A Trip to Rural Zimbabwe

It is Saturday morning, a beautiful, sunny, warm winter day in Harare. At breakfast with our hosts, we had Swedish pancakes (my work), and now Annette is hard at work with ten women, teaching them basic quilting. Annette’s goal is that each woman will have a quilted bag in which to carry her sewing materials. It is really a wonderful scene, believe me.

Last evening, we came back to Harare from a trip to eastern rural areas near Mutare. Visiting rural African countryside was new for us, yet we found the same wonderful spirit of people as we worshipped with them, ate the abundant food they prepared for us, and talked with them. Shona is their mother tongue, but most have enough knowledge of English for conversations. In the two worship services we attended—one in a mountain church, the other in Mutare—the major language is Shona but all was interpreted for us. We were again swept up into the sheer joy and enthusiasm of African worship amid the privation and suffering the people endure daily.

We visited Fairfield Children’s Home in Old Mutare and soon had several children surrounding us with their laughter and curiosity. Later, a few of us visited the nearby hospital, prayed with two very ill women, and left the bandages we had rolled with friends in Salem, OR. Another compelling visit was at Nyakasaba High School where we talked to students, took many pictures, and got in on the outdoor closing ceremony as the school term ended. A conversation with the school librarian got me thinking about whether wireless Internet connections might be possible via satellite, as there are now no working computers for students to use. Both Old Mutare and Nyakasaba have long history dating back to the beginning of United Methodist missions in the late 1800’s. Remarkable results of that early work are abundantly evident.

One night, we stayed at Nyakasaba in the pastor’s home. We slept well, but a rooster outside our window did not let us sleep late. We decided he must be a refugee from India, since he began his crowing at 2:30 a.m., three hours before even a hint of dawn. He continued regularly and faithfully until the sun had risen, without a sign of hoarseness in his voice.

Everywhere, we see how much walking is a part of the daily lives of people. We constantly see people of all ages walking at the edge of roads in the city and the countryside. I talked to two young women at the high school who walked for an hour to come to school. We were told that many of the more than 500 students there walk even further. We learned that rural pastors walk many kilometers from church to church. Abiot Moyo, our tour leader, served one circuit in the area of Nyakasaba with seven churches in his circuit, and he walked as much as 16 km between those churches.

Tomorrow, I preach at Glen Norah U. M. Church here in Harare. There will be hundreds of people in the congregation. I will love the experience, I know, although now I cannot imagine being able to bring the sort of excitement and enthusiasm to which the people are accustomed and must need to cope with tests and trials in the week ahead. I will be glad for your prayers.