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Rudo (Love): Deeper Than Skin
Rudo (Love): Deeper Than Skin
Rudo (Love): Deeper Than Skin
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Rudo (Love): Deeper Than Skin

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In a story that spans years and continents, the author takes the reader on a journey that evokes feelings of elation as well as sadness. This book shows how the power of love transcends race, language, and culture. The author delves into the challenges and blessings of friendship and love in face of adversity; she helps the reader appreciate the double-sided experience of following ones heart in the face of discrimination and support from the faith community. She shares her husbands story of growing up in Zimbabwe, Africa, and how God paved a way for him to study in the United States. This book also includes their personal story of overcoming racial and cultural barriers in their relationship. With the blending of her husbands African heritage and her Amish roots, this story proves that love is deeper than skin.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherWestBow Press
Release dateNov 27, 2012
ISBN9781449775971
Rudo (Love): Deeper Than Skin
Author

Beth A. Chakara

Beth Chakara is a wife and mother of two teenage children.  She resides with her family in rural Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in Family Ministries and serves as an office manager and as a psychometrist in her husband’s psychology practice.

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    Rudo (Love) - Beth A. Chakara

    Copyright © 2012 Beth A. Chakara

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    WestBow Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

    WestBow Press

    A Division of Thomas Nelson

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.westbowpress.com

    1-(866) 928-1240

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    ISBN: 978-1-4497-7597-1 (e)

    ISBN: 978-1-4497-7598-8 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4497-7599-5 (hc)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2012921419

    WestBow Press rev. date: 11/21/2012

    Contents

    Preface

    Chapter 1      Humble Beginnings

    Chapter 2      Life in a Village

    Chapter 3      Life in the Small Town

    Chapter 4      His Roots

    .Chapter 5      Her Roots

    Chapter 6      Coming to America

    Chapter 7      The Meeting Place

    Chapter 8      Guess Who’s Coming

    Chapter 9      Dropping the Rock

    Chapter 10      A Nice Day for a Black and White Wedding

    Chapter 11      Early Beginnings

    Chapter 12      Going to Africa

    Chapter 13      House of Stone

    Chapter 14      Marc and Hope

    Chapter 15      Providence

    Chapter 16      Crossing the Boundaries

    Chapter 17      Grieving Hearts

    Chapter 18      A Day In The Village

    ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

    About the Author

    Notes

    Rudo (Love): Deeper than Skin

    By Beth A. Chakara

    Rudo: The Shona word for love

    (Shona is one of the

    Tribal languages of Zimbabwe)

    To Freeman

    Everyone has a story. Your story is so unique and has intrigued so many. When I first met you and heard you share yours, I was captivated. I still find it interesting, even after hearing it so many times. God surely brought you through some very difficult childhood years and gave you the strength to persevere through them. When I met you, I was attracted to your tender heart, the way you loved God, and the way you could give Him the glory for what He has done in your life. Truly, His hand of providence has been with you. On the day I said I do, I could not have imagined marriage would be this wonderful. I am so thankful God has allowed you to not only be my husband, but also to be my best shamwari. You are certainly my sacred companion on this life’s journey. Ndinokuda!

    To Preston

    This story is mainly about your Dad and his interesting life. However, it would not be complete without some of my history too. You come from two amazing and sort of unusual heritages. I admire how you love them both. May you use this book to remember where you came from and should you have children of your own, use it to teach them to be grateful for each step God gives us on our journeys. My heart’s desire is that you will follow God all the days of your life. May you honor the true meaning of your namesake: The priesthood of God. I love you, son!

    To Mackenzie

    Ironically, your name means the daughter of a wise leader. For sure, I loved your name because of its meaning. Your father is certainly a wise man and many people seek him for his wisdom. You are not only a daughter to your Dad, but also one of God’s daughters. May you be faithful to Him throughout your journey. I enjoy how much you love learning about the different cultures your parents came from. You find the diversity in our family as great value, and for that I am very grateful. You are a gem and I love you!

    Preface

    Not long ago, I walked down the aisle for the third time. The first time was at my high school graduation, in 1989. In 1992, I walked down the aisle for the second time. On that day I married the man of my dreams. I married a tall, dark and handsome man. Isn’t that supposed to be every woman’s dream? At our wedding, my father walked me down the aisle and gave me away to Freeman Marc Chakara.

    The most recent time I walked down the aisle was at my college graduation, in December 2009. As an adult woman, I walked down that aisle in my cap and gown, with my Bible in hand and received a bachelor’s degree in Bible and Family Life in Ministry from Lancaster Bible College. This was a day I thought would never happen, but with Freeman’s encouragement, I strived for that goal, and as a busy mom and wife, I somehow accomplished it. What a day of rejoicing it was!

    There will come a day when I will go down the aisle for the last time. It could be the fourth time or maybe the tenth, but one day the Lord will call me home and I will be taken down the aisle in my casket.

    That is the main reason I write this book. When I am no longer alive on this earth, I want my children and their children to know their African, Amish and American heritages and how God, in His providential way, orchestrated every detail of our lives. It is my heart’s desire that my children and their children walk in the ways of the Lord. One of my favorite songs is Find Us Faithful by Steve Green. It was sung at our wedding by a very dear friend. May all who come behind us find us faithful is the message of the song. It is my hope and prayer that all those who come behind me will find me faithful to God.

    Another reason I chose to write this book is that over the years so many people told Freeman he should write a book about his life story. We all know there are many people in this world with unique and interesting stories of their own. The first time I met Freeman and heard his, I thought it was unique and quite fascinating. I was a bit captivated, just like everyone else who hears it. Why Freeman has never considered writing his own autobiography is beyond me. According to him, if he wrote a book on his life, no one would read it. Well, maybe so. But, I trust it will still be worth it just for the sake of our children and for our future generations.

