orphan professors: how five kids have shaped my view of orphan care

We’ve talked to many people who have a passion for orphan care – their hearts blaze afire when they see the statistics of orphan children and read those scriptures telling us to serve. But one thing we’ve noticed is that even amongst the passionate ones, many people think of orphans almost exclusively in the context of the orphanage institutions that house and feed them.

We might have too, once upon a time. But outside of that institutional “box” are real humans – and five of these beautiful people in particular have dramatically shaped our view of orphan care. It would be my pleasure to introduce them to you now.

1. Meet Mulenga

Mulenga is a single orphan, his mother having passed away seven years ago. His father has struggled off and on to take care of Mulenga and his two other siblings, but extended family has banded together to make ends meet. One day Mulenga came home and told his dad that an NGO representative had pulled him out of class to take his picture. The father followed up on the action and discovered that this NGO was pulling orphans out of class to take their pictures for marketing purposes. They needed some “authentic orphans” to spice up their fundraising campaigns. Mulenga’s dad was furious. His rampage, a mixture of Bemba and English, roughly translated to “don’t exploit my kid and don’t patronize me.” I would feel hypocritical including a picture of Mulenga in my own write-up, except that we are not the typical fly-by-night NGO workers. Mulenga is one of our favorite people. Ever. We have dozens of pictures of him, not because we’ve sought to exploit his orphan status, but because he’s in our house every day and we clearly love him so much!

Mulenga’s lesson for us: Orphans and their families are worthy of dignity and respect. 

2. Meet Maggie

Maggie’s mother died of when she was just one year old. After the maternal death, the village wondered whether Maggie would be abandoned, assuming no one would want anything to do with the “illegitimate” child of a known prostitute. Immediately however, a grandmother, two aunts and a cousin stepped in to claim Maggie as their own. They came to us for help as she had lost considerable weight when her supply of breast milk was taken away. The family made sacrifices to care for this child, worrying extensively about her healthy and wellbeing. Their involvement in Maggie’s life made us take note; the western concept of family makes us often assume that children would be unwanted by anyone other than the bio parents. “Not my kid, not my problem.” – is more of how Westerners would think about iis a western ethic. But the tribal concept of family gives greater grace. Extended families swallow up children with the same duty and conviction as if they had birthed them themselves.

Maggie’s lesson for us: Extended families are ready and willing to care for orphans to prevent them from being institutionalized.

3. Meet Mwewa

Mwewa is a unique case. Both of his parents are technically alive, but his mother is absent due to mental illness and his father struggles both with alcohol and mental health, landing Mwewa firmly on the community’s vulnerable child list. Despite his crazy rough family life, Mwewa is one of the most relaxed, well-adjusted, fun loving kids. It actually makes no sense, and we have wondered why he’s not in a corner rocking himself. Our answer? He is constantly surrounded by his friends and their families. Mwewa sleeps in his father’s home, but is otherwise almost always found in the company of his pals – eating all meals with them, goofing off with them, playing a hearty game of soccer with them. The adults of the community look out for his needs: school uniforms and shoes and toiletries. (And yes, we are a big part of that.) On paper, everything says this kid belongs in an orphanage where he would receive “proper care”, but we can see that this is exactly where he needs to be.

Mwewa’s lesson for us: Kids thrive in a place where they feel they belong.

4. Meet Asa

Asa’s mother died while birthing her. The clinic staff was afraid that the child would be abandoned and die if there was no one to nurse her. The sister to the deceased mother came forward and announced that she could take the baby, at least for a while. She was still nursing her then 14 month old and thought she could “spare some milk” for the helpless infant. We met with the mother and asked her what she felt she needed to help the newborn thrive. Nutrition, soap and some baby socks were the items on her list. For the next year we took the family extra food, talked to the aunt about milk supply and when to wean her older biological child, and helped her see that with a bit of support, she could care for this child and honor her sister. That baby is now almost four and she is fat and happy and an integrated member of the family that took her in. Her aunt no longer needs our help and she is more than proud of her “daughter.” Some food, soap and socks were all it took to give her aunt the confidence to raise her and keep her from being institutionalized.

Asa’s lesson for us: Sometimes just getting a family over a hump is all that is needed.

