Rough Start

Our first day of outreach we met Bruce. He shared a bit about himself and we shared our vision. He was receptive and really grasped what we were trying to do. He promptly led us to his entire family which was scattered all over Chinotimba. The last stop was his home. It was a 6 by 6 square in the foundation of an unfinished home. Their walls were blankets and their roof was scraps.

Bruce’s wife came out to greet us. After talking for a bit we asked if there were any needs that they had. He pulled a list of medical items from his pocket. Rubber gloves, bed liners, wool cotton and umbilical cord clamps. He explained that the hospital will turn them away if they don’t bring the supplies for the birth. He then told us that his wife had been having contractions and they expected to have the baby very soon. We offered to take him and purchase the items he needed. We also bought nappys, a baby cap and a blanket for the baby.

On the way back to Bruce’s home, I dropped Nichole off so she could start dinner. When I arrived at his home, his wife came out and her water broke. I sprung into action, feeling excited that I was there to help them have the baby. I helped them into our vehicle and drove them to the hospital. I dropped them off at the entrance and parked the car. We had not purchased the rubber gloves yet, so they had to buy them from the hospital. When I came in they were meticulously counting out 12 pairs of gloves as the birthing mother stood there wincing and bleeding everywhere. The hospital was dilapidated and broken down. There were mosquitoes every where and the smell was stale and balmy. There were ominous signs everywhere that had disturbing health awareness messages. There was a sign that warned people that having sex with a woman or child that was Albino would NOT cure HIV.

We still needed a bed liner and cotton wool and the hospital wouldn’t provide any, so Bruce and I had to call a pharmacist at his home and meet him at his shop. When we returned to the hospital with the supplies I followed Bruce back to where his wife was. I followed him into a big empty room with a lonely bed in the middle where his wife was laying naked, crying and unattended. I exited the room immediately and stood outside in the hall. I told the nurse in the hall way that I was here with Bruce and his wife. She went and fetched a sheet for them, and I went back into the room. Bruce explained that the nurses had yelled at his wife for not having the wool and bed liner. Not knowing what to say, I asked if I could pray for them. Being respectful I stretched my hand towards her but I did not touch her. My heart sunk when I realized that her husband would not touch her either…

Sitting with Bruce, the nurses and no doctors; they explained to him that the child was very small and probably only 5 1/2 months old. This was contradictory to what they had told him a week prior. They told us that they didn’t have incubators but they had a room that the kept very warm with all of the doors shut. Knowing a bit about premature babies, I swallowed hard. I was not sure why we began to review feeding options until I realized that the mother had HIV. Again I swallowed hard.

They would not allow him to stay with his wife overnight at the hospital so we left and I dropped him off to find his uncle in a bar.

The next morning, Bruce came to our house to let us know they had a baby boy that morning, but he was very small. Hope for the baby stirred in my heart. Nichole and I took him back to the hospital to see the child. There was a window into the premature birth room and we saw the little boy. He was tiny, and weighed less then a can of coke. Just after seeing him we sat in the hallway. Bruce came out 2 minutes later to let us know that the baby had just died. We tried to comfort him, but he left the hallway promptly. Nichole and I sat there staring at the wall in front of us. I knew we needed to be strong for the family so when I looked into my wife’s watering eyes, I gently encouraged her that God had us here for a purpose and asked her to be strong and hang in for just a little longer.

The next hour felt like an eternity. We sat with the family, searching for words but found nothing that seemed to fit, so we just sat there with them and prayed. The hallway was filled with solemn faces but there were no tears. Our hearts were breaking… The hospital staff explained to Bruce and myself that they don’t bury babies this small and that we would need to go fetch two liters of petrol and firewood for the incinerator. My soul ached. I became acutely aware of luxury.

They asked if I would like to see the baby again and I sensed that Bruce did not want to do it alone so I accompanied him. I prayed over the child and as I prayed I lifted my eyes to see a working incubator in the corner of room. I became acutely aware of injustice.

It’s a bit soon for us to say with confidence how we should respond. One thing is certain, a fire has ignited deep inside of us and there is an burning craving for righteousness and justice. The Gospel offers both, and that is where we are headed to find our answer. We intend to share what we find, but we are also intersted to hear your thoughts on how we should respond in light of the Gospel.