The hospital I worked in during my stay in
Swaziland sits atop the beautiful and very steep Lebombo Mountains. In
this part of the world people often have to walk 40 kilometers or more
in order to see a doctor.
As
you can imagine there are many people in the community who are simply
too sick or too poor to get to a hospital. This is where home-based care
comes in. The home-based care team consists of several nurses who jump
into a small truck/van every morning and travel out to the community to
tend to the health needs of the truly destitute.
Before I went
out with the team I used to buy potatoes and carrots and apples to give
to the people we met - because health care in Africa is often just as
much about the provision of food as it is about medicine. I would always
make sure I also bought a bag of sweets to give to the beautiful
children we would meet out in the community. I have learned that sweets
are one of the great unifiers in the human world - we might look
different and speak different languages - but most of us - especially
the young ones - love sweets!
One day we stopped at one of the
15,000 orphan-led households in Swaziland. Inside the hut we found a
beautiful little girl with huge brown eyes. Her name was Tanzile. I gave
her a sweet from my bag and she said something back to me in Si-swati,
the native language, which the nurse next to me translated:
"She wants another one doctor - to give to her little sister."
I
said "of course" and gave her another. After we had tended to a man
with tuberculosis a bit further down the road, we passed by Tanzile's
house to say goodbye. To our surprise she seemed to be holding on to
that extra sweet I had given her.
I remember saying to the nurse
"this little darling is clever - she has taken two for herself. If I was
her I'd probably have asked for the whole bag!" But after the nurse had
asked her some more questions this is what we learned:
Tanzile
is 7 now. Two years ago when she was five her mum and dad both died of
HIV/AIDS like so many have in this country. At the time of her parents
tragic death, she was separated from her baby sister who was three at
the time. Tanzile has not laid eyes on her since. But ever since that
time, whenever Tanzile receives anything from anyone, including food, -
she refuses to accept it, unless they give her two. Two carrots, two
toys, two sweets - one for her and one for her baby sister (who in all
likelihood didn't survive.)
In fact, in the little mud hut where
she lives, we found a pile of old things which she has been collecting
to give to her sister one day.
My friends, people sometimes look
at faces of African children or kids in the developing world and think
that they are somehow different than our kids - that somehow they dont
feel pain or sadness or love. But that is not true. Their pain is deep.
And so is their love.
I can still remember the nurse trying to
convince her that "if someone gives you food Tanzile, you must accept it
- even if it is only one piece and not two - for your own health and
safety." And it was so hard for us to keep the tears from our eyes as
she shook her head defiantly. Her hope and her love was all that she
had. It mattered more than anything else.
When I returned home
that day, I was shocked to find that this was not an isolated story but
others in the hospital knew of orphans just like Tanzile - waiting with a
little pile of things in their hut, for their sibling or their parent
who they havent seen in so long.
I think of that old Eagles song -
"when we're hungry, love will keep us alive." I pray that for Tanzile's
sake and the other beautiful children like her that it will.
With very special thanks to our friend Maithri for sharing this
story with us and for the good work he does on behalf of the children of
Swaziland. To learn how you can help, please visit the Young Heroes website and consider sponsoring one of these beautiful kids.
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