TURNING 30

The big 3-0 hit last month for me. December 19, about a week before Christmas. Leaving behind the more carefree 20’s and entering into a new decade. Into “real” adulthood, whatever that may be. With this birthday, I have been reflecting on my life as it is now—living in Burundi with Seth and working with World Relief; beginning to help with the youth ministry of a local church here; continuing the study language and culture. And as I enter this new decade, as is typical of transition times in our North American culture, I’m beginning to envision and plan for the years ahead— perhaps graduate school? Kids? Staying in Burundi? Moving elsewhere? Back to Oregon?

The day before this seemingly “monumental” birthday, I had the chance to meet another 30-year old woman. Analiss Nzabonariyo.

Sara and I had driven two hours south from our home in Buj, along Lake Tanganyika, to visit some of World Relief’s projects in Nyanza-Lac— a small, picturesque fishing village in the southern province of Makamba, bordering Tanzania. After driving our rugged vehicle 20 minutes off road— through winding rocky red dirt roads, fields of cotton, banana trees, and corn, and scattered brick homes with alternating straw or iron roofs, we came to Analiss’ home.

It was a simple home. Like the many other homes in her area that had been built with the help of World Relief Burundi or other NGOs. Red brick walls. Dirt floors. A basic iron roof. Very dark. Three small rooms that were shared by the entire family and their three goats. She welcomed us to a crude wooden bench to the side of her house, and we plopped down on the bench next to her, to chat with the help of a translator.

What I learned about Analiss during that conversation was nothing new. Living here for about 10 months now, I have heard many stories of hope, survival, and courage as many Burundians have faced so much during the recent 12-year conflict. However, what resonated within me was that this woman was thirty. Just like me.

And honestly, that’s about where the similarities ended. During the war in Burundi, she and her family had to flee their home. They lived in an “Internally Displaced Persons” (IDP) camp (similar to a refugee camp, but within the same country of one’s origin) for three years, from 1997-2000. They then moved from place to place until they were finally able to return to their land in 2006. That same year, her husband died from an unknown illness. She was left a widow— with seven (SEVEN!) children to care for on her own, from two to 15 years— at the age of thirty.

And now. The year that Analiss turned 30. Even though the war is over and she has returned to her land, life obviously continues to be very difficult. She has no source of income and attempts to grow corn, cassava, and beans to provide for her family. However, Analiss told us that prices for seeds have recently gone up, and she was not able to buy enough seeds to plant this season.

Those in her community, though struggling in similar veins, have recognized her great need. Members of her church sometimes come to help her cultivate her land, and community leaders nominated her, because of her children’s obvious malnutrition, to be one of the first recipients of a dairy goat from World Relief.

She has two other indigenous goats that she hopes to breed as she uses their manure to fertilize her land. The one dairy goat that she received from WR provides half a liter of milk two times a day. Mixing that milk with equal portions of water, she can get a total of two liters— enough milk to have some for all her children. She says that she has seen the health of her children improve, since they received the goat and have been drinking the high protein milk.

And yet, Analiss says, there is still not enough food.

As she told me these things, I studied the face of this woman— this woman who is thirty, like me. She appeared older than our thirty years. Her skin is beautiful, her body is strong. But her eyes betray. They have personally seen and experienced war. Death. Hunger. Poverty. And they age her.

And I thought about my plans and visions for this new decade— schooling?, family?, etc.— and so I asked her what her hope was for her future. Her reply was simple and strikingly and painfully different from my own— “to overcome hunger.”

Sidenote: To celebrate my birthday, Sara took me out for cappucinos and a pedicure and Seth treated me to a fun surprise—dinner on the beach of Lake Tanganyika— with fish brochettes, friends, and the Burundian drummers!