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PHOTOS: Lauren Maffeo

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Reflecting on ... two weeks in Swaziland
Mission Trip illustrates "the less people have, the happier and more thankful they are"

Sept. 11, 2011

By Lauren Maffeo
Natick, Mass.

It was late on a winter afternoon, time for our missions team of 14 Americans to leave the childcare point in Swaziland, Africa, where we had volunteered all day and head for home. As my friend and I gathered the group of toddlers surrounding us to lead them up the hill, the sound of chattering teeth caught my ear. I looked down to see a little boy whose age escaped me, meeting my eyes as he hugged himself to ward off the cold. The holes in his tattered red shorts matched the ones in his flimsy jacket. His feet, caked in dust, had no shoes on them.

"Oh, buddy," I said, picking him up and carrying him to higher ground.

Placing him down, I examined his outfit again, shameful that my biggest concern when dressing myself each morning is whether my purse should match my shoes.

"Here," I told him in a language he did not understand. "Let me zip you up."

I reached down to do what little I could to protect him, only to realize I could do nothing. His jacket, exposing his chest to the rainy air, had no zipper on it.

With philanthropic trips to third-world countries happening regularly, critics argue it is self-congratulatory, even condescending, to "live like the poor" for two weeks only to return to the comforts of home. Others critique the motives of those who partake in such trips, concerned that ulterior goals ranging from religious evangelization to resume padding are at play.

While I don't doubt the validity of these arguments, my first missions trip to Swaziland in July followed a principle we would all do well to remember: The Parable of the Faithful Servant, found in Luke 12:35-48 of the Word English Bible, proclaims, "To whomever much is given, of him will much be required; and to whom much was entrusted, of him more will be asked."

PRIVILEGE FOR PURPOSE

Regardless of one's religious beliefs, or lack thereof, the notion of using privilege for purpose is a fully secular one that, even if only for two weeks, espouses good works. With this motto in mind, I find it no surprise that one of the programs our team from Buffalo, New York, worked with is named The Luke Commission.

Founded and headed by Dr. Harry and Echo (PAC) VanderWal, two American medical missionaries, The Luke Commission travels to some of the most remote areas in Swaziland several times a week to provide medical care and services ranging from eye exams and HIV testing to providing pairs of shoes and wheelchairs. Harry and Echo refuse to leave until the last patient is seen and have literally risked everything--their home, finances, even their lives--to serve a population that is so admirably happy in the face of omnipresent anguish. The day before our team went to the bush to help volunteer with The Luke Commission, we spent the day at Harry and Echo's house, sorting pills into bottles and helping to load supplies. We talked and laughed the entire time, oblivious to the reality check we were about to receive.

As Harry, Echo and their team worked from sun up to sun down, our team was in charge of the room where children would come to receive clothing. Only one item of clothing was permitted per child, and we quickly realized the limited number of sizes and colors--particularly for older boys--meant there would not be enough to go around.

As mothers handed us their young children for us to take into the room and choose an item for them, the place erupted into a daycare provider's worst nightmare. As the children were separated from their mothers and handed to strangers, blood-curdling screams ensued, and the fear in their eyes needing no words.

Frantically digging through various boxes to find onesies and shoes that would fit these kids, tension grew. I felt like the worst sales clerk ever trying to shove mary jane's onto little girls' feet, while thinking about how all the things we look for in American shoes--quality, arch support--do not matter when the choice is between having shoes or none at all.

LIFE LESSONS

Home in the U.S., there is now a contemplative tone to every step I take. Two weeks in the country with the world's highest HIV rate and lowest life expectancy may have been brief, but it was long enough for the Swazi people to teach me more than I will ever be able to teach them. I quickly realized that the less people have, the happier and more thankful they are.

Volunteering at Ludlati Care Center with children who oftentimes didn't have a chaperone to walk them home was a lesson in humility I could only learn by being there. Their jungle gym was a dead tree on its side, which they bounced on with delight. They jumped around the driveway in trash bags, making toys out of our garbage. Their patience when making face masks and sock puppets is something I dare you to find in American children. And the simple act of tossing a ball was enough to see a toddler's face light up with glee.

Watching these children in amazement, I felt like I was part of a psych experiment based on the Book of Job. If was as if someone had dared God to take everything from them-warm clothes, a safe home, their parents-to see if they would still believe in a greater good. And they do. Believe me, they do. Coming together each afternoon, they sang songs that ring in my ears to this day.

Most of these children wore the same clothes each time we saw them.

Their parents are dead from HIV.

They cannot afford to attend school.

Yet every day they sing praises, thanking God for all they have and cherishing the people around them.

These children must know something I don't.