Meet the Widows
There are over 80 widows in the Dorcas Widows Ministry, each with a unique story and journey of becoming a widow and a mother and what life is like in Africa caring for children without support while often times sick and hungry. Kari has visited each one of the widows and has listened to their stories and written about several of them at www.divinestories-kari.blogspot.com.
Click on the following links to read excerpts from the stories of a few of the women.
Rachel
The full story about Rachel can be found at Climbing Out Of The Pit.
Rachel had fallen into a deep pit. Her husband died in 2000 of AIDS, leaving her HIV positive. Losing him was devastating, but equally as devastating was realizing that she was faithful to a man who slept with other women. How do you mourn someone and at the same time burn with rage?
When did he have time to have these affairs? I cooked dinner every night. I took care of our children. I listened to you as told me about the stresses of your day. I mourned with you when our last-born child died in infancy. We walked through this deep valley of grief together and emerged on the other side. Our marriage seemed strong and intimate, was it all an illusion? Why did he do it? Was I not enough? Am I not beautiful? Did he not love me? Was I a bad wife? Was I not a good lover? The questions came at her at lightening speed and tormented her day in and day out.
Each day she nursed her husband to his death and sometimes it took everything in her to care for him—to show compassion to him, to clean him, to listen to his cries. She felt guilty sometimes that she wanted him to suffer. He had broken their sacred bond and had brought death into the house. Finally, he breathed his last and even in her anger, her heart broke. She had loved him. He had been handsome. She remembered falling in love with him. How sweet that time was. She was his princess. Their love was sweet and intoxicating. What went wrong? She had gone from deliriously happy bride, to radiant mother, to ignored wife, to diseased widow. Her
emotions swirled inside her like a tempest. They were unpredictable and all consuming. They drove her deep into a pit of fear and despair.
Deep in that pit with her were her two children and the only child of her dead sister. She couldn’t loose it completely; those children depended on her for food, school fees and a safe place to live. She went to the clinic and started the ARV drugs in hopes that she might live long enough to see these children through school. When she feels good she sells small vegetables at the market. She struggles to feed them everyday and to pay their school fees. Now she is being chased away from the one room shack that is her home. They city has condemned it and in doing so condemned her.
Ruth, Elizabeth and I went to visit Rachel. As I approached the wooden structure, she was sitting on a small
stool staring off into the distance. When we caught her attention she welcomed us towards her. We sat outside her home in silence for a couple of minutes. Taking her hand in mine, I asked her how she was doing. That is all it took for the floodgates to open. She began to weep while I stroked her arm and her shoulders. We listened as Rachel told us about her pit. It seemed so deep and so dark, but we didn’t let go of her. The other widows gathered around her. She told us every detail. We saw the ugly face of fear. We heard the cries of despair and desperation. We sensed the wildness of rage. We listened and were not intimidated by these bullies of emotion. We held Rachel as she let out all that she was working so hard to keep locked inside of her. Then we prayed to the one who rescues us from even our deepest wounds.
The widows asked Jesus to come with his powerful weapon of love and surround Rachel. They asked him to wage war against her fear and desperation. They asked him to hold her in the palm of his hand. They asked him to reach down into her darkness and shine his great light. As they prayed a powerful sense of love and power filled that place. Rachel’s breathing calmed down and she seemed a little more at peace. We each looked at her and said over and over, “You are not alone. God will not leave you and we will not leave you.” She meekly said, “Thank you. I do love Jesus and I want to be free from this pain. Thank you for coming, I needed to know that God still cares about me.”
In that moment God’s great hand of rescue reached down into her pit and gave her hope in a way out. His light shone down breaking the blackest part of her darkness. She is not yet healed completely, but she is in a community of widows that will not abandon her into the pit. They will stand with her and remind her of God’s faithfulness and compassion. They will hold her when she cries and wage war against the evil forces of fear, despair and rage. Her healing has begun and slowly by slowly it will be completed. There will be a day when a crown will be placed on her head that shines with love and compassion.
Rosemary
The full story about Rosemary can be found at From Death To Life.
I spent time with Jesus this week learning about his “favorite thing to do” at the home of Rosemary the widow. Rosemary’s simple wooden 3-room structure is an unlikely place to meet the God of the universe, yet he’s there and he was full of life and laughter. He was with his bride. Just as he promised, he had become the husband to the widow. Like any loving wife, Rosemary leaned forward and began to tell me the story of how they met.
Rosemary is from Northern Uganda where war has been a part of daily life for the last twenty years. She knows what its like to run from stray bullets sheltering your children as best you can. She knows what its like to see your neighbors killed while you hide in terror. Life was so hard for so long that Rosemary became numb to it all. She drank alcohol and a lot of it just to help get through the day. Then came the final blow. Her husband fell sick—very sick, very fast. She knew this disease all too well. She had seen other neighbors die of slim’s disease. Finally, in 1998 her husband died of AIDS. Then shortly after her co wife died of AIDS. She didn’t need to get tested to know the truth of her grim situation, but she did. Sure enough she was HIV positive. This put a strain on her emotions that she just couldn’t bear. It drove her deep into depression and alcoholism. She then watched as her youngest two children wasted away from AIDS. She buried them and in some respects buried part of herself. She was barely coping, but she still had five children to feed.
