Our house, although rather fancy due to the exquisite rug on
the floor, lacks other amenities which would ease life here, currently running
water being of those lacking niceties.
Anyhow, the roof sits directly on the beams running parallel with the
house and the beams are exposed underneath.
Mind you, exposed beams are a tremendous fashion statement and who would
not desire them in one’s own home.
However, with the baking African sun, the roof heats up and transfers
that heat in a microwave fashion into the rooms of the house.
Necessity certainly does breed invention and due to the
no-ceiling problem, I thought I could remedy the heat transfer through a novel
method in nailing up some bamboo mats.
I
found the mats at a roadside vendor for only about two dollars per four by
eight foot mat.
So I go drop a little
under ten dollars and acquire several of these mats for use around the house,
some of which were to find permanent residence as my ceiling.
You will rest assured in knowing that I have
made said ceiling and it has already helped in keeping the place cooler.
It even gives the room a novel thatched roof
appeal.
Regardless, as I was working yesterday to affix this bamboo
on the ceiling, I was greeted by a young fellow just outside who wanted me to read
a parchment he held in his hand.
I took
the page from him and noticed it was handwritten and bore a story that revealed
the following:
He was an orphan as his
parents had passed away some twenty years previous; as a result of this loss he
was forced to live with his aunt who was a terribly mean and bewitching lady;
yet despite all these unfortunate circumstances he knew Jesus still loved us
and He would provide for the young lad.
After reading the note I look over the lined, handwritten
page at the mere babe of a fellow and asked how old he was.
“Twelve” was his response.
I look back at the note, marveling that his
parents died twenty years earlier.
So I
inquired of the matter asking him about his parents and he related the same
story to me that was there immortalized in text.
I shook my head and said that I just didn’t
understand it and handed the note back to him.
I told him he had no needs that I could meet as he was a walking miracle
and went back to my work.
Then just today, two people from the team approached me,
both with stories of a young lad whose parents died prior to his birth.
I told them they must have met the miracle
child and they agreed, saying they too had laid eyes on his handwritten note.
It is sad, but here people make use of others.
Some mothers or fathers will often send their
children out begging and then take the money they get, never to be seen again
by those children.
Or vast stories will
be fabricated to tug on the heartstrings of passing Americans in order to get
some money from them.
However, after you
have been here for some time and here the same story related of the same
disaster that occurs once a week, you begin to understand who is playing the
game and who is not.
I hate being in a position where trust is such a huge factor
in ministry, but then again this is why we work with the churches that we
do.
Many will get saved when coming to
talk to an American for the sake and hope of getting something materially from
the American.
However, when it comes
time for church, they are no where to be seen.
Therefore, since we support the local ministries here, financially and
by way of manpower, we have no qualms about sending them to the church for
their relief.
Unfortunately very few go,
either unwilling to pay the price or just not that needy to have to deal with
the invitations of the church.
