Christmas Day in Pahuwa

As we drove into the village of Pahuwa to repair the well, scores of children from nearby villages waved as we drove by then ran to meet us when we stopped. Unlike Kainga, where we had just that morning repaired their well, there are few trees in Pahuwa, and this well was in a wide open field with only a small patch of shade where we parked our car more than 200 meters away from the well.

The children gathered under that tree, marveled at our car, touching it and viewing themselves in its mirrors. Among them were girls as young as six with infants or toddlers strapped to their backs, freeing their mothers to do other work, perhaps collecting firewood, getting water from a distance sorce, or pounding their maze into flour.

The African summer sun can be brutal, and although we stood in the shade of an umbrella most of the hours we were by the well at Pahuwa, over time we felt the heat draining our energy. At one point, I knew that I should rest. George walked me to the car and turned on the air conditioner. I closed my eyes to rest, half dozing. I blinked and became aware of many little faces peering quietly at me through the windows. Again, I rested and felt refreshed.

When I awoke, there were a dozen or more men observing or assisting with the well repair, but I marveled that ther were still no women there to meet us. This was unusual because collecting water is considered women's work, and typically, the women are there to celebrate with songs and dancing.

Frankly, when we have attempted to talk with men about relieving the burden of the women, more often than not, the men just don't seem to get it. When I say, "The women have a heavy burden and work very hard. We want to lift that burden." They answer, "Sure they do," but the attitude is always something like this, "Of course women have their work to do. That is the way it  is, as it always has been and should be."  We have learned that we must take the message directly to the women we came to serve. The message we had was for them. We longed to tell them that God knows them by name and cares about their every concern.

We just couldn't leave that village without addressing the women. When the men were ready to cap off the well, check the water flow and leave, I announced my desire to speak with the women. A young man who overhead me went to find the women and ask them to come and meet me. When they eventually arrived and learned that their well was now working, they were very happy, looked me sincerely in the eyes and shook my hand, saying, "Zikomo." Thank you.

None of the women spoke any English, but one of the men knew enough and helped me tell them that I wanted to come back to visit their village, that I wanted to teach them things I have learned about how to keep families healthier. They asked, "Just for women?" Yes. Just for women. Many rushed forward to shake my hand. One elderly woman pointed to her stomach and made a grimaced face. She was asking for information, and that was encouraging.

It was settled. We would come back with the goal of providing life saving information about sanitation and hygiene, clean births, preventing HIV/AIDS and malaria, how to purify water, all things that will keep their families healthier and somthing the women in the viillages are very interested in. Beyond our teaching the women how to keep their families healthier, our second goal was to build relationships that can open the door for the Gospel.

It felt good knowing the village now has clean water and that we will be welcomed when we come back to teach. Now, to focus on the children sitting in the shade of that lone tree. I pulled out a colorful parachute and all the children circled it. Then I tossed a rubber ball to its center. As they played, their smiles and giggles told me everything I needed to know. No interpreter needed.

After over six hours in the sun, we started our journey out of the villages. It was Christmas Day. What a joy it ws being able to give the gift of clean water to over 500 families in the villages of Pahuwa and Kainga.