In the eyes of every child is the light of the future. If that light dims so does the hope of this world.
We were in Ethiopia less than 24 hours when we were sidelined by a suicide call for help and the preying eyes of HIV. We were in the office of an NGO waiting to meet our sponsored children when three women showed up. Their hands restless, eyes wide and unsettled. A staff member turned to me and said; “A woman is threatening to commit suicide and kill her son. He is two years old. She’s not from here, doesn’t know anyone and has no family. She is alone.”
The staff member searched my eyes for recognition. “She was just diagnosed with the Virus.”
People here do not call Human Immune Deficiency Virus by its name nor its acronym; HIV. They whisper “the Virus”. If you have the Virus, it is a death sentence. Grandparents have seen a generation die before their eyes. Children have seen fathers, mothers, aunties, and uncles die from the Virus. It is a never ending cycle.
The staff member made arrangements for an outreach worker to be with the mother. To hold her hand. And sit with her through the shock, to counsel her. Stop reading. Think about this mother. What would run through your mind? Yes. It probably is the same. Call it empathy, compassion but allow it time. The busy chaos of our lives can wait a moment.
Life is a series of moments. For my myself and my mother it is about creating moments of joy and laughter between the pangs of suffering. We hear stories of sorrow, and we listen. Not out of pity----out of the ability to draw connections to humanity. People no matter how poor or sick want respect as a fellow human being. We drove down crevices of a street lined with boxy mud houses pressed with strands of hay.
A makeshift stall supported on three sides with a wooden frame covered with remnants of bags displaying a pile of tomatoes waiting to be sold. Children waving. Women with tightly braided hair walking, white viscose shawls draped about them, from underneath peeked a child clinging to a breast. Everything has a rhythm. Every face a possibility.
Ethiopia was the first stop on our journey. This trip to Africa was to visit children; who have been affected by HIV and poverty. We carry parcels of encouragement and hope. Out suitcases overweight with pencils, notebooks, soap and shampoo, toothpaste and toothbrushes and Tootsie Roll lollipops. It is a luxury to buy these things when you can barely afford food to feed a family of five.
One hour before the suicide plea, we were in the main office of Hope For Children (HFC) an NGO in Addis Ababa that maintains eight group homes for children orphaned by HIV and helps 500+ children through outreach. The director, Woinshet was showing us photos; the first was of a child looking at a candle flame. The text under the photo read: In the eyes of every child is the light of the future. If that light dims so does the hope of this world. The next set of photos were before and after shots of children nursed back to health, a baby whose mother had died in childbirth, whom doctors thought would not live to see the next day, had been brought to Hope For Children and had surprised everyone.
Woinshet had returned recently from a conference about social change in which the Dalai Lama had also attended. “You know what he said to me? He said that I must continue to give unconditional love,” she smiled. Love that gives without pause to a four year old whom had lost his mother, father and sister to the Virus. When grief counselors took the child to the tomb of his family and to his home which was empty---he began to understand that his family would not return.
Binders of black files lined the bookshelves of the office. The files contained pages of profiles of children who were orphaned and living with family relatives who need support. Hope for Children runs a sponsorship program where $250/year provides for school fees, books, clothing, medical care, and food for a child. More importantly, it allows a child who has endured suffering a chance at a life of new beginnings. Hope for Children realizes the need to help children and families to cope when their lives have been cut short with the diagnosis of HIV.
The focus is on the now--providing basic needs; shelter, clothing, medical care, and education. Aware that most children will stop being children before age 10 and will have to fend for themselves and their siblings, Woinshet emphasizes the need for a continuum of care, long term solutions for children affected by HIV. “Most NGOs think that a child’s life ends after 18, but it is just another two to three more steps to their future.” If families want to receive assistance from the NGO, children must attend school.
To facilitate their chances of youth pursuing higher education, HFC has introduced English classes, an asset that families who live below the poverty line can’t normally afford. To reduce social stigma and increase awareness, children and teens participate in a Saturday program of singing, dancing and sports.
Outreach workers visit homes and conduct traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremonies with women’s groups to discuss how to protect themselves and how to prevent getting infected with the Virus. They talk about causes of HIV; that it is not a punishment, it is not a curse. That HIV is non-discriminating and can affect anyone; no one is immune to the virus. The ultimate goal is to decrease incidence, the appearance of new cases of HIV and to educate communities to reduce the blow of social stigma. Home based care volunteers teach families how to care for someone dying from AIDS; where to go to get Anti-retroviral medications, how to wash a mother who has sores, how to hold an aunty who is weak. Care and support continues into the aftermath of the Virus.
Yellow wooden memory boxes with small padlocks stood about eight feet and lined the back wall of one of the rooms in the office. The memory boxes contain family genealogies, christening certificates, property deeds, hopes and dreams of parents to their surviving relatives.
Imagine opening a memory box as a child fumbling through papers that were touched by your mother’s hand, reading her wishes for your future. I saw Woinshet the next morning and asked her about the suicide mother. “She is ok. I called throughout the night to check on her. It will take time, but she will be all right.”
Unconditional love.
