| | Jan 15, 2006 - Village Visit - Part 4 of 4 - 20 Day Overland Safari | (click to enlarge)
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 | Village Boy and his wire car
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 | Village Children
| | The only toy we saw in our morning with the kids
| | Expert drummers at a young age
| | Children singing outside the church
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 | Singing and clapping outside the church
| | Church Choir and views inside the church
| | Singing and Dancing inside the church
| | Older sister caring for her brother
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 | Singing and dancing outside the church
| | Singing and dancing outside the church
| | Village Children
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 | Sharing photos with the local kids
| | They loved to see themselves on screen!
| | 'Gimme five....'
| | We purchased this card from the school which will send Hellena to school for 1 Semester
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 | Front of another card we purchased
| | Buying this sent Veronica to school for another semester
| | Basic kitchen in their home
| | Local Villagers
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 | | | A friendly farewell
| | Drummers and Dancers performer their traditional music and dance
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| | PART 4 - An Unforgettable Touching Lifetime Experience
How many times in our lives have we heard about the African children in need and the hardships they suffer on a daily basis. We see infomercials, "For as little as $1 a day you can make a difference in a child's life." Or the songs produced in the UK, Canada and America artists such as "Do They Know it's Christmas" to raise funds and awareness about poverty in Africa.
We have all seen the commercials and heard the pleas for help - powerful, heart wrenching, emotional and to many very disturbing. Some of us change the channel right away to avoid seeing the poverty and hearing 'the pitch'. Others like myself, watch and say "One day I am going to sponsor a child and help out with the poverty." - but sadly never get around to it or do anything about it.
But how many of us have actually done something to help these people? To help them get fresh water, clothes on their backs, education for the children and to help stop the spread of AIDS? Something other than just feel sad for them and make and empty promise that is never fulfilled?
We bring this special section to our website as unfortunately, we are both those people that have never done anything except empty promises. We lead a very privileged life - nice homes, cars, vacations and now even taking a year off to travel the world. But it is time for us to try to make a difference and help out some of the less fortunate people in our world.
After travelling through 9 countries in Africa we have seen a lot of poverty. The most impressionable thing of all though, is we have met some incredible Africans - warm, friendly, gracious, proud, happy and smiling....but many in dire poverty. One day in particular, we had a morning we will never forget; a visit to a local village of 4,000-5,000 people just outside Rundu, Namibia. A visit that made us laugh and smile. A visit that made us feel more in touch with the locals than anything else on our trip. A visit that tore at our hearts and brought tears to our eyes. And this is one of just thousands and thousands of villages like this in Africa...here is Eric's recounting of our experience:
Eric's Village Story
The church in the African village of Mayana was to put it mildly, simple. Four brick walls punctuated by slats that served as open-air windows, a corrugated tin roof, hard plywood benches for pews and a flimsy table as an altar. The air was still, the heat stifling and I fanned myself furiously, like a prostrate parishioner at a Southern Baptist congregation.
From the rear of the church emerged a half-dozen or so spartanly dressed women led by a tall gaunt figure who it turned out was the village preacher. He shuffled his feet rhythmically, smiled and offered an encouraging nod to one of the women. With a Madonna-like expression of piety, she began to hum and soon the entire congregation was infused with melody. They were singing "Why does Jesus Love me?" and in their voices I heard a spirit and passion that was both haunting and hypnotic. It was an overwhelming scene, enough to bring faith even to an avowed agnostic like myself, and cause me to utter words that would make Jerry Falwell proud. From inside this humble church in this dusty village, I could feel the spirit of God, not a lightning and thunder all-powerful, punitive god, not a miracle worker walk-on-water god, but rather a gentle and loving god echoed in the voice of a people who had seemingly so little but celebrated so much.
I hadn't expected our visit to the Namibian village of Mayana to be so moving, powerful or transforming. I hadn't expected that I would be moulded into a social activist soliciting donations like a World Vision commercial, or that I would like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jollie dream of adopting an African baby (OK, a little hyperbole: Carl and I are planning just to sponsor a child but you get the pictures...).
