I knew coming to Swaziland would take me up close and personal with the devastating effects of AIDS. However, as much as my brain could prepare me, the first time looking into the eyes of a child that is HIV+, is something no one can mentally prepare for.
His name was Banele. I met him when our team went to the hospital in Mbabane (about an hour away from our homestead). This beautiful little boy caught my eye because he was the only child in the room without a parent or relative by their side. I went to his side and sat for about 15 minutes with my teammate Meagan, trying to get him to smile—it was hard, especially since he didn’t understand English. Every time we got a hint of a smile, it would quickly vanish into a sorrowful gaze. After awhile, I gave-up trying to bring joy to the child, and went over to talk to some girls (keep in mind that at this point of the trip, I still know very few sSwati phrases). The girls quickly sensed my obvious lack of comprehension and started talking to me in nearly perfect English.
I would have been content to have just talked with the girls for the rest of the visit, because it was easy, they spoke English, and they actually smiled back. However, God placed on my heart a burden for the little boy that would not smile. I realized he gifted me with the two girls that spoke English so that I could go back over and communicate with him. As I walked back this time with my two little translators, I silently prayed for strength and direction. After trying to talk with him again, all I was able to find out was that he was 9 years old (though he looked 6). I was starting to become discouraged, as it was like pulling teeth to get him talk. Finally, all I could do was ask if I could pray for him.
I doubted the boy would respond willing to prayer based on how our previous conversation had gone, but I put my head down, placed my hand on his skinny leg, and started asking the Lord for healing. Half way through the prayer I got the desire to look-up at him. What I expected was to see his eyes open and the same sorrowful gaze I had been looking into. Instead, what I saw broke and endeared my heart forever to him. Banele’s eyes were closed, his head bent down, and his fingers clenched tightly together. I will always remember the image of this little boy, for it was the most brilliant display of the beauty and purity in the faith of a child.
