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MAN'S INHUMANITY TO MAN I can still remember back in the 1980's, the first time I heard the phrase "man's inhumanity to man." In my very first college literature class, I had to perform a short play by Albert Albee called "Zoo Story." After that it became just another phrase we English majors tossed about, like "Christ figure," or "hubris."
In 1994, Rwanda's government required its citizens to attempt to wipeout its Tutsi minority. An estimated one million people were killed. And that's why I now know the day when this "man's inhumanity to man" finally made sense to me. Standing in a trauma counselor's office at the Compassion International country office in Rwanda, I was looking at children's drawings. Stick figures with machetes, crayon drawings of severed heads, penciled blobs captioned "my brother was tossed in the latrine," self-portraits set in safer places like whimpering under the bodies of dead neighbors. Children's drawings. Here in America, my daughter draws colorful flowers, our dog, Britney Spears. Children's drawings. Rwanda is a place far from my home.
FAR FROM HOME
One morning as I stood on the hotel balcony in Rwanda, I considered that there are few places farther from Toledo, Ohio than Rwanda. Africa has little in common with northwest Ohio. Through Compassion International, we exchange letters and photos with a young lady named Mediatrice and, it turns out, Rwanda is actually very close to us. And since every night for the past four or five years we pray for Mediatrice, Rwanda seems much more real to our family than cites just down the road from us. Though I often drive through Findlay, and Sylvania, and Sandusky, we truly love someone in Rwanda; she's an important part of our lives. And, she truly loves us.
BEING A HERO
When we got to her school, Mediatrice immediately recognized me. (We have the same haircut.) Our family was in two of the four photographs on her wall. Cris, Eleanor, Lily, and I are that important to her. Imagine, of all the people who matter in Mediatrice's life, our family ranks near the top. When we walked to her house, the neighbors gathered by the road and said things like "We are so honored that you are walking through our village." I noted, they didn't add, "because you've come here to bestow great gifts." Our very presence in their community gave them joy. As I walked with Mediatrice and held her hand, I expected to want to take her home with us. Instead, I found myself wanting to stay at her house. Her family's needs were so simple and pure. It became obvious that it wouldn't take much to keep her whole village fed. Things that hardly mattered the day before—like walking down a street—were suddenly overflowing with meaning.
MOST OF THE WORLD WAITS OUT BACK
Back on the bus, children begged us to throw our empty water bottles out the window. Empty plastic bottles. What were they going to do with them? After all, they're not worth anything to us. Ah, but in Rwanda there is no garbage. Firstly, they've got nothing to consume so they don't generate garbage. But more importantly, every single possession might save their lives. A pittance to us is a windfall to them. What we throw away gives them life. Crumbs from the table might make the difference. In America, we have to PAY someone to take away our garbage; we have so much leftover stuff that we have to bury it in the ground. It's a marvel to live in America.
AMERICA FIRST
Many times when we tell people that 28 dollars a month can save a child's life they respond "Well when they do something for American kids you let me know." Quite frankly I am sick and tired of hearing people say we've got to take care of Americans first. Even if people REALLY believed that (and weren't just brushing me off), 28 dollars is not going to do much in our land of throwaway leftovers.
In the plainest terms, in a place like Rwanda, $28 a month can save a child's life. For $28 a month in the US you can hardly get a kid to keep your lawn mowed. But, of course, that's different, right? The lawn-mowing money is part of the family budget, like cable, or ice cream. Perhaps reluctant folks should say, "Well when each American kid gets an ice cream cone each day, then I'll do something for somebody else." At least then they'd be honest about identifying their neighbor and her needs.
WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR?
In an inner-city slum, we visited a girl who is being sustained by Compassion's work. In this area, the word "sustained" is not an exaggeration. Many neighborhood children are dying of malaria because they lack a mosquito net. When we asked the widowed mother if she had any other children, she told us she had only the one child. Yet we saw other children coming in and out of the back bedroom. As we later learned, they were some of the local orphans, and this widow had taken in two of them to raise under her roof. She had, in essence, searched the house from top to bottom, and when she had found the coin, she invited in the neighborhood to help her celebrate. What little she had she shared with those in need, and it was a powerful witness to her own compassion and faith in God. Seeing her own child alive amidst flagrant death brought her such joy, the widow could not help but share it with others.
MAY THE FRUIT WE BEAR BE CHRIST
While visiting another child at a Compassion project, her widowed mother excitedly showed us what looked like a large, green pumpkin. She carefully explained that Compassion International had provided them with seeds. Now they have these huge squashes, which they share with the neighborhood children. The work of Compassion brought fruit, which multiplied in the face of hopelessness, bringing life and joy to the poor. My goodness, doesn't that sound familiar?
WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?
Bet you never thought you'd hear me asking that question, did you? Honestly, I don't know what Jesus would do. But it might be worth asking ourselves this question: As the face of Christ in this world, can we sit idly by and let more than 24,000 children die every day? I'm not making that number up, and I didn't write it down incorrectly. More than 24,000 children around the world die of disease and malnutrition every single day. No holidays, no Sabbaths, no coffee breaks, just needless constant dying.
WHAT YOU CAN DO TODAY
You can decide today to stop this death march of hunger and sickness for one child. I'm not asking you to join the Peace Corps, or even change your lifestyle. By sponsoring a child through Compassion, you can join with thousands of concerned people around the globe who refuse to sit idly by.
And to tell you the truth, it's not really the food, clothes, and medicine that make the most difference for these children trapped in seemingly hopeless poverty. Rather, your letters, photographs, and prayers tell a child that somebody SOMEWHERE cares whether they will live or die. (If you've ever spent even one moment wondering whether your life matters, then you know why that's important.) In short, they will have hope because, for once, they will be more than a statistic in somebody's morning paper. If you take the time and money to establish a relationship, a child might go to sleep at night thinking that Jesus really did come that we might have life, and have it more abundantly.
I hope you'll consider giving a child a chance. If you're interested in sponsoring a child, or if you'd like more information about Compassion's work, you can drop a note to troy@speedwood.com, or you can call Troy at 419/897-9792.
Hoping,
george
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