One day she was riding on the back of a pick up truck taking her cassava to market, hoping to sell enough to feed her children, when the tire blew causing the truck to loose control. Her only thought was of her 5 children. She remembers screaming out, “God help my children.” When she regained consciousness she realized that she was laying on the roadside with blood running down her body. Her collarbone was broken and protruding through her skin. Her back was broken as well as several ribs, but she was alive. She was taken to the hospital where it took one year for her to heal. She tried to get word about her children, but was not successful. When she returned to Lira, she found them split up among several different homes of “good Samaritans.” She collected her children and made the
decision to move out of the war zone. She moved everyone to Kampala, the capital city.
Upon arriving, life was extremely difficult for her. She did not have enough money to send her children to school or to feed them regularly. Her CD4 count was worsening and HIV was now turning to full-blown AIDS. She was just bones and skin. She spent the little money she had on alcohol just to numb the physical and emotional pain. The community she lived in rejected her and shamed her. She learned not to walk out in the open, but through the back passage ways and only at night. Many people in the community thought she was mentally disturbed and wouldn’t come near her.
One day she went to the clinic to get her CD4 count taken and they were not hopeful she would last another week. They told her to go home and prepare for death. Rosemary then lost all hope. That same week, she went to a prayer service to make peace with God before she died. At that prayer service she heard the pastor say that Jesus loved her and wanted to be in a relationship with her. She
couldn’t believe it. No one wanted to talk to her or be with her. She was an emotional mess. She was an alcoholic. She was going to die. She was a bad mother. There was nothing about her that drew others to her, yet this pastor continued to tell her that Jesus wanted to love her. With nothing to lose she moved forward to the front of the church and asked the pastor to help her know Jesus. As she prayed she felt an enormous burden lift from her shoulders and a sense of health she hadn’t felt in years. She walked away from that church and for the first time in a long time she didn’t feel like drinking. She went straight home and told her children about this Jesus who wants to love widows and orphans.
The next day she went back to the clinic to get her CD4 count taken again. This time the nurse took it twice. “This is impossible,” she said. “What is impossible?” Rosemary asked. “Your CD4 count is normal.” The nurse then gave her an AIDS test where Rosemary tested negative. The clinic was so shaken by this bizarre result that they sent her to another clinic and then to the main hospital
in Kampala. However the result never changed. From that point on she always tested HIV negative. It was then that Rosemary realized that God had healed her emotionally and physically. She was supposed to have been AIDS next victim. Now she was God’s great beauty.
Over the next few weeks, a new Rosemary was born. She gained her strength back and began to work hard at selling things in the market. She fed her children and they all gained weight. She even raised enough money to send her children to school. The community was shocked and had a hard time believing that this was the same woman who was only bones and skin a few months ago. She had been drunk all the time and close to death. How could someone go from certain death to life in such a short amount of time? Instead of walking the back alleyways, she walked down the main street and told anyone who would listen about Jesus-the one who loves deeply, forgives completely and heals absolutely. Then in her slum area, she raised enough money to build a small church where all the broken people could come and meet Jesus. She has also taken in 7 other orphans because she knows that Jesus loves orphans. She still leads this small congregation of once broken people with the savior she loves.
Today, Rosemary laughs as she tells the story of how Jesus found her, loved her and healed her. There is a deep intimate connection between her and Jesus. They are in love and it shows. It was then that Jesus looked at me and said, “I just love to bring the dead back to life. It is my favorite thing to do.” I looked at him and all I could see was his radiant glory.
Ruth
The full story about Ruth can be found at A Widow's Desperation & God's Intervention.
Ruth started her life as a radiant bride. Her husband paid her father 10 cows for her and their wedding was a celebration the whole village enjoyed. Her husband treated her with kindness, respect and tender compassion. Ruth had found a good man and she knew it. Life was good, secure and full of promise. Little did she know that life as she knew it would not last. Death came and took her husband in 2003. He died suddenly and without warning. She grieved and mourned his death. In fact she could
not figure out how to stop crying. She cried all morning until midday, then she cried all afternoon and often throughout the night. She missed him. It was hard to imagine even one day without him by her side. She was heartbroken. In an instant she lost everything, her friend, her lover, her protector and her provider. How would she feed her five children? How would she pay their school fees?
