The Generator Boys

In February of this year, I had the opportunity to travel to Arusha, Tanzania, with some friends to speak at an ethics conference. It was my first trip to Africa, and one that I was very excited for. I had heard many stories from friends and coworkers about the wonders of that continent and the way it changes lives, and I wanted to experience that for myself.

Before we arrived in Arusha, my first task was to put together the lectures I would be giving for the conference. In order to prepare well, I emailed Barbara, the missionary in Arusha, and asked what kind of audiences I would be speaking with. She told me about the pastors and elders we would be speaking to at the conference, but more intriguing to me was the group she told I would speak to called the “Generator Boys.”

The Generator Boys are a group of eighteen young guys, ages 13-21, which were either orphaned or abandoned, and have come together to live in an abandoned, unfinished house in the middle of Arusha. Everyday, they have to work together to get food and water, and they will be there until they can get someone to sponsor them so they may go to school. The oldest, Muhammad, has assumed the responsibility of the others. He has organized house rules that involve cleanliness and discipline, as well as informs Barbara when a specific need or problem arises. In fact, their name comes from the fact that Barbara and her husband Elton used the money they had saved for a generator to feed these boys at Christmas time.

When I heard their story, I knew the opportunity to speak to them and give them hope was going to be a unique experience. However, I struggled with the idea of trying to give them hope. Hope for me, so much of the time, means hoping for some material excess or for something insignificant to happen, such as hoping my team wins. But hope for them means finding food, water, and education. How could we possibly relate? How could we possibly connect the different levels in which we experience hope? But then, my boss told me that no matter what the culture or level of poverty, hope is essentially narrowed into two categories—material or spiritual. And with that I developed my thoughts to share with the Generator Boys.

Fast forward to my trip. I was two days into my immersion of African culture, and we went to visit the boys for the first time. It was an experience like I have never had in my life. David Platt says, “We learned that orphans are easier to ignore before you know their names. They are easier to ignore before you see their faces. It is easier to pretend they’re not real before you hold them in your arms. But once you do, everything changes.” That totally embodies the emotions I was going through. Hugging, laughing, and playing with these guys brought life to their story like no words or pictures could. After we had been there awhile, I began to speak to them about hope. It was awesome to challenge them not to lose hope in Christ despite their position, and encourage them to remain focused on Him more than their needs. It was also challenging to me, realizing how insignificant the things are that I place hope in, compared with the struggles these boys go through daily. I left that day changed.

As the trip went on, we visited them more. Each time we were able to take them something else they needed, as well as just spend more time with them and hear more of their stories. As we did this, I began to learn more about what true love means. Here was a group of guys that had nothing, but when some from our group decided to sponsor one of the guys, all the others watched with the most excitement and joy for their brother, even though you could tell they wanted to be the one being sponsored. I also continually saw true love in their leader Muhammad. He had already finished secondary school and was postponing his university education (one of the things that could take him out of his situation) in order to make sure all his brothers were taken care of. To me, that was a picture of Christ—sacrificially giving themselves to the care and love of others. Again, I cannot explain what kind of impact that makes when you experience it firsthand.

By the end of the trip, we had returned three times. We had already taken them Live the Life t-shirts, soccer balls, and had paid for two guys to go to school. But on our last day, the whole team wanted to visit them one last time. Some of the team bought fruit and other foods to give them, some bought mosquito nets to give them, but my friends and I decided to buy them Swahili bibles and notebooks. We went to the bookstore and bought 18 bibles. When we got to their house, we gave them everything. Then my pastor, Craig, gave Muhammad his bible and told him how proud of him and inspired by him we were that he sacrificially invests in his younger brothers. I think tears abounded with everyone that day, but more importantly joy abounded—the joy that comes only from those who love each other, and get to experience life together through Christ, even if for only a week.

Since those two weeks in Africa I have thought extensively about the Generator Boys. I think about their names and stories, guys like Lampard who was seventeen and had lived at the house for ten years after being abandoned at age seven, or guys like Frankie who, with his mother, ran away from his alcohol father then came home one day to find his mother had left him, too. I think about Muhammad sacrificing his dreams and education to love the other guys and meet their needs. Then I think about my life. I think about my parents who are right across the room and love me dearly. I think about the food I have in my pantry. I think about the university education I have. I think about the fact that I had the opportunity to go to Africa. I think about what kind of impact my life will make. And then I thank my God that I met these guys, because meeting them has put all these things in perspective.

Live well,

Craig