Hursts in Africa

I've lost my voice. I know, I know - I'm the chatty one and believe me, I'm getting lots of good-natured ribbing for having to be so silent. I had lost it last week for a few days and then it started coming back. But I made the mistake of trying to stick with my teaching schedule this week - teaching 5 hours a day every day. I made it through Monday with a rather deep, husky voice - but I did it. On Tuesday morning I woke up with a significantly worse voice. But I tried to teach anyway - really forcing it. After about 4 hours of teaching my throat just clammed up and quit!

So here I sit - drinking hot tea with honey and lemon, not going out of the house lest I be tempted to try and communicate with someone. I've always known I'm a real people person and definitely a verbal processor, but the importance of having a voice and communicating is really hitting home to me during these quiet, housebound days. I honestly feel a bit down....isolated.....kind of powerless.

It's given me a lot to think about. The course that I'm teaching (or supposed to be teaching) is on the church and development. We spend a lot of time talking about the vulnerable and marginalized people in this culture (usually women and children) and how can the church lend it's voice, its influence to try to change the way these people are treated. Having a voice is really a privilege. Our churches have a strong, loud voice in the culture and society of Kinshasa. Churches (of many different denominations) are present in every community and are generally respected. How churches choose to use their voice - or to not use it - is very important. Having a voice that is listened to is power. It feels good to have some power - not in a greedy, "it's all about me" way, but in a serious, "I can comment on issues and provoke dialogue and change" way.

On the other hand - not having a voice really stinks! You feel rather insignificant and......well....powerless. I try to communicate with my kids - and they're great kids. But sometimes I have a hard time getting their attention. I stand and clap and hiss and stomp my foot - waving my hands, trying to get them to disengage from their social networking, listening to music, or whatever it is that they're doing.

It's made me think about the people here in Africa - in Kinshasa - who don't have a voice, figuratively speaking. They live in this writhing mass of humanity (over 10 million people crammed into this city) but they are of a sex or age or people group that is not listened to. They can stomp their feet, clap their hands, wave their arms and no one pays any attention. Women who can't protect themselves from potential HIV exposure because they have no voice in the sexual activities of their husband - or of those activities within their marriage. Kids who are abused and beaten, some cast out into the street - they have no voice. They have no childhood. And then we marvel at the societal anger that can flare up at any moment here. Riots, looting, crime, violence.......a frustrated group finding some way to make their presence known, and finding a way to get back at someone....anyone.....for not listening.

A voice is a powerful thing....and mine will return. In a few days I'll be back to myself, laughing, talking, chatting.....and being listened to. Pray with me that the churches in DRC would find their voices and become involved in advocating for those without a voice.