Mtshabezi

Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Newcomer's Dinner Table (Mtshabezi, Zimbabwe)
Morning

"…life is more than clothes and cars and a new flavor of toothpaste,
that it is community and creation and beauty and humanity."

Dad and I leave Bulawayo Tuesday afternoon to drive the 100 kilometers
south into the bush towards the Mtshabezi AiIDS Mission. The Mission
is a small organization that is run by the Brethren In Christ Church
and supported by Forgotten Voices. There are two projects, the AIDS
community work and the local Mtshabezi hospital. They are not always
necessarily related in all activities, but they work together in
support of many functions. The AIDS project essentially teaches the
community about AIDS prevention, provides service kits to those
infected, trains local leaders as homecare givers, counsels, guides,
and generally looks after the alarmingly high number of HIV infected
community members. After a formal meeting with Obert – one of the AIDS
project administrators – we are introduced to new friends in Steve and
Chris Newcomer. We are to stay with them, and they have dinner
prepared for us. Along with lively conversation, I 'm surprised to
learn that both Steve and Chris attended Messiah, as well as their
daughters who are about my age. (So if anyone reading this from
Messiah knows Joy or Hope tell them that their parents rock!).

Continuing my jet lagged insomnia trend, I hear the Newcomer's pack
up and leave around 5 in the morning. They are heading to South Africa
on a two-day food stock journey. This is a customary process in
Zimbabwe, a monthly trip to South Africa or Botswana to stock up on
necessities that are unavailable for purchase in country – water,
milk, sugar, salt, food, etc. They Newcomer's are graciously leaving
their home for us to stay during our time in Mtshabezi.

But it's 5 in the morning and I question the true reason for why I'm
unable to sleep. I suppose it is the time change. It is too radical to
not be a factor. But I think an ancillary reason is just fear of
tomorrow. Obert has made a plan of two full days of homestead visits
in the community. I've done this before. I'm obviously aware of what
to expect. I'll do this again. Still, I hold trepidation in my steps.
I believe this is what I am referring to when I vacillate between
anxiety and nervousness, excitement and fear.

Last night, as Dad and I lay in bed, we are talking by the light of
the mosquito repellant candle. I say, "I'm not sure how I feel about
tomorrow."

He is unaware, not having done this before, and he questions why.

"Well, I really want to do this, I need to do this, but I'm just
nervous about doing this. It's pretty jarring and horrific out there."

I remember in 2007 traveling from homestead patient to homestead
patient, each one more horrific then the previous. Essentially the
Mtshabezi hospital releases the indisposed patient to the family so
that they can "pass in peace and dignity." It was scary, convicting,
troubling, challenging, frustrating, and it sat with me. I would be in
my room that evening preparing to journal my trip to someone. Every
evening on my trip I would tell her everything about the day, what I
learned, what I saw, what I thought; but on the days of the homestead
visits I was weak to write. I couldn't explain what I just
experienced. There weren't words sufficent.