Let’s just be honest here for a moment, people.
I love Africa. If I didn’t, you would know.
But let’s be honest…. Africa smells a lot, in a lot of places. For example, the squatty. I’m sorry, but no matter where you go a squatty is a squatty, and they’ve got a little bit of stink.
Another fun fact about Africa: Apparently, the most popular way to dispose of trash is to burn it. And let’s just say there’s a reason that Febreze or Glade haven’t bottled that scent yet. Also, there’s a lot of B.O. around. Not trying to be negative, I’m just being honest. A lot of people here smell, and (let’s be honest again) it’s Africa, so you sweat a lot but only shower about once a week and that just tends to bring out your natural stank. Besides the smells, there’s also lots of dirt, and roaches, and animal poop in the middle of your path. You eat quite a bit of quite different food, so your visits to the squatty might be frequent and your insides might talk to you in ways they haven’t before. Then there’s things like blisters and sunburn and mosquitoes and bug bites and clean water and getting no sleep because they like to worship until three in the morning at the church next door….
But let’s just be honest: I don’t care.
I don’t care that I have dirty feet a lot or have to use a squatty. I breathe through my mouth if the odor is really bad and use baby wipes in between showers and it’s not a big deal. I don’t mind having to watch where I step or that I have to seal things in baggies to keep the bugs away. The food is actually pretty good, and at least someone is praising Jesus all night, even if they use an extremely loud speaker system. I don’t mind putting on sunscreen daily or taking malaria meds or being careful about the water I drink. I don’t care, because this is worth it. Because let’s be honest, I have the opportunity to love on giggley little kids with big eyes all day long. Those walked through burning-trash smoke and past animal dung take me to homes where I get to pray for a broken foot or a broken family or a broken heart. Like Paul’s thorn, the blisters on my feet remind me that God’s grace is sufficient. I may be dirty and I may not want to wear a long skirt the whole hot day and I may be tired from the all-night worship session next door – but let’s be honest, I held a sick newborn baby in my arms and felt my heart break with joy and hope for that new life, and I honestly thought, “I would not trade this for all of the shorts or soap or sleep in the world.”
So what do I think of Africa? Honestly, there’s a lot of sweat and dirt and stench. But there’s also a lot of laughter and fun and bananas and peanut butter. There’s an honest appreciation for toilet paper and hot water. There’s a lot of challenge and learning and the growth that comes from that. There’s a lot of messy little children and high fives, a big African sky for watching sunsets and a lot of pikipikis to ride. There’s so much goodness and so much blessing. There’s so much kingdom coming to life here. Let’s be honest – there’s nowhere I’d rather be.
