A few weeks ago, we packed up what we needed and drove for about five minutes to the nearest beach (it’s actually the lake shore, but everyone here calls any place where the fishermen dock and bring their catch every morning a “beach”). When we arrived, we set up our stuff and were quickly surrounded by a throng of children. The first thing we did was to wash their feet and clip their toenails. Now, I consider myself, at least in my current position, to be a fairly humble person (and yet, in saying so, I might even find pride in humility). Nevertheless, I have made it my mission to make sure the people I’ve come into contact with know that I view myself as no better than themselves, even though they feel a sense of inferiority due to their conditioning. It’s hard when so many Mzungus have come into Majority World countries like Uganda or Kenya to dominate the people and exploit their resources. A great number of the other missionaries (particularly short-term) I have come into contact with here also act like they own the country because they’re white and exhibit god-complexes toward the people they are trying to minister to. At first, I was appalled and angry, but now it just makes me sad to see peoples’ attitudes not displaying Christ’s love and hindering their ministries, really, before they even begin.
But, I digress. I mention humility only to say, washing someone’s feet is a very humble place to be. In Jewish culture, the lowest servant drew this task, and Jesus, by doing the same, demonstrated his humility towards the disciples. So it was at the beach. Some of these kids have hygiene habits that are, shall we say, less than desirable. I love holding their hands and picking them up, but messing with their feet is a different story. I remember feeling a little wary as we set the stuff up to wash their feet. But, as soon as we began (I clipped toenails), it was one of my favorite things that we have done. I love kids, so being on their level, serving them, and seeing them smile certainly was a memorable experience.
After we finished washing their feet, we played a couple of games, such as relay races and tag, with the kids. During that time, I played with a little boy named Jamema (I’m not sure how to spell it, so that is phonetically spelled: Jah-meh-mah). I loved holding, playing with, and tossing him in the air. It was a wonderful ministry opportunity to come into a place where many children (just as in much of the rest of the world) are not shown true love and to play with them and love on them with Christ’s love.
After playing with the kids, we had planned to show a movie (usually we pick one that can be used to teach spiritual truths) to attract the adults as well and give us the opportunity to share with the people once it was over. Unfortunately, on that day, it began to rain (and Africans are deathly afraid of the rain), so we packed up and headed home. Either way, I hope we are able to do the same at other beaches soon, and I pray that our time was a blessing to those children and that we will be able to go back so I can see Jamema again!