We were in southern Africa on a 20-day overland safari travelling along a narrow poverty stricken corridor of Namibia called the Caprivi Strip. For several years, it had been out of bounds to tourists as a civil war simmering in neighbouring Angola had spilled over here and tourists had been targeted. Things were now quiet, it was safe to travel and we were heading from Botswana's famed Chobe National Park to Etosha National Park, its counterpart in Namibia. Valerie, the kindly owner of n'Kwazi Lodge where we were staying at on the Caprivi River offered us a "cultural" tour of a local village.
We left in the early morning and I was barely awake- but evidently awakening quickly- as our SUV bounced and bumped on the rough sandy path to the village of Mayana. Our first stop was a primary school, a series of concrete tinderboxes built partly with government help and partly by tourists like us who had passed on through but not forgotten. A soft-spoken, cherubic faced woman who was a teacher there ushered us into the Principal's office where we sat down. Set on the table before us were a collection of colourful cards and simple brown and black beaded bracelets and necklaces made by children aged 5 - 12. In a gentle voice, she explained to us matter-of-factly that a $15 purchase (note: not donation) of one of these items would earn that respective child a semester in school. It occurred to me that this table was in fact a lottery booth, except that here the prize wasn't a million dollars or fancy yacht but a paper and pen- and a child's hope for a better life and future.
We looked down and laden with heavy hearts randomly scooped up a bunch of cards and jewellery. Though I suppose one can make the argument that this was an ingenious sales pitch and that we were somehow being manipulated, I have to say that even famously cynical me felt none of that. Perhaps it was the gentle tone of her voice or perhaps it was simply her unadorned message. But in this village, a child's fate - life or death, hope or despair - truly was arbitrary, and we were passing arbiters who could help tip the balance for precious few. It was a power I did not relish and when moments later I fixed that small flimsy bracelet to my wrist, it clung to me like a heavy weight.
From the school, we trekked a kilometre or so to the village through dusty fields under a searing African sun. There we witnessed a scene that on the surface seemed not so different than our encounter with the Masai in Kenya. There were compounds of thatched huts enclosed by thicket walls, lots of smiling faces, chickens running around and yes even the occasional (albeit stray) pet dog. Closer inspection however, revealed a harsher reality. There was no electricity, no running water, not even a rudimentary toilet. More ominously, from the corner of my eye, I saw a child with a bloated belly just like in a C.A.R.E. commercial. And then I saw another. And another...
It turned out in fact, that while many children were well fed, there were also many who were malnourished, who received only a single maize based meal a day and showed the hallmark signs of kwashiorkor. With bitter irony, it dawned on me that this village held the same social stratification that we see back home, but here it was inverted, and the poor were the pot-bellied ones. On an even more sobering note, it also occurred to me that our visit and accompanying donation might very well dictate if someone went hungry or was fed that night. Almost unconsciously, I started picking at my bracelet. It felt heavier than ever...
We walked a little further where we saw a group of children at play. They were occupying themselves with a toy, in fact the only one I can recall seeing while there. It was an ingeniously crafted truck whose body was sculpted from chicken wire, its wheels from cut Coke cans, and its hood from a piece of cardboard. They treated this toy truck like a man with a mid-aged crisis treats his Porsche - with care and reverence. The big difference here was that these kids shared freely and were naïve to the notion of possessiveness. What they did have was an incredible knack for improvisation and inventiveness. A plastic cap from a water bottle became a pacifier, the container itself a boat. Ultimately imagination and ingenuity were for these children adaptations that provided for them I suspect more toys than Santa ever could.
And then we arrived at the church, where the sweet sound of song and the shuffling of dancing feet filled the spartan hall and broke the stifling heat. Surrounding me was a festival of sorts, a celebration of life and faith. I however felt like a spectator, strangely immune and detached, filled more with a sense of bewilderment and confusion than joy. How could it be I asked? How could these people be so happy? Celebrating what: Destitution, disease, hunger. To my eyes, there lives seemed so harsh cruel and unforgiving. My own life journey, which I thought had been filled with such struggle and angst, suddenly seemed in comparison like an episode of 'Friends' - minor, comedic, with a jingle and happy ending.
