It is Monday night in Jos. The Christ’s Image church, which has been loud-speakering their service into the street has shut down for the night and Benjamin’s, the bar across the street, has started their music. NEPA is (of course) off and the generator is roaring. Jen, a young pharmacy student is pouting because Baba has hidden the chips (French fries) away from her until the rest of dinner (which smells wonderful!) is ready. (Dinner and lunch is usually beef or chicken in a red or brown sauce served over chips, rice, couscous or pasta. Sometimes there are oranges (they are green here) – mostly there are fried plantains (like bananas) – once in awhile there is squash. Nigerians are don’t eat squash – it is used as feed for the animals. They think it is funny that we eat them.) Across the room, Pastor Rich and his daughter Kathy (from Ft. Collins, Colorado) are reading. Outside the rain is pouring down. I now understand what Genesis meant when it says that God opened the heavens to flood the earth. I have never seen rain like the rain in Jos. Sometimes it rains so hard when I am working at the clinic that I stop to run to the window and watch in amazement. Most of the roofs here are metal so the sound of the rain can be deafening. Ayo and Hannatu just laugh at me because I am in such awe of the power of the rain. They both agree that I should come back in two months when the rainy season really gets to going. On Sonday I went with Blessing to her church, the Christ Embassy Church. It is a charismatic church and believe me – you haven’t seen charismatic until you have seen Nigerian charismatic. It was an amazing 2-½ hour service. (I am getting spoiled with all of these wonderful 2 –3 hour services! I am loving them!) On Saturday I taught a class in basic bookkeeping to Margaret’s home crafts school. This school teaches widows to make crafts from home that they can sell to bring money into the family. It was an interesting experience because most of these women have less than a sixth grade education and many of them are functionally illiterate. I will teach the class on Tuesday again to the Faith Alive skills acquisition students.
I have had several romantic bubbles get burst while I have been here. The first one was the mosquito netting on the bed. It may look romantic in the movies, but I discovered that if you move around in the bed very much you run the risk of getting tangled up in it and ending up like Frodo in the Cave of the Spider. Often I wake up early in the morning and because I sleep with all of the windows open, I can hear the Iman at the mosque singing. It is a haunting sound and I have always imagined him climbing up to the balcony at the top of the mosque’s minaret to sing to his god in the darkness before the dawn. Today Ayo told me that there is a loudspeaker at the top of the minaret and that the music is a recording that is just turned on. POP! that bubble gone! The final bubble came last night. You know that commercial that shows a woman taking a bath by candlelight? She is lounging in her tub, blowing at some strategically places bubbles and the only light is provided by the candles that surround the tub? It looks so cool! That isn’t what happens here in Jos. There isn’t any running water so I take a bath by heating water on the stove, pouring it in a bucket, adding cold water until it is cool enough, then putting the bucket in the tub, standing in the tub, washing with soap and water, and using a smaller bowl to pour water from the bucket over myself to rinse off. If there are candles around the tub it is because NEPA (No Electric Power Again!) is off and the candles are providing the only light. I have learned (the hard way – don’t ask) that if you intend to bend over and wash your feet – you better know where that candle is.
