I said in my last blog that the cloud of hopelessness that blankets this land had finally covered over me. I have now been sitting under this cloud for nearly a week. In some moments the weight of it seems almost normal, but in other moments I feel as though I am literally suffocating under its weight.
Today it is the latter.
I am sitting in a restaurant with tears welling up in my eyes as I type. This will be the fourth time I have cried today and I haven’t even left my home. Any moment of vulnerability or honest communication brings these tears that I just can’t seem to hold back.
I am at the end of myself. I have nothing left to give. There is so much that I want to offer to the people here, but I feel like I have nothing left. I am completely spent emotionally, physically, and spiritually.
I really don’t know how to function under the weight of this place. I don’t know how to offer hope when I can’t seem to find it myself. Everyday there seems to be less and less that I can do.
I sat with my little four-year-old girl in the midst of her pain, but then she disappeared into the crowd. I don’t know what happened to her, but I can only assume that she walked back to her home where she is either being abused or raped.
Some of my teammates were able to take Dudu, a 26-year-old dying of AIDS/TB/Meningitis, to the hospital, but she is still going to die, probably before we leave Swaziland. Her 4-month old son will soon be orphaned. Nothing I can do will change this.
There is a family that I have fallen in love with here. Thabsile, the mom, is dying of AIDS. Yet another grim reality that I cannot change. I want to get her kids tested, but it’s not culturally appropriate for me to ask if I can take them. Even something simple that I could actually do to help them, but the culture tells me I can’t.
Two-thirds of the kids that I love, hug, and play with each day have HIV and without medication it is doubtful that they will reach 14. What difference will the teacher training I’m doing make if kids aren’t going to live long enough to graduate? What good are the games, smiles, hugs if I am then sending kids home to starvation, abuse, and death? It all seems so trivial right now.
I hate feeling so helpless! I hate looking people in the eyes and not being able to do anything for them. I hate watching the people I love here slowly die and not being able to change a thing.
I have come to the end of myself…. Jesus please meet me here!
