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Saturday, November 27, 2010
The End of my Strength is Only Your Beginning
Though I am oceans away from my old university and beloved campus church, I can still hear Fr. Mark's praying words ringing in my ears: where our strength ends, Yours truly begins."
Acknowledging my limits in Tenele's situation is more difficult than I thought, but it is EXTREMELY important. For only when I acknowledge what I CANNOT do is when God can SHOW me what HE can do. I am at the end of the road in what I can do to help Tenele, and here's why...
After seeing Tenele extremely drunk on Friday and hoping she would follow through with her words, I tried to be hopeful all Saturday morning that she would show up. I even passed up other opportunities to go place to be there "just in case" she happened to show up. She never did. On Monday Titi and I went to Mangwaneni again to be with the children. I asked about Tenele but she wasn't there. Ayanda told me that Tenele was scared but that she would bring her to the kitchen/play area where all of the kids hang out if I came back tomorrow. I came back on Tuesday, but neither Ayanda nor Tenele were there. I stopped by on Wednesday because I promised Johannes I would be back to spend more time with him. While Johannes and I were talking, I asked Pununu to fetch Ayanda. When they came back we were talking about different things when Pununu said he had seen Tenele a little bit ago on his way to fetch Ayanda. "Why didn't you bring her?!" Ayanda exclaimed. "Because she asked me to fetch you not Tenele," Pununu responded. I couldn't help but laugh. Aw, how sweet these kids are!
I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to have these three young people trying to help Tenele as well. With their company, we traveled through Mangwaneni and came to a smoky-looking shack with some men and women outside of it. They stopped at a place where Nomphilo was sitting and smoking. But she didn’t recognize it was me at first. My gang asked for Tenele, and Nomphilo was about to respond when she saw me. She half-yelled out of surprise, then tore the cigarette out of her mouth and ducked out of view. But it was too late, I had already seen her. Still, she ignored my coaxing and my “buya sisi!” and bolted into the hut and out of view. After lingering and calling for her a little longer, a few guys came out and did not look very friendly, so Johannes quickly said, “Okay, let’s go.”
The others we passed were friendly and kept pointing us in the direction to find Tenele. Finally, Pununu said, “She’s right there!” But when I looked up, she was already gone.
“She’s running,” Ayanda declared. As we rounded the corner Tenele was already gone and out of sight. They asked other girls she had been with where she went and they didn't respond. Ayanda asked some other kids; they pointed in another direction. Ayanda said to me, “Come, Mary-Kate, she went this way.” My heart sank. I was crushed that she actually ran away from me this time.
“No, no,” I replied to Ayanda. “It’s okay…if Tenele doesn’t want to come, then she doesn’t want to come.” And we slowly walked back up to the kitchen.
I didn't make to Mangwaneni on Thursday, but I told Ayanda to tell Tenele that I would love for her to join us for lunch on Friday. So on Friday I came back to take Johannes, Pununu, and Ayanda to lunch at KFC. Ayanda said Tenele wasn't there and told Ayanda she was scared. Of me? I think she's scared to face me. On the one hand, that's good because as Treasure (the woman in charge of the carepoint kitchen at Mangwaneni) says, that means she respects me. Treasure ventured that Tenele ran away because she was more than likely drunk again. But this wasn't the last time she'd run from me...
Anyway, I gathered the trio for lunch, and we started walking down the path and Johannes and Ayanda stopped me and said, "Up there," and pointed across the field. "That's Tenele."
I looked up and waved to two girls who had stopped in their tracks and were looking at us. Upon my wave, Tenele took off down the path where she was hidden by the brush and I couldn't see her anymore. Eish. That's twice now she ran from me. That girl... she breaks my heart. As painful as it is... I just cannot give up. I gave Ayanda a little note to give Tenele that says I love her. That's about all I can do at this point. She doesn't want my help, she doesn't want to change, and she doens't want to see me. All I can do is keep loving her.
It's hard to acknowledge that my strength is limited and I can do no more, but this is where God can truly take over. Maybe he just needs me to move out of the way so He can work. The more I talk to people about Tenele's situation the more I feel like it is so hopeless. In fact, Treasure told me the other day that there's really no helping Tenele at this point. "She is too far in. Her body is used to all the alcohol. And she's used to being drunk and then sleeping with men. That's her life now." And she's a bit dangerous, too, according to Treasure. Treasure told me to never live with Tenele at any point. "Why?" I asked.
"Because it will go really well at first but then one day she will get drunk. And she will call her friends. And they will come to you and do this," she held her finger up to her neck, mimicking someone holding a knife. "And they will demand all your money or anything you have...and then what will you do?"
"Umh...give them the money..." I answered.
"Exactly. And you'll have nothing." She paused.
"Would Tenele really do that?" I couldn't imagine 14 year old Tenele actually doing that.
"Mary-Kate, under the influence of alcohol, Tenele is a VERY different person..." Ayanda confirmed it as well. Though she loves Tenele and is actually good friends with her, she is far too afraid to approach Tenele any time she is drunk.
Treasure told me the only way to really help Tenele is to get her out of Manzini. But that's impossible because she won't go. She doesn't want to leave. Other friends I talk to say the same thing...that
As much as it sucks hearing this, it actually gets me more excited because I know that
Acknowledging my limits in Tenele's situation is more difficult than I thought, but it is EXTREMELY important. For only when I acknowledge what I CANNOT do is when God can SHOW me what HE can do. I am at the end of the road in what I can do to help Tenele, and here's why...
After seeing Tenele extremely drunk on Friday and hoping she would follow through with her words, I tried to be hopeful all Saturday morning that she would show up. I even passed up other opportunities to go place to be there "just in case" she happened to show up. She never did. On Monday Titi and I went to Mangwaneni again to be with the children. I asked about Tenele but she wasn't there. Ayanda told me that Tenele was scared but that she would bring her to the kitchen/play area where all of the kids hang out if I came back tomorrow. I came back on Tuesday, but neither Ayanda nor Tenele were there. I stopped by on Wednesday because I promised Johannes I would be back to spend more time with him. While Johannes and I were talking, I asked Pununu to fetch Ayanda. When they came back we were talking about different things when Pununu said he had seen Tenele a little bit ago on his way to fetch Ayanda. "Why didn't you bring her?!" Ayanda exclaimed. "Because she asked me to fetch you not Tenele," Pununu responded. I couldn't help but laugh. Aw, how sweet these kids are!
I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to have these three young people trying to help Tenele as well. With their company, we traveled through Mangwaneni and came to a smoky-looking shack with some men and women outside of it. They stopped at a place where Nomphilo was sitting and smoking. But she didn’t recognize it was me at first. My gang asked for Tenele, and Nomphilo was about to respond when she saw me. She half-yelled out of surprise, then tore the cigarette out of her mouth and ducked out of view. But it was too late, I had already seen her. Still, she ignored my coaxing and my “buya sisi!” and bolted into the hut and out of view. After lingering and calling for her a little longer, a few guys came out and did not look very friendly, so Johannes quickly said, “Okay, let’s go.”
The others we passed were friendly and kept pointing us in the direction to find Tenele. Finally, Pununu said, “She’s right there!” But when I looked up, she was already gone.
