I just got back from my trip to Africa and I'm still trying to digest all that I've been a part of. It was a life changing experience that I will never forget. I have left a part of my heart in Africa, a part which will always stir within my soul. I will never be the same.I went with an organization called Mothers Without Borders. Our team was awesome and we became very close. We all had different talents that blended well with each other and I hope we made a difference.
This picture is at a village where I had the honor to teach these ladies how to knit. We sat under a tree and knit. The only pattern I had in my head was a scarf so we all knitted scarves! We used the needles I brought then sticks and anything else we could use. By the end of the day, I had new friends. We gossiped about men and children and giggled and talked (all through an interpretor). I learned a valuable lesson... we are much more the same than different.
One day we went to a drop in center for street kids, Chisomo. This is where the kids who live on the streets can come and take a bath and eat a meal and wash their clothes... safely. Street kids really are the lowest of the low and their clothes are filthy and grimy. There was to be a medical clinic that day but the medical staff didn't come so they asked if I could be the nurse. I said sure but I didn't even have a stethescope. The first boy that came to see me was Jake's age. It hit me very hard that I wasn't there as a nurse, I was there as a mom. I wondered what I would want someone to tell my son if he were on the street. I saw my son in each boys eyes. After all, they each WERE someone's son.
I had the privelege to hold each boys face and look him in the eye and tell him he had value. I hugged them and put band aids on scratches from months ago. I was able to get some real help for a few of the boys, but most of them just needed someone to notice them. I realized that their needs are the same as mine... we all want to be SEEN... to make a difference... for people to know we exist. It was a humbling experience for me. Alot of them had drug problems... sniffing. Most used a mixture of human waste. It's a cheap high, but very caustic. I still have nightmares about them on the street and what is happening to them. I pray every day that Heavenly Father will keep them safe.
One day we went to a festival where the kids from different organizations acted out their life stories. Role play is very much a part of their culture and it's therapeutic. These kids acted out things like rape, death, HIV/AIDS, slavery, sexual abuse and being alone. It broke my heart. Our kids do things like "Old McDonald".
The kids we were with from the CRC (Children's Resource Center with MWB) did their skit. Chimunya became very emotional and couldn't finish her part. With tears streaming down her face, they stood up and began singing, "Walk Tall You're a Daughter of God", but they changed "daughter" to "child". It was so powerful. God WAS with them, He is aware of each of their needs.
These are some of the kids from a village we visited. This was their home. They were so excited to show me their well... an open well that they lowered a bucket into and then carried it back. These kids only had to carry it a few yards... they were so happy with that.
Water is such a vital thing and to only have to haul it a few yards is such a blessing. Some of the next pictures are of kids gathered at a well to "wash" their hands. There is never any soap.Poverty is very real to me now... it has a face. It has a name. It hurts. In the villages, there is a cooking hut and the ladies will cook Nshima, like a cream of wheat but thick, made from corn. It's alot of work... I had to make it one day! Anyway, The kids will put their plates on the ground and they get food put on the plates. The older siblings will take the younger ones and help them wash, feed them and care for them. It was a tender thing to watch. They shared their plates because there was not enough for everyone to have their own.
As I walked through the villages, there were no toys. The only thing that resembled a toy was a soccer ball of wrapped plastic bags. But they were happy. There was nothing in their huts, except maybe an empty cup. No clothes, no beds, no pillows... NOTHING.
We went to the hospital one day to the NICU. There were 70+ babies 27-28 weeks gestation to 6 nurses. (We don't deliver here under 34 weeks- they go to IMC and then to Primary Childrens). This was ahard day for me because there was so much that could have been done, just no resources. I walked through the babies and counted retractions and cried. It was awful. There was a section of babies with deformities, cleft palates, no limbs... another section was full of nursing mothers with their tiny babies. Their faces were lifeless almost. I had to keep stepping out so the ladies wouldn't see me cry. All I could do was tell them their babies had pretty hair or what a beautiful baby.... what do you say? My heart broke with one baby who had no arms or legs. What type of care would she have?
I spoke with a doctor for quie a while one day and he told me of the type of things that happen there. It was amazing. Things that are an emergency here, people live through there. I asked, "How did she survive that?" "How did that baby do?" His quick answer was, "God lives with us here." I believe that He does.
One of the schools we went to only had bricks for chairs. There is no paper, no books. One of the school teachers in our group said that you couldn't tear a classroom down enough to resemble a classroom in Africa. You would still have carpet or a chalkboard. But the kids pray. They pray as a class with their teachers. They still need God there and they pray. What a lesson America could learn there. It seems we don't need Him anymore.
I could go on and on, but I think it's the same after a while. The feeling that I keep in my mind is that there are enough resources in this world to take care of everyone. One night out to dinner would feed a village. I just know that if we all did a little, it adds up to alot. Mother Teresa's quote, "If you can't feed one hundred people, then feed just one." Means so much to me now. I can do a little more, use a little less and send the surplus to someone else. We have plates... and water that we can drink from the tap. I had to leave the grocery store when I got home... THERE IS SO MUCH FOOD. and rows and rows of pain relievers, cough medication, children's Tylenol. AND WE CAN AFFORD IT. If we're hungry we eat. If we are sick we go to the doctor and there is one there. The little things just mean so much to me now. We have plates enough for everyone and probably a few to spare.
I hope I'm a little better than I was before and that I'm more aware of the needs of others. I hope I can notice the people around me more and offer help when I can.
Most of all, I hope that I never lose this uneasy, painful feeling I have when I think of Africa. I hope that that feeling inspires me to do something.
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