Thursday, May 11, 2006

God's Calling is not emotionally secure

The end of the war brought peace, but also new challenges. Many whites fled the country. Integration of the schools began, and it was rocky. The first Prime Minister's term of service was short-lived and unsuccessful. And then Robert Mugabe, the notorious Socialist-Marxist leader who still controls the country, came into power.

My one and only fist fight occured during that time. I hit this guy Clive in the nose (and bloodied it) for calling my African friend Heather a derogotory name. (Heather was the first black student to be integrated into our school.)

But in a lot of ways, those early teen years were some of my happiest memories. We had a strong group of youth in the mission, and great community in my local church. Then there was Indira, my best friend, who had moved to Zimbabwe from Tasmania. The two of us were inseparable.

I was finally getting to experience life as a real kid, without the fear of being "hunted."

Our family also spent quality time together. We have always enjoyed being outdoors, and were finally able to have some freedom. Every Friday night was our family game time. We had constant visitors--my parents have always had a "come one, come all" policy. I think my Mom's real calling was to be an army cook, because she was always feeding someone, and we never knew who might be spending the night.

But then came three events that totally rocked my world.

One of our fellow MKs, Chip Corley, was hit by a car and killed while riding his bike. Our whole mission family was devastated.

Then another tragedy struck. Aunt Jeannie Elliff and the four kids were on their way to our house, with plans for all of us to go to a youth retreat together. But they had an accident on the way.

The van rolled, and Beth was trapped under it. She suffered severe burns because the engine was on top of her. The rest of the family only had minor cuts and scratches.

I will never forget seeing Beth laying on that gurney in the hallway of the hospital. She was in such agony, and parched with thirst. I actually remember her saying, "If you love me, you'll give me a drink of water." That broke my heart. She was not allowed to have anything because of the severity of her burns.

I thought my friend might die that night. It terrified me, and made me angry when I saw the doctor ignoring her, even flirting with some of the nurses. He was totally cold and indifferent.

Aunt Jeannie was finally able to get a plane to fly her to a better hospital in the capital. (I don't remember where Uncle Tom was that weekend--maybe out of town.) Thankfully, Beth survived. But she needed better treatment, so the Elliffs ended up leaving Zimbabwe and returning to the States. That was a tough loss for me. Beth and Amy were like my sisters.

To make matters worse, we later learned the accident was deliberate. When Aunt Jeannie had stopped to get gas, some men had inserted a matchstick into the valve of her tire to cause a slow leak. It was the loss of pressure in the tire that caused the van to flip.

But even in that, we saw God's providence. The men had followed Aunt Jeannie from the gas station, probably intending to rob her(or worse.) But when the van rolled, a train happened to be passing and the engineer saw the accident. He stopped the train and helped lift the vehicle off of Beth.

His presence probably deterred those men from hurting the Elliff family. I know that God preserved their lives that day.

Then we began to have issues in school. Because so many teachers had left the country, the educational system was in crisis. So the government came up with a plan to educate "ex-combatants" (aka "terrorists") in a 6-month teaching program and plug them in as teachers.

That brought a whole new set of issues, and was the first time that my brother and I had been on the receiving end of such racism. We both had teachers who hated us--just for being white (we were now minorities in our school.) Mark even had a teacher throw a chair at him.

Then came the final straw. The government decided to create "labor forces" for the youth of the nation. They were patterned after Hitler's nazi youth gangs, even having political rallies on Sundays. If we stayed in the public schools, we would have to serve in the labor force.

So the decision was made to send us to boarding school in South Africa. At the tender age of 14, I had to leave home and go live in a different country from my parents.

That was tough. The security I had always found in both my biological family and my mission family was now gone. Thankfully, my brother was with me in South Africa for a year. He has always been my anchor--especially through high school and college when our parents were so far away.

Those events were hard, but they also made me stronger. And through it all I can say, "For the LORD will not abandon His people, Nor will He forsake His inheritance."--Psalm 94:14.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hey Kiki,
I read your blog often, but have never commented. But, there is a verse that keeps coming to mind that speaks about God's blessings for suffering for His sake. It is James 1:12 "Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him." As I understand it, this verse isn't talking about salvation. It is talking about reward. There is a special reward reserved for those who persevere through suffering in this life. To me, I see this verse as God's commentary on suffering. He sees and He rewards.
-- Angie (sis-in-law and sis-n-Christ)

Kiki Cherry said...

Angie,

Thanks for coming over and posting, and for your comments!!!

I did not realize that you read my blog. Who else in the family reads it? : )

How much of our childhood has Mark shared with you? He and I have not even talked about it much. We're such different personalities, and deal with things in completely opposite ways.

I think I still feel more "African" than he does. I realize that all of those things formed and shaped who I am today, and so I want to be able to reflect and remember and be thankful for the blessing of adversity in my life.

I don't want to forget those landmark events, even the tough ones, because they are part of my "story." I still keep in touch with some of my friends from Zimbabwe, and still feel a responsibility to be socially active in promoting humanitarian relief.

I also miss the African culture, and will never be 100% American. It is important to me that my kids know that part of their heritage.

I still believe that Africans are going to be the worship leaders in heaven. Because NOBODY does it as well as they do!!!! : )

But Mark has not seemed to want to hang on to his Zimbabwean roots too much, although I think he was really proud to take you and the kids back to see it.

I can respect that. I am glad that he has been able to settle so well in Arkansas, and am thankful for YOU in his life.

art rogers said...

Kiki,

Again, I am without words. Thanks for sharing this deep thing.

Praying for you today.

Art

J. Guy Muse said...

We always enjoy reading your blog, but the two "Africa" posts about your MK childhood especially touched both my wife and myself.

The "Anatomy of a Terrorist" link needs a "warning to readers" before clicking--it is so horrible. My wife has said she can't stop thinking about the things you wrote about and the two links. Yesterday some friends were over and we talked about your posts with them (unburdened with them!) Something in these posts touched a chord in all of us reading--not sure how to define or describe it, but something deep within that longs for the Kingdom of our Lord to be made known in all the earth...Lord Jesus, come quickly!

Maybe you can post, again sometime, some of your MK, growing up experiences. I would be interested about some of your schooling experiences. This is a "biggie" with us these days with our own Josh and Anna, knowing what is best: continue to homeschool, American private school, boarding school, etc.?