5. Meet Matobwe

I had known Matobwe for years before I found out that both of her parents had passed away. She has always called Ireen “mommy” and as far as I knew, she was just one of Ireen’s biological children. Come to find out, Matobwe is actually Ireen’s youngest sister. Ireen was already a married woman when Matobwe was born, and when their mother died, Ireen took her in as her own. Matobwe grew for years never knowing anything different, until she was mature enough to find out that “Mommy” was really “sister” – but after a decade and a half of care, that difference seemed trivial. Ireen stayed mommy and probably always will. Safe and secure, this child has parents who love her, even if they are technically her siblings.

Matobwe’s lesson for us: An orphaned child absorbed into extended family rarely feels orphaned at all.

Dignity. Respect. Family. Belonging. Thanks kiddos. You’ve taught me well.

before you join a tribe part three: homogeneity

Welcome to part three of Before you join a tribe. If you missed the introduction and part one, you can find it HERE and for part two you can click HERE.

For all the tribe joiners in our midst who have decided that they are ok with honoring their elders, giving them a seat at the table and have accepted the practice of following the sage advice without argumentation or dissention, I’d like to present one final characteristic of tribal life for you’re your consideration.

This may be stating the obvious, but tribes are homogenous. I sense that the comfort of homogeneity is what lures Americans towards tribal culture in the first place. Whether the tribe is exclusively for young-moms-who-attachment-parent-babies-with-hipster-names, or for mildly-pretentious-urban-dwelling-social-justice-seekers, or for clever-and-aspiring-bloggers-dying-to-be-published - (and I could probably join any one of those tribes) people flock to that group because there they find like-minded folks with whom to share the journey. There is not a single soul on this earth that desires to go at it completely alone. Even the most introverted among us want and need friends and we find such incredible security in being surrounded by those who hear us and get us and choose to follow the same path. Contention is draining and wounds of offense can take ages to heal and it is always easier to do life with those who are set on helping you fly instead of clipping your wings. Tribal homogeneity often eliminates disparate opinions and that makes us feel good.

zam-twins

But one-ness with a tribe depends on more than shared, positive feelings and like thought. Consider that the homogeneity of the tribe is primarily genetic. A person is born into a tribe – an Aushi will never be an Ngoni no matter how Ngoni he acts or thinks or feels. The Aushi are Aushi by blood which means mobility is not possible. To be rejected by or to voluntarily leave ones tribe is to know isolation in the severest of forms. There is no “Southern Baptist today, Anglican tomorrow.” You cannot be a “recovering republican" amidst your new found liberal tribe. Tribal identity is human identity. One does not select tribal alliance as flippantly as one selects emoticons for a status update.

Furthermore, for all the wonderful harmony that a tribe seems to possess, this peaceable community dynamic comes at the expense of transformative discussion and debate.

Members of a homogenous tribe are rarely challenged by other people to think or act differently. Tribal cultures, particularly those that subscribe to animistic worldview, maintain harmony through passive acquiescence and submission. The MO is usually, “this is the way we do it. fall in, or get out.”

The more like-minded the group of people, the less freedom a person has to challenge, the less chance a person will be challenged, the less chance a person will grow.

Doreen and Felistas with peanut shell earrings. I'd consider joining their tribe. ;)

Because I recognize my own tendency to drift towards the safety and security of my own “tribes,” 

I have to consciously seek out friendships with other tribes so that I learn and come to appreciate what common ground exists with those who are not theologically reformed, ivy league, free-range young moms. For my own good, I need to take meals with other ethnicities and talk politics with alternate lifestyles and learn contentment from diverse economies. And if I fail to do so, if I hang with my own tribe for too long, I don’t feel loved so much as I feel smug, confident in my own rightness when everyone around me keeps confirming my opinions because that’s what tribes do. 

For my own good, I need people looking at me with stink eyes, questioning my philosophy and probing my motivation. I need new information, alternate techniques, and answers from beyond the familiar. Diversity of thought and opinion is what pushes my boundaries, cements my few convictions and challenges my unfounded, made-up rightness about everything else. The result is that I become a more thought provoking, empathetic being, one that can survive outside the realm of having her ego stroked and who lives inquisitive and concerned. I like who I am when I'm outside of my familiar "tribes" and I like the person that good and challenging social environments make me become.

