It's hot today. Slightly unusual for this time of year, when it's supposed to be winter. It's sunny, and beautiful, not a cloud in the sky. Ethan is playing with our 4-year old neighbour, Eddy, swinging, giggling up a storm. I'm playing play-dough with some other neighbourhood girls ... sitting on rocks in the dirt with a make-shift table. It's simple ... nothing fancy ... and it's beautiful.
We break for lunch. We pull up chairs in the front of our house and sit down with two of our guards, Laurindo and Rafael. We've never done anything quite like this before. We bring pizza, they bring rice and beans, we say grace and we share lunch. I've spent many hours talking with these guys ... but never like this--the four of us (Marcel, myself, and the two of them), all relaxed, sharing food and sharing real, honest conversation.
We talk about family. What are they up to today? Doing the laundry and the kids are at church. We talk about fashion--what's up with kids these days, with their pants on the ground? We talk about technology. What, Laurindo, you have Facebook? Two of us love Facebook, two of us, not so much. We talk about working out ... what exercises are best for the back, how to build muscle.
We talk about the hardships of Angolan life. Food is expensive. Life is expensive. How thankful they are that their children can receive English lessons from me. (They say this constantly, but the truth is I love teaching their kids--it's the highlight of my week!) How English is such a precious commodity in this country--how it's a way out of poverty.
We talk about dreams--though this scares them, because to dream is to risk. What are their dreams? For themselves, for their kids? Do they dare to dream?
We talk about faith. How Angolans have so much, how Canadians have so little ... how Angolans need God, how Canadians think they don't. We talk about how one day, this struggle, this suffering that they face ... won't matter. We'll walk on streets of gold.
Our conversation, our time of fellowship, our lunch came to a close. Did they appreciate this time of fellowship as much as I did? Do they even get how much this REAL conversation meant to me ... and I might add ... it was completely in Portuguese? Do they understand how few of these conversations I actually have with Angolans, not just with other English speakers?
I'm happy. Happy this time happened. Sad because it didn't fix things--things like their poverty, or the cost of living. Sad because we won't always live here in this apartment to have these times. Sad because here in Angola, the work is plentiful, but the labourers are few. There's so much need ...
But for now, I'll follow their example. I'll be thankful. I'll be hopeful. I'll pray. I'll be glad we're here ... for the days like today.
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