Man Day - Xifina Island

Last night our team experienced a divide. The traditional male-female schools of thought led to according options for how to spend our day off. The women decided to hit up a solid local cafe with wifi and luscious lattes. Their night ended in a movie and popcorn. Not bad for a day off in Mozambique. The men chose a different route. Albeit, to speak freely, a more manly path. We decided to go camping on a nearby barrier island named Xifina.

(Our boat paddling off into the distance for a day of fishing.)

Xifina sits across a fairly shallow bay about a mile from the coast of Maputo. Tranportation to and fro is part of the experience. The first experience is to watch Ian negotiate a "fair" price with local fisherman in the native dialect Shan-gan. Prices range from absurdly expensive to unmistakeably cheap. In the case of the former you walk away. The latter may mean fifty cents or less.

(Ahh, barnacles.)

Ian successfully navigated the negotiation down to three hundred meticais (ten USD). This is fair fare considering our lack of pigmentation.

Stepping onto the boat we were instructed to not step on the floorboards by one of the three fisherman. She took on water at a slightly disturbing rate and the concern was that one of the boards may give way. No worries though. In the case of catastrophe as we could have swam across. The main sail, rigged of old rope and bed sheets, caught wind surprisingly well. We enjoyed a tacit chuckle at the seaworthiness of our vessel. In a short moment mild mockery transitioned into impressiveness in that she caught wind quite well. The bed sheets flapped; a composite of triangular shapes both deep maroon and forest green.

(Ian's killer shades.)

(Bedsheet sails.)

(The jib.)

Thirty minutes after departure we arrived. The wooden hull gently scraped the shallow coastal shelf of Sishenni. In Mozambique negotiations generally occur more than once for the same item. Once at the beginning and again after the task is complete. Generously we shared three of our locally bottled ales and two-thirds of the total payment - trust. The sand was soft and warm from the midday sunlight.

(Thirsty?)

A mile jaunt through halo-tolerant shrubbery brought us to the opposing shoreline. This side bore physical remains of the Portuguese naval post that once thrived. Ruins of cement, iron, tile, and lengthy cannons jut out along the water. Up, over, around, and down the shore we found a perfect spot.

(Shoreline curves.)

(The long walk.)

A natural sense of camaraderie builds when men live outdoors together, build fires together, and camp together. This is what man day is and always will be about. Nothing superficial. Barebones living at its most elegant. I dug a fire pit in the sand. Ian started the fire (with a lighter of course). Juddson gathered mass amounts of dry roots and branches to burn. The fresh blade on Ian's new hatchet served well. So well that I accidentally chopped through the band on my Pietzl headlamp.

(Our tents positioned nicely over the flattened crest of this dune structure.)

The heat of the fire seemed to ebb and flow. It synchronized with and symbolized the intensity of conversation. With guys it is simple. When boring we added more wood than necessary - entertainment. As conversational intensity grew, the cold breeze at our backs and visual stimulation of an inferno faded from the forefront of thought. We had a blast.

(Ian & Juddson enjoying dusk - fireside.)

The night was cold, but everything else was warm - beer, soda, bread, and feet.

Arising to a spectacular sunrise on a once Portuguese island is incredible. She shone like a giant symbol reflecting her metallic nature on the ocean's surface. We sat purse lipped. No conversation necessary. All subject matter was carefully considered over the previous night's campfire. The world was okay. God is better. His Goodness kept us safe and brought us home safely as well.

Sunday morning topped off with breakfast burritos and espresso-based coffees at Cafe El Sol. This a swanky American owned coffee shop in the wealthy area of town. No bias here, it's just the closest place to get fantastic espresso and breakfast at the same time.

(Breakfast Menu.)

(Would have never guessed.)

(Cows and fish are friends in Mz.)

Barring El Sol, this kind of cultural experience is only possible by getting out there, taking calculated risks, and using good sense. The grace of God also helps.  

("Cheeks" manning the goal)

*All photos taken by Sheila Yoder*

Futbol Friday

Today's focus is all about futbol! That's right sports fans, soccer. The best sport on the face of the earth. Simply because you do not need shoes, proper equipment, or jerseys of any kind. All over the world, all you need is some form of a ball. Today we even had a real one! This is in contrast to those constructed from plastic bags and rubber bands.

("Cheeks in action")

Every Friday from two-thirty to four-thirty in the afternoon Masana hosts soccer on a sandy field located in the heart of downtown Maputo. The Masana coach David recently made the cut for the Mozambique under twenty one national team. At twenty years old David has a bright future. He studies hard, works, donates his free time teaching the boys soccer, and goes to school in the evening.

(Juddson battles David)

Ian stresses the importance of hosting soccer each week. There are few healthy alternatives to activities that take place on the street. This is by far the favorite of many homeless men as well as the street children. Regardless of the turnout Ian and David make a point to be there every single week. Their dedication is exemplary.

