Sometimes the truth is hard to hear. That is why we need to hear it. If we don’t know the truth about situations, we may fall prey to deception from Satan. But when we know truth, we can pray in the Spirit for God to be working in those situations. Below is another blog written by Pastor Gift Dlamini of Swaziland. This man is appointed by God to serve his country in the poorest area, Nsoko, and his love for Swaziland and for the people of the country is so great, it can only be God’s love indwelling. Please read this account and pray for Swaziland, specifically this time that God would be working in this woman’s heart and she would be healed, and also that God would be working in the men’s life that hurt her. Please note, this true story deals with some very sensitive subjects.
 
 The Real Life Team has left for Manzini and I am sitted in my
house with Mxolisi playing a game of cards. I’m trying to tone down in
preparation for the Young Adult coming with Morgan. Phumzile, a shop
keeper from the small grocery shop across the street comes running into
the house as if something is after her. “Pastor, they have sent me to
call you. Maswane is very sick and they need your help”, she announces.
 
   We immediately stop playing and the much needed toning down and
rush for the Matsenjwa homestead which is not more than 4 kilometres
from the Community Center. We find this 19 year old girl writhing in
pain and her grandmother begins to tell us what is wrong with her. I
began to observe her from a distance and realized what was wrong with
her. I then drove back home to get my first aid kit and a book loaned
to me by Isabel ‘When the Doctor is Away’. Maswane has a terrible skin
problem. Her skin looks like a rough snake or lizard skin and has sores
that are full of abscess all over the body. Her breasts are covered in
scales that are hard to look at. Putting gloves in my hands I began to
imagine the pain she was going through and wanted to know all about
where it began. After having washed her sores, applied sore cream to
them, I then gave her antibiotics and pain tablets. We used a vitamin c
drink to wash them down her throat and waited. When she looked calm and
settled I ordered everyone out so I could talk to her. Here is what
transpired:
 
   “Tell me Maswane what happened to you when you were young?”, I asked. 
 
   “Pastor, I have been
meaning to talk to someone about this before I die. When I was almost
six years old, in the year 2000, I was raped by my martenal cousin. It
happened right here in this house. Every one was away and I was not
schooling then. He came to the house early in the morning and he raped
me. The issue was reported to the police and I was taken to Saint
Philips clinic for examination. But to this day nothing has happened to
my cousin Zakhele. I hear he has done a similar thing to another five
year old. They say he has completely damaged the young girl womanhood.
No wonder, he damaged me too. They even say he is now on the most
wanted police list because he raped an older woman.
 
   Pastor, there is something
else I must tell you. Not only Zakhele raped me but also my uncle. He
is my father ‘s brother because they share the same mother but they
have different fathers. He died in December but after a long illness.
The scales you see on my body started soon after Zakhele raped me, but
I think I got HIV from my uncle. I have only one wish now, to see
Zakhele, my cousin paying for his sins. My uncle is dead and I cannot
do anything about it now. However, can you help me pastor make sure the
police find Zakhele and put him in jail.”
 
   “Where is he”? 
 
   “I hear he is up the
mountain with relatives in South Africa. It is possible to get to him.
You know what pastor. One thing that is painful in this whole thing is
that I have never had a man have me because I consented. All the men
that have been with me they had done so by force. My privates parts
were damaged from
young and now I DO NOT KNOW A MAN.”
 
   When she said this, I was already weeping and could not imagine
the amount of emotional pain she is going through even as I write.
Maswane is a real person and this is a true story. It is not fiction at
all as it might seem. The Real Life Team while in Nsoko visited with
Maswane on several occassions. In fact there is one girl who struck
some kind of a relationship with her. We praise God for these teams
because they help by spending time with the dying in Nsoko. I believe
for Maswane to open up to me is because of the ground work that has
been done by the team members.
 
   Her mother came to me in the afternoon to say thank you for
helping her daughter while she was at the farms working. She narrated
how painful it is to leave her daughter alone in the morning for work.
There is nothing she could do since she is the bread winner. She
confirmed Maswane’s rape by the cousin and how that created animosity
in the family. She was surprised to learn that she was also raped by
the late uncle and we began to cry together. We cried with no one to
comfort us. I’m not sure why I was crying. May be because crying was
the only thing I could do. She cried right by the training ground where
she found me and it hurt so deep to see a mother weeping for a daughter
that knows not a man.
 
   Maswane gave me permission to use her story and her real name
so people could realize the level of child abuse have come to in
Swaziland.  I do not know how to react. I do not know what to do. I do
not know what to think. How can we stop this? How can one fulfill
Maswane’s wish?
 
   Pray!