaro – Part One

Recently, I met a young woman named Mama Gasaro. She has two daughters, one four year old and a six month old baby. I asked if I could come to her house and visit. We made a plan to meet so she could take me to her house.

When I asked if I could visit her, I assumed she lived in our neighborhood. I was wrong. We met and she was surprised that I wanted to walk to her house. She said it was far. I soon discovered that she lives in another part of town, across the valley from my house. It took us a little more than an hour to get there. I don’t think I would have walked had I known how far away she lived but I am so glad that I did. I have lived in this city for two years and looked out at this valley from my front porch everyday. I have prayed over this valley and this city many times. However, I had never really seen it until the day I walked through it with Mama Gasaro.

During our walk, I saw life in that valley and in her part of town through her eyes. We stopped and greeted women who were hoeing in fields. We greeted two women who were collecting very dirty water from a little stream that runs through the valley. We greeted men and women walking on the road or standing in front of their houses. We passed young men drinking beer in front of small shops tucked between houses. She told me about the schools and churches we passed. We talked about life in Rwanda versus life in America. She was opening my eyes to see life around me in a different way.

We walked and walked until the city started to look like the village and then we were at her house. She lives in a small one room mud brick house. There are maybe four feet between her front door and the back wall of the house in front of hers. She told me that her husband left her when she was three months pregnant with the baby. She has no job, no land to farm, and little hope. She didn’t have to tell me that she felt despair about her future, I felt it for her. How will she provide for her daughters? What about school fees and uniforms? What will she do? We visited for a while and I made a plan to come back and visit her again.

Mama Gasaro walked me part of the way home and as we walked, I watched cars much like mine race by us. How many times have I been the one in my air conditioned car racing past people much like Mama Gasaro, not really seeing them. I decided that I need to get out of my car more often and walk with people. On another walk through the valley to visit Mama Gasaro, a genocide orphan named Gertrude, told me, “When you drive your car you are rich, when you walk, you are one of us”. We all see the world through different sets of lenses. We see through our current circumstances, our experiences and our cultural mindsets. I have prayed many times that God would open the eyes of my heart to see things more clearly. I praise and thank him for this walk through the valley that helped open my eyes.

Nubwambere Nyoye Ubushera

Since our return to Rwanda a month ago, I have started visiting Jane every Tuesday.  Jane is an orphan and a widow and a mother of two.  She lives in a small village in the Bugasera district made up of homes built for genocide orphans and other needy people.  Half the houses were built with supplies provided by the Rwandan government.  The other houses were built by the Red Cross.  The houses built by the Red Cross are brand new little concrete homes with tin roofs and wooden doors and windows.  They all look identical and really nice.  They are currently empty, awaiting their needy occupants.  Even though the appearance of this little village is so organized and even pleasant, I sense a hollow, empty feeling while I am there.

While on furlough I was convicted to pursue a friendship with Jane and let God lead that friendship where ever He wants.  When one visits a village where everyone living there qualifies as “vulnerable”, it is easy to see countless opportunities to provide aid, to DO something to help.  However right now, I feel a nudging to listen and learn, not DO, not yet.

Last week I was reading something written by Oswald Chambers.  He was using the passage from 2 Corinthians 10 that says,

“We are human, but we don’t wage war with human plans and methods.  We use God’s mighty weapons, not mere worldly weapons, to knock down the Devil’s strongholds.  With these weapons we break down every proud argument that keeps people from knowing God.  With these weapons we conquer their rebellious ideas, and we teach them to obey Christ.”

Chambers says, “How much Christian work there is today which has never been disciplined, but has simply sprung into being by impulse!  In Our Lord’s life every project was disciplined to the will of His Father.”  Chambers goes on to say, “This is the day when practical work is overemphasized, and the saints who are bringing every project into captivity are criticized and told that they are not in earnest for God or for souls.”

I had never before thought about good Christian development projects while reading Paul’s words in 2 Cor. 10.  I believe Oswald Chambers is saying we need to take our ideas of good and helpful projects and make even those obedient to Christ.  I do, however, pray daily for spiritual discernment to know when God is giving the green light to begin something of a physical nature.  For now I am listening, observing and hopefully learning in Bugasera.

Now to explain the title of this post.  “Nubwambere nyoye ubushera” means ‘The first time I drank ubushera’.  Last Tuesday, while I was helping Jane prepare ubugari and sauce, she brought me a glass filled to the top with a murky, brown beverage (there’s a picture in the slideshow below).  It didn’t really have much of a smell.  She handed me the glass and told me it was ‘ubushera’, a very popular drink among Rwandans living in the village.

