Today I was feeling a little sad, for a few reasons and as I walked home I was drifting off into daydreams and thinking about life. As I walked into my yard I noticed this pretty woman sitting under one of the trees in my yard, and along side her was my friend and Masai guard Manuel.
I assumed it might be his mother because the night I got back from Spain, a few days ago, Manuel had told me, and Rosemary translated for me, that his mother was very sick and came from Arusha to go to the hospital in Dar Es Salaam. I couldn’t understand when he was trying to explain the sickness she was suffering from because he kept pointing to her breasts and my heart sank because I thought he was trying to explain that she had breast cancer. Rosemary wasn’t around so I didn’t know what was wrong with her, all that I knew was that she made a n 8 hour bus ride all the way from Arusha, which is about 1 ½ hours outside of Ngorongoro Crator Conservation Area, and an area where many Masai live.
My heart went out to Manuel because even though I couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying I could see the pain and hurt in his eyes and my heart went out to him. He told me that he wanted to go and visit her in the hospital but that he didn’t have enough money for the ride and or food to send for her.
I immediately gave him 10,000 shillings, about 8 $8.00 so he could go visit her. I imagine she felt so alone coming all the way away from her family and tribe. The wonderful thing is that Manuel’s brother came to visit last week and has been here ever since so in a way it was goo timing for her to come to the hospital.
That night Manuel returned home, in a round about, Swahili way, which I so desperately tried to understand, and in doing so I broke out my dictionary because I didn’t want to miss anything, and my translator :) Rosemary wasn’t home. The jist of our conversation was that his mother was in the hospital, and I couldn’t tell what for and that she would be coming to Bagamoyo to rest/sleep. I asked him where she was coming to because as he was telling me this I was thinking, ‘where will him mother sleep and rest , on the street, under the tree in my yard? I couldn’t understand him. He
pointed to town, and I assumed she would be staying some where with the other Masai tribes. I now realize he was talking about the bus station station. The dalla-dallas(buses) are a wild ride, I like to call it. Public bus/transit system for most Tanzanian’s. They pack full like sardines and make about 10 stops before hitting Bagamoyo. They are hot and sweaty. The experience is like riding the subway at rush-hour, but it is like rush hour every time of day, only it’s a bus and it is cruising down the road dodging bicyclists, goats, cows and pedestrians all along the way. I couldn’t imagine this sick women having to endure the ride.
Today when I saw her sitting under the tree with her posture held as dignified as she possibly had the energy to do so, yet her head hung low and as I looked into her eyes I sensed her body and soul were hurting. I smiled at her as she looked at me with uncertainty. I walked up to her and one of Manuel’s friends who was sitting with her, on card board boxes, which they use as pads and or protection from the ground. They keep them up in the tree branches so no one throws them away. One day I looked up in my tree and wondered what the heck they were and what the heck were they doing up in the tree. I was dumbfounded, to say the least, until that same day I saw a few of the guys napping under the tree on about 4 flattened boxes. I looked up in the tree and realized what they were.
I greeted her and welcomed her in Swahili because Masai speak a little Swahili and their own language. I wanted to ask if she was Manuel’s mother so the boy that was sitting next to her
tried to translate in broken English/Swahili and I found out that yes, it was his mother. He was sitting under the other tree with about 5 other Masai while they were all chatting and cooking over the fire. He came over and introduced me to her. I was proud to be able to meet her. I felt saddened and immediately thought of what she might need or how I could help her, without disrespecting her state of illness, in any manner. I asked Manuel if she would like some food and water and he said yes, so I whipped some up and took it out to her. I peeped out of the window as she ate and drank the water; all the while she sat up straight and tall. I wasn’t sure what to do. She spoke very little Swahili so I
had a difficult time communicating with her so I would go and get Manuel. When that didn’t work because of the language barrier. Today I could feel the barrier like no other day. I wanted to know what was wrong with her health. I went and got Rosemary, who had just arrived home, and asked her to come and talk with Manuel and myself. Long story short she had pneumonia and came to Bagamoyo from the hospital in Dar because she can no longer afford to pay for the hospital stay. Once again, my heart sank. He said they don’t have enough money to do X-Rays and won’t for about a month. I am gong to ask around at how much they might cost and see what we can all do to help.
I went inside and looked around for anything that might make her more comfortable. Keep in mind she is used to living in a mud hut with dirt floors, on a little bed made from cowhides. I looked out my window and she was humming a song. The Masai are always humming and or singing. I felt sad.
Then I noticed that Manuel was laying down a piece of foam outside my house, near this shed which sits just under this majestic palm tree. There next to the foam was something blue in a plastic bag. I went outside to look and it was a mosquito net to place over her while she slept. I’m thinking, OMG this sick woman has to lay on the ground, when she is feeling so sick and try to sleep. The settling thing is that she truly is used to these conditions, although there is no roof over her head.
I went back inside and paced my floor. ‘Should I bring another blanket, and as I looked outside to check on her again, I noticed the boys had brought her a blanket. So I decided to turn to some light African music to help sooth her soul or at least break up the nice form the kids yelling next door. Tonight she will sleep under my patio because it is really warm out. Here is this part of me where I want to ask her to sleep inside but I am a little afraid. Afraid of what, I’m not sure Manuel always sleeps out there so I think she will be comfortable. I will ask Rosemary what she thinks.
It is hard to watch another soul suffer just because they don’t have the money to pay for a hospital and or medicine, let alone and X-ray. Hundreds of people die everyday because they can’t afford healthcare even if it is a minor illness, or an illness that perpetuates into a serious condition due to the fact that they can’t sop it before it gets to a point of no return. I just want to cry. I wish I could reach out to her. I suppose I am reaching out to her in the only way that I know how – by surrounding her space with as much love and light that I can offer.
I’ll pray for her tonight.
No comments:
Post a Comment