A Day in the life of women in Central Africa

One of the things that has been most devastating to watch during this trip is the people who have to put so much effort into simply trying to live from day to day. The task to just stay alive in the CAR demands every ounce of energy, creativity, and craftiness that one can muster.


For hundreds of miles, as we drive our cars on muddy roads, we see people waking on the side of the roads, carrying loads, both hands occupied and heads holding the weight of daily provisions, if they are lucky to have them. A few men carry heavy tree limbs (or even trunks) on their heads, but it is mostly women who do that back breaking work.

In fact, just about the only time we see people with unoccupied hands, is when we stop at a market in a local village or a small town, and they are usually young men with nothing to do but joke around with each other and hope that the next foreigner will give them something for free. The rest of the people, the great majority of which being women, are spending their whole time securing wood, tending their gardens, carrying little ones on their backs, and doing all they can to survive.

Women and little children are the two groups I feel mostly burdened about here. Everywhere you see women burdened by the daily task of surviving. They have many children (a family with 6 children here is considered a small family), carry water and wood, sometimes from miles away, cook, defend their little ones, and try to secure a marriage to their daughters. What is required of women in this country is more than a human being can possibly do. No wonder the life expectancy for women here is only 43.



But you would be wrong if you thought these people wear their suffering on their faces. The reality is that most people have a ready, beautiful smile, and are eager to respond back, with both arms raised, when we wave at them from the windows of our fast passing vehicles. We hear their heart felt "merci!" every time we acknowledge them. Many of them actually look surprised that someone would actually acknowledge them. I cannot help but think that my Jesus would not only wave but sit down with them around their fires and give them words that would lift them from the burdens of dail survivor.

Thankfully, we are also able to sit and hear their stories. In fact, as I close this already too long post, I am about to sit down with a lady who has a story of survival of her own. I hope to share with you more about her in one of my future posts.

I am writing this from Berberati, where we arrived yesterday, after being on the road basically the whole day. We arrived here safely and were welcomed by the ICDI team here. There are two missionary families living on the compound here and they treated us to a wonderful dinner and we had real showers and a real toilette for the first time since last Tuesday.

Keep praying!