Desperate Women, Desperate Times

The life of a widow is an exercise in patience, persistence and deep disappointment, especially in Uganda. First comes the grieving. The deep, deep sadness in losing the one you love, the one you committed your life to, the one you had your children with. The memory of that exceedingly happy day when you got married now only serves to deepen the sorrow of your loss. It seems as if a part of your soul has died with him. If only for the children, you keep on surviving, you keep on living. After the intensity of the grief lessens, you realize that it is up to you to feed them, to clothe them, provide school fees for them and to love them into maturity. You go to the market every day and sell what ever you can, but it is never enough. You heart breaks every time you have to tell your children that there will not be anything to eat tonight. Then you go into your room and cry your self to sleep. How long can you survive like this? The weight of all of it feels as though it might crush you completely. Your only hope is that God is real and that he hears your cries for help.

Now back on Ugandan soil, I longed to see the widows. I wasn’t sure what I would find and I was even more unsure of what I would hear, but I knew I had to see them. Love was drawing me back into a place I knew would be painful, but even I had no idea of what I was about to hear.

In the last 6 months the property where their small homes are located has been sold to a developer. So, one by one they are being forced from their homes. Now, only the sick remain as they are too weak to move.

As the motorcycle pulled up to the church where the widows were waiting, my heart leaped inside of me. Here were my friends--smiling and laughing and coming towards me to embrace me. I remembered each of them by name and held them close. Love seemed to fill up the space between us. As I scanned the widows seated outside the church, I saw Jane, thin and frail, but alive. She was nothing more than skin and bones, but when I walked over to her she smiled weakly and let me hold her. I kept saying, “I am so glad you’re still here. I prayed for you so many times hoping that I would see you again.” She smiled back and told me how happy she was to see me again, yet I could see the pain behind her eyes. She was not well.

Then I saw Rosemary. She came slowly painfully toward me. She now had diabetes and her legs ached terribly every time she moved, but she told me that the pain was worth it to see me again. I held her and then helped her find a place to sit down. After some encouraging words between us, she held my hand and told me that she had some sad news. Bracing myself, I squeezed her hand and looked into her face. “Remember the woman with HIV who had the fungus in her vagina, the one who you helped get the medicine.”

Of course I remembered her. Rosemary had taken me to her home only months before pleading with me to help her. This lady had no money to buy the medicine to treat this raging infection. When I got there the lady lifted her dress to show me the fungus that was eating her thighs and her insides. It was grotesque and as a woman I could not even imagine that kind of pain. I made sure she was treated immediately. It wasn’t long before she was walking and sitting upright at our widow’s meetings. I remember seeing her smile. I remember her holding me and thanking God that she was no longer in pain.

Rosemary explained that she had told the woman that I was coming back and the woman was elated. She wanted to show me how healthy she had become. Then 3 weeks ago, she contracted meningitis and died. As Rosemary told me about her death, I started to tremble. My eyes filled with tears and I closed my mouth tight to keep the sobs from coming out. I just shook my head and cried. Then Rosemary told me of another widow who had died of AIDS. I remembered that lady too. I remembered putting my face on her feverish one and praying for her health to return. My soul felt so grieved. I was at a loss for words.

Right at that moment, Joyce called me over to where she and several other widows were seated around Jane. Still processing the news of my friends’ deaths, I sat down in this circle of ladies. They were already engaged in intense conversation in their own language. After a couple minutes, the widows asked Jane to tell me what had happened to her. Jane’s bony arms were resting on her bony thighs. She lifted her head slightly to meet my gaze. As she began to speak, she mentioned her children then broke down into sobs. Joyce comforted her, and then proceeded to speak for her.

Jane has HIV and TB. She has had TB for over a year now and has gone through treatment twice. I remembered providing the money for her first round of treatment 6 months ago. I was so fearful then that she wouldn’t survive the treatment, but to God’s great credit she is still alive. Jane is unable to work due to the severity of her sickness, so she relies totally on her fellow widows to share their small amounts of food with her and her children. Two days ago, Joyce found Jane collapsed on the floor of her home. She rushed to her side to help her. She was still breathing, but very weak. Joyce spent hours at her home watching over her, giving her tea and talking to her when she was conscious.

