“Uphold the rights of the oppressed…” Psalm 82:3

Monday 1 September 2008

This past week has without a doubt been the most difficult we have faced since arriving in Zambia this year. Our emotions have been at the breaking point, as we are consumed with grief at the loss of Ron’s sister, Jan, coupled with the continuing worry as we search for a solution to the quickly deteriorating situation of baby Peter and his sister Gift.

When we returned to the hospital as scheduled with Peter and his mother, Sharon, to receive the HIV medication for the two of them we became very aware of the seriousness of the situation. After hours and hours of waiting as Sharon was shifted from room to room and department to department, Foster and I were finally called in to speak with the counselor and nurse in charge. They informed us that they could not give Peter’s mother his medication. They said she is just not responsible. They did not believe she would administer the medication properly and even had serious doubts that Peter would be fed regularly. What we have discovered is that Sharon and Reagan, Peter’s parents, are both alcoholics. In fact the day we took Sharon and Peter to receive their medication she had been drinking already, before 9am. There was nothing we could do at that point, so we took Sharon and Peter home. Reagan was there, and we explained the situation to him. In conversation with him we also discovered that he had indeed been aware of his HIV status long before we transported them to the testing facility. Denial is not uncommon here. There is a huge stigma associated with HIV/Aids, especially in the villages. The common belief in the traditional communities is also that if you begin the treatment, that is what kills you. As we remained at the home talking with them, other family members came to the home – Sharon’s small mother (her mother’s younger sister) and her grandmother – and it became quite evident that there was no one there who was capable of caring for Peter and Gift.

Foster and I discussed the situation at great length, and went to an attorney in town to discuss available options. Our next stop was the Ndola District Social Welfare Office, where we were informed that Baluba falls under the authority of the Luanshya District. Before heading to Luanshya we stopped at the Provincial Juvenile Welfare Office here in Ndola to discuss Peter and Gift with them. The officer in charge there said she would contact the Luanshya District office and they would contact us. Arrangements were eventually made for the Luanshya District officer to make a home visit. I don’t know that I can really explain all of this – it sounds fairly straight forward – but it was anything but. Here in Zamia, you don’t just make a call, and then see things happen. You drive to each and every office, seek out the proper person, and many times wait hours or make return trips in following days in order to find that person and speak to them. One further complication in business dealings here is that lunch is strictly observed between the hours of 12:30pm to 2pm. During that time you will find virtually no one in any office, and even most businesses are closed. So, this process of making arrangements with the Luanshya Social Welfare Office literally took days. Torturous days of seeking people who could help Peter and Gift. All the while we are praying, and wondering if the children are safe, are they being fed and cared for, and knowing it was one more day that Peter was without his medication. While every office understood the urgency of the situation and did their best to expedite the process, it still took so very long. The other hindrance is transportation. If you want someone to go somewhere you have to provide the necessary transportation. There are not government vehicles available for the social welfare officers, and personal vehicles for the workers are few and far between. And, we couldn’t just give the Luanshya officer, Mrs. Mwalo, and address of a home to go to either. Baluba is a traditional, village community with haphazard placement of homes, no streets, only the tiny uneven dirt paths, and certainly no addresses.

But finally, we met Mrs. Mwalo in Luanshya. She is a woman of about 30 years I would imagine, strong, straight forward, compassionate, and I would say wise beyond her years. She is passionate about her job and the children of Zambia. She was a breath of fresh air. As we drove to Baluba we gave her all the details we knew. When we arrived she explained who she was and the purpose of her visit. She took down the family history, names, dates, and relationships. We also discovered that they were not living in the home, but only renting a tiny room attached to the home. The room is about five feet by eight feet with no windows, and only a chitenge covering the door. As we peered inside the only things there were a large blanket we had given them which was being used by the entire family to sleep on, the small blankets we had given Gift and Peter, and there was a small pile of clothes in the corner. That was all. There was nothing else. Mrs. Mwalo talked to them about their health issues, their income, and their addiction to alcohol, and on and on. She asked tough questions, like “It’s lunch time, why aren’t you preparing food for your children? Why don’t you have a small garden so they can at least have something to eat? Where is the food that was given to you for Peter? Why do you worry more about where your next drink is coming from than the well-being of your children? Why aren’t your children bathed?” She was thorough and she was firm, but she was also kind and compassionate. She also talked to Gift and a few of the neighbors. She discussed different options but in the end said the children would just have to be removed. Before we left, Sharon and Reagan agreed that Peter and Gift would go to a new home where they could be properly cared for. Mrs. Mwalo said that Sharon is very clever and it is her opinion that she only uses the children to get food and money. And so we would all search for a safe haven for the children, and then return. In the meantime, there was not one bite of food at the house. We went to the street market and bought mealie meal (for the staple food, nshima), oil, sugar, salt, and the vegetables commonly used to make the relish which accompanies the nshima – rape, tomatoes, onions, and a special treat of tiny eggplants. We returned with the food, and Mrs. Mwalo also handed an orange to baby Peter. I’m sure they feasted that night, and we all said a prayer that they wouldn’t sell the remaining food to buy beer.

