Jessica

Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Sinkukwe Elementary School (Sinkukwe, Zimbabwe)
Afternoon

"I am so distant from the hope of myself, in which I have goodness,
and discernment, and never hurry through the world but walk slowly,
and bow often."

Then there is Jessica: a young woman, but eighteen or twenty, who was
close to death in 2007. I remember her vividly. There are some whose
feeble attempt at a smile I will never forget. This is Jessica. I know
the answer to my question, but I can't help myself from wishing for a
miracle. Obert rocks softly on the chair in the Newcomer's living
room. We are waiting to leave, to enter the community and visit the
patients in the homesteads. The room is suddenly quiet, and it is just
he and I. I grab the courage to ask him. "Obert, let me ask you, I
know it sounds silly, but do you remember a young girl named Jessica.
She was eighteen or maybe twenty, and her mother and gogo were taking
care of her? She was quite sick." He continues to rock, looking down,
almost ominously. He thinks. "Jessica," he murmurs her name to
himself. "Jessica," he repeats. He continues to rock, thinking. "Yes,"
he chimes in, "I remember, yes." He thinks again. "She has passed,"
matter-of-factly. He and I sit there across from one another, and it
is hard to fight tears in this situation. They come slowly and quietly
as if I'm not allowed. Looking at Obert, my voice cracks so slightly;
and it's hard not to feel silly. I spent two days, an hour a day, with
Jessica a year and a half ago. Granted I've thought of her often.
Nevertheless silly.