it isn’t what. it is why.

The drive was longer than all of the others.  We arrived in a desolate area; piled out of the vehicles, most of us unsure of this initiative site.  I looked around me.  There wasn’t any singing.  There were no people there to welcome us with dance.  I couldn’t identify any indicator of life in the near surroundings.  Then, we started to walk.

We followed a path, uncertain of where it would lead.  The trail led us down a hill, through tall grass, and around a few turns.  When we reached the bottom of the hill, we stood there curious, wondering how we were going to cross the river.  We were greeted by a few locals in their canoe.  As instructed, we stepped into our ride that would take us to the other side.

“I’ve done little reading on HIV/AIDS in the last few years.  Honestly, I’ve found myself more interested in issues concerning clean water and poverty.  That is, until recently.  A few years ago, a close friend of mine learned her brother was infected with HIV.  Unfortunately, I had to travel 10,000 miles to begin to understand one story and another 10,000 miles to realize my personal conflict as I thought about morality vs survival.  The USA vs Africa.”

We stood on the beach, safely arriving to the other side.  I looked up the hill and realized it was going to be a long journey to our destination.  One by one, each of us climbed up the rugged beginnings of the trail that was before us.  Unaware of where we were headed, someone commented about the roughness of the terrain.  I turned and asked a team member if he knew anything about the project we were visiting.  “People living with HIV/AIDS,” he responded.  I kept walking.  Silent, I tried to prepare myself for the unknown.

“AIDS is a global pandemic.  Nearly 33 million people live with HIV.  Two-thirds of all people living with HIV are in Africa.  By 2010, more than 20 million children will be orphaned due to AIDS.  Another person dies every 15 seconds.  This crisis will not go away by itself.”

Source: AIDS Epidemic Update, UNAIDS, December 2006.

I began to think about how the HIV/AIDS stigma affects me at that moment.  For some reason, I’m reminded of a story I read in a book on Social Justice.  A woman has five children.  She lost her husband to illness earlier in the year.  Since his death, there has been little income for the family.  She struggles to find a way to provide food for her hungry children.  She meets a man.  He offers her $10 in exchange for one night.  She considers her situation.  The  next day, she is able to provide one more meal for her children.  A decision laced with morality, quickly becomes a decision laced in survival.  She has become infected with HIV.  Due to the close proximity within living conditions, her children contract the disease.  Each day continues to be a fight for survival.

Someone comments on the road being less traveled.  It is obvious the stigma in Africa has not been broken.

We keep walking.

“A week after arriving back in the States from 12 days spent in Africa, I took part in the World Vision Experience.  It was what I needed to allow myself to start processing the most difficult, yet most hope-filled visit while in Africa.  I walked through the individual interactive site, learning the story of a boy named Kombo.  He, like many others was diagnosed with HIV/AIDS.  I walked through the doors of the clinic, into a chapel where faces lined the walls made of sticks.  Some faces on those photos had a red positive sign stamped across them.  HIV is not a respecter of persons.  But, there is hope.”

That specific site in Africa shared stories of hope.  I left that day, hopeful of the future.  Though child mortality rates continue to rise and life expectancies continue to fall, the people living with HIV/AIDS still had life.  They are receiving education as well as anti-retro viral medication to prolong their days.  They are beginning to tell their story, in hopes that others will fight with them.

I shared with the team some encouragement.  “Where there is life, there is hope.”  I learned the next day it’s actually biblical.  Ecclesiastes 9:4 says, “…Anyone who is among the living has hope…”

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both. And be one traveler, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth; then took the other, just as fair, and having perhaps the better claim, because it was grassy and wanted wear; though as for the passing there had worn them really about the same. And both that morning equally lay in leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.  I shall be telling this with a sigh, somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”
Robert Frost

World AIDS Day.  12.01.08. Take the road less traveled.

Cheri leaned over and whispers, “He looks like Aldo.” 

They told us they probably wouldn’t be at the lunch with the 40 children sponsored by people who attend Eagle Brook. 

Colleen points to a little girl on the bench and says, “She really looks like the pictures I have of Dacia.”

I scan the benches with an idea of what Felizardo looks like.  Surely, they are not here.  My eyes stop on a little boy sitting in the very last row.  I wonder if that’s him, I thought.

Meanwhile, a World Vision manager stands with a list in her hands.  As if she overheard our whispers, she walks to the second row and reaches for the hand of a little boy in a power ranger shirt.  She walks with him over to us and Cheri’s excitement begins to grow.  “I think that’s him, that’s Aldo,” she says to me.  Quickly, my eyes begin to fill with tears.  “Is this really happening?” I wonder. 

Aldo stands in front of Cheri as she touches his arms.  I look over at Matt and he has just met both of his children.  Mark and Dale are reunited with their kids they’ve met on a previous trip to Mozambique.  I shifted my weight on the chair that was sitting awkwardly in the dirt.  Looking at Colleen, we both began to laugh at the fullness of that moment.  Someone calls my name and I turn around and before me stands this precious little boy whose name is Felizardo.

Immediately, I am lost for words.  His big eyes look at me as either one of us really know what to do in that moment.  I can’t take my eyes off him.  I introduce myself to him and he gives me a thumbs up as his eyes look to the side.  His shirt read, “Funky. Original. Little Dude. I AM CUTE”  I laugh.  It’s the most perfect shirt he could have worn.  I laugh as I tell Cheri, “That’s how I talk!”  I wipe the tears away as they slowly overflow from my eyes.  We take a quick picture to try and capture our first meeting.

We had no idea we would be meeting our children at this lunch.  It was among many, unexpected surprises and blessings World Vision prepared for us. 

We spent the rest of the afternoon playing with all of the children.  Cheri and I sang our well-rehearsed round of “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes,” while the faster we sang, the harder we laughed, and the more fun we had that afternoon. 

Meeting Felizardo and spending most of the next day with him and the rest of our team and their kids was beyond incredible.  As Felizardo and I were laughing, kicking and bouncing the soccer ball back and forth, I said to Cheri, “Are we really in Africa, playing soccer with our sponsored kids?!” 

After our first meeting, I wondered if Felizardo would warm up to me and if we could build a connection with each other despite age, color, and language.  It didn’t take long for those smiles to come once we started playing with the soccer ball.  It was probably hours, but it didn’t seem that way — I could have played catch and bounced that ball the rest of the day, but we had to say goodbye.  With help from our interpreter, we exchanged a few words.  Among those words from Felizardo came three words I’ll never forget.  He says, “I love you.”  My heart swells with fullness.  “I love you too,” I respond, as I find myself getting choked up by three words that meant more to me in that moment.  I give him a big hug and watch him get into the van.  I wave and my eyes begin to fill with tears again. 

I watch the van leave the site and I suddenly remember why I chose his card off that table one February weekend.  He had such big, bright eyes, and as the van drove away, they were looking back at me.  

I will never be the same.  And, I don’t think he will either.

Do you ever feel there is so much to say, you’re not sure what to say?

I do.  Right now.  Last week.

The 12 days I spent in Africa.

The 12 days being home from Africa.

There is so much hope to be told.

I can’t keep it for myself.

Stay tuned.

You won’t want to miss the songs they’re singing in Africa.

It’s right around the corner.

Soon. I’ll sing the song for you.