Visit Every City

August 12th, 2023

I’ve been to Sabbath services in Harare almost a handful of times now on various trips. The congregation has met in the same place for many years. There have even been baptisms in the past in the pool on the premises of the Russell Hotel. We had to be prepared to leave for Harare early so we could hopefully miss some traffic and make it there to set things up for an 11am start. Monday and Tuesday will be public holidays in Zimbabwe — Heroes’ Day and Zimbabwe Defense Forces Day. This means traffic will be unpredictable as people leave home to visit family with the extra time they have off. Interestingly, once we reached Kadoma well after the Sabbath was over, there was more traffic there than many parts of Harare.

We were the first ones to arrive, just after 11 o’clock. We thought for sure everyone would be waiting for us. Most of the brethren in the congregation take public transportation. Traffic had affected them as well. We managed to start at 11:30am. I was trying to watch the time as the service progressed since we had three speakers scheduled and I was last. Depending on how much time I would have at the end I would have to cut some material and get to the point.

Deacon Mike Nyamasoka gave the opening sermonette reminding us not to ignore the things of God. Nick Lamoureux gave a split sermon emphasizing the fact that God is creating a family. I spoke about the importance of visiting our brethren just as Jesus Christ visited His people. Mabasa Chichaya led hymns and gave announcements, detailing our journey so far. He also announced the plans for the following day for some brethren from Bomba, Gawa, and Kwekwe to gather in Kadoma. The Harare congregation usually sings hymns a cappella. It’s nice to sometimes hear the simplicity and beauty of a congregation’s voices joining together without the sounds of instruments.

After services we all gathered in the garden outside. Mabasa had coordinated some lunch for all of us which gave us an additional reason to stay around and fellowship. We all sat around and chatted for a long time. I met a long-time member of the congregation, Edward, who I hadn’t had the chance to meet on previous visits. He was glad to have met us, and very happy to share photos of his children and grandchildren who live in the US. They are all very successful. At one point I had a chance to talk with the young adults, including a member of the Nyamasoka clan who had only recently moved back to Zim from South Africa. We talked about volunteer opportunities on Good Works projects in other countries. We also discussed some opportunities within their own country including serving at the Feast of Tabernacles, and the idea of holding a youth camp in Zimbabwe. There are always ways to serve within God’s Church both far and near, big and small. There is plenty to do and never enough hands to get it all done.

Just before leaving for Kadoma I had mentioned anointing to one member. He hadn’t thought of asking about being anointed, or for his family members to be anointed. One of the duties that God has given to those men who have received an ordination as an elder is that of anointing the sick with oil. This is generally a request made by an individual as part of their test of faith in God’s healing power. It’s also a humbling experience, realizing and admitting that we need help.

“Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing psalms. Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven. Confess your trespasses to one another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much” (James‬ ‭5‬:‭13‬-‭16‬).

Once one person was anointed others came forward with their ailments. I ended up anointing four people one after the other. Thankfully I try to always carry a small flask of olive oil to use for such occasions. The one recent time I left home without my oil flask I ended up having to buy a whole bottle of oil. I was in Manhattan and, even though it’s known as “The City That Never Sleeps,” most of the stores were closed just after dinner time. I had to hunt down one that was open in the neighborhood and make my way back to anoint some brethren there.

As I mentioned previously, we hit quite a lot of traffic in Kadoma. Before going home we had to stop at a shop to buy some bottled water. While the city water in Kadoma is probably fine for drinking, Mabasa usually insists that we have bottles of water readily available. Better safe than sorry if there is the option. Only once in Malawi did I drink the city water at the church hall in Lilongwe. I immediately regretted it. After leaving the market we headed towards the Chichayas’ house. The air was extra dusty from all the vehicles around, especially on the dirt roads. We passed a house where there might have been about a hundred people outside enjoying the holiday weekend together. There was loud music, but no lights. We also passed two giant cows on the road that were difficult to see in the dark. If we would have hit one of them our vehicle would have been pretty damaged. There was no electricity in town, but there was a chance that it was only isolated to certain areas. No such luck. We arrived to a dark yard, met by the family guard dogs (there are three of them) who were faithfully doing their job.

Mabasa and Chisomo have some solar lamps installed in certain rooms of the house for when the power goes out. It seems that even in the most advanced countries in Africa, the electricity is unreliable. This can make keeping food cold and charging electronics difficult to maintain. It also means that cooking methods might have to be changed at the last minute. Thankfully the power wasn’t out for very long after we arrived.

Earlier in the week I had said that I wouldn’t mind helping Chisomo cook a meal in the kitchen. I do enjoy cooking from time to time even though I’m not the greatest cook. I actually prefer prepping vegetables and meats in the kitchen since that’s what I have the most experience doing. At a recent youth camp I had the opportunity to hone all kinds of kitchen skills serving in the kitchen there. I had all the good intentions of helping Chisomo with dinner, and I did put the sliced potatoes in the hot oil so the chips could start cooking. But soon enough I found another task that needed doing.

The Chichayas have three guard dogs that are relatively new. They take good care of these dogs and in turn these faithful animals keep out intruders. Before heading out to check on the milling process (sometimes he has to be there when the process is finished to make sure everything is in order and no one makes off with any of the product) Mabasa had started preparing food for the dogs. Typically the dogs are fed while they are in their pens, but they can be difficult to put back in after they’ve been out for a while, especially in the evening when they know they will be let out later. The problem is, the two larger dogs like to eat the smaller dog’s food. They can actually become a little aggressive over the food. My new task was to get all three dogs to eat their own food and not touch anyone else’s in the process. I held one bowl while the two larger dogs ate their food, one on the lawn and one on the veranda. The smaller dog waited, hiding behind the car. After the two were finished, I called the small dog over. She was very hesitant to eat, sometimes even running away and trying to convince one of the other dogs to play rather than fight. Eventually I was able to broker peace between the dogs and convince the small one to actually eat.

Soon after the dogs had eaten their dinner, ours was on the table. Chisomo had cooked the three fish I had caught a few days before. So delicious! I had suggested that she remove the heads as one of us (I won’t mention names) doesn’t like to eat food that has eyes. I’m sure there was some kind of traumatic experience that led to such a preference.

– Lewis VanAusdle