THIS IS WHY I'M HOT!

I got my copy of Belmont's student newspaper, The Vision, yesterday, and I instantly looked for the article that my friend, Melanie Bingtson, had written. I have fallen in love with her writing of late, and I thought I should share her article. I don't think she'll mind. She deserves the publicity, anyway :o). So please read on, it is worth it! And I promise you will understand my title.

A World Without Spring

Springtime at Belmont is a beautiful thing. The trees around the quad bloom in vivid green, flowers explode into brilliant colors all across campus, and musicians of every sort crowd the lawns and play their songs until the sun sets.

It’s almost spring here and I can’t help but smile as I step outside my door every morning and feel the warm sunshine. For the last week or so, though, there is a sadness that I can’t seem to get out of my head.

We joke about the “Belmont bubble” but it frightens me how transcendent that idea is. I fall into its trap daily, pretending that this is actually the real world and that the middle-school drama that consumes our lives will have an impact six months from now. I’ve been convicted by this false reality recently.

Zimbabwean musician Oliver Mtukudzi penned “Mambasa,” a song that asks wrenching questions:

“Tears run dry/We mourn quietly/Death has now lost its meaning/Funerals no longer have the necessary dignity/ Everyone around us is dying/ Who will sympathize with whom/ Since each of us has death in our homesteads daily?/ Who will mourn whom?/Who will bury whom?”

This is the song that plays on the radio in Zimbabwe – not “This is Why I’m Hot” (Mims) or “Beer in Mexico” (Kenny Chesney). Talk about a reality check.

The inflation rate in Zimbabwe is 1,700 percent. The average life expectancy of a woman is 35. Almost 25 percent of the population has AIDS.

Before you think that this is another spoiled American clamoring for help for Africa, finish this column. In all honesty, you can’t do anything to help the people in Zimbabwe. The government – and the country’s destiny – is controlled by Robert Mugabe, a ruthless and selfish dictator who has his opposition brutally beaten and has sworn off the rest of the world. Governments have tried to oust Mugabe through economic sanctions, which have starved the people of Zimbabwe. Economic sanctions are a traditional method to force rogue leaders to change, but they don’t work.

In the last week or so, Zimbabwe has finally broken into the news cycle. Mugabe has cracked down on his opposition, mercilessly beating leaders who have attempted to speak out against him. According to Mugabe, if Westerners dare to interfere with the situation, they will be removed from the country. (He did not specify whether they would leave alive or dead.)

Zimbabwe makes me sad. But there’s nothing I can do about it but tell you what is happening. I’m not asking you to do anything – Zimbabweans don’t need protests or pity or fundraisers or media blitzes. They need dignity. Hope. Prayer. Remembrance.

Robert Mugabe is 83 years old. He can’t last much longer.

Washington Post journalist Neely Tucker wrote a book called Hope in the Driest Season about his time in Zimbabwe covering all of Africa.Let me close with a passage from that book, which I want you to read.

“More than 1,100 people had flocked into the village’s Catholic church for sanctuary … We stepped on bare spots of the floor that were not strewn with debris. The pews had been ripped out, but the slats that had supported them were still there … I shifted my weight and a foot slipped off one plank, but I continued to write notes, racing to keep up with his account. I rocked my foot back and forth. It began bumping against something. At first, I thought it was a chicken’s rotted bones that had somehow not yet collapsed. Then I leaned down and peered closer. I blinked. It was the splintered remains of what appeared to be an infant’s rib cage. My toe was resting just inside, and I had been twitching my foot against the bowed ribs.”

Enjoy this season at Belmont. Walk outside, feel the sunshine and the breeze. But as you laugh and live and enjoy the blessings that God has given you freely, pray for springtime to come to Zimbabwe.