On the concrete floor of the schoolhouse, two girls sit next to each other. They are both about 5 years old, and both students in the tiny preschool building in Manzini. In the classroom, they are both equals, each given the same number of crayons, each given the same amount of porridge and sugar at mealtime. But there is a striking difference between the two. One has soft, smooth skin, well fed, hair braided back. The other covered in scars, hair falling out, and worst of all, a cough that shakes your heart when you hear it. The AIDS virus shows no prejudice. It will conquer the body of a drug addict, and unfortunately, the body of a small preschooler as well.
Statistics show that 48% of Swaziland is infected with the AIDS virus. But this does not even include the people in the mountains that live in small villages.
Either way, this country is plagued with death, and you do not have to venture into the remote mountains to see it. Every single day I see a child with bony knees, ribs protruding out of bodies that defy the very process of living. It has become normal. I am becoming numb to it. I realized that even if this is the “norm” in Swaziland, THIS is NOT normal. It is NOT okay. These children will not live to grow up.
They will never learn to drive a car,
they will never see the ocean.
They will never fall in love and have children of their own.
They might not even make it to middle school.
But they get up every morning, put on their clothes, and walk to class. The ones I work with are SMART. They know more than most 1st graders in America. They can speak English and are proud to show it off. They sing songs and dance and pray to God with the sweetest, most earnest spirit. I believe God has a place for them somewhere up there, a special place, where they can run without becoming tired, laugh without having to stop to cough, and a new skin, not plagued with scars and sores, but beautiful and smooth and soft. We all watch the news, or see the kids on the TV needing to be sponsored, but THIS is real life. These kids aren’t on TV, they don’t get sponsored, and they don’t even get a letter. So how do we make a difference? How to we change a country? I have found that it is not through the $30 a month we send in the mail, the 2 weeklong mission trip we forget about, or posting blogs to raise awareness. It is through holding their hand, letting them fall asleep in your lap even if it is 100 degrees outside. It is wiping their face of dirt, and singing songs with them. The world race is not about bringing healing to every sick person we meet. Sometimes, it is just about simply holding the sick persons hand, and loving them the same way Jesus loved us; simply, no strings attached. I can’t fix Swaziland. I can’t take away AIDS. I can’t even adopt the kids and give them a new home. I am not God. I am a simple, 21 year old kid. But I can hold a hand. I can serve porridge. I can love them. I can do all that.
