reflections on the Widows' Village

There have only been a few moments in my life that have happened in seconds but have changed my life forever.

I'm ready to share about one of them. My time in the Widows Village in Rwanda is one of the most cherished moments of my life.

One of the main activities we did for ministry in Rwanda was show love to the orphans, children, and widows by spending time with them.  We showed them love through playing with them, talking with them, and simply holding them.  Our leaders told us that the attention that we were able to show the children would be something that they remember forever. It truly felt like being the physical hands and feet of Christ. 

The Widow's Village was a government-provided area during the genocide that widows could live to be protected.  Since the genocide ended, it has stuck with that purpose.  Now, widows live there with their children and have a community there. 

The first day we went to the Widow's Village was highly anticipated.  Our bus had faced many different difficulties making it up the long, steep hill, where the widow's village rested on the top.  The widows and children could see our bus trekking up to them, so they waited even more anxiously for our arrival.

The first thing that happened as we stepped off the bus was a flood of children rushing to our side, grabbing our hands and latching onto them.  We hopped over a small ditch in the road, where the widows were all lined up.  As each member of the team hopped over we were immediately embraced by one woman after another.  They greeted us by saying "Maraho," or "Hello," and kissed our cheeks graciously.

We were all emotional - we were all overwhelmed by the love being shown to each other and by the community we already felt, despite the lack of understanding in language. 

We could hear children singing as we drove up the hill, and sure enough - there were at least 20 children proudly wearing their school uniform, gathered together in the middle of the village.  They were showing off what they had learned in school and sang their songs that they learned in English.  Some of the lyrics were: "I'm a little butterfly, in the air I fly, up up on the tree, I fly fly."  Others were "Head, shoulders, knees, and toes," with respective dance moves for all.   I don't think I've ever been more in love with a group of children. All of these kids had been sponsored to go to school at the Star School, and their songs and dance were evidence of what they were learning. 

We spent the afternoon playing with the children: trying to pronounce their names, teaching them dances, and just picking them up and holding them in our arms. As we drove away after our first day, the kids chased our bus down the rode, and our hearts broke in having the leave them.  But we knew that we'd be back in a few days.

Sure enough, the next time we headed up the long road to the Widow's Village, the kids started screaming and running towards us.  They had been waiting for us to return to them. 

We continued our typical activities - running, chasing, playing, laughing, holding, and cuddling with the children.  We all had our few kids who recognized us and stayed by our side, and my team members would continually play and chase the kids, and then take a rest by cuddling and holding them.  The kids loved running all over playing games and settling into the arms of all of us "mzungus," what they call "white person." 

Photos taken by Jimmy Thomas

On the last day in the Widow's Village, I met a new boy, who was 12 years old.  He was on the older side, and for a boy he was especially cuddly and close with me.  He spoke a little English, so I learned that his name was Eric and he was 12 years old.  We wanted to take pictures with me and hold my hand as our leader shared the gospel.  I'm used to my younger brothers, but neither of them had acted as needy as Eric was for his age.  Usually the teenage boys kept to themselves and would crack jokes, but he was sweet, kind, and needy for attention.  

We sat together through the whole message from our leader, and he paid close attention to every word.  Then, another leader shared with the group that was huddled together on the small hill that our team loved them very much and wanted to show them that by giving them each their own new t-shirt.  When Eric heard that, he squeezed my hand, turned and looked me in the eyes, and said in his accented English, "Thank you, thank you very much."

I couldn't help but start to cry.  I hugged him, and he held tight to me, and as I got up to help pass out t-shirts, he waited patiently to receive one from me. Everyone put their shirts on right away in proud ownership.  

Then, Eric grabbed my hand and pulled me toward a group of women standing in a group on the side.  He pointed his hand as a woman in the middle and said "Mom." He took me to introduce me to his mother! We embraced one another and kissed each others cheeks.  We could barely communicate, so we just smiled.  She thanked me for the t-shirts, and I feel so helpless.  I wanted to do so much more for her to show her that I loved her, but didn't know what to do.  I gave her the nail polish that I brought to paint the kids' nails, and she laughed at my gift to her.

Eric stayed close by my side as I played with the younger kids, and when it came time for us to leave the Village, my heart felt like it was breaking into millions of pieces.  Each kid stole my heart with their smiles, their laughter, and their innocence.  It broke me to know that many of them didn't have parents, didn't have food to eat, and didn't have money to go to school. 

Eric's simple "thank you" made me realize all the wealth and excess that I have.  Its not fair that I have been given so much undeservingly, while all he has is a new t-shirt to make him satisfied.

What have I done to deserve all that I have? Nothing.

What has Eric done to deserve the simple life he lives? Nothing.

Yet here I am, with everything, and continually wanting more, and there Eric and all of the other children are, thousands of miles away in Rwanda, not realizing the more that there is. Spending time in the Widows Village changed me and my time with those children is something that I remember all of the time.

My trip leader, Cyrus, told our team before we left for Rwanda that our time with the children in the Widow's Village was precious.  He said that when he returns to Rwanda, the kids ask about the people who had previously been there.  They continually ask for us and remember our names.  The time that we spend loving on those kids is some of the only love that they get to feel, and they cherish it forever. 

I think that its more important to think about the love that we can give, rather than the things we can get for ourselves.