A group of six of us traveled about 2 1/2 hrs out to a remote village on Lake Victoria to spend the day teaching and discussing needs. We had to hire a private taxi to take as out there, as there is no public transportation that goes anywhere near (probably because there are no real roads). We were welcomed with open arms - singing, food, grand introductions. They also took us for a ride in one of their fishing boats. The whole community had gathered to share the day with us and to hear what we came to teach. As they prepared the food, we were escorted on a brief walk through the village and to one of the two "schools" (pictured here).
Though I REALLY want to tell more details about that visit, I will stick to the story. On our way, we were made aware of a very sick little boy who they thought was finally at the stage where he really should be taken to the clinic. We were glad that we were there and gladly used our phone to call our driver back. After visiting the school, we made our way back to the "community center" (benches under some huge shade trees) where we would eat and teach our classes. Before we began, one of the community leaders announced that our proceedings would be stopped because it seems that the little boy had just passed away. I was dumbfounded, I didn't know what to say or how to respond. Then from where we were, we could here the mother crying, wailing for her lost son. We were informed that the custom is for anyone of stature in the community to go in and to "say sorry" (in Lugandan, of course) to the mother. And they wanted us to go. 
This is the hut, which I had taken a picture of on our first walk through the community, before I knew we would be returning to pay our condolences. As we arrived, of course the mother was still crying, and I was very apprehensive, to say the least. As I took the first step into the one-room, dirt-floored hut, I could no longer contain my emotion. I cried along with her and her mother for this little boy who was the same size as Colton, though probably older, laying on the dirt floor with ragged clothes and a scarf tied around his chin. I came out and wept some more. Malaria, as it turns out - totally and completely preventable.
I can spout off statistics all day long about the number of people living in poverty, the number of AIDS orphans, and the number of children that die every day from preventable diseases, but NEVER had I experienced it like this. Though I have seen poverty in many different countries and have worked with these people in all facets to improve their lives, I have never had it go straight through me like this dagger did. The sorrow I felt for this mother and still feel every time I think of this experience, is overwhelming. I cannot begin to describe all the feelings - I am sad for the lost life, angry that this has to happen, embarrased that I live so well comparatively and that at the same time it reminds me of what I have. I am so grateful.
Many, many times, in the quiet of the night, or when my children are ill and listless like today - I hold them tight and think of how lucky I am to have them, that they are healthy, able to grow and develop without any sort of hinderance. I am so blessed!
Luke 12: 48 - "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required."
I have been given much, and I hope I can fulfill whatever calling God has in store for me.
I don't think I need to add anything more to this story, but just know that there are many, many organizations out there (click here for one example) that are fighting for life, battling preventable diseases like malaria, tuberculosis, polio, and HIV/AIDS. I happy to be a part of it.
1 comment:
That is such a sad and amazing story. I don't think if I were a mom it would have touched me as much, but I just think of my own the way you do. So horrible to watch your children suffer like that when, like you say, that could have been prevented. It's so hard to see the imbalance of privilege around the world.
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