Our mission was clear. Mrs. Mwalo would type her report and file the official findings. Foster and I would immediately begin to search for homes for Peter and Gift. Our first stop was a home we know here in Ndola that keeps HIV+ children. It is Buseko Home – which means joy. We had in fact recently visited there and knew the children were happy and well-cared for. However, the director informed us they were not able to accept any new children at this time. She suggested that we go to St. Anthony’s Home for Children in Masala, which is near the large traditional market where we purchase the food for the school. It is supported by the Catholic Church and Dominican Sisters and is a beautiful place. We immediately had a good feeling when we got out of the car – dozens of children came running, smiling and happy, holding out little hands to greet us, and some with arms outstretched wanting to be picked up and held. And so I picked up one little girl as another held my hand, pulling me to meet the adults, the mothers of the homes, and actually placing my hand in theirs, making sure there was a proper greeting. After a few minutes of reveling in that unexpected joy, we talked to the assistant director, Gertrude.

The director, Maureen was in Ndola. We phoned her, returned to Ndola to pick her up, and discussed the situation on the way back to Masala. She said in fact they would be happy to take both children and care for them. When we returned to the home, we knew we had found a place where the children would most definitely be loved. When we pulled up into the yard, and the children saw Maureen, they mobbed her until she could barely exit the car. They were holding onto her, hugging her legs, chattering and cheering for her return. That’s love. She gave us a tour of several of the houses, citing names and histories of all the children we met. She told us that there have been eight children who entered the home HIV+ who have now tested negative. She said they have been told that before a child is eighteen months it has its mother’s antibodies, but then can develop their own healthy antibodies with proper care and medications. But, as Maureen said “It is just a miracle from God.”

Mrs. Mwalo was familiar with St. Anthony’s and in favor of taking Peter and Gift there. She quickly made her report and we picked her up the following day and returned to Baluba to take Peter and Gift to their new home. The first person we saw was Gift. Poor little Gift - four years old and dressing herself - dress on backwards, buttoned wrong, and pants dragging the ground. Then we saw Peter sitting on the ground. Both children dirty and wearing the same dirty clothes as the day before. And then came Sharon. She refused to let the children leave. Reagan tried to talk to her, even attempted to pry Peter away from her. Mrs. Mwalo talked to her – argued with her. The neighbors gathered around and were yelling at Sharon to just give her children a chance to live and be cared for. But it all fell on deaf ears. We had no choice but to leave without the children. I think we were all crying as we entered the car, and watched as innocent Gift stood there waving good-bye. It was horrible. I think it was the hardest thing I have ever done, to leave those two children there. I wanted to just grab Peter and Gift and run. As we drove back to Luanshya we discussed what the law could do to protect these children. Mrs. Mwalo has never had a parent refuse to give their child a better life, and said she would have to do some research.

Foster and I returned to the Provincial Juvenile Welfare Office in Ndola and they made plans to return with Mrs. Mwalo and the police to forcibly remove Peter and Gift from the home. I dread that trip to Baluba and the ensuing encounter. But, we never know what each day will bring. That was Friday, and Saturday afternoon our guard came to find me at the house. He said there was a man with a child here to see me. But we never know what each day will bring. This afternoon, our guard came to find me and said there was a man with a child at the gate to see me. As I started walking down the path, Reagan, Peter’s father started walking toward me. I could see Sharon crouching near the guard house with Peter wrapped in a chitenge on her back. I immediately said a prayer of thanksgiving. We have been praying mightily that Sharon’s eyes and heart would be opened. Reagan speaks English quite well, and told me that he had just been talking and talking to his wife and now she agrees the children must go where they can be cared for properly. He said he told her to think of what will happen to the children after they are gone. He said “Me, I was even crying.” He said you’ve seen where we live, you know we have nothing and we cannot care for the children – God bless you for loving our children and wanting to help them.