Last Thursday, as I worked with Dr. Ogbeh, I mentioned how pretty many of the children were with their slender faces and great big eyes. Dr. Ogbeh looked at me like I was crazy. “See their big tummies?” she said, “They are suffering from malnutrition. We have them on the ARV’s but the drugs are not working effectively because the children are not eating well.” During the rest of my time with her I learned about malnutrition and the supplements that can help. Friday morning I asked Biana several questions about the supplements. As I was working later that day with Hannatu and Ayo, Dr. Ogbeh came and asked if I could look at a child. She explained that the child was from a rural tribe distant from Jos, and that the child’s grandmother had brought her because the child was listless and couldn’t walk yet. She brought the child and her grandmother into the room where I was and the child immediately started screaming – she had never seen a white person before and I terrified her. (I know what you are thinking – don’t go there) The child looked to be about one-year-old but was more likely about two. Dr. Ogbeh explained that the child was severely malnourished and needed help. Dr. Ogbeh had misunderstood when she and Biana had talked and Dr. Ogbeh thought that I had some nutritional supplements. I told her that I didn’t – but that I had the money to buy them – where could we buy them. Dr. Ogbeh said that she could get them at Juth hospital, that she would get them there. Naomi was with her and I pulled Naomi aside and told her that I had the money to pay for the supplements. I told Naomi to get that child what she needed and I would pay for it – that I was not going to stand there and do nothing while a child starved. Naomi agreed and she left. The next day Naomi came to tell me that the child had gone back to her tribe but without the supplements. “Why?” I asked her, “I would have paid for them!” “There were no supplements at Juth to buy.” Naomi answered. “But what is going to happen to that baby girl?” Naomi shrugged as she looked away from me, “The tribe is far from Jos, the grandmother probably can’t bring her back, and her parents are dead.” I knew what that meant. Unless something unexpected intervenes, the little girl has gone back to her tribe where she will slowly starve to death from the lack of food in general and nutritious food specifically.
Emily died on Sonday. She just wasn’t strong enough to keep fighting. All of the things I was going to say are gone in the face of my grief. But even as I grieve, I know that Emily is dancing – free and healthy - in the glorious eternal light that is Jesus. I will see her again and we will dance within His joy together. I praise You, LORD God, for letting me know Emily and love her. Thank You for Your promise.
My friends at Faith Alive have given me a Nigerian name. “Hajia Teloto.” Teloto means “woman born on Tuesday” – as I was. Hajia means “woman who has gone on a pilgrimage.” They gave me the name, Hajia, because I bought a hajia scarf in the market and started wearing it around my shoulders – not knowing that it is usually worn as a head covering by women who have gone on a pilgrimage to Mecca. I wear it now because although my pilgrimage was not to Mecca – it has been to Faith Alive and Nigeria where I have drawn so much closer to my Father, where I have experienced His grace, His mercy and His sovereignty.
It is now Friday – I have been writing this all week. Next Friday I will be home in Fresno. However – my pilgrimage to know Father better will continue.
August 21, 2007
Dear family, friends, and supporters of Faith Alive Hospital in Jos, Nigeria,
Sanu! Greetings from Jos, Nigeria!
It’s hard to believe that more than three months have passed since I returned to Nigeria and the Faith Alive Hospital. We have worked through the first successful turn over of power from one administration to another since Nigeria has become a democracy, through a nation-wide labor strike, and through the continuing lack of running water in Jos, as well as the usual sporadic electricity situations. In spite of this, the Faith Alive family of servants and volunteers has been immensely blessed by God. Faith Alive has been experiencing a huge growth in new clients – averaging 3,200 new clients each month since I’ve been back in Jos! That’s in addition to the approximately 2,500 clients receiving monthly anti-retroviral therapy (ART) for HIV and an average of 8,300 repeat out-patient clients being seen monthly for a variety of medical problems. The constant congestion in the clinic can be stressful at times, but everyone helping at Faith Alive has pitched in and given extra effort, time, and love as they serve some of the poorest residents of Jos and the surrounding villages. I feel so honored to be part of the Faith Alive family as they continue to bring comfort and healing to those in need.
