Struggling with Reality

6.16.2016
I feel like I haven't touched a lot on the culture of Zambia. Primarily because I feel resistant to full understanding of the culture myself. When you attend Camp Life you are given statistics like 5% of the population is wealthy while the other 95% lives in extreme squalor. There is no middle class. As a participant, I vividly remember going into camp knowing that my girls were victims of sexual assault, beaten and witnessed violence daily. I didn't fully appreciate until later that knowing the statistics and facts about these children's living situation does not mean you understand their realities. I've struggled with that a lot this summer. At camp, what you see are the bright and joyful faces of small children. It is easy to forget about what they return to when they leave these gates. 

I had a great conversation with a woman named Tara about this. Tara is living in my villa for her week of camp. It is her first time. What we decided on at the end of our conversation was that we cannot get it. Not getting it isn't wrong or right. We simply have not walked in their shoes. 

A theme throughout this conversation was the sense of being removed. In our world today, we hear awful things daily. We are seemly able to process and understand because we are removed from the situation. We aren't in the midst of it, living. The same concept applies to Camp Life. Even though I am in Lusaka, minutes away from several compounds or slums, I am removed. Each night, I am returning to a comfortable bed and most importantly a safe place to rest. At camp, we experience our children as they are in a removed setting. Even on community day, or the day when you visit your children's compound, you are still removed. You are a visitor attempting to look into an environment that is extremely complicated and multi faceted. At situations that really only present themselves when one is vulnerable and alone. 

The removed setting is both a blessing and a curse for these sweet children .  The safety offered by camp allows the children an outlet. A way for them to be heard. Finally, they have someone to listen to their fears and provide hope and comfort on at least some level. As participants, we have to be mindful not to let our separation soften the extremity of their situation. Tara talked a lot about processing, and how she just can't seem to process what these children tell her everyday. There is a sense of numbness. I think it is our hearts protecting us from the pain of hearing these stories. We tell ourselves that this is the way Zambia is. At least, that's how I cope. By telling myself this is the way Zambia is, that this is the norm for them, I close myself off a little. I don't want to feel the sharp pain that pierces my heart when one of my girls looks at me with tearful eyes and explains how she has been assaulted and beaten since she was 6. Tara doesn't want to experience the overwhelming pain that comes with knowing that two of her boys are sexually assaulted by "witches" or older women in the community because this increases their "witchcraft status". 

Tara spoke of her approaching return to the states, and her fear of going back after what she has experienced in Zambia. How do you take off on a double decker plane that supplies many worldly luxuries after this? The empathy she is feeling for these children that is keeping her from wanting to board that plane is beautiful. It's also painful. We come to Zambia to love and to help. If we begin to accept "the norm of Zambia", even if it is just a coping strategy, we don't help a problem. We perpetuate it. It may be hard for me to look into a child's eyes and realize that he has already watched his father stab his mother. But we have to. These children are the next generation of an ailing country. Ignoring their stories will not break the cycle. It's their culture. Breaking a culture is hard. Only God can do it. 
I ask tonight for prayers that I soften my heart each day, as painful as it is, to these children. As strange as it sounds, I pray that God does not allow me to look at them as joyful children at a week long camp session. I ask that God shows me the whole story, so that I can help share His word. Only through His word can I arm them with some kind of weapon as they return to the streets that hold all kinds of evil.