She had collapsed because she had not eaten for couple of days, instead wanting her children to eat the small amount of food given to them by her fellow widows. She had also been emotionally overwrought when she found out that her children’s school fees would not be paid by a local charity. She had applied to this charity on behalf of her children and had not received the help. Now she was devastated, knowing that her children now had no hope of attending school, no hope of a future. She is dying and is desperate for her children to be able to go to school.

I sighed deeply and tried to intake the great disappointment that was before us. Immediately the other widows and I began to brainstorm ways to get Jane’s kids to school. We came up with several options and will spend the better part of next week trying to get her children to school and into a home for orphans. All of it was suffocating. Jane will not live. There will be a day when I hear of her death and I go to her burial. Her children will be orphans. I sat there for some time trying to seem okay, but I wasn’t. Deep sorrow had come and rested itself inside my heart.

After leaving Jane’s home, I walked with Rosemary up to the market in order to catch a bus. It was pitch dark by now, yet the market was teeming with people, motorbikes and commerce. It is a loud place, so as we walked and talked we leaned close to each other. I let Rosemary hold onto me and use me as a crutch, as I knew her legs were throbbing by now. I asked her how she was doing. She was quiet for a moment seeming to look for just the right English words to describe her own hardships. “It is hard,” she said. Several weeks ago the diabetes had gotten so bad that she had lost all use of her legs and had become bedridden. She then called in her medical team…they consisted of a pastor and several prayer warriors. They prayed for her and then several days later she was walking again, quite painfully, but she was walking. “God can do amazing things,” she said. Then she was quiet again. We walked some more.

After several minutes, she began to speak again this time with a quiver in her voice. “I have made so many beaded necklaces hoping to create a business to support myself and my children, but there is no market. I can’t sell enough of them.” She was quiet again and this time not moving. In the darkness, the light of a motorbike caught her face and I saw tears streaming down her face. I put both my arms around her and held her very close. “You are not alone,” I said. She then cried as she told me that her youngest boy now has ulcers because she has not been able to feed him regularly. He kept her up all night last night crying and asking her, “Mommy, why don’t you feed me?” She then began to sob. “What can I do?’ she asked me, “What can I do?” Again I sighed a deep sigh and let the weight of her pain rest on me too. I gave her some money so she could get the rest of the way home without walking and so she could feed her son and other orphans she cares for, but I know it is a temporary fix. It is like trying to stop a 6 foot hole in a dam with a toothpick.

So I will spend the better part of the next week looking for a way to sell her beads or to get her signed up with a feeding program for widows. I will also get down on my knees and beg for God to come rescue these women, but I know his answer. He will say, “I am rescuing them, I sent you.” What is God thinking? How could he do such a foolish thing? Does he know what a coward I am? Does he know my aversion to pain? Does he know that I often seek my own needs before I seek the needs of others? Does he know how painful it is to see death, disease, hunger and injustice on a minute by minute basis? Does he know that I often fail? Does he know that I often don’t have any idea how to really help? How could he risk the lives of these dear people with someone as flawed as me?

Then somewhere deep in the recesses of my spirit, I hear God whisper, “My darling, that is how everyone in love feels. You wonder if you really can love someone else. You wonder if you really can give yourself to another person. You wonder if you really can put another’s needs ahead of your own. But don’t be afraid, I created love and I created you. Keep standing in the pain with them. Meet what physical needs you can with what I give you. Listen to them, pray with them and most of all love them. My darling, I created you to be a lover….don’t be afraid for I will love them through you.”

Update on the widows:
If you read my blog, then you know that things are not good. They are really struggling to feed themselves and their children. They are struggling to pay school fees. They are desperate for a place to live. On that front, two Cornerstone staff, Simon & Alfred, are aggressively looking for land. We want to purchase something ASAP. Please keep praying that happens. If you have any suggestions for helping with feeding, schooling or how to build the houses, I am very, very open to hear them. I am praying God brings someone forward to partner with me.

Update on my life:
I am now living at Simon Kabi’s house which is a familiar place for me. Thank you so much to the Kabi’s for graciously opening their home to me! In so many ways I feel I am home. It is a fabulous feeling. It is as if I were lost and now have found myself wandering around Uganda. It is a glorious reunion!

I am subbing sporadically for the International School. I will be teaching second grade for a week in March; which will be fun as there are only 10 students in the class. It will be a good way for me to earn some extra money!

Much love,
Kari