Reflections from South Africa

Many of you know I was in South Africa this past summer volunteering at the children's hospital and it was amazing. It's been about a month since I got back and finally finished my reflection so I thought I would share it with all of you.

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My time spent in South Africa this past summer still seems surreal, like time had stopped and I stepped into someone else’s life. So much so that when I returned I expected it to still be July and was surprised to realize it was almost September. Looking back it is so clear that God was doing miraculous things in the middle of it all. A year and a half ago, despite having turned my ROTC summer programs’ application in late, I found myself as one of the 16 cadets in South Africa. It was during that Cultural Immersion program that I walked through the halls of the Red Cross Children’s Hospital for the first time and felt my heart being tugged by the children we encountered, their smiles, the curiosity in their eyes, their longing for interaction, and realized I wanted to return as a volunteer. I kept in touch with the volunteer’s coordinator at the hospital and she recommended a few volunteers placement programs. I got in contact with them, expressing my desire to work at the children’s hospital, started looking at airfare, and did some calculations and soon realized finance would be a problem. I was a little disappointed but was unwilling to give up on it completely. A few months later it was suggested that I fundraise for it. I was a little skeptical but did as suggested and wrote a letter and sent it to everyone I knew. Soon enough, the money started coming in. I was amazed at their generosity, and so grateful. Slowly, the reality of returning became more and more real.

Everything seemed very familiar when I got off the airplane and drove through Cape Town. Given I was not staying at the luxurious hotel we stayed at the summer before, it made no difference. I was just excited to be back.

I was under the impression that this was the only hospital dedicated to pediatric care in South Africa but during the mini-orientation at the hospital I found out that it was actually the only children’s hospital in all of sub-Saharan Africa. For many children this was the last referral so naturally there were a lot of really sick kids. As a volunteer, our job was to play and interact with the children. Every morning we were assigned to a ward and we would fill a cart of toys, crayons, and books from the toy room and head off to our wards. The hospital cared for children from birth to twelve years of age. The babies were tiny, many of them hooked up to machines with tubes everywhere. In the tracheotomy ward, children had tubes in their necks, metal rods coming out of their jaws, and in the burns unit many toddlers were bandaged from head to toe with only their eyes, nose and mouth visible. After you get past all of that, which did not take long because of their enthusiasm and energy, you realize that they are still children; they need interaction, attention, and love. They want to play, they want to run down the halls, and they have a sparkle in their eyes that warms your heart. It was easy for me to never think about the sickness any particular child had as long as I still made them laugh or smile. The questions that ran through my head were not, “What does this child have?” or “What’s wrong with that one?” but rather “How do I make him smile?”, “What does this child want to do?”, “What toy would he like?” and “How do I take his mind off of his condition and being here?” When it all boils down to it, our job as volunteers was to make these children forget where they were.

During my time spent there, I saw a lot that made me smile, that made me angry, that made me want to cry my eyes out. I was able to see the political and social issues of not just South Africa, but of Africa as a whole through these children. I saw first hand how decisions of corrupt governments, limited resources, lack of education, and actions of those in power eventually trickles down to the most vulnerable. I was fortunate enough to tag along with the doctors as they did their ward rounds one day. I remember looking at each child sleeping in their beds connected to all the different machines and hearing the doctors discuss all their current conditions and future treatments. The reality of just how sick these children were hit me hard. There were lots children with fetal alcohol syndrome and when I first realized that the instinct was to be angry. This was a direct result from bad decisions made by the mother and it just did not seem fair that any child should suffer the way they do because of it. But at the same time I found it hard to be angry with them. They lack sex education and many of them only get their periods every four months because of malnutrition that they sometimes do not know they are pregnant until much later. It is just one of the many sad realities I encountered. Many children did not have parents or family at their bedsides. I can only speculate where they might be or what situations would prevent them from being there. It was those children that demanded the most of our attention. One particular little girl stole my heart; her name was Laetticia. She was only 6 or 7 months old and the most precious little thing. I walked into the burn unit that particular day and found her lying wide awake in her bed. The moment I looked at her, she started giggling and laughing in a way that penetrated my heart; I could not help but be drawn to her. I noticed the scars on her thighs and legs but like the other children I did not dwell too long on the why’s and how’s that landed her here. It was only later that I found out from another volunteer that she was there because of a urine burn. I was shocked and appalled. She was obviously left for a long time in order for her urine to leave the scars that she had. It broke my heart completely. Not once did I see a visitor at her bedside but every time I was there, she always brought a smile to my face. It was devastating to know that she was not the only child without anyone there for them. I could not help but wonder what would happen to these children after they left the hospital.

On the contrary, I also saw so many moms and dads that stayed restlessly at their child’s bed side. The exhaustion that was etched in their faces and postures was obvious but the love that I saw in their eyes made me realize what true love meant. God’s love shone through so brightly in that dim place from these dedicated parents. One little boy cried every time his father got out of his arm’s reach; he had been fussing all day. I walked over to see if there was anything I could do, maybe bring him a train or bear. I could tell the father was exhausted. He took off his apron and cap and said to me, “I haven’t slept for four days. I need to take a break.” There was a sense of defeat and exhaustion in his voice. I nodded at him understandingly and he walked out as his son screamed at the top of his lungs. I realized then that we, the volunteers, were not only there for the children but also there to serve these bedside-parents who would do anything to be there for their children, as Jesus Christ is.

I had a lot of people ask me, “Isn’t it hard to see the children like that all the time? How do you deal with it?” They are sick, some of them really sick, some are abandoned, some would never live a life without medication and hospital visits, some probably even only had a few more hours to live. But to me, these children are the lucky ones. Yes, hospitals are a cruel place for kids to be, but at least they are getting the help the need, one of the best in almost all of Africa. And most of all, these children were given a chance at life. Whatever difficulties the mothers had to overcome, whatever influences they had, whatever life was throwing at them, they had their child. That is beautiful in itself. No matter how sick the children are, they are lucky to have been given a chance to fight for their lives and that is more than the millions of children that are aborted every year get. In a country where “safe abortions” are advertised everywhere and condoms dispensed for free at train stations, these children are definitely the lucky ones. People call me optimistic and it might be true. But I know it comes from my faith, a faith that only became personal to me not long ago. It comes from learning to trust that God has a plan for everything, in knowing that God is love, truth and hope.

God is good. God is love. That was made so clear to me on this trip. I am so grateful for having been given, by God through the wonderful people who supported me both spiritually and financially, this chance to serve the most vulnerable of His children. In the process I witnessed His love and compassion outpoured and felt His love sinking deeper into the core of my being. Words cannot describe that feeling, of being taken over so completely by His love and grace, of the warmth that is felt deep in my soul, and a void I did not know I had filled with His love and presence. I still find myself asking Him why He is so good to me and loves me so much. I heard the answer clearly from Him a few months ago but such unconditional love is still hard for me to comprehend; but it is a little easier now.