Nothing seemed clear to me, that is until the preacher got up to speak. He spoke for just a few minutes. He quoted from scripture and his subject was simple: friendship. No fire and brimstone. No moralizing. No patronizing judgements. All this man wanted to tell us was that friendship was important and that he was happy that day to welcome us as friends to his congregation.
Then and there, I started to understand. The villagers of Mayana may have been deprived of material wealth but they were richly invested with the spiritual. They had connection - to God and to each other and they understood that when you strip away everything else, this was life's essence at its core. This prompted in turn me to think of my own connections, and instantly my mind drifted back over a sea and a continent to my family, friends and patients who I had not seen now for four months, and would not see again for another eight on this year long round world journey.
Through this new filter, I was now able to feel the pulse of the music and the joy of their singing. Almost hypnotically I started humming "We are walking, walking, walking, walking in the light of God." I took a peak over my shoulder and there was Carl playing with a bunch of kids, showing them digital photos, airing his trademark loud laugh and wearing a smile as broad as a stretched out elastic band. We danced, we sang, we celebrated- and then we said good-bye.
We left the village of Mayana that day, not sad or filled with pity, but exhilarated and filled with gratitude, thankful for the joy of life that these simple villagers had imparted to us.. Months later, I often find myself singing "Walking in the Light of God." My mind drifts, and I see these villagers smile and then I smile too, as I return ever so briefly to this special little village in heart of Africa.
SUMMARY
Now we know there are thousands of villages out there that can use assistance just like 'our' little village of Mayana however, unfortunately, we can't change them all and need to choose where we can make a difference. This village is a place that we have seen through our own eyes and felt with our own hearts. We are bringing to you photos and videos of our experience to help bring the village to you and ask if you have ever thought of doing something to help out the impoverished to take the steps and do something now.
Below is a list of some suggestions of what you can do to make a difference:
1. If you would like to sponsor a child in Mayana to help them get an education either primary or post secondary please contact Valerie Peypers at the n'Kwazi Lodge and Campsite at nkwazi@iafrica.com.na and she can help coordinate it.
2. If you are a teacher or school principal, perhaps you could set up a penpal program with your class and a class at the local school to help educate the children on both sides of the world. For this you can contact the school direct at Mayana Primary School, PO Box 436, Rundu Namibia or email Valerie Peypers at the n'Kwazi Lodge and Campsite at nkwazi@iafrica.com.na
3. The school can always use writing supplies - pens, pencils, papers, crayons etc and you can mail anything like that to Mayana Primary School, PO Box 436, Rundu Namibia
4. The church is always looking for copies of bibles or psalm books they could use. Perhaps at your local church you could get a collection together and ship it to Valerie Peypers at n'Kwazi Lodge, PO Box 1623, Rundu Namibia and she will get them to the church.
5. If you would like to make any financial donations to the village, church or school you can send this to Valerie Peypers at the N'Kwazi Lodge and Campsite at n'Kwazi Lodge, PO Box 1623, Rundu Namibia
6. Of course, if you would like to do something outside this village you can sponsor a child through World Vision - visit www.worldvision.com or one of the many other organization helping the impoverished in various countries around the world.
7. If you ever wanted to visit the village yourself n'Kwazi Lodge and Campsite is a great place to stay run by Valerie Peypers and sitting right on the river bank bordering Angola in the Namibian Caprivi Strip. You can contact the lodge for reservations at nkwazi@iafrica.com.na or ++ 264 (0) 66 686 006/7
8. Any other ideas to help are more than welcomed.
If you do choose to do something to make a difference, we request that you leave us a message in our guestbook here on the website that can be posted for everyone else to see and together we can all make a bit of a difference for those that are less fortunate than ourselves.
Thanks,
Carl and Eric
www.carlhenderson.ca
www.imagestoframe.com
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