"We have to be able to grow up.
Our wrinkles are our medals
of the passage of life.
They are what we have been through
and who we want to be."
Lauren Hutton
I couldn't believe the experience that was unfolding before me. I walked alongside an old woman helping her carry food to her home in Soweto, a slum of Nairobi. While I was in South Africa, I heard a small part of the story of a lady who had been a freedom fighter many years ago in Kenya's fight for independence. I never imagined that I would get to meet this incredible woman, much less that I would be led to her home as she told me her story.
Ms. Freedom Fighter was the type of person that everyone else couldn't help but noticing. Her small bare feet, her worn walking stick, her honorary necklaces and bracelets. Every inch of her told such a story without a single word. But her face said the most. Her smirky, glowing grin with a perfect little gap between her two front teeth, her smile wrinkles, and her amazing brown eyes. That soft glow that's now in her eyes has softened with age I'm sure. It's easy to see that when she was young she was filled with such fire.
Ms. Freedom Fighter was the type of person that everyone else couldn't help but noticing. Her small bare feet, her worn walking stick, her honorary necklaces and bracelets. Every inch of her told such a story without a single word. But her face said the most. Her smirky, glowing grin with a perfect little gap between her two front teeth, her smile wrinkles, and her amazing brown eyes. That soft glow that's now in her eyes has softened with age I'm sure. It's easy to see that when she was young she was filled with such fire.
As I stood with this beautiful woman in her small tin home, she could not contain her excitement. She kept saying over and over again how God had come down to bless her by my presence. I felt so unequipped to meet this standard. By me just bringing a small parcel of food for her, her granddaughter, and her great granddaughter, and being interested in hearing her story, she felt like an angel had come down from heaven. As she began telling me more of her story, she would suddenly stop, grab my hand, and put it over her layers of necklaces. Despite the fact that she was going blind, her eyes would look deep into mine, and and she would say, "Do you feel my heart? It is beating so fast I think it's going to jump out of me. I am so happy that God has brought you hear." She would then quickly continue on with her story.
She told me of when she was a young freedom fighter. The majority of the fighters were men, but it doesn't surprise me that she was a fighter despite this fact. Her bravery is evident to anyone who has the time to look. It was easy for me to picture her with her young strong arms and legs in uniform. She once was powerful, on fire, and had dreadlocks nearly down to her knees. When I asked her if she still had dreadlocks, she took her head wrap off with a grin. Her small wrinkled head was completely bald. No longer was her body strong, but her soul was even stronger than it was when she fought. She showed me the scars and bumps from when she was captured and beaten during the fighting. After this, she told me no more of those hard times, but moved on to her pride, her family.
She told me about her small tin house. Not even two years ago she had a normal concrete house and a beautiful daughter. Then the fire came. Her daughter passed away, and she was left with a plot of land filled with ashes. And a granddaughter and baby to take care of. She had nothing. That was why she was so grateful for so little. Antony, the father and founder of Tumaini African Foundation, was able to get a group of people together to build her a small two-room home made from sheets of tin and small logs. After serving and giving for so much of her life, this incredible woman is getting a small amount back from her community. A tin home, a food parcel now and then, a few visitors every once in a while. Yet she is immensely grateful for the smallest things, because her community gives back with all that they have. They give the best they can give because of their genuine love for God and for their brothers and sisters. They give what they have because they are called to be one unit under Christ. They give because they have been given so much more in Christ.
Very few words were actually spoken between the two of us. But seeing this incredible woman be such a stronghold of this community opened my eyes to so many things. Her gratitude and genuine joy over such small things made me realize, again, how much I have to be grateful for. She made me realize that attaining and retaining passion in life is so important. This passion should be so apparent that you don't have to speak words to show others you have it. I think that God definitely had it planned from the beginning for the two of us to meet. I can't help but imagine that we would have been best friends if we were born at the same and in the same place.
She told me of when she was a young freedom fighter. The majority of the fighters were men, but it doesn't surprise me that she was a fighter despite this fact. Her bravery is evident to anyone who has the time to look. It was easy for me to picture her with her young strong arms and legs in uniform. She once was powerful, on fire, and had dreadlocks nearly down to her knees. When I asked her if she still had dreadlocks, she took her head wrap off with a grin. Her small wrinkled head was completely bald. No longer was her body strong, but her soul was even stronger than it was when she fought. She showed me the scars and bumps from when she was captured and beaten during the fighting. After this, she told me no more of those hard times, but moved on to her pride, her family.
She told me about her small tin house. Not even two years ago she had a normal concrete house and a beautiful daughter. Then the fire came. Her daughter passed away, and she was left with a plot of land filled with ashes. And a granddaughter and baby to take care of. She had nothing. That was why she was so grateful for so little. Antony, the father and founder of Tumaini African Foundation, was able to get a group of people together to build her a small two-room home made from sheets of tin and small logs. After serving and giving for so much of her life, this incredible woman is getting a small amount back from her community. A tin home, a food parcel now and then, a few visitors every once in a while. Yet she is immensely grateful for the smallest things, because her community gives back with all that they have. They give the best they can give because of their genuine love for God and for their brothers and sisters. They give what they have because they are called to be one unit under Christ. They give because they have been given so much more in Christ.
Very few words were actually spoken between the two of us. But seeing this incredible woman be such a stronghold of this community opened my eyes to so many things. Her gratitude and genuine joy over such small things made me realize, again, how much I have to be grateful for. She made me realize that attaining and retaining passion in life is so important. This passion should be so apparent that you don't have to speak words to show others you have it. I think that God definitely had it planned from the beginning for the two of us to meet. I can't help but imagine that we would have been best friends if we were born at the same and in the same place.
This woman has played so many roles in her community over the years. When Antony and I talked with her again, I found out that she also started a sort of feeding program at the school that Antony went to when he was a boy. He didn't find out her real name until the day that I talked to her. To many she is just known as Mother, or Auntie.