    This book will involve details about the Zimbabwean and Amish cultures. It will include significant aspects of our lives with a main focus on our diverse cultures because our backgrounds are an essential part of our story. For those of you who will persevere in reading it, may you see God’s hand of providence in every detail of our lives. It is to Him that we give thanks for bringing us together and for breaking down the cultural and racial barriers. Join with me and discover, as I have, that rudo (love) is deeper than skin.

    Chapter 1

    Humble Beginnings

    Freeman’s Beginnings…

    In America it would have been the summer of 1967, but since the event took place in Rhodesia (now known as Zimbabwe), it would have been winter at the time. The seasons in Zimbabwe are opposite to those in America; they only have two: winter and summer. The date was June 12, 1967 when Elizabeth Chakara gave birth on a dirt floor of a grass hut to a baby boy. In the American culture when a mother gives birth to a child the weight and measurements are important. However, without scales and measuring tapes in the villages, no one knows exactly how big (or little) Freeman really was. My guess, by the looks of his adult hands, is that he was a pretty big baby.

    The exact age of Elizabeth at the time of Freeman’s birth is also unknown to us. It is believed she was a young teen, probably around sixteen years old. Elizabeth was not married at the time; therefore, she gave her last name, Chakara, to Freeman as his surname.

    The location of this birth took place in a small rural village called Selukwe (now known as Shurugwi). In this particular village, the huts and homes have no electricity, no running water and no toilets. The Chakara farm was made up of small brick and mortar buildings along with thatched roof mud huts. The bedrooms were located in the buildings, while the kitchen was located inside one of the mud huts.

    It is also believed Elizabeth was living in a town called Kwekwe when she got pregnant with Freeman. She then went back to the village of Shurugwi to be with her parents while she gave birth to him. Freeman was born in the kitchen of a simple hut. His father was not present; in fact, there is not a whole lot we know about the father. A few months after Freeman’s birth, Elizabeth left Shurugwi and went to live in a nearby city, now known as Kadoma. In his early years Freeman grew up not knowing his biological mother. He actually thought of her as his sister. He was left to be raised by his grandparents, mainly his grandmother. His grandfather passed away in 1971 and not long after that, in 1973, his grandmother also died. Freeman remembers seeing his grandmother heading to the creek to wash their clothes, as this would have been her normal routine, except that this was going to be the last morning that he saw her. It was there that she later was found dead. At her funeral he learned that Elizabeth was his mom, not his sister. Since Freeman was living in the village and Elizabeth was living in another town, their paths did not cross very often. Until that time, Freeman thought his grandmother was his mother.

    Both grandparents passed away by the time Freeman was six years old. He lived in Selukwe (Shurugwi) until the age of twelve. During that time, he lived in the village with no parents or guardians. For those of us living in the western culture we wonder how a child could live by himself without adult supervision. We cannot fathom having a young child living in one of our towns without any parents or legal guardians no matter how small the town might be. Certainly, Freeman could have been considered an orphan. As someone once said, it really does take a village to raise a child. The last chapter of this book will be dedicated to the day I finally got to visit this village where Freeman spent the first thirteen years of his life

    Grandpa Chakara, as we refer to him, had many children. He was a polygamist, a common practice in Zimbabwe at that time, although less common today. This meant that Freeman had many extended family members outside of Shurugwi. After the passing of Freeman’s grandparents, his oldest uncle, Philemon (Phil), inherited the family farm, including the livestock and fields. Phil, at the time, was a police officer, living in Zimbabwe’s second largest city, Bulawayo. It was very common for men to live in the cities and go back to the villages on weekends or at the end of the month, which is when people typically got paid. It is not unusual to have hired help. Phil paid farm-hands to help with the care and keeping of the Chakara farm while he was in the city. There were herdsmen who took care of the livestock and assisted with farming the land. Freeman often shares how he, at a young age, helped to serve as a herdsman for the livestock. There were also maids who did the cooking and cleaning. This kind of house help is still very common in Zimbabwe today, and in many countries around the world. Too bad it is not a common practice here in the United States. How I would, some days, really love house help!

    With the exception of the help of maids and aunts and uncles, Freeman somehow survived life in the village without any parents. His uncles would give him haircuts when needed. As a mother, I often wonder who was instructing him on when to take a bath. Any parent knows that children usually do not volunteer to take a bath on their own, but Freeman says he simply does not recall anyone telling him when it was time to do those things. It is no wonder he developed a severe case of head lice during this time. Because of this unusual upbringing is why I believe God allowed Freeman to choose a career path in psychology.

    Although Elizabeth did not marry Freeman’s biological father, she met and married a man named Benjamin Chinengo approximately three years after Freeman was born. She and Benjamin had five children together: Portia, Clapperton, Hazel, Benjamin and Bervin. I am very grateful I had the opportunity to meet them all.

    Image%201.jpg

    Freeman holding Alison with his cousins, Basil and Lynette, in April 1982.

    Beth’s Beginnings…

    Although I was not raised in a grass hut in an African village, I had the privilege of growing up in a conservative area among the Amish and Mennonites in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Other than my Amish roots, my background is somewhat of a usual and typical American-upbringing. I joke that I was also born in a village, just not an African one with huts. My hometown of Stevens, Pennsylvania, was just an average town of a few hundred in population. If one includes the nearby towns that use Stevens as their mailing address, the population is considerably more than that. I literally grew up on the square in town, with a view of the post office and the junk yard. The town is so tiny; the joke has always been if you drive through it and blink you will miss it.

    On March 6, 1971, Elsie Mae

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