Ubushera is made from sorghum.  The week before we had had a discussion about this drink.  She had told me it was non-alcoholic and I supposed now she wanted me to try it for myself.  Ancille, the 21 year old genocide orphan who accompanies me to Bugasera each week, assured me that it is very delicious. Ancille took a big gulp, smiled and said, “It’s delicious!”  Jane poured herself a glass and they both looked at me expectantly.  I took a sip and I am sorry to say that I thought I might throw-up.  By the look on Jane’s and Ancille’s faces, I realized I needed to drink my whole glass and somehow enjoy it!

We were sitting behind Jane’s house which has an outstanding view of the beautiful valley across from her small village.  I looked out across the valley and pleaded with God to help me drink my ubushera in a way that honored my hostess.  I took another swallow, a little bigger this time, and tried not to make an ugly face.  Jane went back to work on our meal so I put my drink down to help some more.  Three more times I picked up my glass and before taking a swallow, I looked across the valley and pleaded with God to help me.  After my fourth prayer and my fourth swallow, one of Jane’s neighbors joined us and Ancille’s glass was refilled.  Jane joined us and we sat in a tight circle near the cooking fire chatting and drinking ubushera.  It was then that I realized the ubushera didn’t taste so bad after all.  I wasn’t going to throw-up and I would  finish my whole glass!  Not only that but I was being included by these Rwandan women in what was probably a very normal activity for them.  I wanted to dance a little jig in praise to God for helping me drink my ubushera and giving me the honor and gift of being among these beautiful women.

I look forward to many more cultural lessons and shared experiences with Rwandans like this one.  I pray that during my visits to Jane’s, God can use me to be hands and feet and arms (and sometimes a stomach) to share tangibly His love for these people.  May my heart always be open to His will and His timing in all things.  May the hollowness and emptiness in Jane’s village be exchanged for fulfillment and joy because of their obedience to Christ.

Umunsi w’Abagore

Today was the International Day of Women or in Kinyarwanda, Umunsi w’Abagore.  Twenty-three women from my neighborhood gathered together to celebrate the day.  There were some men as well and more children than I took time to count.  The day was celebrated with sodas, goat kebabs and boiled matoki as well as many speeches given by both women and men.

The women took the opportunity to dress up traditional Rwandan style, they looked beautiful!  My neighbor, Beatrice, came over to my house and dressed me up in some of her clothes before we went to the celebration.  I was so glad!  For a few moments during the day I forgot I was white and felt like I blended in.

I want to share one story told by the lady who made the first speech of the day.  This woman is a young mother who has earned a masters degree in economics and works for a bank.  She started her speech by encouraging women that getting an education is very important.  She had to work hard for her degrees and earned them without her family’s support.  She went on to remind the women that even though they get an education and a job, there first responsibility is in their homes.  She told them to make sure that they keep their homes nice and that their children are well cared for.  She told them that even if they have a job and perhaps earn more money than their husband, he is still the leader of the family.  She shared an interesting Rwandan proverbial story with the group.

Here is the story:

One day a man came to a widow’s house wanting to have sex with her.  She told him to come back to her house later.  While he was gone, she cooked many dishes for him.  Even though she used a variety of ingredients in the various dishes, the main ingredient of them all was beans.  When the man returned, he noticed that she had prepared some food for him.  He began lifting the lids off the different  dishes and what did he find?  Beans, beans and beans.  The woman said to the man, “Even though we women are all a little different, really we are all the same.  Go home to your wife and leave me alone!”

I thought that it was a profound story and very interesting that it was told on a day like today and in a group of women.  I have found it to be true from the United States to rural Togo to urban Rwanda!  Woman are women, we just come in many different flavors.  I enjoyed the day observing these women encourage and empower one another.  I feel honored to be living among them for this season of my life.

Here are a few pictures from the day…

Marthe

I don’t usually write blog posts but Murphy asked if I would write about Marthe.  We moved into our house in Kicukiro, Kigali in February last year and soon after moving in a young woman came to ask if we wanted to have our house sprayed for mosquitos.  I said yes and gave the young woman our information.  She told me her name was Marthe and pointed out where she lived, just up the street from our house.  She told me she had a five year old daughter and that was the end of our conversation.  Almost as soon as she left our house I felt burdened for her.  I started praying for her every time I passed her house.  On two occasions I tried to visit her but she was never home.  I added her name to my prayer list and started lifting her name before the throne every morning.  