The main reason for this letter is to give each of you the opportunity to be part of an exciting project that is about to begin at Faith Alive. Most of you who have visited Faith Alive have also visited Kafanchan and Bakin-Kogi, two of the village areas near Faith Alive. The rest of you have heard the stories and seen the pictures of the many patients who travel almost two hours to come to the Faith Alive Hospital from these villages for medical care or ARV treatment. This past year one of the families in Bakin-Kogi donated a large plot of land to Faith Alive with the hope that one day a Faith Alive satellite clinic will be on the property. Each person that has visited Faith Alive from Fresno First Baptist Church (FBC) has been deeply touched by the needs of the people they have met in Bakin-Kogi and Kafanchan, and has felt God speaking to their hearts to provide help. As a result, we are asking others to join us as we begin a project to bring free medical care to these two villages. Phase one of the Bakin-Kogi/Kafanchan project will include the construction of a duplex on the donated property. Faith Alive will then be able to station a doctor or community health worker (similar to our physician’s assistants) in Bakin-Kogi. He will live in one part of the duplex and see patients in the other part. This will be such a great help to the community, allowing them to receive care and treatment closer to their homes instead of having to undertake expensive transport into Jos. The cost of building the duplex is only $34,000.00. Donations that have already been made have totaled $17,000.00. We are hoping that you will consider making a donation towards the balance of this cost. There are two ways that you can do this. We would like to invite you to attend a celebration on Sunday August 26th from 4:00 to 6:00 pm in the Fellowship Hall at FBC at 1400 E. Saginaw, Fresno, California, 93704, where you can hear more about Faith Alive and the satellite clinic plans. The event is being held in honor of the life of Reverend Sam Lawanson, a long time member of FBC who was from Nigeria and who taught school in Kafanchan many years ago. Let me encourage you to come and enjoy some light snacks and hear the stories of those who have visited Faith Alive. Your tax deductible donation would be welcomed at the celebration. If you enjoy good Christian music, there will also be a special Night of Praise beginning at FBC at 6:00 pm that you are welcome to attend. If you are not able to attend this special time of celebration, you can also make a donation by sending a check payable to Fresno First Baptist Church (at the address noted above) and designating it for the Faith Alive House of Hope. If you have any questions about this project do not hesitate to telephone Pastor Bryan Hitch or FBC’s missions coordinator, Jessica Pitman, at 227-8476. Our goal is to have raised the entire $34,000.00 by the end of September. Please consider being part of this important project.
Thank you for your support and prayers as together we work to bring hope, healing, and love to those suffering from the affects of poverty and HIV/AIDS in Nigeria.
May the grace and peace of our Lord, Jesus Christ be with you all.
Biana Grogg, Deputy Executive Officer, Faith Alive Foundation, Jos, Nigeria.
I am finally beginning to understand the motor-traffic communication here. Everybody uses a series of car horn beeps to communicate their intentions. The first one that I understood was as a pedestrian. When you as a motor vehicle driver are coming up behind a pedestrian you beep your horn to warn them that you are coming. The pedestrian promptly (and I speak from experience when I saw promptly!) moves off of the paved part of the road. Once the motorist is past, they beep once again – this serves the duel purpose of telling you “thanks!” and lets you know that it is now safe for you to return to the paved road. (As a pedestrian, I have learned that it is just easier to walk off the pavement – although they still beep – just in case you are possessed by a sudden lunatic urge to jump into the middle of the road) When you are making a right turn, you beep. When you are making a left turn, you beep. When you are passing another car, you beep. When a car is passing you, you beep. If you think the other driver is going too slow, you beep. Or going too fast – you beep. If you think the other driver is driving good, you beep or driving bad, you beep. If you are in a good mood, you beep – or a bad mood, you beep. If nobody else has beeped for the last nano-second, you beep, and if too many people are beeping – you beep. If you don’t know what to do – you beep, and when all else fails – you beep. All of this contributes to the swirl of movement, color, sounds and hair-raising close calls that is traffic in Jos.
I prefer to walk.
Slowly but surely my presence is being accepted and woven into the daily life of the neighborhood around the clinic. The street vendors greet me with a wave and a smile, and the women at Blessing’s sewing school call out through the door, “MamaG! MamaG!” as I pass by. All of the children who were once so shy of me now run out to shake my hand or take my hand to walk with me for a bit. Even the goats, chickens turkeys and ducks no longer flee in panic from me. There is a group of about 20 children around Blessing’s shop who run to me when they see me crying out, “MamaG!” They give me hugs and take my hand and walk with me to Faith Alive. They argue over who’s turn it is to walk close to me. Sometimes the little ones cry because they cannot get close to me and I end up carrying them. (Try walking with a group of children plastered to every inch of your legs and side and surrounding you three deep in every direction, chickens and other farm animals standing in your way and motorcycles swerving around you beeping while you are balancing a child – who may or may not be wearing a diaper – on one arm and carrying your laptop on the other!). It is no wonder that people come out of the doors of the shops to smile and wave as they watch the pied piper, MamaG, and her parade. When I leave Faith Alive I am once again surrounded by the children who then walk me part of the way home. I am beginning to think that it would be a REALLY cool thing if one of our teams were to do a VBS here. These kids would love it.