And so, dear friends, where does this leave you? Desperately searching for that feel good group of people to call your tribe and agree with your everything? Or embracing the beauty of diversity and growth. I know, I know, when I put it that way... But as much as I hope this blog reflects on what is, I hope it equally challenges us to what could be. Tribes are sexy and all the cool people are telling us to join theirs and it sounds oh so alluring, but if homogeneity will never make us into the kind of people we want to be, are we still ok with that?

before you join a tribe part two: no black sheep

Welcome to part two of Before you join a tribe. If you missed the introduction and part one, you can find it HERE.

Today we are looking at a second area of tribal membership that is seemingly ignored by the fad-tastic tribal members of the United States, namely falling in line. What is this, the military? Kind of, and the venerated elders we talked about in part one? They are the generals. Tribal culture as led by the elders have right and wrong ways of doing everything. Specific practice, specific thought, specific procedure, and dissention is not tolerated.

In Aushi culture, when you greet, you use two hands. Sitting on the ground requires straight legs with ankles crossed. Kneel and clap exactly three times for the chief. Thine fro shall be no longer than two centimeters. Dad takes the first bite. The youngest non-toddler draws the water. Nshima is eaten only with the right hand. Don’t talk about bodily functions. Never sit next to your in-laws. Plant maize in mounds. Don’t show your thighs. This greeting for this situation and that greeting for that. No variation. No improv. No black sheep.

For several years we thought we were the awesomest, most convincing teachers ever because all of our workshops, seminars and programs were received with complete “agreement.” And by agreement, I mean people nodded and smiled and were all “uh huh, yeah!” and we did not realize for quite some time that in THIS tribal culture, there is no raising of the hand and correcting the authority figure. There is no posing of alternatives or voicing complaint. There is no heated debate. There is no telling someone off.

yes? we all agree? organizational unity? perfect!

In fact, people who find themselves in heated arguments almost always land themselves before the tribal leaders explaining their insulting behavior. In Luapula’s provincial police headquarters, administrative codes for common offenses are listed on a sheet of paper above the registrar’s desk. Offense include theft, murder and insulting. You can find yourself standing before the magistrate for crimes of stealing maize, axing your enemy and telling someone they are a stupid idiot. Really? People can’t stand to be insulted? No, because there is a right way and a wrong way and if we are fighting over something , then someone is ignoring the right way and needs to be corrected.

a skit about how to handle power confrontation

Every time I scroll through the comments section on any blog post – innocuous or contentious – there is always a span of thoughts and opinions ranging from “oh my gosh this is the best!” to “I’m un-following you because you are a heinous jerk.” American culture loves debate and contention and heated, overly-emotional conversation. This game of back-and-forth-until-we-are-blue-in-the-face is like the American national sport.

A few times our American-ness has brushed up against the Zambian tribal-ness and we’ve found ourselves asking the fatalistic question, “Why?” When the answer is inevitably, “Because,” we hem and haw and prepare to put up a fight and the patient souls around us remind us of where we are and that the law of the land is, “this is the way things are.” There is no room for gray and those who leave the realm of black and white pay for their defiance by donning a scarlet letter.

I think Impundu wants us to get over ourselves

Dear free thinkers, radical minds and professional opinionators – your tribe called and they want you out. Membership is not transferrable, so you’ll have to marry into another tribe and they will probably hate you for your contentiousness, but at least you can always use the internet as a debate-ready outlet.

Tribal societies that resist new ideas and innovation are at an obvious disadvantage in many realms of life. Oh the blog posts that could be written on this topic right here… But my point here is not to cast judgment or take sides or vote for who I think is the winner here because to do so would be exceedingly American and not at all tribal and THAT is my point.

What I will say though is that I think there is a sinful obsession in American culture with being RIGHT. Our demand to be heard and believed and agreed with is borderline neurotic. Most days the internet looks like one immature game of verbal king of the hill and this is happening in both secular and religious realms. I would be ashamed to let any of my neighbors eavesdrop on the cyber madness. The best advice I have ever received came from my neighbors and by extention their tribe, “Preserving the relationship is more important than being right.” How many relationships have been murdered in recent months over sexuality, modesty, doctrines of sanctification and roles of women, parenting philosophy and for the love of heaven PUBLIC BREASTFEEDING?

ok maybe she's a black sheep, but she's too cute to care.

