As I stated in part 1, if you are a child or under 18, stop reading this now and have your parents read it before you do. If you are a parent and you are reading this to your children, please stop. This topic is not pleasant but one very much in need of awareness.
I will spare what gruesome details I can, but this post is not for the weak. Female circumcision is illegal in this country and is punished legally, but it does still occur in some villages.
A girl between the ages of 4 and 8 is taken to a hut where an older woman comes to meet her. Then four people each hold her arms and legs, while the woman cuts off the girl's clitoris. For this day and a week afterwards, a drummer is outside the hut to play drums to drown out the girl's screams of pain. After the week, the wound is treated further. However, the girl will never know sexual pleasure as a woman, because, after all, "pleasure is for men."
How do you minister to this girl? How do you minister to women who have endured this? How do you help her to realize her value in God's eyes when she has been so demeaned and broken? How do you explain how a God who loves her allowed this to happen? How do I??? I don't know.
About Me
- Lisa
- Hello, I am a mother of three living with my husband in Africa. I have been blogging for seven years but still find myself very technologically challenged. I make lots of mistakes, but life is a journey. Come join me on the journey!
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Rated R for Horror
Before I begin my story, I ask that if you are reading this to a child, please stop. If you are a child reading this, please stop and have a parent read it before you do. I do need to make a disclaimer before I begin. The story I am about to tell is not always the case, however, it does happen and it is a story worth telling.
A girl is often given in marriage at an early age, particularly in the village, often shortly after she becomes a "woman" by having her menstrual cycle. Parents may be concerned for the girl's welfare or just to prevent any premarital sexual activity and consequently premarital pregnancy.
One 13 year old girl was taken on a walk by her father. They came to a hut where a man 3 times older than the girl was waiting for them. The father introduced the girl to the man and then told her that she would now submit to this man because he would be her husband. The father walked out of the door and closed it behind him. The "husband" proceeds to force himself on the girl, raping her and attempting to keep her from screaming. Meanwhile, the "father" waits outside, telling the girl that she will submit, threatening to kill her if she does not.
Upon hearing this story, I was not sure which one to be more horrified over, the husband or the father. With this picture of a father, I would have a hard time presenting God as our heavenly Father. How do you explain what true love is to a woman who has been treated in this way?
On a side note, as I said, this is not necessarily the rule, however it does happen. Is it any wonder that I have a hard time letting my young daughters out of the house? Young men will often say how pretty they are and ask to be their husband. Sometimes I can tell they are joking or just wanting to compliment them, but other times I can feel a chill go down my spine. I am so grateful that my girls have a father who is adamant about protecting them and letting them know they are truly loved and consistently shows them how much they are valued. Pray with me that girls like this one will know what true love is.
A girl is often given in marriage at an early age, particularly in the village, often shortly after she becomes a "woman" by having her menstrual cycle. Parents may be concerned for the girl's welfare or just to prevent any premarital sexual activity and consequently premarital pregnancy.
One 13 year old girl was taken on a walk by her father. They came to a hut where a man 3 times older than the girl was waiting for them. The father introduced the girl to the man and then told her that she would now submit to this man because he would be her husband. The father walked out of the door and closed it behind him. The "husband" proceeds to force himself on the girl, raping her and attempting to keep her from screaming. Meanwhile, the "father" waits outside, telling the girl that she will submit, threatening to kill her if she does not.
Upon hearing this story, I was not sure which one to be more horrified over, the husband or the father. With this picture of a father, I would have a hard time presenting God as our heavenly Father. How do you explain what true love is to a woman who has been treated in this way?
On a side note, as I said, this is not necessarily the rule, however it does happen. Is it any wonder that I have a hard time letting my young daughters out of the house? Young men will often say how pretty they are and ask to be their husband. Sometimes I can tell they are joking or just wanting to compliment them, but other times I can feel a chill go down my spine. I am so grateful that my girls have a father who is adamant about protecting them and letting them know they are truly loved and consistently shows them how much they are valued. Pray with me that girls like this one will know what true love is.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Langauges, languages everywhere! And a first for me!
