Even after being here for 6 weeks, God continues to open my eyes every day to how blessed my life has been. This week he has been showing me how blessed I was to have the childhood that I had. Every Thursday we go to the Manzini hospital. Last Thursday, I had just bought a bottle of nail polish and was walking around to see where exactly God wanted me to go. I ended up walking into a room where I met a 12 year old girl named Senanile. I asked her if she wanted me to paint her nails and her face just lit up. We started to talk and I found out that she had TB. I asked her where her parents were and she said that they had both died. Senanile is a beautiful girl; her smile could make a difference in anyone’s day. It broke my heart that when I was her age, I complained about school, wanting “seconds” of ice-cream, and my parents delegating a bedtime for me. But at age 12, she was in that room all day, every day, by herself.
After the hospital, we went to the slums. When we got there it was a little discouraging because the carepoint was closed and no one was there. The majority of our team went to walk around the slums to try to gather some kids to do a VBS. I stayed behind with a few girls. A grandma (who looked only old enough to be a mom) and a little girl with a baby on her back came to the carepoint. The girl was 8 and was carrying a 2 year old kid on her back (in one of those things that ties around you). I asked her if I could hold the baby for her and then was like, “well, it would be kind of fun to try on one of those back things,” because literally every lady ties their baby on their back, whether with a blanket or a cloth carrier thing. So I held the baby on my back and after about 20 minutes my back was aching. I have NO idea how a 2nd grade girl can physically hold the 2 year old child on her back for that long. I talked to our translator, Cynthia, about it and she said that the little girl was probably forced to carry the baby around and that it probably really did hurt her. The little girl had a school uniform on, meaning that she was at school all day and then had to come home to basically raise a child—at age 8. The 8 year old and the lady, which ended up being the children’s grandma, both really enjoyed VBS. The 8 year old actually had a chance to be a kid. After VBS, I asked the girl if she wanted her little sister back and she shook her head no. Megan ended up telling the girl to come and sit in her lap and she instantly cuddled up to her. Megan felt so many knots in her back, most likely from carrying the child around.
I realized how fortunate, and spoiled, I was to actually have a childhood that consisted of cartoons, snacks, naptime, bedtime stories, and amazing parents. Kids in America are so extremely blessed to be able to actually be kids. In America, kids fake sick to stay home from school and watch cartoons. Here, school is the best part of the day—it is their break, their time for themselves. After school, they return home to numerous chores. At night, many of the little girls are forced to prostitute themselves in order to make money for their family. Some kids spend their childhood in the hospital, suffering from AIDS or TB, often as a result of their parents’ mistakes or from being raped. Seriously, it is so sad. Today, a little girl in my lap kept randomly bursting into tears. She said it was from a scratch on her foot but I know that it comes from deeper pains from her home life. When you hold a crying child in America, it is typically because their world is over from a toy being stolen or tripping and scraping their knee. But here, you hold that crying child knowing that it could be from being raped or abused at home, or from being starved of food. Most of the kids here have experienced stuff by age 5 that most Americans will never deal with in a life time. These children are absolutely incredible though. They long to have their noses wiped while they’re crying or to have you kiss their boo-boos. I watch these little kids and realize how much I took for granted as a child and still do.
Although these kids are deprived of a lot of the “things” I had as a child; they seem to grasp what is most important in life. As a child, I had no sense of real priorities. I had no idea of the real concept of faith. The kids here truly learn what it means to “trust God.” When we teach them the verse, “When I am afraid, I will trust in him,” it doesn’t have to do with the fictional monsters under their bed; it has to do with the men hiding in the shadows, preying on them in the dark. They have to learn to rely on God to provide for them and to protect them. The children here have so much hope and so much love. They care so much about each other and they stick together to watch out for one another. They are so grateful for a sucker, a hand to hold, and arms to swing them around. They appreciate it if they are blessed with one meal of pop and beans from the carepoint. Pray for these children—that they will somehow keep their childlike innocence even though they go through so much. Pray for their protection every night, that no matter the desperation, their bodies and minds will be protected. Pray that they will never lose their hope and faith in Jesus Christ.
“But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen and protect you from the evil one…May the Lord direct your hearts and into God’s love and Christ’s perseverance.” 2 Thessalonians 3:3, 5
