Saturday night, a group of us went shopping at one of the local malls. They're not that different than American malls, I guess. A multi-storied building houses a hundred or more shops where you can buy all sort of goods. Ready-made clothing stores are concentrated in one area. Cloth stores in another. Kitchen-type stores on the opposite side. Shari (the gorgeous national dress) stops display their sparkling wares as I pass. As we near the exit, several beggar-children find us. We stick out! Six white women in this land of mocha-icecream colors.
A young girl grabs my hand. I'm torn; part of me wants to pull away from the filthy little hands, while another part wants to love and wash and care for her. I think of Katie Davis (of "Kisses From Katie" fame). This little girl, in her bloomers and NOTHING else (!!) probably has parents. I don't understand her words, but I know she is asking for money. Oh, I caught that one! "Two taka?" she asks. The only thing that keeps me from reaching for my wallet for that paltry sum (about 3 cents) is assurances by my teammates that someone is watching who will take the money from her. I recall Jesus' saying "Suffer the little children...", and I am torn.
It's easiest to ignore them. Literally, IGNORE them! That's what one does with beggars here. It's such a complex problem, which I don't understand yet, and may NEVER understand! But I know that she is precious in His sight... Whether she has parents to go home to. Whether her hands had found their way into my purse (I feared it, but it didn't happen). Whether she grows up to be a mother of more little beggars.
We finally disentangle ourselves from the small entourage that is following us, and pile into the van to head home. Our "shopping guide/translator" for the evening tells us that they always hang onto us more than onto their own countrymen. They know WE won't hit them. Or spit on them. And that is a possibility with others. We're nice to them, so they follow us. Is part of it just that they're starved for attention? I want to cry...
The next day, I was reading Mark 9, and am reminded of my encounter with the children here. I can't help but wonder if the children who prompted the disciples' complaints were like these. Bored... Lonely... Starving and starved for attention... Ironically, the passage I was thinking of is right there in chapter 10 --
"And they were bringing children to Him so that He might touch them; but the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus saw this, He was indignant and said to them, 'Permit the children to come to Me; do not hinder them; for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all.' And He took them in His arms and began blessing them, laying His hands on them." (Mark 10:13-16, NASB)
OK, so it sounds like these kids had parents. But I can't help if one or two snuck in... just a couple of filthy, precious vagabonds...
Please pray for me...