“She’s running,” Ayanda declared. As we rounded the corner Tenele was already gone and out of sight. They asked other girls she had been with where she went and they didn't respond. Ayanda asked some other kids; they pointed in another direction. Ayanda said to me, “Come, Mary-Kate, she went this way.” My heart sank. I was crushed that she actually ran away from me this time.
“No, no,” I replied to Ayanda. “It’s okay…if Tenele doesn’t want to come, then she doesn’t want to come.” And we slowly walked back up to the kitchen.
I didn't make to Mangwaneni on Thursday, but I told Ayanda to tell Tenele that I would love for her to join us for lunch on Friday. So on Friday I came back to take Johannes, Pununu, and Ayanda to lunch at KFC. Ayanda said Tenele wasn't there and told Ayanda she was scared. Of me? I think she's scared to face me. On the one hand, that's good because as Treasure (the woman in charge of the carepoint kitchen at Mangwaneni) says, that means she respects me. Treasure ventured that Tenele ran away because she was more than likely drunk again. But this wasn't the last time she'd run from me...
Anyway, I gathered the trio for lunch, and we started walking down the path and Johannes and Ayanda stopped me and said, "Up there," and pointed across the field. "That's Tenele."
I looked up and waved to two girls who had stopped in their tracks and were looking at us. Upon my wave, Tenele took off down the path where she was hidden by the brush and I couldn't see her anymore. Eish. That's twice now she ran from me. That girl... she breaks my heart. As painful as it is... I just cannot give up. I gave Ayanda a little note to give Tenele that says I love her. That's about all I can do at this point. She doesn't want my help, she doesn't want to change, and she doens't want to see me. All I can do is keep loving her.
It's hard to acknowledge that my strength is limited and I can do no more, but this is where God can truly take over. Maybe he just needs me to move out of the way so He can work. The more I talk to people about Tenele's situation the more I feel like it is so hopeless. In fact, Treasure told me the other day that there's really no helping Tenele at this point. "She is too far in. Her body is used to all the alcohol. And she's used to being drunk and then sleeping with men. That's her life now." And she's a bit dangerous, too, according to Treasure. Treasure told me to never live with Tenele at any point. "Why?" I asked.
"Because it will go really well at first but then one day she will get drunk. And she will call her friends. And they will come to you and do this," she held her finger up to her neck, mimicking someone holding a knife. "And they will demand all your money or anything you have...and then what will you do?"
"Umh...give them the money..." I answered.
"Exactly. And you'll have nothing." She paused.
"Would Tenele really do that?" I couldn't imagine 14 year old Tenele actually doing that.
"Mary-Kate, under the influence of alcohol, Tenele is a VERY different person..." Ayanda confirmed it as well. Though she loves Tenele and is actually good friends with her, she is far too afraid to approach Tenele any time she is drunk.
Treasure told me the only way to really help Tenele is to get her out of Manzini. But that's impossible because she won't go. She doesn't want to leave. Other friends I talk to say the same thing...that
there's no use trying to help her; it's too late.
As much as it sucks hearing this, it actually gets me more excited because I know that
what is IMPOSSIBLE for man is POSSIBLE for God!I am embracing the fact that this is impossible to help her, because that means the power of God can truly take over. There is NO WAY Tenele will change unless by the LORD'S hand. Not mine. Not her's. The LORD'S. So I excitedly pray and wait for this day... for this miracle that I believe with all my heart will happen.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Hosea
I needed some encouragement this morning, so I went to the greatest source: the word of God. I decided to open up to Hosea, in hopes of learning something about prostitution that could encourage me with Tenele’s situation, because Hosea was commanded by the Lord to take a prostitute as an unfaithful wife. There are similar themes and situations that remind me directly of Tenele.
I started reading the introduction to the book, I already grew encouraged. The parallel between Hosea’s redeeming love for an unfaithful wife to the love the Lord has for unfaithful Israel is incredibly moving. Referring to Hosea’s obedience in taking an infidel as a wife, the author writes:
While Hosea was in a far more painful position than I am with Tenele, I still can relate to this. While I am pained over Tenele’s situation—when she lets me down over and over again or when she rejects the love and help I try to offer—it is a blessing in disguise, because it gives me just a sliver of an idea of how painful it must be for the Lord. How incredible to empathize with the Lord, to endure a taste of what he must feel and to truly learn to value his unconditional love. After all, it’s not me that Tenele is rejecting, but it’s the love of the Lord that she runs from. It would be so much easier for me and less painful to just let go of Tenele and forget about trying to help in a seemingly hopeless situation. But then I remember Hosea’s obedience and faithfulness and how he did not quit. When his wife ran off again to continue in prostitution, the Lord commanded Hosea to go after her to demonstrate further how “the Lord loves the people of Israel, though they turn to other gods (3:1).”
As I wept for Tenele last night, I can only imagine how many tears the Lord sheds for her; and not only her, but for EVERY single one of us who turn our backs on Him, over and over and over again. I cannot fathom the pain he endures. I cannot fathom his forgiveness for our infidelity. In this introduction to Hosea, Giuliano captures the absolute pain an suffering of infidelity:
To love one person after enduring this type of pain is incredible in itself, but to continue to love a world of people after they deliberately reject you, hate you, spurn you, throw your love back in your face, or prostitute themselves before you... that is an incredible love I cannot fathom--a love that moves me, a love that inspires me to continue to love Tenele no matter what "result" I get.
How blessed it is to share in the sufferings and redeeming love of our Lord.
I started reading the introduction to the book, I already grew encouraged. The parallel between Hosea’s redeeming love for an unfaithful wife to the love the Lord has for unfaithful Israel is incredibly moving. Referring to Hosea’s obedience in taking an infidel as a wife, the author writes:
Having suffered infidelity in his marriage, Hosea acknowledged that in his own grief he could begin to appreciate the grief experienced by God. In being spurned by the person he loved most, Hosea experienced what God experienced. Imagine. Hosea could empathize with the Lord and come to appreciate the love God had for his people (Gene Giuliano Jr.).
While Hosea was in a far more painful position than I am with Tenele, I still can relate to this. While I am pained over Tenele’s situation—when she lets me down over and over again or when she rejects the love and help I try to offer—it is a blessing in disguise, because it gives me just a sliver of an idea of how painful it must be for the Lord. How incredible to empathize with the Lord, to endure a taste of what he must feel and to truly learn to value his unconditional love. After all, it’s not me that Tenele is rejecting, but it’s the love of the Lord that she runs from. It would be so much easier for me and less painful to just let go of Tenele and forget about trying to help in a seemingly hopeless situation. But then I remember Hosea’s obedience and faithfulness and how he did not quit. When his wife ran off again to continue in prostitution, the Lord commanded Hosea to go after her to demonstrate further how “the Lord loves the people of Israel, though they turn to other gods (3:1).”
As I wept for Tenele last night, I can only imagine how many tears the Lord sheds for her; and not only her, but for EVERY single one of us who turn our backs on Him, over and over and over again. I cannot fathom the pain he endures. I cannot fathom his forgiveness for our infidelity. In this introduction to Hosea, Giuliano captures the absolute pain an suffering of infidelity:
“Infidelity may be the source of what is arguably the most agonizing emotional and psychological pain that human beings can suffered. Its heart-breaking betrayal feeds on lies and deceit. And to forgive its occurrence is personally demanding and, often, seemingly impossible. The act of infidelity, unfaithfulness, tears relationships apart and renders the heart of the offended partly shattered and the soul emptied.”
