Aunty Jennifer

Tuesday, November 15, at about six o’clock, I got off the National Express bus into the dimly lit station in Durham, England. Through my dirty glasses, my tired eyes tried to focus and find a familiar face. Soon I was hugging my dear friend, Heather Lytle, and saying hello to her Scottish friend Kyle.

Heather and I were roommates at Montana Wilderness School of the Bible, back in the last century when we were still teenagers. About a year and a half ago, she took a big risk in her life and became fully involved with a ministry called Music for Life, which you may know of because they are behind “African Children’s Choir.” Choirs composed of poor orphaned African children travel around Western countries representing Africa to the wealthy westerners. When the tour is over, the children go back to their home countries and receive educations and a better life. Heather saw a choir in concert a few years ago and would often tell me about it and sometimes make me watch videos about it. Therefore I was not too surprised when she took off to South Africa one summer to work with music camps. Then I was not surprised at all when she decided to be a chaperone with the tour choirs.

We hadn’t seen each other since before I had left for Taiwan, but our friendship wasn’t affected. We picked up some pizza and then headed to the retreat center where the kids were waiting. The choir consists of South African AIDS orphans. Many of them had been in the music camps she’d worked with previously, but back then, they were unbelievably thin and wounded. We entered the building and I found myself surrounded by joyful chocolate faces with big beautiful eyes and even bigger beautiful smiles, pictures of health. I could see how these kids had stolen Heather’s heart.

Since chaperones and older people are addressed as “Auntie” and “Uncle”, I was dubbed Auntie Jennifer. I’ve never been an Auntie so I didn’t always respond to my name. However, whenever they’d talk to their teacher, my head would turn at the sound of “tea .. “

We gathered in a room for evening devotions. Kids would take turns leading out in a song. I started to cry as I looked around the room at children dancing before the Lord, their faces radiant, full of love in spite of all the hurts they’ve experienced in their short lives. Song after song, and then they listened so well during the devotional message and then eagerly came to the middle for us to pray for them and bless them.

For the kids who had enough positive points from the previous weeks, they had a pizza party. When we got kicked out of the room so the custodian could clean, we cosied up in a small lounge and Heather put in a DVD of the Live 8 concert from Hyde Park in London. The choir had been there and sang with Mariah Carey, and then came out again for the finale. I held one precious girl on my knee while at the same time I saw her on the TV screen singing and dancing beside scantily clad Mariah. I think it was the first time the kids had seen it and it was fun to see their faces as they saw themselves. They cheered when they saw Robbie Williams (ugh) and got all excited to see Annie Lennox (she’d made friends with them that day). But perhaps the biggest reaction came during Paul McCartney’s appearance, but not because of the great Beatle. Rather, they loved his hefty animated drummer. They had been lined up backstage for the finale and were able to peek through the curtain and had a great view of this intriguing man.

For the finale, all the stars came out and sang “Hey Jude”. The kids filed out as well and one by one, most of the celebrities gave up their microphones and handed them to the children. By the end, you couldn’t hear a single famous voice, but you could hear the angelic voices of the children for whom the concerts were planned. These kids are the hope of Africa. One of the final frames of the DVD is a close of one boy, nicknamed “Big Brother”. He’s singing and smiling and dancing and lifting his hands in the air. If only the world would understand that Jesus is the reason he sings.

After the kids went to bed, Heather showed me a behind the scenes clip. Now on the screen, I saw her eating ice cream and bossing the kids around. Sir Paul McCartney is standing there with them. To explain who this important man was, Heather mentioned something about “Yellow Submarine.” The kids exploded into song. It was pretty cool – Paul standing there while a bunch of African kids sing a Beatles song.

The next day, I tagged along on their every day duties. While they had a meeting, I supervised the classroom. The kids hardly made a peep – a little different than my Taiwan classroom. But then Kyle arrived bringing a very special woman, an African woman whom I liken to Mother Teresa. She goes from village to village, finding only the neediest children and rescues them. It’s because of her that most of the children are alive today. They ran over their desks and engulfed her in a big hug, shouting, “Auntie, Auntie!” It was overwhelming. I wanted to join the huddle.

In the evening, we went to the birthday party of one of the aunties. It was in honor of her sixtieth birthday party at her home church in Durham. Instead of gifts, people made donations to Music for Life. We ate a very English supper and then danced in another room and then had cake and plum pudding. I stayed in the bathroom for a bit while a couple of girls played with the scented lotion. I had never found scented lotion very wonderful before, but to these girls, it’s almost fairy tale like. We sang and danced and played and ate all evening. One little guy kept blowing up his balloon and then would sneak up and expel all the air on my face or neck. Unfortunately, the air was mixed with saliva. I may have had to chase him around the room a few times.

When I came to England at the beginning of the trip, my only experience of church was St. Paul’s Cathedral whose emptiness haunted me as a sign of the spiritual state of England, and many other parts of Europe. But as I made merry in this church in Northern England, a new church whose members love each other enough to throw a birthday party which African children could enjoy, I was encouraged. God’s hand is on England as well, and there is always a remnant.

After my time with Heather and the choir, I felt so blessed. If you ever have an opportunity to see an African Children’s choir, do. Do because you will see a bunch of miracles with your own eyes. If you would like to know more or to support their work financially, please go to their website www.africanchildrenschoir.com

Heather bid me goodbye at the bus depot at midnight. I awoke in London and boarded another bus for Gatwick airport. Unfortunately the traffic was nuts and my bus was so late. But fortunately, I found Meridith quickly and our bags weren’t overweight. Gatwick Airport is rather ghetto. We watched crappy movies until we arrived in Calgary, but enjoyed our final time together. She’d been refreshed by her time in Brighton and had slept a lot more than I had. And thankfully, at the airport, I didn’t have my luggage searched.

Soon Sebastian, my five month old cousin was grabbing my finger as I hugged his mom Shandi. It was good to be back in Canada, although I’m not quite ready to call it home

And after hugging each other goodbye, Meridith’s and my European adventure came to a close. People ask me how Europe was, and I have to answer the same as I do when asked about Asia. Good. There’s too much to say. I don’t know where to begin. But for those of you with strong enough eyes to read all these entries, I think you understand.