Tuesday morning started like any other Tuesday. Laura and I did our morning routines and headed off to our Tuesday gather place to walk in the community making visits with the volunteers. I went with dear sweet Ines. She is one of strongest woman I may ever meet. She walks miles each day, up and down large hills- I have trouble keeping up. This day was no different. We walked to this one woman’s house; I have been to see her a few times recently. As usual the situation is critical and unfortunately, typical. She is sick with tuberculosis and is HIV positive. She is a single mother of 5 children. She is not taking TB treatment or antiretrovirals. As I asked questions, I found that she had been to the hospital last week for malaria. Then she showed me the medication she did have. She had half of the tablets left for her malaria treatment. Malaria treatment consists of taking tablets 2x/day for 3 days. She should not have any tablets remaining. I found myself getting frustrated, even angry. I suppose this isn’t so surprising considering I have seen these desperate situations for many months now. In my frustrated state I asked, “Ines, Why? Why does she still have tablets left?” Ines asked the woman. She responded to me, “She has no food and they make her sick in her stomach.”
Oh. Oh, I thought. Of course. Why would she take them? She feels terrible all the time anyway- TB, HIV, malaria, hunger. Who wouldn’t? And then, we expect her to take these tablets that do what? Make her feel worse.
I said no more.
Over the next few hours this made even more sense.
Walking these hills with the summer sun beating down upon us it was hot, I was sweating. At the next visit we sat in the shade. Suddenly I wasn’t feeling okay. And I was cold! I was shivering! Oh, gosh, something isn’t okay. (To continue with the point of my story, I will skip forward a number of hours.)
By 2 o’clock I myself was laying in bed with malaria. (Don’t worry I didn’t collapse or anything dramatic) By 230pm I myself was taking malaria treatment. By 4pm I felt worse than before taking anything. I now could relate to that woman. I didn’t want to take my own malaria treatment.
Thank you Lord for helping me to emphasize more.
Next...
The malaria ran it’s cycle, my dear friend Fena came to visit me while I was in bed one day. When she arrived I was finishing watching the movie PS I Love You. She and her baby sat and joined me. At one point the woman on the show was crying. I said, “Fena she’s so sad.”
“Why?” Fena inquired.
“Her husband died,” I said.
Raising her eyebrows and nodding in affirmation like only African’s can she said, “hmm.”
A moment of silence passed before she blurted.
“He died from what? Malaria.”
Trying not to chuckle I said, “No Fena, he had a brain tumor.”
Yet another vast contrast of the world I am in here.
(PS: I am feeling much better now!)
