| Dick Gilman: Sharing a heart of love for Zimbabwes children BY ROBYN WILBUR  To learn of the shooting death of Richard Gilman while on a trip to Zimbabwe was a great shock. I grieve for all that his brother Howard Gil Gilman must experience. My friend, Charlie Bouchard, and I had the opportunity to know Dick Gilman in a very special way. The Dick Gilman I knew was far from the man portrayed by news accounts of his violent, untimely death. (See story on page 1.) Last October, Charlie and I spent a month in Zimbabwe. The reason for the trip was two-fold: to scout out possible Volunteers-in-Mission sites for the year 2002 and to visit Gil who was teaching as a volunteer at Africa University for the second year. While visiting the Mutare area, we met Dick and were invited to accompany him on a car trip the following day to Chimanimani. After our early morning start, we fell into conversation about our trips. This was Dicks third trip to Zimbabwe. He told of how he had come to visit his big brother but fell in love with the people of Zimbabwe. On his first trip he had enjoyed driving the countryside and exploring. We soon learned what Dick meant by exploring. He told of seeing people walking along the roadside carrying their heavy bags balanced on their heads and how he was always curious about their destinations when they turned down well-worn dirt paths into the brush. One day he stopped and followed a path to places unknown. In doing this, he encountered people coming along the path who greeted him happily and openly. They all seemed to give directions and encouragement to continue as if they knew where he was going. So he walked on. A few hours later, he arrived at a small village school. The principal and teachers came out to greet him as the children crowded in the doorways to see the visitor. Dick was so moved by the generous greeting that his unexpected, unannounced arrival brought, that he stayed so they would not be offended. As he spent time at the school watching the children, he made note of the poverty in which the children lived. The school, while clean and well kept, had little in terms of materials and extras. Dick was shocked when the sun dimmed behind clouds and he suddenly realized this school did not even have electricity. As darkness approached and he headed back down the path, Dick knew he would see these children again. On the drive back, he was already thinking of ways to help his Zimbabwean brothers and sisters. In the few remaining weeks of that first trip, he was already laying the groundwork to begin raising funds to build and stock a library at the school he had just left. By the time of his return the following year he and Gil had begun work on the library project, started collecting school supplies for this and other local schools, and had begun taking bids from local contractors to run electricity out to this remote school. Last October Dick was on his third trip to Zimbabwe and on this day we were not just going to the tourist town of Chimanimani. We were also taking a side trip that would take us on an eight-hour adventure along a narrow dirt, well-rutted road that ran along the mountain ridge between the valley and the Mozambique border. In true Zimbabwean fashion, we offered a ride to a woman walking in the direction we traveled, stopped and talked with the Grandma washing her twin granddaughters clothes in the waterfall stream by the roadway, and watched the lady tea leaf pickers working hard in their vivid green-yellow leafy fields. We were, it seemed, on Gods forgotten acre. It was only after finally coming to a steep downward turn that fell off, out of our view, that we stopped and gave up the trek. Upon turning around and traveling a short distance back, we came across a small sign that read United Methodist Church 1/10 kilometer and pointed into the bush. I had to stop and go see this. There, in a small clearing just off the road, was a small mud brick building. Four walls open to the sky and heaven. It would seem this was not in fact Gods forgotten acre. So what does this have to do with Dick? The reason for our car trip that day was to reply to a letter. Dick had received an envelope half covered in stamps with a lot more postage than was needed. It bore within it a letter from two young children. Written in childrens scrawl was an indication that from word of mouth these children had heard of Dick and the help he had given to other children. They asked him to please help with their school fees; this way, their brothers and sisters might be able to go to school as well. We had spent the whole day trying to reach the school listed in the letter. When I asked Dick if we were going to the school to help these two children, he said, No. If we were just going to help these two, I would have just mailed the money. I am going to the school to see who else might need school fees paid and what other help may be needed. We didnt find the children or school that day, but Dick found it two days later. It was on one of these trips to Zimbabwe that Dick Gilman was shot and killed under suspicious circumstances. It is for his kind heart, generous spirit and witness of faith that he will be long remembered by me and by many children in Zimbabwe. Robyn Wilbur is a member of Covenant UMC in Gaithersburg. | 
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