(Ian shares a hug with Milton)

Some of the children are incredibly dexterous, even in the sand. One can only imagine if they had proper equipment and daily coaching. At their respective age their talent outweighs most Americans when it comes to soccer.

(A homeless man blows past a street boy)

There is no fighting on the field which is a nice break from occasional outbursts. Their attitudes revert more fully to being a child. Since they do not have to fend for themselves in any way they play, laugh, score goals, dream big dreams of being a futbol star. They healthfully live in the moment.

(Milton enjoys the soft cool sand after scoring a goal)

Energy biscuits (similar to shortbread cookies) and clean water are provided for all at the end of the day. Some respire more heavily than others after ninety minutes of sprinting in the sand.

(Milton cuts past "Cheeks")

David wraps everything up in prayer. Thanking Jesus for their time together. He teaches the boys positive moral lessons about loving others, respecting people, and how to be a good man. He digs deep for energy as he already participated in the national team's practice all morning.

Directly after returning to the house he must head to school. To survive well in Mozambique the hours are much longer and more physically draining than America. One has to experience how hard some work to establish a life. David and Ian have all my respect for their devotion to the street children and various other homeless that smile and enjoy futbol Fridays.  

(A very kind homeless man who loves the sport)

("Cheeks" taking it easy in the backfield)

("Cheeks" on a big save)

(Wondering what just happened...)

(Background of the soccer field. A homeless onlooker enjoys the game from a distance.)

A Street Story

Most of the day was spent trying to fix windows that do not work on the Masana Mission SUV. After hours of removing panels, tracking wires, replacing fuses, and other tedious tasks the result is that the car has a greater electrical issue. Possibly one of the main electrical relays is not working and throwing off both the window and blinker system. You would be amazed how difficult it is to find automotive fuses, on of the most basic basics, in Maputo.

The second half of the day I spent with a man named Matteus. We first met this afternoon as he translated a message I shared with the street children about their hope in the Lord and how he loves them. Together we shared that God has greater plans for each one of them and that he has gifted each child specifically with talents. I asked the boys why they do not want to go home. Some answers I am not at liberty to share because they are deeply personal. Others were unjustified childish reasons such as boredom at home. They do not yet see that the street offers no real hope. Only terrible things come from life on the street, hunger, poverty, a lack of education, rape, stabbings, and worse.

My hope is that if only one boy yesterday internalized our conversation and recognizes that God sees him in a loving light then he will choose to go home.

I had the pleasure of sharing a monetary donation to put one child through private school for a year. Public schools will not accept children mid-semester. This gives one of the boys a chance to go home immediately if they so chose. There is a particular boy in mind whom is smart, sweet, and still yet unhardened by the streets. However, he must choose to go home and stay. His family must be contacted by Masana and a reintegration meeting must take place with one of the pastors and the family. Every detail is considered in the child's best interest so that he will choose to stay home and off the street.

Later in the afternoon my translating friend and I enjoyed hamburgers from a local stand. One of his friend's accompanied us for the meal. He shared how he used to be a street child but had the opportunity to be raised by Iris Ministries, Heidi Baker's ministry, in a day-center. They provided him food, education, clothing, clean water, and love. He used to steal, sell drugs, and do other terrible things to survive. In his time at Iris he accepted the Lord and turned his life away from the spirit of the streets.

Today he is struggling to provide food for his family. But he is sure that Jesus has changed his heart to love others instead of causing harm to them for his own purposes. He asked me how can it be that before knowing the Lord he never went hungry - now that he knows Jesus and believes they go without food sometimes? My response was a tough one but I believe to be true. The decisions he made to steal were immoral. The time he spent on the street instead of in a classroom were his decision. God is not punishing him for any repercussion he is experiencing with a lack of work. Those were simply his decisions.

On our final approach to the house I was able to encourage my friend that God forgives and wipes away any record once you accept Him and pray for that forgiveness. He was encouraged to keep his focus on Jesus and loving others.

God gives us exactly what we need. Not always what we want. But his ways are better than ours. To miss an occasional meal is surely better than to rob others at knifepoint. Please pray for our friend.  

Jua is one of the boys I pray for deeply. He has a family to whom he can return. He must choose. 

Felix is one of the sweetest souls I have ever met. He lives at Masana. 

Francisco is a gentle spirit. He is not cut out for the street. Pray he returns home. 

Carlito lives at Masana. He is sweet, funny, and a kindred spirit. 

About an Angel

Awoke early at 5:30am. Got dressed and spent time in prayer with the Lord.

Packed up the laptop, camera, some energy biscuit cookies, and Bible.

Headed to the bus station, pre-breakfast. Learned that the busses in Maputo follow a schedule with a half hour plus or minus margin of error.

Spent time on the bus listening to lesson seven of Pimsleur's How to Learn Essential Russian.

Took a power nap and arrived at our usual unmarked sandy road.

Joyful captures today's events at the day center. The Mozambican children light up my heart. We played energy-filled games like rock paper scissors, tug of war, sang songs, laughed, shared a thousand hugs, and wrestled in the sand.