To love one person after enduring this type of pain is incredible in itself, but to continue to love a world of people after they deliberately reject you, hate you, spurn you, throw your love back in your face, or prostitute themselves before you... that is an incredible love I cannot fathom--a love that moves me, a love that inspires me to continue to love Tenele no matter what "result" I get.
How blessed it is to share in the sufferings and redeeming love of our Lord.
So that's the story; here are my thoughts...
I just cannot understand Tenele’s situation. As much as I wish I knew what exactly was going on in her head, I can’t. I do not understand how she can pass up opportunities for a better future. I can’t imagine her actually wanting to be in prostitution or to live in the environment she does. But then again, I was thinking today, I’m sure alcohol is the only way she can cope with prostitution.
It breaks my heart to sit here and watch her, not being able to do anything. I have the tools and resources and anything she’d need to get her a better future, a better life, and it just blows me away that she won’t take it. What is she waiting for? Why is she holding back? What is she afraid of? Does she even want a better future? Maybe she is perfectly fine living the life she does and doesn’t want to change. These are all the thoughts I am battling with.
It crushes me time and time again to put myself out there, hoping one of these times she’ll get it—one of these times she’ll understand. I get frustrated and disappointed. And then I remember… she’s only 14 years old; she’s been selling herself for two years now so I’m sure she wonders why stop now?; this is the life she has known for the past two years, so it’s comfortable, it’s “safe” because she knows exactly what happens; she’s afraid of being let down; she’s afraid of the unknown; she’s afraid to even dream of a better future because she doesn’t want to get her hopes up. I couldn’t imagine why she would stealthily deny my attempts to help her out of her situation, but then when I put myself in her shoes, the vision changes. Who I am, a white American who comes waltzing into her life now and again, to think I can help change her life? Yes, I am here until May, and to me that seems like a long time. We can get so much accomplished by then! But not to her. She lives here, I am only staying here. If I get her out of this situation, what’s going to happen when I leave? She knows I am leaving in May, and while I’m thinking, girl, let’s get on this changing your life dealio, she’s thinking, I can’t; she’s only here until May, how could she possibly help me?
Whatever is really going through her head, I do not know. Sometimes I see that girlish ambition inside her, and other times I just see the fake act she puts on. She really wants to believe I can help her, but she won’t let herself trust me. She really wants to believe God is good, but I don’t think she can embrace it. She really wants to go to school, but I think her “friends” talk her out of it.
So where do I go? What do I do? How do I proceed? What now?
I wish I had a team, people who can partner with me in offering these girls an alternative lifestyle to prostitution. I wish I had funds that I could start an organization right now to build at least just a small home to house these girls, to get them out of these poor environments. I wish I had a team, people who would help run this home, teach them life skills, self-worth, values, virtues, and to show them the love of Christ. If I can’t build a home, I wish I could have a place set up where they could come during the day…like a mini youth center with a mini library where they can read or learn to read and write. I wish I could sit down with each of them and listen…to hear their life stories, to offer encouragement, and to teach them about love. I wish I could have bible studies with them…and sing, pray, and worship with them. I wish I had a team, people who can join me in searching for the prostitutes at night, and offering them a place of peace, even if it’s just for one night. I wish I had a place right now where I could move into to house Tenele and Nomphilo and Khanisile. I wish there was something more I can do than just watch this all happen…
I know the best thing I can do for her is pray, but that doesn’t change the fact that it is painful to feel so helpless. I need to remember this is not about me or what I can or cannot do, but that is much easier said than done.
Though Tenele may sometimes act like a lion, she is really just a tender lamb.
Help me take care of Tenele by praying for her. Like, literally getting on your knees and praying for her—for her change of heart, her attitude, her openness, her brokenness, her willingness to change, her surrender, and ultimately her victory and freedom in Christ.
It breaks my heart to sit here and watch her, not being able to do anything. I have the tools and resources and anything she’d need to get her a better future, a better life, and it just blows me away that she won’t take it. What is she waiting for? Why is she holding back? What is she afraid of? Does she even want a better future? Maybe she is perfectly fine living the life she does and doesn’t want to change. These are all the thoughts I am battling with.
It crushes me time and time again to put myself out there, hoping one of these times she’ll get it—one of these times she’ll understand. I get frustrated and disappointed. And then I remember… she’s only 14 years old; she’s been selling herself for two years now so I’m sure she wonders why stop now?; this is the life she has known for the past two years, so it’s comfortable, it’s “safe” because she knows exactly what happens; she’s afraid of being let down; she’s afraid of the unknown; she’s afraid to even dream of a better future because she doesn’t want to get her hopes up. I couldn’t imagine why she would stealthily deny my attempts to help her out of her situation, but then when I put myself in her shoes, the vision changes. Who I am, a white American who comes waltzing into her life now and again, to think I can help change her life? Yes, I am here until May, and to me that seems like a long time. We can get so much accomplished by then! But not to her. She lives here, I am only staying here. If I get her out of this situation, what’s going to happen when I leave? She knows I am leaving in May, and while I’m thinking, girl, let’s get on this changing your life dealio, she’s thinking, I can’t; she’s only here until May, how could she possibly help me?
Whatever is really going through her head, I do not know. Sometimes I see that girlish ambition inside her, and other times I just see the fake act she puts on. She really wants to believe I can help her, but she won’t let herself trust me. She really wants to believe God is good, but I don’t think she can embrace it. She really wants to go to school, but I think her “friends” talk her out of it.
So where do I go? What do I do? How do I proceed? What now?
I. don’t. know.
I wish I had a team, people who can partner with me in offering these girls an alternative lifestyle to prostitution. I wish I had funds that I could start an organization right now to build at least just a small home to house these girls, to get them out of these poor environments. I wish I had a team, people who would help run this home, teach them life skills, self-worth, values, virtues, and to show them the love of Christ. If I can’t build a home, I wish I could have a place set up where they could come during the day…like a mini youth center with a mini library where they can read or learn to read and write. I wish I could sit down with each of them and listen…to hear their life stories, to offer encouragement, and to teach them about love. I wish I could have bible studies with them…and sing, pray, and worship with them. I wish I had a team, people who can join me in searching for the prostitutes at night, and offering them a place of peace, even if it’s just for one night. I wish I had a place right now where I could move into to house Tenele and Nomphilo and Khanisile. I wish there was something more I can do than just watch this all happen…
I know the best thing I can do for her is pray, but that doesn’t change the fact that it is painful to feel so helpless. I need to remember this is not about me or what I can or cannot do, but that is much easier said than done.
Feed my lambs.
Take care of my sheep.
Feed my sheep. -from John 21:14-18
Though Tenele may sometimes act like a lion, she is really just a tender lamb.
Help me take care of Tenele by praying for her. Like, literally getting on your knees and praying for her—for her change of heart, her attitude, her openness, her brokenness, her willingness to change, her surrender, and ultimately her victory and freedom in Christ.
Tenele Update Continued...
