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Andrew Johnston: Passion in global mission

Andrew Johnston recently returned from an 18-month stint living and working in an orphanage in Zambia. Here he reflects on where he found passion during his time there.

It is hard to put into words what a year working in Zambia meant to me in regards to passion. Since coming home I have spent a lot of time trying to understand why I went and even more so why I stayed. There were times when it was so hard and I really was desperate to come home but something kept me there. For want of a better word, I would say Passion held me there - by that I mean something rawer than emotion and something outside of logic.

When I think back to my time in Zambia, what comes to mind are images and pictures and moments with the children there. Moments like waking and hearing them outside my window chatting and laughing with their friends, so innocent and so happy. I remember times where I would feel anger and happiness - like when I’d see them as a group devour a pot full of porridge. I was happy to see them eating and enjoying so much, but infuriated that somehow this world means that for most of these kids half a bowl of porridge is the best meal they get in the day. I remember sharing surprise and excitement when one of the boys first managed to spell one simple word, feeling at the same time tragedy knowing that that shouldn’t be an experience someone has when they are almost a teenager as many of the children were. In Zambia people understand that life should not be this hard, that funerals should not be this common, that their peoples suffering should not be ignored, most people have lost hope and live without passion, without purpose. Others I met there know things are going to get better and will not stop fighting till they make it better.

Passion was anger that kept me there inspite of and because of the inequality I saw. Passion was also the happiness I felt when I knew something I had done had made a difference. Passion is an anger and a love that pervades the hearts of hundreds of people I met in Africa and something I still feel now. It is what gives a 70-year old grandmother the strength to look after over ten orphans in her car - and strengthens a 20-year old NZer to know that something is wrong, and love too much to leave it alone.