One sweet child that took my heart today is a precious little girl, roughly 7 years old, whom I affectionately refer to as "ringworm girl". A self evident nickname, she has advanced ringworm covering her precious little shaved head. She gives the best hugs, loves to be held, and has that adorable gap between her two front teeth that reminds you of your own childhood.

She actually stole my heart about a week ago. Time permitted the opportunity to go to a local pharmacy and pick up an aluminum tube of prescription anti-fungal cream. Ian, one of the missionaries at Masana, kindly donated a bottle of medicated shampoo and another half tube of medicine for her as well.

I had the opportunity and blessing to pull her out of class, explain to her via another child translating what was to happen. We held hands marching towards the garden hose. The hose lay preoccupied in a huge aluminum pan of lettuce - today's to be lunch. She stood steady as I washed her head with the garden hose, rubber gloves, and cold water. She was strong the entire time - not a flinch. Mozambican children are strong both physically and emotionally. Sometimes so much so that they seem robbed of a proper childhood. One where they can be vulnerable.

The scabs had to be soaked and debrided. I gently scrubbed them off with my fingernails. With a final rinse all was well. The water ran down her eyelids and we hugged shortly after my fingers wiped them off. She cracked a wry smile. "En diez minutos el medicino" was all I could manage via broken spanglish. She nodded and jogged back to the outdoor classroom.

Sure enough in ten minutes I came to her classroom to apply the cream. Some students laughed but quickly stopped when I exclaimed a "noa" (no in portuguese). Never have I seen a child with white cream all over her scalp be so happy afterwards. What an angel.

She sought me out all the day long. We played games, hugged, taught her to dance. She is God's precious little daughter. All I could wonder was if she had a father at home. Whether or not logic points a moot issue. The Lord showed me that today I treated her the way all young girls and women should be treated - as royalty. Because God loves her and has loved me so much all I could do was pour my heart out to this little treasure.

In the afternoon we sat on the sand and prayed together. I asked the Lord to protect her, keep her safe in an unsafe place, to provide for her needs, to let her know that she is absolutely loved by the Almighty, and to help her grow up strong as a woman of God. The greatest gift I could give "ringworm" is for her to know the love that Jesus has for her. If it were not for the changes He has made in my heart we would have never crossed paths. She is just one example of a divine appointment.

Today was filled with joy through serving alongside and for others. Washing dishes, taking care of "ringworm", playing games with the children (at one time there were about sixty playing red light green light!), serving them lunch, hugging them, and teaching them bits of English, showed me that there is an abundance of life in serving others. When I remove myself from the center of thought and action and live for others I am infinitely filled with the essence of Life.

Just thankful to the Lord for the opportunities he provides.

Good friends have your back. 

Playing chase. 

Washing hundreds of dishes bucket style. 

Hard at work. 

Children love the sensation of flying. 

The Never-Ending Search to be Known

In the simple search to be known by our Heavenly Father there exists always, at least on this earth, the battle between my flesh and spirit. The two are as different as night and day. Death of the body weighs me down. The Holy Spirit that resides within seeks to soar. I am in search always of the limitless grace of God. How His love alone overflows my heart evades capture by mere diction. Yet, the yearning for human affection grows stronger.

While once under the desire of Eros, the desires of my heart are much liberated. Forever I have been changed by the great truth of love in Christ. God washes my heart for the desire of the thing it'self that once held my soul captive. He continues to scrub away the layers of emotion, desire, and underlying impurities. In a submission of my will to His I throw myself at the foot of the cross. I come to the threshing floor to be broken again and again. But God... His joyous heart rebuilds us in Love. A softer heart is the result.

My heart now flexes in places where it was once rigid. A care for people, whom once mere passerby's in the night, now exists. God asks me to give to the homeless hands that beg on the street. I no longer question the reason for their need and unfurl a dollar or two into accepting palms - a pleasure. How wicked once was I but now am forgiven by Grace.

Grace abounds in the most unlikely places. The nature of darkness is to cover, hide, blind, and so it should be of no surprise that Light casts out from places once unseen. The places of my heart once unseen and untraveled have been brought about as is fitting. The remaining shadows shrink as restoration shines the inside of my cup.

And through experiencing The Holy Spirit's restorative power and encountering His physical presence somehow I still desire the soft touch of a woman's hand through my hair. I still desire the snug embrace that never wants to let go. The quintessential love between a man and his wife burdens me around each corner.

I am a spirit searching ever-more to be made solid in the presence of God's love and mercy. Naturally desiring, as designed, to be known by Light himself. While my heart continues to open I am constantly reminded of how human I really am.

Do not be mistaken. I knew Christ before I left home. I found the Person for whom I was always searching. Now life is different. He humbles me, allots ever increasing faith, grows my conscience, cuts the chain of sin, and above all shows me what it means to truly love. The mixture of the intangible spirit and all too tangible body wars within. I just want to be known.  

In His Mercy,

R~