In my letter last week I really debated about telling you about Emily – the comatose little girl brought in. When Dr. Ogbeh, Dele (her nurse), the neighbor and I prayed over Emily as they prepared to take her to the hospital I asked Jesus, “When You welcome Emily home, please, LORD, tell her that I loved her in the brief time I knew her, and LORD, tell her that I cried at her passing.” Thursday night, as I wrote you, I did not want to include her because I did not want to have to write this week’s e-mail to tell you that she had died. I even prepared myself to write of my sorrow as part of the light and hope of Nigeria’s future was lost. On Monday morning, during the clinic devotional time, Dr. Ogbeh hurried into the clinic, and came up to me immediately. I told myself that I WOULD NOT CRY! when she told me about Emily. But I did. I cried because Emily has made a miraculous turnaround. She was no longer in intensive care she had been moved to critical care. She was awake and responsive, although she still needed help with breathing and eating. By Tuesday Emily had been moved to a regular ward, her breathing tube removed, she was able to eat on her own. She continues to have some physical challenges– but Emily is alive – and her prognosis is good. The news is not so good on Jovita. When I did not see her in clinic today I asked Dr. Ogbeh and she told me that last week Jovita’s father had taken Jovita to his tribe to be cured using native herbs and medicines. He brought Jovita back and told the mother not to give the child any more ARVs – just the herbs. He also told the mother not to bring Jovita back to Faith Alive because only HIV-positives go there and he does not want anybody to think that there is HIV in his family. (The father – who most assuredly is positive and is probably the one who introduced it into the family– refuses to even consider such a thing.) Jovita’s mom now has to give her the drugs secretly – praying that they do not interact with the herbs - and has to sneak Jovita to Faith Alive when the father is not around.
I have been singing a song lately, “Restore in me the joy of Your salvation, Restore in me the wonder of Your love.” I needed to be restored. I have come to a realization here that I would never have come to in the United States. The world looks at the USA and says that we are rich because we have an abundance of everything. We have so much of it that we take it for granted. We take for granted that we have toilets and they flush. And we Christians often take God for granted as well. We have stuck Him in a little box that we go and visit once a week and if He is lucky we actually stay awake during the visit. We try to remember to live like He taught us during the visit, but we are careless with even that. The world says that Jos is poverty-stricken because they have nothing. So they take nothing for granted – especially not God. God permeates their lives on Sonday and on every other day of the week. They know the joy of God’s salvation and the wonder of His love like nothing I have ever seen. The world says that we are rich because we have so much stuff and Nigeria is poor because they have no stuff. But the things of this world – the stuff – will pass away and only God will remain. And on that day – who will be the richer?
LORD God, restore in me – Valerie – the joy and wonder of You.
Sano from Faith Alive, Jos, Nigeria!
I attend a church here – United Baptist Church. The services this past Sonday were short – only three hours long. There is an exuberance in worship here that I just love! It is some of the most living worship that I have ever been blessed to experience. It invites you to fully release yourself to BABA (Father God). The Pastor is preaching a series on church growth. Hum-m-m sounds familiar – doesn’t it, Willie? On Sonday evening I go to the Faith Alive Support Group – people who are living positively who get together to praise God and to encourage each other. Again, the worship cannot be described – only experienced.
On a fun note, Blessing (she runs the sewing training center for Faith Alive) has completed several of my dresses and so I am able to wear clothing that is not only much cooler than my skirts and t-shirts but is prettier and a lot more fun to wear. All my friends here say that now I look Nigerian – I am just glad that now I do not look so underdressed to be working at the clinic. (They all dress so professionally – even the women in records!)
