By Pastor Andrew
Have I mentioned I don’t travel well?
Twenty seven hours of flying time is not my thing. The jet lag affects me badly and the threat of blood clots removes any sense of abandon that international travel might bring to others. Then there’s the food. Known as Sydney’s fussiest eater, for me the thought of having any unidentifiable fare placed in front of me is the stuff of nightmares. On arrival in Burundi, I have to show my certificates for COVID vaccinations and yellow fever, and am confronted with large signs warning me that Malaria and Ebola are serious risks here. But that’s not what gets me.
It’s the poverty.
As we travel from Bujumbura airport to our hotel, we move through the most desperate sea of impoverishment I’ve ever seen. There’s no end to it. We go for a walk around our area and are immediately confronted by dozens of people who see their meal ticket in us. Women with baskets of goods laden on top of their heads, men hawking live chickens, teenage boys tempting us with puppies in their hands, children who should be in school offering eggs and nuts for us to buy. A young woman sits nearby with four children around her and a fifth on her breast. She is selling mangoes. Very good mangoes, she tells us.
On arriving in Burundi, I felt uneasy. After half a day of walking through it, I’m depressed. The poverty here is so overwhelming, so consuming, that I feel at an utter loss. The destitution is not merely seen but heard, smelt and felt. What can we possibly do here? Why am I even here? Our best efforts would be nothing more than a spit in the ocean.
But I find hope on the second day.
We’re not here to end world poverty, or even that of Burundi. We have a specific mandate and that’s to see the gospel taken to the Deaf of Burundi. We’re also here to see that the Deaf receive an education, the humanitarian support they need and a shot at meaningful employment. After meeting Fabien and the rest of our team, I see these objectives being reached, at first in trickles, then in streams. Now I remember why I’m here.
Fabien, who is Deaf, is our Director in Burundi. He is a kind man, wise and faithful. As we are not in Burundi on a Sunday, we are not able to see any of the 6 churches (serving 750 deaf) which make up the core of our work in Burundi. But Fabien and the other members of our board in Burundi are still excited to show us the work they are doing in education and employment.
We visit three schools (one hearing/Deaf integrated), each receiving varying levels of support from DMI. At a minimum, our evangelists visit the schools weekly to teach signing and scripture. Some of the hearing boys at the secondary school approach me. They have only just started to learn English. In Japan, the first sentence is usually the mind-bogglingly lame “This is a pen”. In Burundi, I’m disappointed to hear that it’s “Give me money”. This reflects not only the wretchedness of the economy but the mindset of a people. But these are children and our team show remarkable maturity by hosting us graciously and driving us all over the country without asking for an extra penny.
We are taken to Cibitoke, a city two hours north of Bujumbura where our team have rented five farmlands as part of our self-sustainability project. At one point on the road, our car abruptly stops, and Fabien jumps out and taps into his phone. Suddenly five guys on motor bikes turn up. “Get on”, we’re told. “We can’t go any further in the car.” Before I know it, we are flying down the road on the back of these bikes, not a helmet in sight and the thought of my naked head skidding along the ground is unsettling. We turn onto dirt tracks and bounce and slide through muddy fields till we come to our own lots. There we meet with the man in charge of farming these fertile fields. The rains have just started so he looks quietly confident that the fields will do well. Planting begins on Monday.
The project that impresses me most, though, is run by a Deaf lady wearing the most colourful clothing you could ever hope to see on a woman, and a smile that is hopelessly infectious. Sidonie (blog #34) is in charge of this whole operation – a collection of sewing workshops which employ Deaf women (and men). We gather in an outdoor market, quickly drawing a small crowd. The women are so pleased (and thankful) to meet us – and they love to have their photos taken. I order three shirts which Sidonie will have made up in the next two days.
In our remaining time, we meet with our board who present us with their grand vision of building a church, Bible training centre and Christian resource centre. Their plans to finance it, while requiring our help, are resourceful and responsible, and we are excited at the vision they have presented to us. The work we are doing here is meaningful. It matters. It breaks the cycle of poverty, brings true relief to the most vulnerable, and brings the hope of the gospel. That’s why we’re here.
On my last night, I meet with Thomas, the chairman of the board and Thierry, another board member and our interpreter. They share with me their extraordinary stories which will appear in coming blogs.
Right now, I need to go and buy a helmet.
If you’d like to contribute towards building a church, Bible training centre and Christian resource centre in Burundi, please click the red button below, or mail me at info@deafmin.org
Comments