My African Grandma, Part I

Her name is Elia Masowe, and she is 92 years old. We have adopted her as our “African Grandmother,” although she considers us her children. She says that Wes is her first-born son, so I guess that makes me her daughter-in-law. She has also referred to Wes as her husband, so I’m not sure what that makes me! Relationships in Zambia are very confusing, so to make it simple, we have chosen the relationship of grandchildren and grandmother.


We first met Elia back in 1999 when we came to her village to do a feeding program. It was a year of drought, and we were told that the people of Mujika were hungry, and so the small church we were attending decided to help out.

Elia was in the group of people that arrived that day to receive food. Little did she know that she was also going to be fed spiritually. Wes, and those with him, passed out packages of mealie meal (corn meal) and some basic supplies that Zambians use in cooking. When they were finished, they shared the good news of Jesus Christ.

When Elia heard that Jesus had died for her sins and wanted to give her a new life, she made the choice to invite Jesus to be her Lord and Savior. It was not the first time she had heard about Jesus as she had grown up in church, but it was the first time she understood her need for a personal relationship with Him. On that day, she made the choice to give Jesus her life.

Later, Elia related her testimony in this way, “God loves me so much, that he sent people half way around the world to come and tell me the truth about Jesus. I used to be the best at brewing beer, but now I have stopped.”

As a result of the outreach in Mujika, a little Baptist Church began. Elia was one of the first members, and when she can, she still attends.

In those first years, Wes and I went on a regular basis to teach the new believers at Mujika. At first we met under a tree. Elia was always faithful in attendance, and although she could not read due to poor eyesight, she listened well and was quick to answer questions. We were amazed at how she was growing in her new walk with the Lord, and we were encouraged by her energy and vitality for life at such an old age.

From the beginning Elia loved to share her new faith, although she was a little rough around the edges. She had been attending a Seventh Day Adventist Church, and when she accepted Christ and moved to the Baptist Church, the elders came to visit her telling her she was going to hell because she was worshipping on Sunday. She was quick to tell them where they could go because she now knew the truth. We had to talk to Elia about her method of evangelism, but at least she was not backing down!

We grew to love Elia more and more as we spent time with her. She made us smile, she made us laugh, and she made us cry to see her living all by herself. I don’t remember the first time we went to her village, but to see how she lived broke our heart. She had one little hut in which she slept, with a roof that looked like it was going to cave in at any moment.

Even though she was in her 80s at the time, she planted, weeded, and harvested her own maize. It was hard for us to imagine how she did all this by herself, but we were told that she had little help. Although a married niece lives right next door, she does very little to help her.

Elia has always been a giver. Whenever we go to her village she insists on giving us a gift. Over the years she has given us sweet potatoes, pumpkins, maize, and chickens. Although it has been very hard to accept her gifts, knowing she has very little, we’ve learned to them because we know that by giving, she also receives.

Knowing God’s command to take care of widows and orphans, God began giving us a burden to help Elia even more. At first we worried about the potential problems it would create with jealousy--a big problem in Zambia. We didn't want our helping her to hurt our ministry, but we decided we had to obey what we felt the Spirit was leading us to do. So, little by little, or bit by bit as they say in Zambia, we became more a part of Elia’s life. At first we just brought her small gifts of sugar, tea, and mealie meal, but eventually we saw a greater need—she needed a new home. Her roof would not last through one more rainy season, and the walls of her mud hut were crumbling.

We wanted the church to be involved in helping her as much as possible, so we got the leader and some of the people involved in helping build her a new home. This time it was not a round hut, but a small rectangular house with two rooms. For Elia, it was a mansion.

Elia will most likely live the remainder of her years, alone in this house. Although it is a much better home than the one she previously had, Elia has often said, “I’m ready for my new home. I look forward to seeing my Jesus.”

In the past few years, Elia has been in and out of the hospital. She easily catches cold, and has a persistent cough. When malaria attacks, she goes down hard. Each time she is sick, the pastor of the Mujika church calls to let us know. Each time when we visit her, we wonder if it will be the last time we see her, yet this little woman is stubbornly holding on to life.

Recently I decided I wanted to write down Elia’s life story. Although we have visited her many times, there was so much I didn’t know about this tiny little woman who dances every time we come into her village. I asked her if she would allow me to spend a few days in her village, and if she would tell me her story. This past week I spend two and a half days with Elia. I asked her many questions, and although I feel I will need to go back again, I’m beginning to put together some of the pieces of her life.

In the next few weeks, I will be writing down what I have learned. Eventually, if I am able to put it all together, I hope to put her story into a small book. I don’t claim to be a writer, so I doubt if it will be a best-seller, but that is not my goal. Elia's life is a puzzle to me, and I want to put together some of the pieces. I hope you will enjoy learning about my African Grandma.