I arrived back in Swaziland the beginning of this week. One of the first things I did was call Tenele. Still dead. I talked to Thembi and found out Thembi had the same results. I called Tenele every day this week…same result. I just had a bad feeling and was really started getting worried about her. On Friday(yesterday), Eilidh and I decided to go to Mangwaneni. I was praying that I would find her or find some idea of where she is or how she is doing from people at Mangwaneni. “I know it’s not going to happen,” I muttered to God about seeing Tenele there, “but please, I just need hope…something…”
Upon arriving, I met Pununu, who eagerly greeted me with a big hug. My, how tall he is getting! We exchanged greetings and talked about his exams. Then I asked if he could help me find Ayanda. While I was gone for the week, Ayanda apparently came to the volunteer house looking for me three times! What a sweetheart! So we embarked into parts of Mangwaneni I had never been before. We finally made it to a cement hut at the end and Pununu knocked on the door. An older man came out and they exchanged some words in SiSwati, and Pununu disappeared around the corner. “Just wait here,” the older man told me.
“Unjani bobe?(how are you, father?)” I asked, to make small talk. He replied to the greeting in SiSwati and then we made small talk to pass the awkward waiting time. Soon I heard Ayanda’s excited laughter as she came running around the corner. “Ayanda!” I exclaimed as she basically flew into my arms. We quickly left to travel back up to the top of Mangwaneni and that’s when Ayanda told me that the man was her step-father.
“He sometimes beats too much,” she said nonchalantly.
“Does he beat you?” I asked.
“Eish. Just yesterday!” she exclaimed. But she quickly shrugged it off and said she usually doesn’t stay with him. The more we talked, I asked if she knew where Nomphilo lived (Nomphilo is one of Tenele’s friends). “Nomphilo? No. But Tenele’s here.” Ayanda knows all about my mission to help Tenele.
“She’s here?!” I nearly jumped out of my sneakers. “Like… here as in right now?” I needed to clarify that I was understanding her English.
“Yes, she’s been staying here for a couple weeks now.”
“Really? With who?”
“I… don’t know…”
“Can you take me to her?”
Both Ayanda and Pununu just laughed at me. "Ah, Mary-Kate..." she hesitated. It took some coaxing but eventually Ayanda gave in and the three of us set off to find Tenele.
They took me through different parts of Mangwaneni when I was mauled by a group of little kids yelling, “Umlungu! Umlungu (white person)!” As I was preoccupied with the kids, Ayanda disappeared, so I turned to Pununu to ask if they found Tenele.
“Up there,” he nodded to a few young women who were staring at me…actually, more like glaring at me.
“She’s hiding,” Ayanda called as she reappeared.
“Hiding? Why is she hiding?” I said loud enough for all of them to hear. There was some laughter and muttled talk I couldn’t understand. “Tenele!” I called.
“In the green hat,” Pununu softly offered.
Sure enough, in-between two glaring faces, a third one with a green hat appeared.
I waved eagerly, not put off by the opposing looks. “Tenele! Buya sisi!” (Come here, sister!)
She laughed and disappeared. I waited a few minutes longer with the kids while she slowly showed herself and came closer. You know that “sixth” sense we sometimes have? Well, I just knew something was wrong by seeing her approach, and it was like my heart sank without even knowing why. But when she reluctantly accepted my hug, I knew exactly why. Her eyes were so glazed over; she had this odd, fake smile plastered on her face, and she tried her hardest not to look at me. Either she was very, very drunk, or high…or both. Whatever she was, it was heart-breaking. She lingered not but a moment, and at my inquiry of where Nomphilo was, she then bolted back to the other girls (who were still watching me with magnetic eyes) and basically shoved Nomphilo down to me. Nomphilo had this shameful smile on her face, too, like she didn’t know what to do when I tried to talk to her. She looked back to the other girls, who were laughing hysterically, and I knew there was no point in trying to talk to her because she had no idea what I was saying.
She went back up to the girls and Tenele came back down. Seemingly agitated, (probably because I saw her like this), she spat some words in SiSwati to Ayanda and Pununu. Imagining that she was mad at them for taking me to her, I gave her arm a gentle tug and directed her attention to me. “Tenele, look at me. Hey…look at me.” She turned her face to me. “You know I love you, right?”
At this comment her face sobered up a bit. She nodded, but could hold my gaze no longer. “And you know I care about you, yes?” She nodded again, still looking off to the side. “And you know that I want you to have a good future?” Again, she nodded. “But Tenele, I can only help you if you let me; I can only help you if you want a better future,” I paused to see if she understood. “Do you still want to go to school?”
“Yes.”
“Then, you have to show up. Tenele,” I paused and tried to get her to look at me so that she knew this was serious. “Tenele, I CANNOT get you into school if you don’t come next week. We are running out of time. And if you’re in school that means you need to come to town every day…” she nodded as if she understood, though I’m not sure exactly what all she will remember. But I have confidence that something stuck. I have hope that this unplanned meeting woke her up a bit; I know she doesn’t want me to know about her lifestyle, and she was so embarrassed when she saw me.
“Mary-Kate, I will come,” she affirmed. “I will come tomorrow…twelve o’clock.”
“Okay,” I sighed, knowing full well there was a minimal chance she would follow through. We hugged and she quickly departed, disappearing behind the huts. As Ayanda, Pununu, and I started to leave and we turned the corner, I looked over to see if she was still there. I couldn’t see her but the other girls were still there…still staring.
“Ba-bye!” I sent them a friendly smile and wave. Surprisingly, it was returned.
Upon arriving, I met Pununu, who eagerly greeted me with a big hug. My, how tall he is getting! We exchanged greetings and talked about his exams. Then I asked if he could help me find Ayanda. While I was gone for the week, Ayanda apparently came to the volunteer house looking for me three times! What a sweetheart! So we embarked into parts of Mangwaneni I had never been before. We finally made it to a cement hut at the end and Pununu knocked on the door. An older man came out and they exchanged some words in SiSwati, and Pununu disappeared around the corner. “Just wait here,” the older man told me.
“Unjani bobe?(how are you, father?)” I asked, to make small talk. He replied to the greeting in SiSwati and then we made small talk to pass the awkward waiting time. Soon I heard Ayanda’s excited laughter as she came running around the corner. “Ayanda!” I exclaimed as she basically flew into my arms. We quickly left to travel back up to the top of Mangwaneni and that’s when Ayanda told me that the man was her step-father.
“He sometimes beats too much,” she said nonchalantly.
“Does he beat you?” I asked.
“Eish. Just yesterday!” she exclaimed. But she quickly shrugged it off and said she usually doesn’t stay with him. The more we talked, I asked if she knew where Nomphilo lived (Nomphilo is one of Tenele’s friends). “Nomphilo? No. But Tenele’s here.” Ayanda knows all about my mission to help Tenele.
“She’s here?!” I nearly jumped out of my sneakers. “Like… here as in right now?” I needed to clarify that I was understanding her English.
“Yes, she’s been staying here for a couple weeks now.”
“Really? With who?”
“I… don’t know…”
“Can you take me to her?”
Both Ayanda and Pununu just laughed at me. "Ah, Mary-Kate..." she hesitated. It took some coaxing but eventually Ayanda gave in and the three of us set off to find Tenele.
