The Calamity

Back in June, a friend here in Pemba made an offer to a small group of expat women: she would purchase a bale of clothing from the trucks that deliver used clothes from all over the world to the local markets, and she would organize and set up all the clothes in her home for us to shop. This would allow us to shop for market clothes without having to enter the chaos of the local markets; instead we would be able to browse and try on the items from the comfort of her living room. This sounded like an awesome idea to me, as I often see clothes at the market that I'd like to try, but I'm usually in my car and it's not worth the trouble to stop, stand in the heat, figure out whether something would fit, negotiate prices, etc. So I told my friend I was in, and there were enough of us who were interested that she went ahead with the plan.

When my friends were discussing this idea (in English), they referred to the clothing market as the calamidade. I hadn't heard that before, but I knew that in English that word would translate to "calamity." I was curious what exactly they meant; was there a part of town or a neighborhood known as Calamidade where this particular clothing market was? But when I asked about it, their response made sense: much of this clothing comes from worldwide donations made to help victims of natural disasters, or calamities. (As I looked in the dictionary later, I found that, interestingly, calamidade in Portuguese can also mean "bale," although the Mozambican ladies I spoke to used the word fardo for the bale of clothing itself. I was also reminded that bale in English can also mean "great evil," much like "calamity." Hmm, language is so interesting!)

Fast forward to recent days, when we have been focusing on helping victims not of natural disasters, not even of COVID-19, which is the calamity on all of our minds lately, but of another kind of calamity, one with its root in hatred and evil.

I've written a bit in our ministry newsletter and on our Facebook page about the recent unrest in our province. Thank the Lord, we have been safe and do not feel threatened here in Pemba. But some of our colleagues had to relocate to Pemba because their town was attacked multiple times, and tens of thousands of refugees have fled to Pemba, leaving behind homes and belongings to seek safety from the violence in their towns and villages. This means that Pemba has become crowded with displaced peoples who have almost nothing and are in dire need of help.

This is a tragedy, a true calamity, but also a tremendous opportunity for the church to serve the needy and offer hope to the hopeless. For the past several weeks, we have been working alongside our churches to collect food, supplies, and clothing to distribute to groups of refugees who are currently living with families from the churches. The churches have also been receiving training to know how to interview and counsel the refugees, who have all experienced trauma to some extent. Harvey has been doing most of the work as I stay home with the kids, but one day we all joined him at one of the church buildings to help sort and organize the donations, including, fittingly, bales of clothing from the calamidade.

Gracie and Tabitha with the pastor's daughter, Graça, chatting before opening the bale

It's amazing how tightly these bales of clothing are bound: how small they are in their wrapped-up state and just how many pieces are packed in there. That means when the ties are cut, the clothing spills out in a giant, messy, wrinkled lump, and it takes time and work to pull it out, sort it, and fold it (and we didn't even attempt to iron it). But it was sort of fun to see what was in there, and of course it was rewarding to work alongside our Mozambican brothers and sisters and contribute to the important work of helping and serving the suffering.

Waiting for instructions

Getting started organizing the clothing from the bale

Sorting and folding donated clothing: a family affair

The next day, Harvey went with a small group from the church to deliver the food and supplies (including blankets, masks, soap, toothpaste, sugar, rice, beans, and oil) to the refugee families. Instead of delivering the clothing, they set up a clothes closet at the church and brought families there to choose what they needed. The families were grateful, and we pray that they will understand the love of Christ that motivated our giving. We also pray for opportunities to share more about that love by sharing the Gospel and for hearts ready to receive it—among these families and the many others who are now in a place where they have much easier access to the Gospel than they had in the towns and villages where they came from, a place where there is a church to be the embodiment of Christ to them.

Harvey with Acácio and pastors from another city who came to deliver donations from their churches

Donated items sorted and ready for distribution

The packing list for the buckets

One of the refugee families who received the donations

Another refugee family with their items

Through these days of violence, sickness, isolation, and suffering, I am learning about calamidade. I'm learning how privileged I am in comparison to so many others who suffer in ways I've never had to suffer in the midst of calamity. I'm learning that God gives the strength and grace we need to endure calamity. And I'm learning that God can and will work good and glorify Himself even through calamity.

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? ... No, in all these things we are more than conquerers through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:35–39).

So we can face calamidade without fear. We will overcome it, in life or in death, through the power and love of Jesus.