Since the beginning of the year, I have been learning to crochet. I generally do not have time to do much for myself, so getting to do this is exciting, especially since Rich also watches the kids while I get to go learn.
When I first went, my crochet teacher, who is a pastor's wife, tried to talk to me as I worked. However, that did not last long because I had to pay too much attention to the work but wanted to chat. So in time they began chatting in their own mother tongue as long as it was just family. If neighbor's came by they often spoke in the language I speak, so I would have to look up from my work. Sometimes another neighbor would come by speaking the language we had learned before, which requires even more effort on my part now, which meant I just had to sit the work down. Once done with our lesson, my teacher initiated that we would pray together for one another's family and ministry. She prayed in the national language and I prayed in the local language we speak now. After a few weeks of really concentrating and not much chatting, I finally have the hang of it. Maybe one day before too long I will be able to do it and chat at the same time. So my crochet lesson involves no less than three language and usually ends up being four.
The languages thing is pretty common when visiting in homes around here. I have recently been visiting with a lady who in enjoying reading the Word. She is technically old enough to be my mother, since she has children my age, but she is not much older than my sister. A few weeks ago she was looking for her resume. Her contract with the school at which she had been teaching had ended in December. She had searched though a ton of papers before I got there but could only find her son's resume, which could be used as a template, but she really wanted to find hers. She did eventually find it. One of the headings on every resume here is languages. Both she and her son had five languages listed.
How is it that we as Americans are so proud of ourselves when we speak just one language outside of English? How is it that these people who speak so many languages can see themselves as lacking intellect just because they do not have as many degrees as we do?
O, in the title, I mentioned a first for me. When I went to my crochet lesson yesterday, my teacher's husband told me to go on in the house, because my teacher was getting dressed. I went inside and placed a bag of clothes for their son who is a little younger than William and their daughter who is seven months younger than Lydia-Ann. My teacher, and friend, got distracted from her dressing by the clothes. She was only half-dressed but was so excited that she hugged me. I am not sure what shocked me more, being hugged by a half-dressed woman or the level of gratitude which she showed. I pray that I will always remember how truly blessed I, and my children, have been by all that we have been given.
When I first went, my crochet teacher, who is a pastor's wife, tried to talk to me as I worked. However, that did not last long because I had to pay too much attention to the work but wanted to chat. So in time they began chatting in their own mother tongue as long as it was just family. If neighbor's came by they often spoke in the language I speak, so I would have to look up from my work. Sometimes another neighbor would come by speaking the language we had learned before, which requires even more effort on my part now, which meant I just had to sit the work down. Once done with our lesson, my teacher initiated that we would pray together for one another's family and ministry. She prayed in the national language and I prayed in the local language we speak now. After a few weeks of really concentrating and not much chatting, I finally have the hang of it. Maybe one day before too long I will be able to do it and chat at the same time. So my crochet lesson involves no less than three language and usually ends up being four.
The languages thing is pretty common when visiting in homes around here. I have recently been visiting with a lady who in enjoying reading the Word. She is technically old enough to be my mother, since she has children my age, but she is not much older than my sister. A few weeks ago she was looking for her resume. Her contract with the school at which she had been teaching had ended in December. She had searched though a ton of papers before I got there but could only find her son's resume, which could be used as a template, but she really wanted to find hers. She did eventually find it. One of the headings on every resume here is languages. Both she and her son had five languages listed.
How is it that we as Americans are so proud of ourselves when we speak just one language outside of English? How is it that these people who speak so many languages can see themselves as lacking intellect just because they do not have as many degrees as we do?