They took me through different parts of Mangwaneni when I was mauled by a group of little kids yelling, “Umlungu! Umlungu (white person)!” As I was preoccupied with the kids, Ayanda disappeared, so I turned to Pununu to ask if they found Tenele.
“Up there,” he nodded to a few young women who were staring at me…actually, more like glaring at me.
“She’s hiding,” Ayanda called as she reappeared.
“Hiding? Why is she hiding?” I said loud enough for all of them to hear. There was some laughter and muttled talk I couldn’t understand. “Tenele!” I called.
“In the green hat,” Pununu softly offered.
Sure enough, in-between two glaring faces, a third one with a green hat appeared.
I waved eagerly, not put off by the opposing looks. “Tenele! Buya sisi!” (Come here, sister!)
She laughed and disappeared. I waited a few minutes longer with the kids while she slowly showed herself and came closer. You know that “sixth” sense we sometimes have? Well, I just knew something was wrong by seeing her approach, and it was like my heart sank without even knowing why. But when she reluctantly accepted my hug, I knew exactly why. Her eyes were so glazed over; she had this odd, fake smile plastered on her face, and she tried her hardest not to look at me. Either she was very, very drunk, or high…or both. Whatever she was, it was heart-breaking. She lingered not but a moment, and at my inquiry of where Nomphilo was, she then bolted back to the other girls (who were still watching me with magnetic eyes) and basically shoved Nomphilo down to me. Nomphilo had this shameful smile on her face, too, like she didn’t know what to do when I tried to talk to her. She looked back to the other girls, who were laughing hysterically, and I knew there was no point in trying to talk to her because she had no idea what I was saying.
She went back up to the girls and Tenele came back down. Seemingly agitated, (probably because I saw her like this), she spat some words in SiSwati to Ayanda and Pununu. Imagining that she was mad at them for taking me to her, I gave her arm a gentle tug and directed her attention to me. “Tenele, look at me. Hey…look at me.” She turned her face to me. “You know I love you, right?”
At this comment her face sobered up a bit. She nodded, but could hold my gaze no longer. “And you know I care about you, yes?” She nodded again, still looking off to the side. “And you know that I want you to have a good future?” Again, she nodded. “But Tenele, I can only help you if you let me; I can only help you if you want a better future,” I paused to see if she understood. “Do you still want to go to school?”
“Yes.”
“Then, you have to show up. Tenele,” I paused and tried to get her to look at me so that she knew this was serious. “Tenele, I CANNOT get you into school if you don’t come next week. We are running out of time. And if you’re in school that means you need to come to town every day…” she nodded as if she understood, though I’m not sure exactly what all she will remember. But I have confidence that something stuck. I have hope that this unplanned meeting woke her up a bit; I know she doesn’t want me to know about her lifestyle, and she was so embarrassed when she saw me.
“Mary-Kate, I will come,” she affirmed. “I will come tomorrow…twelve o’clock.”
“Okay,” I sighed, knowing full well there was a minimal chance she would follow through. We hugged and she quickly departed, disappearing behind the huts. As Ayanda, Pununu, and I started to leave and we turned the corner, I looked over to see if she was still there. I couldn’t see her but the other girls were still there…still staring.
“Ba-bye!” I sent them a friendly smile and wave. Surprisingly, it was returned.
Update on Tenele-Bell
Not much has happened, while much has happened. I have been avoiding updating you on Tenele because I didn’t feel like there was much to write about. There’s seemingly no progress, and sometimes I feel like my energy in this is worthless. Sometimes I feel like I should be doing so much more, but I honestly just don’t know what else to do. I feel trapped…limited…frustrated…and disappointed…disappointed with Tenele, but mostly with myself and my lack of progress in this whole situation. I know it’s not a problem that can be solved in a short time, but it just seems so hopeless. I know I shouldn’t feel hopeless, but with her situation and living environment…that’s just how I feel. So here’s the update…
Thembi, a teacher I worked with two years ago who also knows Tenele, offered to take Tenele into her house starting in January. Her offer is brilliant and I can hardly believe the offer is true, because really the best two ways to help Tenele is to 1) get her in school and 2) get her out of her living environment. As long as she lives where she is, she won’t change. So, the three of us (Thembi, Tenele, and I) all met to briefly talk about this.
(Thembi and I outside her house)
Tenele seemed excited with the idea of living with Thembi, and when I pulled her aside to ask her about it later she said she was willing and would like to live with her. I would pay for Tenele’s food and any toiletry type things she would need in order not to burden Thembi (who is not financially stable enough to support someone else). The idea is fabulous, especially because Thembi is an amazing woman whom I truly trust. Thembi is the one who is helping me arrange getting Tenele into school and also suggested Tenele should see a counselor. Thembi wants Tenele to go to some counseling sessions before she would move in to live with her, which is a very intelligent decision. So, at our meeting, we settled three things: 1) Tenele would school at Nazarine—a school that has a primary and secondary school along with a college of nursing and college of teaching; it’s an expensive school, but one that Tenele needs because she needs to be motivated with a future plan/dream; she wants to be a nurse, so this would be perfect for her; 2) she would meet with a counselor—my good friend has her degree in counseling so I asked Tenele if she would be willing to meet with her, since I trust her, and Tenele agreed; and 3) live with Thembi starting in January. So this all looks good on paper and brilliant in my thoughts, but in all practicality it’s quite a different story.
Tenele never showed up to meet the counselor. In fact, after that meeting, she didn’t show up for two weeks. She finally came to me a little over two weeks ago, and when I asked her why she didn’t come before as planned, all she could do was avoid looking me in the eyes and said, “Sorry, Mary-Kate, sorry, sorry.” I asked her again about the counselor but she politely declined. A part of me sank, but another part of me was glad she actually told me the truth rather than what I “want” to hear, because I feel like many times she just says things that she thinks I want to hear, when in all reality, I just WANT to hear the truth.
We are QUICKLY running out of time to get her into any school for next year. After Tenele finally came, we arranged to meet again on Thursday to talk with Thembi about actually going to the school and trying to get her enrolled at Nazarine. Thursday rolled around… no Tenele. I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I would probably have been more surprised if she had shown up. Friday morning I received a call from home about the passing of my grandpa, so 24 hours later I was on a plane home for the week. I tried calling Tenele before I left, but her phone was dead. I texted her in hopes she would still meet with Thembi while I was gone. Thembi promised to try to get in contact with her.
Thembi, a teacher I worked with two years ago who also knows Tenele, offered to take Tenele into her house starting in January. Her offer is brilliant and I can hardly believe the offer is true, because really the best two ways to help Tenele is to 1) get her in school and 2) get her out of her living environment. As long as she lives where she is, she won’t change. So, the three of us (Thembi, Tenele, and I) all met to briefly talk about this.
