The kids gatheredaround the big tree to welcome our arrival. I noticed a boy sitting on a
concrete slab all by himself. His leg looked bandaged up. I
immediately went over to him and with the help of our translator I ask
what was wrong. Apparently three days ago he had fallen off the back
of a motorcycle and was dragged some how. I could see the blood oozing
through his bandage while flies buzzed busily around it.
“Three days ago? Why hasn’t he been taken to the hospital?” I asked in
surprise.
“There is no one to take him. He says he has no father and his mother
has been gone for the past week and he doesn’t know when she is
returning,” replied my translator, Titi.
I realized in that moment it was up to me if he was going to be taken to
the hospital. It felt a bit strange to take on the responsibility of
this boy, but I knew I had no choice. If not me then whom?
I asked if it hurt. He said yes, but he showed no emotion in his face.
I imagined years of emotional neglect had made him much tougher than he
should be.
After our time at the carepoint he, Nksoing, got in the van with us. I
dropped most of the team off at our homestead and then headed into town,
thirty minutes away. Through the rearview mirror I could see his eyes
wide soaking in all buildings, lights, and cars of town. Manzini is not
a large town by any means but I wondered how often, if ever, Nksoing
had been here.
We arrived at the hospital and I put him into a wheelchair and pushed
him to the ER. I was a bit confused when we entered. Everything seemed
scatter and chaotic. The ER was one big room where paperwork and
treatment happened all together. Along part of the wall were patients
leaning against it and in wheelchairs waiting to be seen.
I helped with his paperwork and paid some initial fees. A half hour
later we headed down to radiology where I found out he had two breaks.
One in his foot and one in his knee.
The technician asked, “How long ago did this happen?”
“Three days ago.”
“Why hasn’t he been here sooner?” He said agitatedly.
“I am sorry, I only found out today.” I said with some frustration in
my heart. I was mostly just frustrated with the circumstance Nksoing
was in.
We headed back to the ER where we
waited for two hours along the wall. I asked the nurse how long we
would have to wait. He said he wasn’t sure, he had been calling the
doctor but hadn’t been able to get a hold of him. It then occurred to
me that no one had been seen by a doctor yet. How could this be? This
is the ER? Where is the doctor?
My body had grown tried from standing the whole time when the doctor
finally entered. But it was soon after that the doctor was examining
Nksoing’s leg. The bandage was off and I could see for the first time
how bad it really was. His entire shin to his foot was one big red and
orange bloody scab. There was even a sort of hole in the top of his
foot. The doctor told me that someone had put orange dirt over his
wound to stop the bleeding but the bacteria in the soil had infected his
foot causing it to swell grossly.
Nksoing still remained emotionless even after seeing his own wound.
The doctor told me that Nksoing would have to be admitted to the
hospital because it would take a week for his leg to be healed and
treated properly. I signed the admittance papers as his guardian.
We left Nksoing that night under the care of the doctors and nurses. It
felt wrong to leave him there by himself. I felt helpless to my many
other obligations with the team. I had to come to terms with my
inability to meet all the needs I see here. Where is his mother? Why
doesn’t he have a father? Why are there so many orphans? Why won’t
more people help?
I have since visited Nksoing everyday for the past 3 days. Every time
he sees me his face lights up and his big perfect African smile is
unveiled. His leg is healing up well and he will soon have a hard cast
on it.