A year ago we moved to Rwanda from Togo, West Africa.  It was the most difficult move I have ever made.  Saying good-bye to my Togolese sisters and brothers felt like ripping my heart into pieces.  My first six months in Rwanda were challenging.  I cried a lot mourning the loss of friends and life and  in Togo.  I was unsure of the reason God called us away from Togo to Rwanda.  I did feel certain of the calling so I dove into language learning and began asking God to show me His purpose for me here.  Right away I felt a resounding sense, deep in my heart, to be patient and to trust God.  God led us here and he would show us his purpose in His perfect time.  

At the beginning of this month,  I was having a heart to heart with God about the up-coming year.   I was telling God, “I have been patient, I have been learning language, now what?” The words Jesus spoke to Peter in John 21 came rushing at me like a freight train.  ”Simon son of John, do you love me”, …”then feed my sheep”.  I immediately went to those scriptures and read that dialogue.  I felt like Jesus was saying the same thing to me.  Jesus was challenging Peter, he was challenging me.  At that point in his life, Peter was broken and at the end of himself, now Jesus could use him.  Will I be broken and come to the end of myself?  I hope so!  Yes Jesus, I love you!  I will trust you and feed your sheep, please show me how!

Just a few days later Marthe came to our house.  It had been almost a year since I last saw her.  I had been praying for this woman daily for nearly a year without ever knowing why.  She was at our house conducting a survey for our neighborhood.  I asked if I could come and visit her at her home.  She seemed eager and happy for me to come.  This past Thursday I went to Marthe’s house.  It was only my third time to speak to her but I felt like I had known her for so long.  We sat awkwardly for a moment and then she sprang up and announced that she had some photos to show me.  She left and came back with an album and a sack full of snap shots.  For an hour I sat in her small cinder block house, on her gold colored velour sofa sipping warm Fanta and listening as she shared her life with me.  I saw pictures of her as a teenager, pictures with her friends at the lake, pictures of her family.  I saw pictures of her wedding and learned that her husband lives in a town three hours away.  She didn’t tell me the reason.  I saw pictures of her siblings and their weddings.  I saw pictures of her teachers and classmates at a technical school and later pictures of her students at that same school.  I saw pictures of her daughter and listened as she explained that four months ago her husband came with civil authorities and took her daughter away, she hasn’t seen her since.  In the moment she told me that her loneliness felt palpable.  

I left Marthe’s house amazed at the God we serve.  I may never know exactly why he burdened my heart to pray for her but perhaps it was because of the difficult journey that lay ahead of her.  I was overwhelmed by the the love God has for her and for all of us. He knows Marthe intimately and allowed me the opportunity to take just a glimpse into her heart.  I now have a specific prayer to pray for Marthe.  I don’t know my future but I hope Marthe is in it.  I praise God for his patience with me!  I feel encouraged to keep pressing forward with my language learning and keep trusting God and feeding his sheep.  That may take many forms and shapes and I pray that everyday my eyes and my heart will be open so that I don’t miss the opportunities He lays in my path.

Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving! We have had a great day! God has blessed us so much and we are so thankful! Lately we have been so thankful for things that we often take for granted. We are so thankful for the luxury of electricity and running water in our house. Togo has been rationing electricity and we learned today that it may be this way until February. We also learned that our water may also be out. Last night some theives tried to steal the generator that runs the pump that sends the water to Tabligbo to be pumped into the chateau. They did not succeed in stealing the generator but in their attempt they broke several important parts that are needed to get the water to Tabligbo. So, until those can be repaired, we may have no water. Life is interesting. We will be fine, but some of our neighbors and neigboring towns will suffer. It is amazing that when things we take for granted get taken away they become so much more appreciated. We have been so abundantly blessed and we are very grateful.

A Merciful God

Yesterday we experienced God’s mercy in an incredible way.  We are missionaries living in Togo, West Africa. This past Wednesday we drove five hours to our country neighbor, Ghana, to meet with the USCIS office and submit our I-600A.

Yesterday we had an appointment with DHS (Department of Homeland Security) to submit our I-600A application for our adoption.   To be safe, we carried all of our original documents with us to DHS in case the people conducting the investigation wanted to see originals.  Because our car was at the mechanics we were using taxis. 