(Thembi and I outside her house)Tenele seemed excited with the idea of living with Thembi, and when I pulled her aside to ask her about it later she said she was willing and would like to live with her. I would pay for Tenele’s food and any toiletry type things she would need in order not to burden Thembi (who is not financially stable enough to support someone else). The idea is fabulous, especially because Thembi is an amazing woman whom I truly trust. Thembi is the one who is helping me arrange getting Tenele into school and also suggested Tenele should see a counselor. Thembi wants Tenele to go to some counseling sessions before she would move in to live with her, which is a very intelligent decision. So, at our meeting, we settled three things: 1) Tenele would school at Nazarine—a school that has a primary and secondary school along with a college of nursing and college of teaching; it’s an expensive school, but one that Tenele needs because she needs to be motivated with a future plan/dream; she wants to be a nurse, so this would be perfect for her; 2) she would meet with a counselor—my good friend has her degree in counseling so I asked Tenele if she would be willing to meet with her, since I trust her, and Tenele agreed; and 3) live with Thembi starting in January. So this all looks good on paper and brilliant in my thoughts, but in all practicality it’s quite a different story.
Tenele never showed up to meet the counselor. In fact, after that meeting, she didn’t show up for two weeks. She finally came to me a little over two weeks ago, and when I asked her why she didn’t come before as planned, all she could do was avoid looking me in the eyes and said, “Sorry, Mary-Kate, sorry, sorry.” I asked her again about the counselor but she politely declined. A part of me sank, but another part of me was glad she actually told me the truth rather than what I “want” to hear, because I feel like many times she just says things that she thinks I want to hear, when in all reality, I just WANT to hear the truth.
We are QUICKLY running out of time to get her into any school for next year. After Tenele finally came, we arranged to meet again on Thursday to talk with Thembi about actually going to the school and trying to get her enrolled at Nazarine. Thursday rolled around… no Tenele. I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I would probably have been more surprised if she had shown up. Friday morning I received a call from home about the passing of my grandpa, so 24 hours later I was on a plane home for the week. I tried calling Tenele before I left, but her phone was dead. I texted her in hopes she would still meet with Thembi while I was gone. Thembi promised to try to get in contact with her.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The Five Facts Everyone Should Know
Let me share a few facts with you:
1) Traveling is always an adventure
2) Don't fly with Delta
3) Tears make others soften up, though they don't really accomplish anything
4) The Atlanta airport hates me
5) God can make good come out of any bad situation
So, if you read my previous post, you know that I came home this past week. And as you can guess, I've had some problems getting back to Swazi. Let me just share the past 24 splendid hours with you. :)
My flights back home to Swazi go as follows: Milwaukee to Cinncinati to Atlanta to Johannesburg to bus to Swazi. I am about halfway right now. And it all started in Milwaukee. There's a joke with my housemates and I that somebody really doesn't want me in Swaziland because I kept getting all the sickness and rashes and whatnot and my housemates stayed healthy...well, this joke really isn't funny anymore. Innitially, the people at the airport in Milwaukee would not let me check in or get on my flight because they said I needed a return ticket. Well, I explained to them that I had been there for two months, had flown home for a funeral, so my "roundtrip" ticket was from joburg back to joburg. They said I couldn't go because I have a U.S. passport and have to show that I am not staying in Joburg. What? So, nearly two hours, a few tears, and $2500 later...I am finally checked in. I had to buy a "fake" ticket back home to show I wasn't staying in Joburg...but it's refundable, so when I get there, I can get the money back.
Okay, so stop #2: Cincinnati to Atlanta. The window of time from my arrival in ATlant to when I needed to catch my Joburg flight was short enough, so when we started having delays in Cinci, I was freaking out. There's no way I am going to catch that flight, I thought. I talked to the flight attendents on the plane and they kindly reseated me to the front of the plane to get me off asap. The delays was because of a luggage and inbalance problem. The pilot let us all know it was Delta's fault and even encouraged us to go online and let them hear about it. He did everything he could to get us there in record timing...so from the moment I stepped off the plane to when my Joburg flight departed was now 15 minutes. For those of you who know how HUUUUUGE the Atlanta airport is, know how nearly impossible it is to catch this flight in 15 minutes...let alone travel the completely OPPOSITE end of the airport where the international flights are. Anyway, I ran, jumped on the train thing and as I kept watching the clock, my eyes started tingling...don't cry don't cry...you can still make it! I thought again. I sprinted off the train and hustled to gate E10...the doors were closed there was no attendant there. I huffed and puffed, catching my breath and trying not to cry and a few bystanders told me to bust through the door...I tried...it was locked. Then a lady came over and was like, "Oh, you're going to Johannesburg?"
"Yes!" was all I could say.
"It's too late," she bluntly said. Then she changed her tone when I started to cry. "Well, let me check..." she goes through the doors and then comes back. "The JUST closed the door."
Seriously?!
All she could say when I started to cry was, "oh..."
But because it was Delta's fault, at least they rebooked me for free. Then they were going to put me up in a hotel for a "discounted" price. But (if you are familiar with one of my first posts, you will know who I'm talking about) my friend's mom lives in Atlanta, so I called around and got a hold of her number. She graciously picked me up at the airport with her daughter Rebecca. And I was pampered and loved for the past night and today, and it was a wonderful comfort before I head back to Swazi.
So...basically, always be ready for adventure when traveling, don't book a flight with Delta, tears are needed sometimes but don't solve things, there's something about the Altanta airport that apparently doesn't like me, and God is good. I am very blessed to have Ellen and Rebecca Farish taking care of me in a situation like this. Praise God for them, and the way our Good Lord can make us smile in any circumstance! :)
Well, time's up...I WILL be catching this next flight...see you on the other side.
1) Traveling is always an adventure
2) Don't fly with Delta
3) Tears make others soften up, though they don't really accomplish anything
4) The Atlanta airport hates me
5) God can make good come out of any bad situation
So, if you read my previous post, you know that I came home this past week. And as you can guess, I've had some problems getting back to Swazi. Let me just share the past 24 splendid hours with you. :)
My flights back home to Swazi go as follows: Milwaukee to Cinncinati to Atlanta to Johannesburg to bus to Swazi. I am about halfway right now. And it all started in Milwaukee. There's a joke with my housemates and I that somebody really doesn't want me in Swaziland because I kept getting all the sickness and rashes and whatnot and my housemates stayed healthy...well, this joke really isn't funny anymore. Innitially, the people at the airport in Milwaukee would not let me check in or get on my flight because they said I needed a return ticket. Well, I explained to them that I had been there for two months, had flown home for a funeral, so my "roundtrip" ticket was from joburg back to joburg. They said I couldn't go because I have a U.S. passport and have to show that I am not staying in Joburg. What? So, nearly two hours, a few tears, and $2500 later...I am finally checked in. I had to buy a "fake" ticket back home to show I wasn't staying in Joburg...but it's refundable, so when I get there, I can get the money back.
Okay, so stop #2: Cincinnati to Atlanta. The window of time from my arrival in ATlant to when I needed to catch my Joburg flight was short enough, so when we started having delays in Cinci, I was freaking out. There's no way I am going to catch that flight, I thought. I talked to the flight attendents on the plane and they kindly reseated me to the front of the plane to get me off asap. The delays was because of a luggage and inbalance problem. The pilot let us all know it was Delta's fault and even encouraged us to go online and let them hear about it. He did everything he could to get us there in record timing...so from the moment I stepped off the plane to when my Joburg flight departed was now 15 minutes. For those of you who know how HUUUUUGE the Atlanta airport is, know how nearly impossible it is to catch this flight in 15 minutes...let alone travel the completely OPPOSITE end of the airport where the international flights are. Anyway, I ran, jumped on the train thing and as I kept watching the clock, my eyes started tingling...don't cry don't cry...you can still make it! I thought again. I sprinted off the train and hustled to gate E10...the doors were closed there was no attendant there. I huffed and puffed, catching my breath and trying not to cry and a few bystanders told me to bust through the door...I tried...it was locked. Then a lady came over and was like, "Oh, you're going to Johannesburg?"
