Why Do We Serve?
Why are you going to Mozambique? Why do you want to help people? In your carry-on bag of expectations are you packing snapshots of moments shared with Africans wherein they appropriately express their appreciation—albeit without a common language—for the trouble and expense to which you’ve gone in order to build them a house?
I’ve been meaning to write you for several weeks about a conversation I had with a Portuguese friend named Amélia who has six years experience working in southern Mozambique. She says she’s seen a devolution in the attitudes of the Mozambicans. She says they’ve become so accustomed to handouts on the one hand and corruption on the other that they can be very uncooperative. They’re convinced half the resources meant for them go to line the pockets of whoever’s in charge, leaving only the leftovers for them. Foreigners and white people are assumed to be rich and are expected to give. Amélia says they’re increasingly unwilling to collaborate on volunteer projects without pay. She’ll be impressed if we see much cooperation from our families.
And it isn’t only the natives who may not appreciate your motives. Justin Fox, a South African travel writer, concludes his 2002 book, With Both Hands Waving: A journey through Mozambique, by saying, “I couldn’t but feel that missionaries and religious charities were often yet another form of enslavement Mozambique could do without . . . Christianity has had a bad track record in south-east Africa . . . “1
That could take the wind out of the sail of your dhow.2
The Bible says, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Everyone loves those who love them. If you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Everyone does that. Love, do good, lend, without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because He is kind to the ungrateful and wicked.”3
I’ll be surprised if we don’t leave with at least a few snapshots of appreciative faces in our memory bags, but if that’s all we’ve got in there it may not be enough.
Jordan
1 With Both Hands Waving, p 203.
2 Dhows—small wooden fishing boats with triangular sails—are the mules of the western Indian Ocean and provide a living link to this corner of Africa’s rich, and at times tempestuous, maritime past. (With Both Hands Waving, p 208.)
3 Luke 6:32-35
I’ve been meaning to write you for several weeks about a conversation I had with a Portuguese friend named Amélia who has six years experience working in southern Mozambique. She says she’s seen a devolution in the attitudes of the Mozambicans. She says they’ve become so accustomed to handouts on the one hand and corruption on the other that they can be very uncooperative. They’re convinced half the resources meant for them go to line the pockets of whoever’s in charge, leaving only the leftovers for them. Foreigners and white people are assumed to be rich and are expected to give. Amélia says they’re increasingly unwilling to collaborate on volunteer projects without pay. She’ll be impressed if we see much cooperation from our families.
And it isn’t only the natives who may not appreciate your motives. Justin Fox, a South African travel writer, concludes his 2002 book, With Both Hands Waving: A journey through Mozambique, by saying, “I couldn’t but feel that missionaries and religious charities were often yet another form of enslavement Mozambique could do without . . . Christianity has had a bad track record in south-east Africa . . . “1
That could take the wind out of the sail of your dhow.2
The Bible says, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Everyone loves those who love them. If you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Everyone does that. Love, do good, lend, without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because He is kind to the ungrateful and wicked.”3
I’ll be surprised if we don’t leave with at least a few snapshots of appreciative faces in our memory bags, but if that’s all we’ve got in there it may not be enough.
Jordan
1 With Both Hands Waving, p 203.
2 Dhows—small wooden fishing boats with triangular sails—are the mules of the western Indian Ocean and provide a living link to this corner of Africa’s rich, and at times tempestuous, maritime past. (With Both Hands Waving, p 208.)
3 Luke 6:32-35
posted by Jord at 8:24 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home