Garibou

There is this boy that I see.

He works the intersection around the corner from my house.

Everyday he stands outside with a red tomato tin bucket the size of a Folgers container, begging.

Somedays when we drive past the intersection I don't see him because the light is green and we don't stop. But on days when the light is red, particularly Sundays, he comes up to the truck, places his hand on the window, and smiles.

On Tuesday I (and Marvelly) attempted to go to lunch with Anne. She biked over to the house then we all set off on foot to an Indian restaurant. On our way, I saw the boy. The boy with the bucket and the smile. The boy that I see.

He had his tin can connected to a piece of string and it was flung over his back. He was pushing an older man crippled with polio in a wheelchair. As we passed by, he stopped and waved and smiled his smile. He looks to be about 8 years old.

It turned out the restaurant was closed on Tuesdays, so we set off back to Anne's house and on our way back, we passed him again. This time he was with not only the crippled gentleman, but an older crippled woman as well.

He smiled to us again.

I have been seeing this boy many times since moving here last month. I will see him, and smile, and the girls will wave and put their hands on the window. And then life carries us on to our next stop and corner where there are others.

It wasn't until Tuesday though, seeing him standing in front of me without the confines of the car between us....that something unexpected happened. I didn't leave the house expecting much besides lunch and company with a friend. But, in the middle of that red dirt road, the Lord burned that boy's face onto my heart, and it completely broke for him.

For the past few days I have been swept up in tears for the life of the boy with the smile. I will be standing in the kitchen, and out of nowhere the image of his face interrupts my thoughts, and I'm overwhelmed to tears. A song will be playing, and I will see him, and cry. During my bible study each morning I pray for him, and cry.

You can not predict or prepare for when the Lord decides to interrupt your life to break your heart.

I started praying for him, but what I pray, I don't really know. It is mostly tears and wordless aching for his life. Sometimes....there are just no words. But what comfort it is to know that when my words fail me and all I have is tears Jesus is in Heaven interceding for me. For the boy with the smile.

I didn't know what to do, or what I could do. All I knew is that I wanted to know more.
I wanted to see him.
Talk to him.
Learn what brought him there.
Learn what kept him there.
I had so many questions....
Was he orphaned?
Did he work for someone?
Did he eat?
Where did he sleep?
How could I help him?????

My thoughts about him were relentless and unyielding.

I was consumed with praying for direction and, just something that I couldn't even put words to.

And then in the absolute chaos of my thoughts over this situation that is so much bigger than me....

... I heard the Lord encourage me to just, "start by finding out more about him."

"One thing at a time. You have to start somewhere. This is where you need to start concerning this situation."

And, may I just say, God is so good. He has blessed our lives with the most amazing people since moving here less than two months ago. All those prayers I prayed before moving here, prayers that the Lord would go before us and prepare our way, strategically place specific people and friends in our lives to connect with......wow....are we ever seeing that. There were a couple people I knew I could ask to get more information. But the Lord didn't want me to just ask anyone....He brought to mind the exact person He wanted me to talk to about this.

I attend a women's bible study on Thursday nights and there is a gal who attends named Heidi who is a missionary with Go To Nations and she has lived here for 9 years. The Lord knew, and I knew, that if anyone would know the story of the boy with the smile who begs each day with a red tin bucket....she would.

So, Thursday night as she drove me home after study, I asked her.

And this is what she told me.....

.....the children I see are called Garibou. They are sent from their villages by their parents to live in the city as young as four years old.

They live with a man called a Marabou. The Marabou is a Muslim teacher who spends 'x' number of hours each day teaching the boys the Quran in Arabic. The children's parents think it is a great honor for their child to go and live with a Marabou and are eager to send them away for this opportunity.

So, the boys spend time each day learning the Quran in Arabic, a language they do not speak, writing down the scriptures on a tablet, and orally reciting it back. In a few short years the children will know the entire Quran in Arabic by memory. Once their lessons for the day are done, they kids are sent onto the streets to beg for money. Each child has a quota for what they must bring back each day and give to the Marabou as payment for their lodging.

You will find people who are sympathetic to the younger children and give money to them but often times the older kids will get nothing. So, the older kids will beat up the younger ones and steal their money so that they can reach their daily quota. And then the younger kids return with nothing, and are again beaten by their Marabou. 

They will sometimes only eat one meal a day.
They are not provided clothing.
They do not go to school.
They are not taught French.
They grow up on the streets....with absolutely no prospects for the future. 

In many countries in Sub-Sahara Africa this system has been outlawed and is now illegal.

But not in Burkina Faso.

As I sat listening to Heidi telling me all of this, I asked, in my ignorance, "is there no organizations established here to help get these kids off the streets and into school?"

Her short reply, "No. None."

And in the short seconds between her saying that, and what she said next, I could feel this wave of discouragement trying to press down around me, like I  was in a vacuum and the life and hope was being sucked out. I can't type this without crying. Everything is so raw here. It is daily survival in its most raw form. I was assaulted with thoughts of these children growing up on the streets, no parents, no one to love them. The boy. The boy I see with the smile, who now, after knowing a little more what his daily existence looks like, I thought to myself, "how can you smile? how.can.you.smile? how can you look at me and smile that smile that is full of joy, and hope?" He lives in absolute deplorable conditions with no hope for anything better than what he knows (and there's the lie.)

.....and then Heidi said, "But......"

And immediately Jesus was there. His presence just enveloped me. "He reached down from on high and took hold of me. He drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me."-Psalm 18:16-17

".....a colleague who works with us runs a ministry called Kids of Hope that serves the Garibou every Saturday. The kids come to her property and do a craft, hear a Bible story, eat a hearty meal and learn new trades. She's always looking for volunteers, would you like to come?"

*tears*
Yeah.
Yeah I would.


And there is the truth.

There is the truth I will cling to. That despite the deplorable slave like conditions they may live in, there is hope. The boy with the smile smiles his smile because there is hope. There is always hope worth hoping for. It may seem on the surface that the system is too long established and too rooted and engrained in society. It may seem that the system is too big to change. Too many kids. No way to rescue them from their oppressor and change their fate. But that is the lie. The truth is that there is a hope for these kids, for the boy that I see. And it is taking place every Saturday just ten minutes from my house.

Their Marabou allows them to go because that is one less meal he doesn't have to provide for them. He allows them to go, and in doing so they hear about Jesus. How amazing is that?!?!?!

It may seem on the surface that these kids are too far gone to help....but God has shown me that He is always working behind the scenes fighting back the darkness. Always. Establishing ways to save. Opportunities to share hope. Calling up people to be His hands and share His love. Fulfilling a greater purpose in their lives besides a life of begging.

"Since the children have flesh and blood, He too shared in their humanity so that by His death He might destroy him who holds the power of death-that is, the devil- and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death."-Heb. 2:14-15

In two weeks me and Isaak hope to go spend a few hours with the Garibou. I can't think of this without crying. Seeing how God orchestrated all of this. Placing the right person in my life to talk to, who just happens to work with a gal who has a ministry for these kids. Only Jesus. 

I mean really, only Jesus.  
I am excited and nervous. And even if I don't do anything but sit with them and color, I know that I am not sitting with them alone. Jesus is sitting with us.

"I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do. I will not forsake them."-Isaiah 42:16

Clinging to that promise. Believing in that truth for these kids.