Have you heard the old proverb, “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil”? Three wise figures usually accompany this saying. Some of you probably have them in your house as a reminder. Mizaru sees no evil; Kikazaru hears no evil; and Iwazaru speaks no evil. There are various meanings for this proverb including associations with being of good mind, speech and action. In the Western world, we often use it in reference to those who deal with impropriety by turning a blind eye. Or plainly stated, we often ignore undesirable information.
On a trip to Africa in 2018, I was reminded of this proverb, but I started to challenge it’s meaning. Am I really suppose to ignore the evil in this world – close my eyes to it, close my ears to it and speak nothing of it? Evil permeates African culture. The way women are treated and viewed. The government’s response to wealth and money. The witchcraft that is still used because the people are so desperate for healing and medical assistance.
On this particular trip, it was myself and one other female from the States. We were traveling from Kenya to Uganda with our driver who has accompanied me before on a couple other occasions across the country. I was very interested this time around about the economy and old standing traditions. I think after a couple of trips where I sat back to observe and take it all in, this trip I felt I could engage more and still be able to process it all. A conversation came up with our driver. He was telling us how the Kenyan government has recently contracted in the Chinese government to help build major railways and roads. Lines that would connect from Mombasa up through Nairobi and eventually inter-country. I didn’t ask this specifically, but I wondered if they had surveyed their people to find out how they felt about this or if they even opened the jobs up to the locals? I couldn’t help but think the government is basically saying to their people that they couldn’t do this on your own, that they weren’t capable of the magnitude of this job. All the while, pushing their people back into the same cycle of poverty and way of thinking. I did; however, ask our driver what he personally thought of this and he said, “They are coming in, working during the night and taking our jobs.” I am sure the working at night was due to traffic schedules and such, but at that moment it also felt as if they were working under a cloud of darkness. The irony was not lost on me in that moment.
I also did a lot of listening and observing the people of Africa on this trip. I remember God speaking to me very clearly on this trip. I know, to some, that sounds crazy, but the Holy Spirit was very close to me and I was in the Bible constantly. I remember Him telling me, in prayer, to look at their faces. Specifically, look at their eyes, to study their faces and notice how they are different. I did and I realized they were so different!
One day, we traveled by car to a village outside of Jinja, Uganda. It hadn’t rained in a few days so we were able to drive pretty far into the village, otherwise we would have been walking a good part of the last leg. But on this particular day, it was beautiful, dry and sunny. We parked the car and started exploring. Smiling to the villagers, asking their names and asking questions that made them smile and I could see how proud they were of their home. After a tour of our partner’s family home and land (which consisted of the most intricate garden that looked like it should have belonged in Disney World with the stunning character hedges!!), we visited the local school. I want to try and describe some of the children I met that day.
Nadeuda Atoka was a young preschooler. She had a brown speckle in her left eye. She had a beautiful, proportioned face with long curled upward eyelashes.
Florence had deep bags under her eyes, too deep for a six year old. She had probably seen and experienced more than I had in my thirty-two years of life (at the time of my visit). Florence wouldn’t smile, she just stared at me.
Ronald Tim (I mean come on, the name alone makes me smile with glee!) is a bit chunky. Not the swollen belly kind, but the all over plump cheeks and thighs kind. A good sign in Africa. He smiled with his left hand up behind his head. I think he may have been flirting with me. His eyes had to look up at me, so cute and hopeful.
These kids live in a village called Bugoba and attend Yahweh; however, their donated uniforms said something different. The school was constructed of temporary wood and mud buildings and, at the time, was not considered accredited by the government. In order to be accredited and receive assistance from the government, a school has to consist of three permanent structures. This is something that is almost impossible to think of in the villages outside of the cities.
Leaving the school we continued our walk through this village. I saw a tiny, uncircumcised baby, which I noticed because he was sitting bare bottom in the dirt, alone crying on the path. A group of older kids about 20 feet away were laughing. I am not sure if they were laughing at the small child alone or the Mzungus’ reaction to the small child alone.
They are not just faces with no names. They are children. I remember thinking and asking myself, how many times have I looked at photos from Africa with a bunch of children in school uniforms and their faces just all look the same and all blended together?
In that moment I hear God saying, “don’t cover your eyes to this – see the evil and the pain they have encountered, but also see me,” (God still speaking) “and the hope you can deliver through my name, my word and my love.” “Tell them to praise me, and have them repeat you saying out loud ‘for I am fearfully and wonderfully made,'” Psalm 139:14.
There is pain in Africa, but there is also so much love and devotion. I am not sure what to do with this information. I heard God say write, document this and share. So I did and I will.
I challenge you next time you see these three little mystic figures, look around to what evil they are covering up and make it known.