When we arrived at DHS everyone was in a meeting and we waited, with our 7 and 5 year old sons for two hours in their waiting room.  We finally saw an investigator and she said we must go to another place to be fingerprinted first.  In Accra there is an American embassy and a separate US Consulate.  The DHS is at the US Consulate but we had to be fingerprinted at the Embassy.  We left DHS and took a taxi to the Embassy.  The man who could do our fingerprints was out of the office so we were given his number and told to call and make an appointment.  We left in a taxi and were on our way to the guest house when we saw an optometrist office and so made a quick change of plans because we needed to have our 7 year old son’s eyes examined. 

Up to this point I had been guarding the backpack containing all of our documents with extreme care.  I almost always kept the pack on my back when in taxis.  But when we saw the optometrist office, my mind jumped to our son and my concern about his vision.  So I dropped my guard over the bag and had laid it on the seat in the taxi.  We all four got out of the taxi and went into the optometrist office.  Almost immediately I realized I had left the bag lying on the taxi seat.  Murphy ran out of the office but the taxi was gone.  Time seemed to stand still.  That bag had all of our original documents.  It had 9 documents already notarized by the vice consul in Togo and were ready to mail to the US to be authenticated.  It also had both receipts for the I-600A fee and fingerprinting fee that we had just paid at the US Consulate in Accra.  Without those receipts we would have no way to prove that we had just paid the $715 fees.  It had our original marriage license that we signed
  at our wedding.  It had our original birth certificates.  It had our original police reports from Togo and Benin.  In effect, that bag contained our adoption and it was gone.  Needless to say it was devastating to realize what had just driven away in a taxi without us. 

I panicked but Murphy stayed incredibly calm.  I was crying and praying and felt so completely out of control.  Accra is a very big, busy and chaotic African city.  There are literally thousands of taxis and no way to identify the one with our bag.  We didn’t even have a license plate number or any kind of identifying mark for the taxi.  We had no way to track down our bag. The only thing I remembered about the taxi was that it was pretty ratty looking and the driver was practically reclining in his seat.   We immediately began praying realizing that the only way we would ever get the bag back was with God’s intervention.  Murphy called his sister in the US and told her to start praying.  She called friends and they prayed too.  I was on my knees on the side of the road crying and begging God for mercy.  Murphy and our boys were circled around me praying. 

We had drawn a crowd and had lots of very kind sympathizers.  The optometrist and his receptionist had come out and they were so very kind and helpful.  The optometrist, Ellis, suggested we go to the police headquarters and see if the police would have all the FM radio stations air a message about the missing bag.  Almost all the taxi drivers listen to the radio.  The idea was that we could offer a reward and maybe the driver would return the bag.  I was ready to try anything, so I got in a taxi and headed to the police headquarters.  Murphy and the boys stayed behind in case the taxi were to return.  I took the cell phone so Murphy could call me.  I had just arrived at the police headquarters, about 20 minutes after leaving Murphy, when Ellis called to tell me the bag had already been returned.

Words cannot express the emotions I felt.  I could not stop crying when I knew the bag had been returned.  The guards at the police headquarters were very concerned.  One guard told me not to cry.  He said “we don’t cry in Ghana, we have peace”.  He said this with great compassion in his eyes.  I immediately returned to Murphy and the boys.  As I passed him on the road he was waiving the bag for me to see.  INCREDIBLE!  Our bag had returned within the hour.  The passenger right after us saw the bag and told the driver about it.  The taxi driver put our bag in his trunk and immediately returned to where he had dropped us off.  This is amazing since he had no one to hold him accountable and require him to return our bag.  Murphy’s sister’s friend had specifically asked God that this would happen.  We are convinced that God heard our cries and delivered our bag back to us.

As I type this, we have already submitted our I-600A application and fingerprints to USCIS.  We have Federal Expressed our nine notarized documents to the US and they will arrive Monday. 

Murphy was so wonderful through all of this!!!  He never got upset.  He was very reassuring telling me that we could start over and recollect the documents.  If he had not been calm, I don’t know how I would have reacted.  I was emotional enough for both of us.  Our boys prayed with us and witnessed firsthand God’s mercy.  We cannot thank God enough!  What a compassionate, merciful and amazing God we serve.  He is in control when life seems to be spiraling out of control.  This is just another of many God interventions in our adoption journey.  I know that other parents have similar testimonies to tell.  We are so thankful that God is guarding over our daughter and this experience is part of her story. 

Thank you to all of you who are praying for us and this journey to bring a precious little girl into our family!

Christine Crowson