I little while ago I got back from a trip to Zimbabwe. It’s been over a year since I have been back
there. But every day I think of
Zimbabwe. I don’t think it’s a surprise
that our son was given a middle name that comes from there, Tatenda, which
means ‘Thank You’. Although I was so
excited to be back there my preparations were tainted by the fact that Alicia
and Hayden couldn’t come. It had been
the plan for them to be a part of the trip, and it would have been their first
time there, but it didn’t work out in the end with Visa issues for Hayden.
I always find it hard to reflect back on a trip like this
with so many highs and lows. Maybe I can
just share a story from my time in Zim.
One day of home visits really rattled me and I can’t seem to
shake it. We visited a few homes that
day, and they were all tough but the last home we visited broke my heart. On the way out that day we passed by a
grandfather who was sitting in his yard.
We tried to wave and call out to him but he gave us no response, he just
looked at us. After we visited a few
other homes we stopped in to talk with this grandfather. When we did we found out that he was almost
deaf and almost blind. We sat down to
talk to him and as soon as we had finished greeting him he just started talking
for half an hour with no pauses. The
person translating for me didn’t even have an opening to let me know what he
was saying. So I just sat there
wondering what he was talking about and hoping he wasn’t going on for half an
hour about the price of bread at the store or something like that. When it hit me…. he just needed someone to
talk to. He was desperate to share his
burdens with someone and to just have someone who cared enough to listen. I felt so blessed that I could be part of
that, but I also felt a deep pain for a man carrying so much without someone to
share with.
And when he finally took a breath the translator had a
moment to catch me up. The grandfather
was sharing about his daughter who sat beside me, her name is Elizabeth. She
has Downs Syndrome and is non-verbal and so we could not communicate with
her. I look at the sores on Elizabeth’s
lips and the rest of her physical state and can’t help but think she is living
with HIV and her family doesn’t know. Her
father shared her story about how someone in the community had raped her and
the result of that was that Elizabeth had a child named Sara. When the story was being translated for me
the grandfather just looked at me through these old sad eyes and I felt
crushed. I can’t fathom why someone
would take advantage of someone like Elizabeth who has no voice and no way to
stand up for herself. I can’t
understand.
The grandparents in this family work in the garden for a
living. But you look at the grandfather
and see a man who has severe back issues and walks so slowly that I actually
can’t imagine how he is physically able to garden at all. But the family depends on that. Not only that but they look after their
daughter who is disabled and their granddaughter Sara. I see some of their situation but what really
makes me sad is what this grandfather shares next. He says that he lives in fear for his family,
because he cannot protect Elizabeth and Sara.
He realizes how easy it is for someone to continue praying on his
daughter. It all makes me think about
Sara and what she has been witness to and if the kids at school tease her about
her family. I met Sara and I saw a shy
girl of about 11 years old with such hesitation, a lack of trust and fear in
all that she does.
But in the area where this family lives the CBO (Community
Based Organization) has just expanded. Which
means Sara is being visited by a Care Worker for the first time and is
receiving support from the CBO. I watch
the Care Workers play with Sara at the Care Point and I see how free she
looks. She loses herself in the games
she plays and I feel so much joy for those moments in her life where she is
only worried about whether she gets tagged by the person who is “it”. And you can see for a moment that she is far
from the troubles that await her at home.
I see hope in the grandfather sharing his story and having
people to unburden himself with. He even
asks when the Care Workers will come back to visit. And I have such hope as I watch the Care
Workers with Sara. There is so much
pain, anxiety and fear in this situation, but so much hope for tomorrow and
such indescribable glimpses of joy.
I left Zimbabwe with hope, but I still cry for Sara and her
family because the world is not fair.
~T