"Yes!" was all I could say.
"It's too late," she bluntly said. Then she changed her tone when I started to cry. "Well, let me check..." she goes through the doors and then comes back. "The JUST closed the door."
Seriously?!
All she could say when I started to cry was, "oh..."
But because it was Delta's fault, at least they rebooked me for free. Then they were going to put me up in a hotel for a "discounted" price. But (if you are familiar with one of my first posts, you will know who I'm talking about) my friend's mom lives in Atlanta, so I called around and got a hold of her number. She graciously picked me up at the airport with her daughter Rebecca. And I was pampered and loved for the past night and today, and it was a wonderful comfort before I head back to Swazi.
So...basically, always be ready for adventure when traveling, don't book a flight with Delta, tears are needed sometimes but don't solve things, there's something about the Altanta airport that apparently doesn't like me, and God is good. I am very blessed to have Ellen and Rebecca Farish taking care of me in a situation like this. Praise God for them, and the way our Good Lord can make us smile in any circumstance! :)
Well, time's up...I WILL be catching this next flight...see you on the other side.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Divine Interruption
At 2:30 in the morning last Friday, I received a surprise phone call from home...it was my mom delivering terrible news: my grandpa had passed away. We had known that he was sick and struggling for awhile; in fact, the doctors did not think he would last much longer after I left for Swazi. But slowly and surely my grandpa improved and lasted 7 weeks more than anyone thought. Nonetheless, death is hard to handle. The hardest part for me was that just a week earlier, my dad mentioned to me, "I think you might even see him again!" This was incredible news, especially since my grandfather is very dear to me, and it was so painful to leave him, knowing I would probably never see him again.
As my mom talked me through it over the phone, I of course started crying. She told me that my uncle offered to pay for my ticket home, but it was up to me if I wanted to leave or not. "Don't make any decisions now," she instructed. "Get some sleep and I will call you later and see what you think." But I couldn't sleep. I sat out in the living room with a box of kleenex and cried really hard. I cried because just a few days ago, I had written my grandpa a letter--a letter that was already on its way over to him...but was too late. I cried because my grandpa never wanted me to leave. He literally HATED that I was going to Swazi and he let me know. He asked me to stay. He grumbled at my grandma, asking her why she couldn't convince me to stay. As I said a final good-bye to him before I left for Swazi, he mentioned to my aunt, "I wish we had rope and could tie her down so she wouldn't leave." And I cried because I had the opportunity to call him...but never did. I kept putting it off, thinking I had more time; I didn't. As I sat there bawling, it just so happens that one of my housemates got up to go to the bathroom. She saw the light on and came to see who was out there. When she saw me, she sat down with me, listened to me, gave me a big hug, and then went to her room to retrieve a stuffed animal for me to hold on to as I slept that night.
So much pressure, so many thoughts. Should I come home or shouldn't I? Should I be there for me family and leave my kids? Should I take the miserable and long plane ride there and back again? I talked it over with some of my housemates and spent some time in prayer. I never in a million years thought I would come home during my 9 month mission...but I knew I had to.
At first I felt guilty for leaving, as if I were weak and not "strong enough" to stay....and I felt like I was interrupting my mission work and my ministry by going home. But then I was reminded that mission work never stops, no matter where I am. My mission is to serve the Lord and that happens everywhere and anywhere, and my mission is also to love and serve my family. Though being home for a week was incredily WEIRD and under bad circumstances, it was the best decision I made.
I was able to say good-bye properly to my grandpa...my fan, my friend. I was able to spend time with my grandma, who never let me forget how thankful she was I came home for this. I was able to spend time with all sorts of family, to demonstrate my love for them, to share what's been going on in Swazi, and most importantly, to share WHY I am serving in Swazi.
I had the pleasure and privelege of sharing a tribute to my grandpa at the funeral, a celebration of his life and a celebration of love. I posted it as a note on facebook if any of you are interested in reading more about him and what he taught me. The greatest lesson I learned this past week? Love never fails. Though my heart is aching and hurting to leave my loved ones once again, I am also eager to get back to my kids whose hearts ache and hurt to be loved...to have someone to call family.
Appreciate love. Cherish your family. And share with those who are without.
As my mom talked me through it over the phone, I of course started crying. She told me that my uncle offered to pay for my ticket home, but it was up to me if I wanted to leave or not. "Don't make any decisions now," she instructed. "Get some sleep and I will call you later and see what you think." But I couldn't sleep. I sat out in the living room with a box of kleenex and cried really hard. I cried because just a few days ago, I had written my grandpa a letter--a letter that was already on its way over to him...but was too late. I cried because my grandpa never wanted me to leave. He literally HATED that I was going to Swazi and he let me know. He asked me to stay. He grumbled at my grandma, asking her why she couldn't convince me to stay. As I said a final good-bye to him before I left for Swazi, he mentioned to my aunt, "I wish we had rope and could tie her down so she wouldn't leave." And I cried because I had the opportunity to call him...but never did. I kept putting it off, thinking I had more time; I didn't. As I sat there bawling, it just so happens that one of my housemates got up to go to the bathroom. She saw the light on and came to see who was out there. When she saw me, she sat down with me, listened to me, gave me a big hug, and then went to her room to retrieve a stuffed animal for me to hold on to as I slept that night.
So much pressure, so many thoughts. Should I come home or shouldn't I? Should I be there for me family and leave my kids? Should I take the miserable and long plane ride there and back again? I talked it over with some of my housemates and spent some time in prayer. I never in a million years thought I would come home during my 9 month mission...but I knew I had to.
At first I felt guilty for leaving, as if I were weak and not "strong enough" to stay....and I felt like I was interrupting my mission work and my ministry by going home. But then I was reminded that mission work never stops, no matter where I am. My mission is to serve the Lord and that happens everywhere and anywhere, and my mission is also to love and serve my family. Though being home for a week was incredily WEIRD and under bad circumstances, it was the best decision I made.
I was able to say good-bye properly to my grandpa...my fan, my friend. I was able to spend time with my grandma, who never let me forget how thankful she was I came home for this. I was able to spend time with all sorts of family, to demonstrate my love for them, to share what's been going on in Swazi, and most importantly, to share WHY I am serving in Swazi.
I had the pleasure and privelege of sharing a tribute to my grandpa at the funeral, a celebration of his life and a celebration of love. I posted it as a note on facebook if any of you are interested in reading more about him and what he taught me. The greatest lesson I learned this past week? Love never fails. Though my heart is aching and hurting to leave my loved ones once again, I am also eager to get back to my kids whose hearts ache and hurt to be loved...to have someone to call family.
Appreciate love. Cherish your family. And share with those who are without.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
"It's Not My Fault"
After teaching yesterday, one of my students came to me at break time and said her friend was sick. So I went back to the classroom to find Fungile lying on her desk, with her head buried in the crease of her elbow.
“Unani sisi?” I asked. (What’s wrong?)
