The street preacher is preaching, “God is Sovereign” – but he is far enough down the street to not be obnoxious – and what he says is the truth. The black and white speckled rooster flaps his wings at his harem of three black hens and crows loudly. When they don’t pay any attention to him, he chases one of the hens across the street, stopping only when she jumps across the open ditch/sewer. She scares a goat in her hurry and he runs off. The mom across the street is giving her son a bath in an old metal tub while three other children wait for their turn. And so another morning begins in Jos.
I like walking down to the hospital as much as I can. As I walk the children call me “Owego” (white woman). It is not an insult – just a statement of fact. When I first started walking they would call out to me from their houses and smile when I waved to them, but they were afraid of me (or my hair) and would not come near me. Now some of the brave ones will run out to the street as I walk and shake hands or give me a “high-five.” My hope is that more of them will come. As I pass the Faith Alive Sewing school Blessing and her students wave and call out to me. Yesterday I showed them pictures of my family – including Rascal – and Blessing told me that in the bush they would eat Rascal! Only later do I find out that she was (mostly) teasing me.
Although I have worked all week in the finance department, I have taken this morning – Thursday morning - off. Today I am going to work with Dr. Ogbeh in the children’s clinic. Dr. Ogbeh’s nurse is on leave so I lend a hand by filling out forms and scheduling appointments for the children for next month. Things are going great when suddenly the door opens and one of the “mama’s” sticks her head in. There is a woman who has come in – she has been in labor since yesterday. She went to a local hospital wanting a C-section because that lowers the likelihood of her transmitting her HIV to the baby during birth. The hospital would not help her because she had no money and so she has come to Faith Alive for the procedure. Faith Alive is not currently able to do that, so with a few phone calls and a letter the woman is sent to another hospital that will help her.
And then Jovita comes in. Although she looks like she is three, Jovita is actually five years old. Her eyes are big in her very slender face – she is afraid that she is going to get a shot. But Jovita’s problems are much more severe than that. Jovita is positive – she has been since birth. She contracted the virus during her birth. Her father denies the problem, wants to have Jovita treated only through native medicines. But today, Jovita needs to start the first level of Anti-retro viral drugs. She is beginning to lose the battle against AIDS. Later, in the pharmacy, the mother will break down into the tears that she will not shed in Dr. Ogbeh’s office.
Then Caroline comes in. She is 14. She is also positive, but her CD4 count continues to be high and so she does not need to start the drugs yet. Her bright smile fills the “snappie” that I take of her.
The snappies that I take of the children lend a festive atmosphere to the consulting room. The children are so excited as their pictures develop – they show them to their parents, the nurse and Dr. Ogbeh. But even as we laugh, I cannot forget that these children are positive. If it were not for the incredible doctors, nurses and staff of Faith Alive these beloved children would face a much darker future.
I thought I was coming to help Faith Alive but I think the one who is being helped and the one who is being changed is me.