Tanziwe Walking

     Our gates are blessed with a fairly steady flow of visitors, hopeful entrepreneurs, and beggars.  Sometimes it is difficult to know the difference without conversation.  Tanziwe visits about once a week. She is often waiting outside at the perfect time for my weekly veggie shopping. Her tall thirteen year old figure is frail but strong. Her clothes are worn or torn but I can tell there has been an effort to be presentable.  Sometimes I bring her lunch or a snack and some water.   She likes to accompany me, carry my bags and bring home rolls or extra veggies as a thank you. The first time she carried my bag it was a bit awkward for me. “Great” I thought. “As if I am not a big enough spectacle, now I have someone following me carrying my bag.”  Tanziwe’s reality put my humility back in it’s place.

     You see, Tanziwe represents a large demographic of girls out of school because the family could only send the boys in a particular year. Sexist or not, families have to make hard decisions for survival.  Tanziwe, at such a tender age, out of school, is at risk of early pregnancy, prostitution or forced labor. Her family might consider her a burden soon and force marriage by 16.  She may or may not eat in a given day while mom is away on business or selling and her brother is attending school.

     My selfish intuition raises irritation sometimes when I just sit down for lunch or a school lesson and Tanziwe or another visitor arrives.  The mere exhaustion of deciding… do I give?  Is this person in danger?  Is there an addiction I am feeding if I give?  With Tanziwe, I have learned to repent greatly. She is a precious child of a king.  Lord how do I serve her best today? Can I make a longer impact? How would you love her?

     I have decided to meet Tanziwe’s mother and brother. I would love to sponsor this beauty for school this next season if her mother can’t.   I have to set aside my western way of thinking and rebuke the instinct to just “make everything ok”.  My definition for what they need or want may contrast greatly with their ideas.   In addition, I am learning to act only after prayer and understanding of the whole situation.   I should never react in this culture, unless there is a life or death situation.   I may end up hurting the child or family with my good intentions.   Maybe there is an attendance problem because Tanziwe is too far behind in school to be able to complete current work.   Maybe there are small ones at home she is responsible for during the day.  It’s possible there is so much more to her story than I know.

     I wish I could tell her I admire her strength. I wish I could hold her and tell her she is valuable, smart and important…I have not overlooked her.  Today, as she is walking away, I am prying for peace and protection for this child of God. I am praying for my own wisdom on how to love with Christ’s love. He brought her to my gate, over and over again. It’s as if my Lord is reminding me of his precious girls in this culture and writing them on my heart.  Loving is not easy, simple or mass produced. Tanziwe walking away, the sun setting before her leaving a slender black figure of strength and endurance, will forever sit in my heart.  I feel the massive presence of something big, as Tanziwe is walking.