The first thing I noticed is that he had a large burn on the back of his neck. Immediately I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that this injury was no accident. Everyone told me not to panic. Fires are very common here (for cooking, etc.) and it could have been an accident. So, I took a deep breath, calmed myself down, and began to observe Kiwi. As I looked closer, I began to notice small cigarette burns all over his arms, legs, ankles, and back. All of these burns were at different stages of healing signifying that this abuse has been happening for some time.
After sitting awhile becoming more and more assured that Kiwi is being abused, Lindsay and I pulled over Umfudisi (one of our translators) to talk to him. I asked about the burn on the back of his neck and he told me that someone beat him. My heart broke. Here is a precious, quiet boy probably about six-years-old and he is living in the midst of a horrendous nightmare.
I think I made him nervous as I continued to ask questions, especially considering that Swaziland is not a culture that talks about the hard things. I asked if someone inside or outside his home was beating him. Immediately he looked very frightened. “No, no… not someone from my home. I don’t know who.” When I asked about the other scars he replied that they were bug bites. I could tell it terrified him to talk to me about this. I didn’t want to push it any farther. So, we began to tell Kiwi about God’s love for him, that God is always there to listen, and that he can talk to God anytime he is afraid.
I spent the remainder of our time at Ngunya with Kiwi sitting on my lap. I hugged him, prayed over him, kissed his cheek, and
tried to fight away the ever-familiar feeling of helplessness. I wanted to rescue him, but I had no clue how to do that.
A tear escaped and slid down my cheek as we drove away. Kiwi is too young and frightened to stand up for himself. I sat in the back of the van silently wondering, “Who will speak for him? If I don’t, will anyone?”
We walked up the dirt road to the small care point called Ngunya. Timidly Kiwi (pronounced Gee-wee) came over and shook my hand. “Un jani?” (How are you?) I asked. He answered barely above a whisper. Kiwi continued to hold my hand for the rest of the day. He didn’t say much, but he would occasionally break into giggles as I looked at him and smiled.
