Walking together.

There is an African proverb which says, “If you want to walk fast, walk alone. If you want to walk far, walk together.” Countless experiences in Kenya have taught me the wisdom and truth that lies hidden within these words. Even though I like to walk fast and to get things done, the journey I am on is long and cannot be done alone. In deep ways, I have grown to value the ones I get to walk with on dirt paths, to sit with alongside the sick, and to fight battles with for the sake of justice and mercy.
Yesterday, in a literal way, I walked far, together with my friend Rebecca. The afternoon sun was hot; and as some visitors have said, it was like walking up hill, both ways. I smiled, as I looked down at the dirt path we call a road, as it was filled with footprints of all sizes: some with shoes, most without. And I wondered how we had all ended up on the same path and where we were all going. Rebecca, a 33 year old widow and mother of two, and I were walking to a Tumaini na Afya (Hope & Health) support group meeting. It is a group of about 35 members that was birthed two years ago both by and for our clients living with HIV/AIDS. They lead the group and meet monthly to encourage one another to live positive lives: physically, emotionally, spiritually and economically. As we walked, Rebecca shared how, when she was first diagnosed with HIV, she felt shame and wanted to hide; but the Tumaini na Afya team had counseled and supported her to go for treatment and to join the support group. With time, she did both. She explained that, although life is hard, she now knows she is not alone in this journey. And that gives her hope. Like so many other moms who are living with HIV/AIDS in Africa, Rebecca’s dream is to live to raise her children. By the grace of God, she will.
When we reached the meeting, my heart was encouraged as I looked around the room. It was full of people who I have watched, in so many ways, come back to life. What a privilege it has been to walk alongside of them and to see them become hope-filled and purpose driven. God’s love has empowered them to encourage people newly diagnosed with HIV. From experience, they can tell their stories and say: “I remember when I was sicker than you. Do not give up.” or “Like you, I was scared but God is with us.” The power of their words is striking to me, because it stems from their courage to speak about their weaknesses. As they share together, freedom from fear and rejection is found and makes room for living life.
Our first patient has come to Kimbilio Center (The Refuge)... She is a young mother who is dying of AIDS. The virus has destroyed her immune system; and to this point, the anti-HIV drugs are not staying within her body long enough to have effect. This combination is devastating. Pauline, a kind and gentle lady, is no longer able to walk and finds herself so weak that she depends upon others for all of her needs. As I arrived to her home one day, she was sitting outside vomiting the morning’s dose of medications. Her two year old son was playing beside his mother’s suffering. In so many ways, they were alone.
As I knelt down to wash Pauline’s hands and face, I was struck by the phrase written on her t-shirt. This may sound ridiculous, but it was like God was speaking to me through the words on her shirt. Before I go on, let me explain about one societal thing first. In Kenya, second hand clothing, imported from the U.S. and Europe, is what most people can afford to buy and wear. Crazy sayings and brands, some better than others, end up in villages plastered on t-shirts. Pauline was wearing a ragged, Disney shirt with the character of Eeyore; but the message said this: “Thanks for noticing me.” As I attended to the needs of this mama and looked her in the eyes, I felt like I was living the passage of Matthew 25; and Jesus was saying: “I was hungry. Thanks for noticing me. I was thirsty. Thanks for noticing me. I am so sick, and you came to visit me. Thanks for noticing me.” I do not tell this to brag about my goodness; in truth, it was a reminder to me of the pure, reckless love of God. I was humbled. I saw the presence of God dwelling in brokenness. Pauline’s suffering was Jesus’ suffering too.