Friday, March 20, 2009

Yesterday

Thursday, March 19, 2009
In Obert's Office (Mtshabezi, Zimbabwe)
Morning

"When you enter a house, first say, 'Peace to this house.'"

As expected I don't have much to discuss about yesterday's visit to
see the AIDE's patients in the homesteads. Going into specific details
seems challenging right now and to be perfectly honest, pointless. I
could never do the smells justice. But essentially the patients live
in tiny cyclical huts, lying down in bed, as their family circulates
them trying to offer comfort and suffering relief.

Obert brings us back to the office to talk about the day of visiting.
"Do you have any questions about today?" he asks.

I don't necessarily, but I opt to share with him some of the concerns
that I have been thinking throughout the day as we spent time with the
patients. "I'm a bit hesitant to show up, like today, in these
homesteads, to visit the hospital here at Mtshabezi, and to come into
the community as this white powerful imperialist American, thinking
that we can fix all of the local problems. I know that Dad agrees, and
that is simply not our intentions."

Obert speaks in tentative, deliberate, robot-sounding English. "I
know, I know," he says under his breath, as he tends to do. "You
touched me today. You go and sit next to the patient, you hold the
patient's hand, you touch me."

"Uh, yes, of course. I don't want them to think that I'm scared of
them or something…I just…it's just really important to me that it is
understood that I don't think I am some savior. All I think I can do
is show love and care and that is all that I can do. That is all we
can offer," indicating Dad also.

Obert takes a moment, as he tends to do, gathering his thoughts.

"Here, Zimbabweans, we value relationships, closeness. 'Ah, someone
has visited me,' we think. Moreover, we think, to be visited by a
mukiwa means to us that we are recognized, not forgotten, someone from
far away is thinking about me."

He takes a moment and I feel heard and encouraged. He continues,
speaking of a patient we just returned from visiting named Sifundele,
"She thinks, she is still a person, she is still a human being."
Another pause, again, deliberate, again emotional. "It is good what
you do."

1 comment:

  1. thanks for sharing, stephen. so cool to see how you are reconnecting with and learning from shelton. your open, tender heart are great reminders of faith, hope, and love. we miss you and keep you in prayers -janger

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