She didn’t respond.
“Uyagula yini?” (Are you sick?)
She nodded her head, but kept it hidden. She had been sleeping during class and had been sick last week, but the head teacher would not let her go home.
“Fungile,” I gently shook her shoulder, “Fungile, can you look at me for a second?”
“Miss Kates,” Nolwazy, Fungile’s close friend, addressed me, “she’s crying.” Crying in front of someone, especially a teacher, is something they are ashamed of, so that’s why she wouldn’t look at me. “She’s crying and wants to go home. Talk to teacha so she can go home.”
“Do you want to go home?” I asked Fungile. She shook her head yes.
So I went and talked to the teacher and told him she really needed to leave. He approved and so I walked with her to the clinic to see the nurse and got her on a kombi (van) to go home.
But Fungile being sick in class reminded me that I had not seen another student, Mbali, for an entire week now. “Is Mbali sick, too?” I asked the group of girls. They shrugged their shoulders.
“She hasn’t been here all week. Do you know what’s wrong?”
The head teacher didn’t know either.
“Where does she live?” I asked.
“In Moneni…by Thulile,” Nolwazy answered.
I called Thulile over and prodded her about Mbali.
“Oh…no…she’s not sick…” she avoided eye contact with me.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Uh…she has a problem, Miss Kates.”
“What’s that?”
She paused, scanned the room to see if anyone was looking and answered, “Um…she’s pregnant.”
My heart sank. She's only 16. Thulile told me she was scared, and I can understand why. So, I asked Thulile to bring me to Mbali.
That afternoon, Thulile met me at Mangwaneni Care Point. I brought my Swazi friend Titi and we journeyed out on a long walk to Moneni. When we met Mbali, I took her aside and talked to her for a long time. At first she was quite upset I knew that she was pregnant. She said nobody was supposed to tell and that only a few teachers from the school knew about it. But once I told her that she can trust me and that I can help her, she softened up quite a bit. She told me that the headmaster asked her to leave school because she is nearly 5 months pregnant. I couldn't tell because even as I talked to her she was wearing a big, baggy shirt. But what she told me broke my heart.
"The teachas, they say I can still take exams because it wasn't my fault."
"It wasn't my fault," she kept saying. "He raped me. And the boy, he in jail now."
I couldn't believe it. I cannot imagine this 16 year old being raped and now carrying a child. She lives with her sister...she has parents but they live somewhere else. But she has no support. She has no help. I asked her what she was going to do with the baby and she said "leave it."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, after February (when she is due) I can go back to school. I will give the baby to my parents."
"Are they going to keep the baby?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know."
I gave her my cell number and told her that if she ever needs anything she should call me. I told her she needs someone to walk her through this and that I can be there for her or take her to the doctor or whatnot. But do you know she was worried about the most? It wasn't that she was pregnant or that she was raped...it was that she couldn't be in school...she was worried about exams. "Can you call me when it's time for exams because I want to move on to grade seven," she told me.
Education is so so so important to them...because what else do they have? So, I am arranging exercises and homework sheets and things to give to Thulile to bring to Mbali. I also told her I would come back and check on her again.
This all happened after meeting Tenele and two other friends earlier that day. More on Tenele in another blog...but basically I have a had a rough couple days and I cried really hard last night about it all. I cried for Mbali, for Tenele, for girls like them, and I cried because though I am in a position to help them, I feel so helpless. The questions keep looming...what do I do, what do I do? How can I help? But as I journaled about it last night, a song by Casting Crowns came on and it reminded me that the best thing I can do is...
“Unani sisi?” I asked. (What’s wrong?)
She didn’t respond.
“Uyagula yini?” (Are you sick?)
She nodded her head, but kept it hidden. She had been sleeping during class and had been sick last week, but the head teacher would not let her go home.
“Fungile,” I gently shook her shoulder, “Fungile, can you look at me for a second?”
“Miss Kates,” Nolwazy, Fungile’s close friend, addressed me, “she’s crying.” Crying in front of someone, especially a teacher, is something they are ashamed of, so that’s why she wouldn’t look at me. “She’s crying and wants to go home. Talk to teacha so she can go home.”
“Do you want to go home?” I asked Fungile. She shook her head yes.
So I went and talked to the teacher and told him she really needed to leave. He approved and so I walked with her to the clinic to see the nurse and got her on a kombi (van) to go home.
But Fungile being sick in class reminded me that I had not seen another student, Mbali, for an entire week now. “Is Mbali sick, too?” I asked the group of girls. They shrugged their shoulders.
“She hasn’t been here all week. Do you know what’s wrong?”
The head teacher didn’t know either.
“Where does she live?” I asked.
“In Moneni…by Thulile,” Nolwazy answered.
I called Thulile over and prodded her about Mbali.
“Oh…no…she’s not sick…” she avoided eye contact with me.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Uh…she has a problem, Miss Kates.”
“What’s that?”
She paused, scanned the room to see if anyone was looking and answered, “Um…she’s pregnant.”
My heart sank. She's only 16. Thulile told me she was scared, and I can understand why. So, I asked Thulile to bring me to Mbali.
That afternoon, Thulile met me at Mangwaneni Care Point. I brought my Swazi friend Titi and we journeyed out on a long walk to Moneni. When we met Mbali, I took her aside and talked to her for a long time. At first she was quite upset I knew that she was pregnant. She said nobody was supposed to tell and that only a few teachers from the school knew about it. But once I told her that she can trust me and that I can help her, she softened up quite a bit. She told me that the headmaster asked her to leave school because she is nearly 5 months pregnant. I couldn't tell because even as I talked to her she was wearing a big, baggy shirt. But what she told me broke my heart.
"The teachas, they say I can still take exams because it wasn't my fault."
"It wasn't my fault," she kept saying. "He raped me. And the boy, he in jail now."
I couldn't believe it. I cannot imagine this 16 year old being raped and now carrying a child. She lives with her sister...she has parents but they live somewhere else. But she has no support. She has no help. I asked her what she was going to do with the baby and she said "leave it."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, after February (when she is due) I can go back to school. I will give the baby to my parents."
"Are they going to keep the baby?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know."
I gave her my cell number and told her that if she ever needs anything she should call me. I told her she needs someone to walk her through this and that I can be there for her or take her to the doctor or whatnot. But do you know she was worried about the most? It wasn't that she was pregnant or that she was raped...it was that she couldn't be in school...she was worried about exams. "Can you call me when it's time for exams because I want to move on to grade seven," she told me.
Education is so so so important to them...because what else do they have? So, I am arranging exercises and homework sheets and things to give to Thulile to bring to Mbali. I also told her I would come back and check on her again.
This all happened after meeting Tenele and two other friends earlier that day. More on Tenele in another blog...but basically I have a had a rough couple days and I cried really hard last night about it all. I cried for Mbali, for Tenele, for girls like them, and I cried because though I am in a position to help them, I feel so helpless. The questions keep looming...what do I do, what do I do? How can I help? But as I journaled about it last night, a song by Casting Crowns came on and it reminded me that the best thing I can do is...
"Love them like Jesus. Carry them to Him. His yoke is easy; his burden is light. You don't need the answers to all of life's questions. Just know that he loves them. Stay by their side. Love them like Jesus."
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