A Week Among the Children of Bulawayo

While my time in exotic Wisconsin shaped my mind, my time among the people of Bulawayo Zimbabwe sculpted my heart. This was not my first time among orphans in Africa, but it was the first time I lived with them, sat in their homes, and spent afternoons playing with them.

What comes to mind when you hear about African orphans? Need? Broken lives? What you can do with the price of a cup of coffee? I'll be honest, most of what I knew came from Sally Struthers commercials and odd parental warnings when I didn't eat all my dinner.

Here's what I saw: Smiling faces, kids playing soccer (futbol) in the yard, children and adults seated in the living room an hour each evening for Bible study prefaced with exuberant worship songs during which the children danced together. Yep, danced together. I spoke with one of the "aunties" who cares for the children. She lives in the home with her husband and biological child. All the kids see her as a parent, and she sees all the kids as her children. Her own child embraces all the kids as brothers and sisters. If I said that about Americans we might agree that this would be nice in theory but assume it would not happen in practice. I'm telling you, I saw it.

Can 94 children and a host of "aunties" and "uncles" truly be a family? I think so. I believe I saw the body of Christ formed from brokenness. He makes all things new.