God’s Work

Vedaste and I visit every church to inspect the new rainwater harvesting systems.  Today we leave Kigali bright and early in order to return before the rainy season’s often treacherous afternoon showers. We drive several hours to a town called Gatuna in a hilly tea growing region just south of the border with Uganda.

The sides of the road are teeming with people at work – hauling water, bringing potatoes to market, pushing bikes loaded with charcoal. Women carry firewood in their arms, balance baskets of fruit on their heads, and tote babies strapped on their backs. Old men walk with canes, wearing worn suit jackets and floppy hats.

Bustling roadWoman baby wood bundle

In the Mulindi Tea Cooperative fields workers harvest tea leaves.  Each kilo earns them 25 francs (3.3 cents). A backbreaking day’s work under the hot sun nets about 20 kilos, earning barely enough for a meager rice and beans existence, even in the Rwandan countryside.

After another hour on a dirt road we arrive at the country church where Alphonse and the team are working. Isidore, Alphonse, Eric, and Damascene are all working in “Umubano” or unity.   I love our time together. I love these men.  They are serious and hardworking but quick to laugh and have learned to joke with me in our mix of English, Kinyarwanda, and pantomime. They sleep on the hard floor inside the church when they are working deep in the countryside where there are no rooms to rent.  I brought  Coleman tents and air mattresses over from Big Five.  They appreciate these comforts. They are proud of  their work and know that they labor to improve people’s lives.  They are godly men and,  like me, see this as God’s work.

Scott l1 with team

I meet the new guy, Claude, a local handyman the team is training to take care of repairs when the churches need work done on the systems in the future.

This is the 162nd church in Rwanda that will receive our gift of rainwater.  Many thanks to the generous donors through PEACEwater, No Thirsty Child, and Drive for Water that sacrificed to allow us to continue our work in so many churches.  Thanks to Alex Barlow (and so many others) who took his time and used his skills to train our Rwandan team.  The quality of his work stands the test of time and systems installed in 2011 when we started this program are still providing many cups of water in Jesus name.

I look up at this church and see that the wood the team installed for the fascia is not painted. They know that the wood has to be painted to prevent warping and termite infestations.  I am not happy.  They explain that they wanted to save time and will paint it later.  I remind them again that the wood must be painted on both sides, before it is put up. Quicker is not better. Quality is better than quantity.  They know. They have heard this speech many times. They vow to do it right in the future. I don’t understand why they cut corners but I do know that the same issue will come up again and have learned patience and perseverance from working in a culture that I will never fully understand.

There is another problem. After our initial site inspection, the pastor changed his mind and built the tank foundation 30 feet further from the church and down a hill. Vedaste and I are surprised.  The pastor asks us to bring more pipe to reach the new location from the gutters. “No,” I say bluntly, having learned that it is best to communicate clearly or plans morph in all kinds of expensive new directions for no good reason. “We had to hire special trucks to transport the materials into this remote area.  We have a limited budget. We brought enough materials for the original site. Changing your mind and not letting us know means that you need to solve this problem. Please let us know if you decide to buy more pipe or move the foundation. Then we will come back to finish the job.”  The pastor is surprised.  Changing plans happens all the time in Rwanda.

The challenges are typical and any trace of bad feelings evaporates quickly.  We form a circle and hold hands, including the mass of local children, who have been watching all the action, in our circle of love. When I pray, it is in English with a few Rwandan words here and there.  When the pastor or one of our Rwandan workers takes a turn, I understand about every fifth word but know in my heart what they are saying. They thank God for his help, they pray for the community, they thank God for the rain and clean water and for keeping us safe.  After the amen, we pass the Holy Spirit from person to person in a wave of raised hands moving around the circle, once slowly then twice faster, then all hands raised for the inevitable burst of laughter at the end.

The local children don’t respond with the usual enthusiasm to my attempts to communicate. I am puzzled. Then I learn that in this border town they don’t understand Kinyarwanda.  They speak Kiga, one of  the Ugandan languages.  I shift to pantomime and use my special handshake to coax smiles. The handshake involves about ten hand movements ending with my hand on my heart.  It takes many, many tries. Then the oldest boy of about 12 gets it and rewards me with a huge smile. Soon these children will be getting their water from the rainwater tank at the church.  They will spend less time fetching water and more time just being kids.  That is always my prayer.

Children tank

Vedaste and I head back towards home in Kigali.  It is a three hour drive with plenty of time to ponder the day’s events and talk.  Shortly after we leave, God tugs on my heart to stop the car. Vedaste is used to me stopping to give strangers a lift.  He is puzzled though this time because he sees nothing.  I backup to where I saw a young woman who looked exhausted, sitting in the grass on the side of the road, with sweat pouring down her face from carrying a 50 pound sack of yams in the heat of the day.  We soon find out that she had picked the yams at her brother’s house and was returning to her parent’s home, miles away through the hilly countryside, probably an overnight journey on foot. Vedaste tells me that her name translates to “What God Brings.” I am happy to give her a brief respite from a tough life and lots of news to share with her family – the adventure of riding in a car (likely the first time) and interact with a foreigner (undoubtedly the first time).

This day is like many on my adventure in Rwanda. When I am in the farming areas of Rwanda where water is scarce, where the center of the village is the church, where somehow God picked me, an ordinary guy to be his hands and feet, delivering water to his adorable children.  I am happy.  God has filled my life with meaning and purpose and blessed me beyond my wildest dreams.  Tears fill my eyes as I write this. I don’t deserve the gratitude of these beautiful people that I have the privilege of meeting day after day. When I arrive in heaven, the first thing that I plan to do is thank God for using me in this awesome ministry.

Love and gratitude, L1

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