When I approached Sharon, she greeted me and then immediately handed Peter to me – a sign of her willingness to release him. They wanted to see St. Anthony’s Children’s Home, so Ron and I drove them to Masala. The director was not there, but I explained to Gertrude that these were the parents and the infant Foster and I had talked to them about earlier in the week. Sharon passed Peter to me through the car window and remained inside the vehicle. I asked Reagan if Sharon wouldn’t like to come inside and see where her son would be living, but Ron said he would go to the car for her. I don’t know what he said or did, since Sharon doesn’t understand English, but he came back inside with her. Reagan was telling Peter to greet his new friends, and Peter was holding out his little hand to the other children. It was plain to see how pleased Reagan was – he saw happy children, laughing and playing. He remarked how clean and orderly the homes were, and how clean and well dressed and healthy looking all the children were. Even Sharon seemed to mellow as she spoke with the house mothers, explaining about Peter’s TB medication which she had brought along. Gertrude also explained that they were free to come and visit the children here, contact would not be severed. The house mother took Peter from me and whisked him away for a bath, complete with clean clothes and a diaper. As we drove back to Baluba we talked with Reagan trying to make sure they were sure – that Peter and Gift would be ready to go to this lovely new home on Monday morning. We felt they must be sincere since they had found a way to come here to our site at George all the way from Baluba – which is a very long distance. We spent the remainder of the weekend praying. Praying for a smooth transition on Monday. Praying that Sharon and Reagan are sincere. Praying that Sharon and Reagan’s hearts remain as they were this day – full of unselfish love for their children. Praying that Sharon and Reagan find peace and favor with the Lord. Praying for a happy new life for these two precious children.

And then came Monday, today. Foster came in from his home in Kitwe on the bus, and I met him at the turn off to Luanshya. He was ringing Mrs. Mwalo, but there was no answer. We drove to the office and she was not there. Fortunately we knew her home, and found her there and explained what had happened Saturday. She was relieved to not have to involve the police. It just makes it that much more difficult for everyone, especially the children. We drove to her office and she collected her papers and we were off to Baluba once more. When we arrived our anxieties quickly left as Sharon, Reagan, Gift and Peter all piled in to the car without incident. There was paperwork to be completed once we arrived at St. Anthony’s and so I picked up Gift and walked around with her, while one of the house mother’s again scooped Peter up in her arms and bathed and dressed him in clean clothes. I returned to find a shouting match occurring between Sharon and everyone else in the room. Sharon had changed her mind about leaving Gift. Mrs. Mwalo told her the choice was not hers any longer, that the law had made the decision. I quickly passed Gift to one of the mothers as the arguing continued. I followed a few minutes later and found Gift also being bathed and hair washed. Sharon was now sitting outside the house and Foster told me to get in the car. We were going for the police because Sharon refused to leave without Gift. We found a police station at Masala and were returning with one of the biggest, burliest looking police officers I have ever seen, when we spotted Sharon walking through the market. The officer jumped out of the car and escorted Sharon to the police station where she received a proper lecture from the officer in charge. As we drove back to Baluba, all you could hear was Sharon yelling. I asked Foster to translate a little please. He said she was saying that her husband doesn’t provide for her – she doesn’t have any nice clothes or shoes or a nice home or money for anything. I asked if she had said anything about the children. Mrs. Mwalo said she had not mentioned them once. She said she was only complaining about her own needs and wanting money. Mrs. Mwalo gave her a little bit of money from her own pocket – she said just for the sake of peace – and Sharon immediately quieted down and never said another word. When we finally dropped them at their home, I gave Reagan a Bible, and asked him to please read it and read it to Sharon. He thanked me and said he would. And Sharon also thanked me. I’ll never understand all that has transpired here. The only thing I can know for sure is that it is all according to God’s will.

Now, we continue in prayer for Sharon and Reagan and Gift and Peter. We are praying that Sharon and Reagan come to know the Lord in what time they have left, and that they seek counseling and treatment for their disease. I left Peter sitting in a bed playing with a toy – something I’m sure he has never done before, and Gift was in a tub full of water, hair soaped and eyes wide with wonder. I know that right now, they are being loved as they have never been loved before. We will return to visit, many times before leaving for the U.S. Maureen made a point to let us know “You are always most welcome here, anytime.”

I don’t think we’ll ever know the truth of the past, and at this point it really doesn’t matter. But what we do know is that Gift and Peter now have a chance at life, and hope for a future. Thank you Lord for your mercy and grace. Thank you Lord for blessing our lives with these special children, Gift and Peter. We thank you for providing a Christian home full of love for these children. We are so very thankful for the love and care and peace Peter and Gift will now know. But, my heart is still aching, for so many reasons. As we left Baluba for the last time today, I looked out onto the crowd of children who had gathered around us. And as they were smiling and waving good-bye, I wondered. How many more – how many more Peters and Gifts are there? Are they here right in front of me? Am I looking into their eyes now as I wave a tearful good-bye? Lord, please show us the way, guide our steps.