O, in the title, I mentioned a first for me. When I went to my crochet lesson yesterday, my teacher's husband told me to go on in the house, because my teacher was getting dressed. I went inside and placed a bag of clothes for their son who is a little younger than William and their daughter who is seven months younger than Lydia-Ann. My teacher, and friend, got distracted from her dressing by the clothes. She was only half-dressed but was so excited that she hugged me. I am not sure what shocked me more, being hugged by a half-dressed woman or the level of gratitude which she showed. I pray that I will always remember how truly blessed I, and my children, have been by all that we have been given.
Wow, is it 2012 already??
I cannot believe how fast time flies sometimes. 3 years ago this month we were attending a meeting in Virginia to look at our prospects of returning overseas. We met some wonderful people, who we are still very close to, in hearts if not in miles. The Father had done so much just to get us to that point, and He has continued to do still more.
At that time, He had worked through others to get us from college loans that could have purchased a small house to a debt equal to that of a small car. Over the course of the next few months, we would continue to pay down on it, to the point that we are completely debt free now with a nice sized savings in case emergencies happen. What a wonderful feeling it was then but even better now.
Rich had needed to get some more schooling for us to qualify to return, which he did, so that we would be considered associates. Since we arrived here, we have been changed to permanent status but Rich is still looking forward to finishing his masters, though there may be some changes to expedite that, which would be great.
We met some friends that week who scattered to the world in the months to follow. Some have returned to the states for medical reasons, and some have found the Father using them in ways they did not expect to reach the nations. Some have added to their family by births or by creating new families through marriage.
Some specific highlights of that week were playing Phase 10 with our new friends while I was wearing leopard print pajamas and fuschia high heels (I had forgotten my slippers).
Kneeling in a group in prayer with a beloved brother who feared that saying goodbye to his father would be the last time to see him alive, which wound up being the case a year later. Rich who had known that feeling and the flight back was able to encourage this friend as he prepared for that.
Breathing a sigh of relief that we knew where we were called to go while others had no idea in the world where the Father was calling them.
Rejoicing in the fact that we were able to see some friends that we had not seen in a while and the Father only knows when we will see them again.
Breathing a sigh of relief as we were given the affirmative that we would indeed get recommended to return overseas, after being in the states for over two years. (Of course that did not compare to the call we got two months later making it official as we were on our way to Disney World.)
Sometimes it feels like no time and sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago. Wow a lot can happen in three years! Thinking of my precious friends around the world.
At that time, He had worked through others to get us from college loans that could have purchased a small house to a debt equal to that of a small car. Over the course of the next few months, we would continue to pay down on it, to the point that we are completely debt free now with a nice sized savings in case emergencies happen. What a wonderful feeling it was then but even better now.
Rich had needed to get some more schooling for us to qualify to return, which he did, so that we would be considered associates. Since we arrived here, we have been changed to permanent status but Rich is still looking forward to finishing his masters, though there may be some changes to expedite that, which would be great.
We met some friends that week who scattered to the world in the months to follow. Some have returned to the states for medical reasons, and some have found the Father using them in ways they did not expect to reach the nations. Some have added to their family by births or by creating new families through marriage.
Some specific highlights of that week were playing Phase 10 with our new friends while I was wearing leopard print pajamas and fuschia high heels (I had forgotten my slippers).
Kneeling in a group in prayer with a beloved brother who feared that saying goodbye to his father would be the last time to see him alive, which wound up being the case a year later. Rich who had known that feeling and the flight back was able to encourage this friend as he prepared for that.
Breathing a sigh of relief that we knew where we were called to go while others had no idea in the world where the Father was calling them.
Rejoicing in the fact that we were able to see some friends that we had not seen in a while and the Father only knows when we will see them again.
Breathing a sigh of relief as we were given the affirmative that we would indeed get recommended to return overseas, after being in the states for over two years. (Of course that did not compare to the call we got two months later making it official as we were on our way to Disney World.)
Sometimes it feels like no time and sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago. Wow a lot can happen in three years! Thinking of my precious friends around the world.
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