Monday morning I was back at Faith Alive working with Ayo (the program Manager) in the morning and with Hannatu (the financial Manager) in the afternoon. On this morning I waited outside in the breezeway for Ayo and started playing with Noro, a five-year-old girl I had met at the support group. Noro asked for my Biro (pen) and took a piece of my paper and started teaching two little boys who were hanging around in the area to read. I told them the stories connected with my His-Story and my Lord’s Prayer bracelets and they loved them. By the time that Ayo was ready for me I had a number of children around me all wanting to hear my “rosaries” again.
When I joined Hannatu I got a pleasant surprise. Her three-year-old nephew, Godslight (Gods light), was with her. I didn’t get much accounting done, but he and I had a great time. I played “Itsy-bitsy spider” and “This Little Piggy” with him as he shouted with laughter. I gave him a green bal-balloon that he would blow up a little bit and I would squish it making his cheeks puff out. He loved that. Then he wanted me to blow up his bal-balloon and I could not do that. Godslight was born positive. His mother tested positive shortly after his birth and she has since died of AIDS. Godslight lives with another of his aunts who has also recently tested positive – possibly infected from taking care of Godslight. He is already on the ARV’s. I am always aware that these children are different and I cannot play with them like I play with the children at home. I cannot tell you how difficult that is for me.
On Wednesday I went to the orphanage that partners with Faith Alive. Orphanages are a new thing in Nigeria. In the past when a child was orphaned and there wasn’t family to take him in, then another family in the village would. But with the increasing number of children orphaned by AIDS, this tradition is totally inadequate to meet the need. In the main room cribs were lined up four across and three deep, with even more against the walls. One this day there were only four children, but Matron told us that there are many times when the three women who work there are dealing with 25 to 30 babies and children.
Thursday morning I was once again with Dr. Ogbeh. I think that this is my favorite time of the week – the time I get to spend with the children. I spent a lot of time filling out the pediatric pharmacy slips so that the children can get their next month supply of ARV’s. A little girl came in and gave me a great big smile from behind her mama’s side. I waved at her and then looked down at her file. Her name was Jovita. I asked Dr. Ogbeh, “Is this the same Jovita we saw last week?’ Dr. Ogbeh looked at the file, “Yes, this is her.” The limp little girl who had to be carried in by her mother last week, the one that I wondered if she would even live had made an amazing turnaround. Because of the ARV’s and the family being given a simple water purification system for the home, a dying child was given a future. Then Emily came in – was carried in. Emily was born positive. Her mother, frightened of the backlash if her husband knew, had been secretly bringing Emily in to Faith Alive – but two months ago Emily’s mother died from AIDS and nobody knew to bring Emily to Faith Alive. A neighbor, who partners with Faith Alive, came to visit the family. The father showed Emily to the neighbor who immediately recognized what was wrong. Because Emily had been off the ARV’s, the virus had progressed with lightning speed through her little body and had lodged in her brain giving her seizures and leaving her what appeared to me as comatose. The neighbor immediately brought Emily in (the father refused to come). At no time during the examination did I feel that Emily was with us – just her still-breathing body. Faith Alive is not set-up for critical cases such as Emily’s and so Dr. Ogbeh referred her to a hospital in Jos. This morning (Friday) as I attended the daily devotion for staff and patients I asked Dr. Ogbeh about Emily. She was in the process of leaving to go and see Emily at the hospital where she had been admitted into intensive care.
It was just a short time ago when I would have bypassed a story about AIDS in Africa to read the latest on Paris Hilton being cold and hungry in jail. At Faith Alive, I am learning what is real in this world. Now when I read the statistics on AIDS in Africa they are not going to be numbers to big for me to comprehend. They are going to be Godslight, Blessing and her sons, Jovita, Emily, the mama and her newborn child, the children who take so much pleasure in their snappies and bal-balloons and a long list of people I know, all of whom own a piece of my heart. What is real in this world is not Paris Hilton, it is the doctors, nurses, pharmacists, lab techs and staff of Faith Alive who fight every day a battle that the world says they can’t win – but they won’t quit fighting.
Thank you so much for the notes from home – they help so much with the homesickness that I am experiencing. I miss you all so much – I did not realize how much I love you.
Until the Shout!
Valerie
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.
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.