Tribal solidarity is a product of relational commitment. I am willing to be wrong to preserve US. And most of the time, that requires some level of keeping our mouths shut. Very few people have perfected the skill of disagreeing nicely, which is why the most “tribal” thing your mama ever said was, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Which is another reason why you should re-read post one and call your mom.

before you join a tribe part one: call your mom

I feel like every other day I am reading something about people and their tribes. These phrases jump out at me every time I run across them – tucked away in a variety of settings, on blogs and articles and photo captions: “I just love my little tribe.” “Go out and find your tribe.” “Me and my tribe, we’re doing this.”

Interestingly enough, I seem to always hear these comments from white Americans and I can’t help but wonder, What is the TRIBE obsession all about, people?Am I the only one doing a double take with all of this tribal language? I can use my cultural IQ and deduce that tribes are exotic and sexy and therefore full of “Stuff White People Like.” So it makes a little sense. I guess.

But having lived for the last seven years amongst a tribal people, I’ve learned a few things about tribes that I wonder if the tribal-trendy Americans are aware of. Ya’ll are signing up – but do you know for what?

Without launching into an advanced anthropological study of tribal culture or differentiating between the customs of one tribe verses another, I want to present a blog series outlining some things to think about before you join a tribe.

Without further ado – part one of Before you join a tribe.

~~~

Before you join a tribe, you need to… prepare to venerate your elders. What does that even mean, you ask? Good question. Before I started living amongst the Aushi people of Luapula I pictured "veneration" as paying homage to old pictures on mantles surrounded by candles. Perhaps that is a practice in some tribes. (Perhaps I needed to consult a dictionary.) But despite varied practices and definitions, the principle of elder veneration is quite basic:

Older people deserve extreme respect.

Older people are to be sought out.

Older people are to be invited.

Older people are to be listened to.

Older people are to be heard.

Americans have adopted certain values that makes veneration of elders unintuitive. We are expected to, at some point, “age out” of our parents wisdom, becoming our own, free-thinking adult selves. Young families move far away from grandparents and even those that stay close often set up very strict boundaries regarding extended family time. We brand older practices as passé and prefer to let our peers (and Google) teach us everything we need to know about life. Older people are often tolerated – they don’t move quickly enough and don’t always know the latest news on a given topic. Their examples are super dated and not at all tweet-able.

Bana Kalaba Chama - she knows things. Seriously.

If you are a part of a tribe that doesn’t have ancient folk sitting in your midst then you are not a part of a tribe at all. The ones who have L.I.V.E.D. – they are the ones with true wisdom and understanding. It is these old souls at whose feet the young members must sit and learn and piece together history. Tradition, practice, celebration, protocol – EVERYTHING – stems from the council of the elders. Disrespecting or disregarding these people, or their counsel, is the most offensive action a tribal member could take.

 "bana kulu" - mother of many

And so when the young tribal gal meets up for coffee with her equally young tribal gal friends and they dish about marriage and parenting and career, neglecting to call their mom back and pushing off the promise to visit Great Grandmother in the nursing home – the whole lot of them might as well surrender their membership cards, for they blatantly dishonor the most fundamental of rules.

surrounded by no less than 4 generations of passed down wisdom

I am thankful that early in Bronwyn’s life she has had the opportunity to mingle with some of the ancients of the village. Their gray hairs symbolize of all the cumulative knowledge of all their years. These are men and women who have spent decades teaching children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and great-great grandchildren the way to live and to think and to relate to the other members of the tribe. Around fires at night they explain how marriages should endure children should behave and everyone listens in earnest and without a shred of skepticism because this is what tribes do.

you have never seen a cuter woman than this

Jeremy and I have commented on how the elderly in America are perceived as a burden. We shove them away in special homes to be cared for by strangers, letting their glorious knowledge fade away with their bodies. We watch as young people put up walls and fences and boundaries announcing via cold-hearted e-mail how much time the grandparents and aunts and uncles are welcome to “invade” their nuclear family's space. How many priceless encounters are millennials forfeiting by being too busy to care otherwise?

of course on the day that my child meets the oldest and most venerated woman in the village, she's running around like a crazy naked baby. thank heavens great-great-grandma is mostly blind.

Tribes, tribal members, recruiters and followers: invite the older generation sit with the girls at the table. Ask questions. Expect answers. Follow the directions. Love these people. Honor these people. Give them your attention until their last breath and then mourn their absence like a traveler who has lost her compass. They are a gift and a blessing, not a curse and a burden.

Call your mom back.