Mother Theresa Resource Centre

Saturday began at the Mother Theresa Resource Centre; a place for children to spend time with planned activities, like games, and resources for academic studies on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. On Saturdays, there is a food program that distributes meals for those in attendance. The Centre is located in Monarch, which is an area where poverty is prevalent. It is one of the poorer communities in Francistown. This was made evident when we were told that this was the first and more likely the last meal for these children today, making Saturdays’ meal program a necessity.

As we pulled in, there were kids everywhere, but we found out that there were fewer kids than usual.  We began in the building talking to Mike, who is in the Peace Corps; he is the “man in charge” of the Centre.  At the time, they were repairing the roof and ceiling from where a storm banged it up back in October, and in the other room there were students from John MacKenzie—a school—drawing and preparing to paint a mural on the wall. 

From there, we went out to watch the younger children play games; their spirit is impossible to fail to notice.  They were corralled into two teams, bounded together by a rope they held up; then we (Leah, Vanessa, and I) were divided into the teams.  Vanessa and Leah were on the same team, and I was a loner; the kids, like all kids and pretty much everyone in Botswana, did not have a problem staring.  It never bothers me when children stare though; they are just curious.

 Seeing a real, live white girl in person is probably a rare occurrence for them.  However, they were all very, very sweet; some would stare and smile, others would stand close to me and we would talk, and still there were a few who were brave enough to hug me without any previous glances or interactions.  More specifically, there was one girl who was all about me:  she would hug me, hold my hand, poke and prod, and even hang on me.  She was absolutely adorable and filled with love and friendliness; after she noticed my hair, she was greatly fascinated by it.  At one point, one of the older girls came and stood closer to me; I smiled at her, but I failed to pick up on the fact that she wanted to talk but was too scared to begin the conversation.  She then retreated to her previous placement further away. After her retreat, I picked up on her social cue.  Luckily, she later returned.

  During one of the times the little girl was enjoying my presence, she began looking at my sweatshirt.  She asked what it was a picture of, and I told her it was basketball, which is kind of similar to their netball.  Then she found the strings to tighten my hood and asked what they were for; I showed her how they worked, and she found the contraption to be quite magnificent.  Another time she wanted to see my hands, so she pulled up the sleeve of my sweatshirt and began inspecting it.  This was simultaneous to the return of the older girl, who then shyly reached out to touch my hand, feeling as if to detect a difference in the textures of our skin.  All the wiser at this point, I initiated a conversation with her, and she was so incredibly sweet and soft-spoken.  We then lined up to receive their meal, and I waited in line with her.  It’s funny how sometimes when you meet someone, swapping names does not happen for a while.  Eventually during my time with her, we decided to learn each other’s names; we had just been getting along so well that it did not occur to us that we did not know one another by name prior to that moment.   

 Another one of the older girls approached me carrying what appeared to be a baby swaddled in a blanket.  She reached out to me and said hold the baby, so I reached out to take it.  As soon as it was in my arms, they all busted out laughing, and I knew why:  it was just a wrapped up blanket.  It was a pretty good joke, and it brought hearty laughs to the kids. I struggled to fight back tears a few times.   More than likely, they don’t have much and yet, they possess so much joy. 

   After eating, Immanuel handed off his camera, and Leah took over taking pictures.  All of the kids wanted to have their pictures taken and were even more anxious to see the result.  How much joy they had before seemed to swell even more; it was very cute.  The friend I had made quietly asked to have her picture taken and then wanted to take a picture with me.  It is my favorite picture of the many taken so far. She truly is beautiful, inside and out, and I will always cherish the impact she had on me, even though I only knew her for a few hours. 

  Seeing the children at the Centre with their worn clothing and surely malnourished bellies, feeling no sorrow or sadness definitely opened my eyes to the ways God is moving.  Being around them instilled a lighter, springier step in my walk. They lifted the burden of worries from my shoulders:  just find joy in life.  The light shining from their faces and the joy their smiles and laughs expressed and spread to others were truly inspirational; leaving filled with the joy from the Spirit was the only possible way to leave.