The Power of Words

Are you familiar with the childhood chant “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words may never hurt me” ? We can tell ourselves that words don’t hurt, but the reality is, they do. The reality is that there is life and death in the words that we speak to one another, but often we forget the gravity of words.

Words can both empower and belittle. They can encourage and tear down. They can bring laughter, they can bring tears. My mind is tired now, so I feel the inherent danger of rambling, I ask that you bear with me as I sort this out.

Are words the powerful force, or is it the emotion behind them? Is it the intent when they are spoken that determines the effect they have? Words can be both liberating as ideas are expressed, and limiting as they may fail to capture the spectrum of emotions that we as humans experience.

I walk down the streets of Mbarara and I hear the word “Mzungu” more times than I can count. Somehow here, it sounds more like an insult than it does in the village. In the village the tone is generally different; the words following it are generally less insulting. Here it sounds like a challenge.

“Mzungu, you take this” or “Mzungu, sit here” or “Mzungu my size!! Come with me!” the bodas shout out. Rebekah and I have agreed that in general, we won’t take a boda if the driver shouts “mzungu” and we don’t respond to questions addressed to “mzungu” (if they ask, it happens to be the only word in Rukiga/ Runyankole that we don’t know). But to be honest, it wears on me.

It is hard being identified as different on a daily, even minute by minute basis. It is something that I don’t think I will ever get used to. I miss being normal. I miss blending. I miss not being noticed.

I find myself taking this all so seriously. (in case you didn’t know, I take life way to seriously. It is a problem) on some days it is easier to recognize that it isn’t the end of the world that people are calling me names all day long (technically just calling me a name that isn’t mine, but you get the idea right?), other days it is harder. Whenever I go somewhere with one of the kids I joke with them about it- “don’t mind the silly boda drivers, they don’t know you are from around here” or something along those lines. “Don’t be disturbed that the shop keeper is charging you double because of the color of your skin, it isn’t personal” so on and so forth.

Now, if such a simple and meaningless thing as the word “westerner” disturbs me, can you imagine the pain my kids must feel when they are called a “nobody”? Not having a family really puts you at a disadvantage in this culture. Not having a home to go back to means you have nothing. My heart hurt when two of my kids shared with me how they were (recently) told they were not to speak in the presence of a certain individual as they were nothing more than trash, worthless orphans. The person went on to tell them how much better off she was than they were. Apart from being hurt with them, I was also blown away; this person has only one parent herself!

Words have power. If you are consistently told you are nothing, a nobody, with no future, it begins to wear on you. If such words were your only concern, perhaps you could flippantly reply “I’m rubber and you’re glue, whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you”. The reality here however is that words are not the only thing wearing these children out. Growing up without parents is hard. Growing up with only one parent is hard. Growing up is hard. Life in general is harder here.

My prayer is that the words I speak to these children are words of life, not words of death. My prayer is that they hear the truth that despite what the world may tell them, they are unique. Each one is special, each one is a treasure. Each child has a future, each child has value. My prayer is that I am able to see specific ways to reach each of these children, in a way that is unique to them, in a way that reaches their hurts; that through me, God shows them how He sees them, not as a “nobody” but as His child.

Words have power.