One of the many things I loved about being in southern Africa was the abundance of time to spend with people. It's refreshing to throw off the busyness of western culture and soak in a more relational culture. I loved engaging with the orphans at the center. Not just to meet them for a minute as I walked onto my next task but to stop and play with them. I enjoyed standing for hours with a Chinese jump rope around my ankles, knees or hips watching the children display their athleticism jumping over the ropes. I love how the different ages of children interact and hang out without each other. I learned new hand clap games and songs. It's enchanting to see the sameness in their personalities as the ones back home. It's magical not to have a do list constantly running in mind but just to sit with woman and talk fully engaged. I loved the banter with the women of trying to combine two different types of speaking English (British verse American) with two different accents and trying to make a coherent conversation. I learned about their lives as wives and moms, and the number of children: girls verses boys. We commiserated over the endless task list of raising children. We laughed about assumptions of men helping with children and cooking more in a far away land. The third day I rejoined the women to pass the afternoon as the children continued playing. We were sitting there laughing and enjoying each other in conversation when one of the woman raised her skirt to show me her leg.
The laughter stopped.
Her shin had an abrasion several inches long. It was really red and swollen, not just by the abrasion but the whole bottom of her leg and up into her thigh. She asked for help. Urgency ran through my mind. I'm sooooo not a medical person but an abrasion that is swollen and red, not just around the cut but all over her leg, did not require a medical degree to know she needed help. Looking back, I think I forgot to say anything to her after she showed me. I just got up and left. I desperately wanted to find some one who could take her to a doctor. I had conversations with medical people on our team if the antibiotics we brought for ourselves could be used. I argued with a teammate who gave me some nonsense about not being able to help everyone. This was a mother of nine, we would help her. Finally, we arranged a trip to the hospital for her and her little daughter who was also sick. She couldn't afford to go to the doctor. No problem. I told them I would pay for it.
I fretted over the cost while I waited. My friends all came over to me privately and said they would chip in to cover the cost. Two of them who work in hospitals said if she didn't get help, they thought she could lose her leg. Someone joined us to tell us how very sick was her daughter. We debated over the cost for both of them. My husband is very generous. I regularly volunteer to give away his hard earned money away but this I was afraid could be extensive. My mind raced with different items I could sacrifice to help alleviate the cost of the bill. I wondered how I was going to make the call to tell my husband what I had done.
Finally, they arrived back. She needed shots right way to help stop the infection. They had cleaned her wound. They sent her home with several different prescriptions. The daughter had malaria but received the medicine she needed. I was joyful they received help but not relaxed until I knew the cost.
$20.00
The daughter could have died without the malaria meds. The mother at the very least could have lost her leg, if not her life.
$20.00
My husband is blessed with a great job so we can afford to be generous but $20.00 is nothing. It's not a sacrifice. It's not even noble. It's $20.00 not $2,000 or $20,000. It's pocket change to us.
$20.00
To a woman with nothing this was the price of her life and her child's.