Presbyterians minister to street children By Parker T. Williamson The Presbyterian Layman Tuesday, December 22, 1998 Harare street children HARARE, ZIMBABWE -- Some beg; some steal. They do whatever it takes to survive on the streets of Harare. How did they get here? Many are orphaned in this city where 38 percent of the population is AIDS infected and 700 adults die each week. Some come from drought-stricken Masvingo where there is no food, and children are abandoned to forage for themselves. Many have no idea why they came, and even fewer thoughts as to where they might go. These are children adrift, wandering the streets, selling stolen trinkets and sexual favors in search of food. Darting in and out of shopkeepers' stalls, they elude police who corral them like cattle, pack them into disease-ridden cells, and then disburse them onto a bleak countryside when the jails can't hold any more. 'The least of these' When Jesus spoke of caring for "the least of these," surely he must have had Harare's little ones in mind. That's what Gilbert Chikuni and Maury Mendenhall believe. Associates of Presbyterian Missionary Nancy Warlick, Chikuni and Mendenhall operate Lovemore House, an oasis in the heart of Harare where children who once had no hope can find their way into the presence of Jesus Christ. Chikuni, who was working for World Vision while attending school, ran into Nancy Warlick on the University of Zimbabwe campus. Mendenhall, now a volunteer-in-mission, met her in the United States. Neither could resist her when Warlick wooed them into sharing her dream of a Presbyterian children's ministry in the capitol of this desperately-poor country. Gilbert Chikuni and Maury Mendenhall Associates of Presbyterian Missionary Nancy Warlick Chikuni and Mendenhall gather their hapless brood from a shelter in the city and a street children's program at City Presbyterian Church. "From the start, we involve the children in all of the decisions we make at Lovemore House," says Chikuni. "We do not force them to stay here, and if they run away, we have to let them do that. They must choose to live here." Running away Some children do run away. At Lovemore house there are rules and chores, restrictions that many of its residents have never experienced. They must clean their rooms, make up the beds, assist in the kitchen, study their school lessons and perform numerous tasks for the good of the house. Authority takes on an entirely different meaning here. On the streets, it wore a uniform and was to be avoided. But there is an authority at Lovemore House that they must learn to accept. Here they are held accountable for the decisions they make and the things they do. They forfeit street freedom when they enter this community, learning, over time, that street freedom is no freedom at all. But for some - despite Lovemore's benefits - that lesson does not come easily. If a child who has run away asks to re-enter the house, each resident must participate in the decision to take him back. "It is important," says Chikuni, "that we decide this together." He points out that not only do such discussions help to create a sense of community, they have a very practical effect. "If Maury and I decided to take someone back and the children did not accept him, that would never work," he says. "In reality, they do decide." Connecting with home Lovemore House is not a permanent arrangement. The policy calls for a tenure of no more than two years. So immediately upon receiving a child, Chikuni and Mendenhall begin working toward re-entry into the community that the child left for life on the street. In many cases, the parents are dead, and the extended family is not initially enthusiastic about taking in another mouth to feed. So the persistent Presbyterians and their foster child work together to show the family that this child is worthy of their acceptance and affection. Denis When Denis, age 14, came to Lovemore House, both parents were dead. Having been on the streets for many months, Denis was a well-known thief. When Chikuni finally located Denis' grandfather, the response was hardly jubilant: "We thought he was dead," said the grandfather. Undoubtedly one of Denis' victims, the grandfather was in no mood to discuss taking the boy back. But while working with Denis' at Lovemore, Chikuni continued to visit the elderly man. "He is a good, strong, hardworking man," Chikuni says of the grandfather. "Denis needs him, and he needs Denis." Finally, Chikuni got the man to allow Denis to spend one day with him. "We were all nervous," remembers Maury, "but we knew this had to happen, so we prayed." Denis did well on his one-day visit. That led to a weekend stay after which the grandfather said "The boy has changed. He can stay here on holiday." Chikuni says that having Denis go home to face his family was tough, but "it was also a very freeing experience for him." Chamunorwa, also 14, returned home in time to visit his father who was dying. He spent a week with the man, praying with him daily and thanking God for having given him such a fine father. The 14-year old's prayer transformed his dying dad, and it blessed the boy as well. He looks forward to completing his education while at Lovemore House. Then he wants to go back to his home village to take care of the family that he left behind. Centered in the gospel The heart of Lovemore House is the gospel. Children are taught to pray by experiencing it daily in this tiny community of faith. Books of Bible stories are well-read favorites, and a video-tape of the Jesus Film in Shona language gets constant use. Street life has severely damaged the Lovemore House children. Even after decompressing in a shelter where they experience having walls surround them, other children with whom they must interact, and minimal rules to obey, many have what Maury Mendenhall calls "a wild streak" when they come to Lovemore. Having been severely abused, some bear deep psychological scars. Many have been caught up in a drug culture, working for pushers. Some have sniffed glue and petrol, and their capacity to think logically and sequentially has been deeply wounded. Children play at Lovemore House Saving one The odds are overwhelming. In Harare, alone, there are more than 3,000 children on the street, and to be saved, each one would require special care. "It's a real challenge," says Mendenhall, "but if we can save just one … just one …" And so they have. One need only stand at the corner of Nelson Mandela and Angwa streets, where -- like drought parched animals pawing at a dried up watering hole -- children fight over bits and pieces of refuse from city rubbish piles. View that scene, and then enter the gates at Lovemore House. Some might say that what Chikuni and Mendenhall are doing is a mere drop in the bucket. In a sense, it is. But for the handful of children that enter their embrace, that drop is nothing less than the water of life. Presbyterians in Harare know they cannot save the whole world. They can't make a dent in this city. But tell that to Denis, and Chamu, Hamsa and Chamunorwa. Tell it to these children who know that the grace they have received has given them a chance they could never have found on the streets. Then remember the one who inspired this work: "Inasmuch as you have done it unto the least of these, you have done it unto me."

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