In the darkest moment of despair, she reached out to her sisters but they told her to go home. They could not help her. They could barely feed their own family and could not support her. Then she reached out to her brother’s in law, but they told her that they had enough problems with their own families. Everyone she reached out to ignored her cries for help. She felt so betrayed and even worse she felt so completely alone. She became full of rage and bitterness. Soon this bitterness developed into a deep depression. She could not get out of bed. She could not stop crying. She could not leave her house. In this haze of despair, she decided to poison her children and then to poison herself. Before executing her plan, she decided to go to the lunch hour prayer service near her home to make peace with God before she killed her family. As she entered the church, the pastor looked at her and nodded his head. She noticed him looking directly at her and nodding his head. It was odd, but she was so depressed it didn’t seem to matter. As the preacher stood, he pointed to her and said, “Mama, would you stand up?” With every ounce of energy, she stood. The pastor looked directly in her eyes and said, “Jesus loves you. He LOVES you. He sees you. He sees the trouble you are in and he will
help you. He will provide for you and not leave you hungry. But, please mama do not do what you have planned to do.” Suddenly, Ruth fell to the ground and sobbed. She wondered how could God love her if he had taken her husband from her. She wondered how she would feed her children. She wondered how she would pay their school fees, but she went home and did not poison her children.
Then the pastor visited her in her home and began to share the scriptures with her. He told her that Jesus did love her and see her. He told her that Jesus weds himself to the widows and becomes their husband in order to meet their every need. In one last desperate attempt, The next morning she began to pray. She asked God to provide food for her children. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. She got up and opened her door. Her neighbor was standing there with her arms full of cooked food. Ruth was shocked and could barely speak. Her neighbor had been praying and God had told her to come feed the Widow Ruth. They ate for 3 days on that food and it nourished their bodies, but more importantly it began to heal the hurt and fear. Another day, another neighbor came with money saying that God had told him to give it to the Widow Ruth. Jesus was keeping his promise. When he vowed to be this widow’s husband. He vowed to take care of her needs, to protect her and to love her. Now daily he was doing just that.
For the last three years Ruth has lived with no income and Jesus has fed her children every day. One day last week, God told Ruth to go to the market to buy food, but she had no money. However, after three years of trusting her heavenly husband, she knew a good surprise was in store for her. She dressed and walked to the market where she waited for God to provide for her. A teenage boy approached her and asked how she was doing. His parents knew her and had asked him to go inquire about her needs. She told the boy that God had sent her to the market to get food, but that she was waiting for him to show her how to buy the food. The boy then gave her 20,000 Schillings (about $15) and told her to buy food for the week. His parents had been praying and sent the boy to find her. Day after day, month after month and year after year, God has been a faithful husband. He found her dirty, lonely and crushed in spirit and has now turned Ruth into a radiant, vibrant, beautiful woman.
As for Ruth, she told me yesterday that she is done with men, she is married now to Jesus and serves him alone. She told me, “Kari, that is what God can do. I bring all my problems to my God, to my husband, and he takes care of them. I am well loved, well protected and well provided for. It is only God who can do that. You just trust him and he will provide. He will love you better than anyone.” Sounds like a woman in love doesn’t it?
As a follower of Jesus, will you be a widow's husband? Will you love, honor and cherish her? Will you provide for her and protect her? One thing is sure, even if you won't--Jesus will.
Joyce
The full story about Joyce can be found at At Home With The Widows.
Slowly I walked up to a three room concrete home. Suddenly a woman showed up at the door with three little children clinging to her skirt. She smiled broadly, hugged me and welcomed me into her home. We sat in a small room where pictures of those who are no longer with her hang on the wall. They are visual reminders of her deep pain of loss.
Joyce is an Acholi from Northern Uganda. She grew up in a war zone learning early how to run from the fighting and where the best places to hide were. One day, she heard the familiar sounds of bullets and soldiers, so she ran to hide. After the violence was over, she returned home to find her parents in a pool of their own blood. As a 15-year-old girl, she was terrified, but she pulled their bodies from the open space and began to prepare them for burial.
After their death, she stayed with some of her relatives until she got married. One day soldiers killed her husband forcing her to leave the northern part of Uganda with her small daughter. Then just last year her only daughter was killed in a traffic accident in Kampala. As if that was not enough, her remaining siblings have all died due to war and AIDS, so she is now caring for 15 of her siblings children. I am not sure even how 15 children fit into those three rooms. As I was getting up to leave she grabbed my hands and began to cry, “I’m alone. Everyone in my family is dead and I am the only one remaining. Why? Why did I live?” I reached my arms around her and then I looked her in the eye and said, “I see you. I hear you. I see the pain on your face, but I don’t why God allows
some to die while others live. Please know that I will not forget you and neither will the people who hear about you.” We prayed and asked God to intervene in her life and to provide for her children. God seemed to be crying with us. He was present. Then we talked about the new land that is coming and the people in America who have decided to support her and the other widows. Slowly a small bit of hope began to spread across her face.
Helen
The full story about Helen can be found at Rich in Faith.
Helen grew up in a family that loved her. Her parents taught her how to grow maize, groundnuts and Irish potatoes. They always had enough to eat and the food was good. She hoped one day to be a good cook like her mother. No one could make millet bread like she could. Sometimes as night, her uncles would take her into the woods to collect honey from the beehives. She would hold the fire up high over her head close to the hive to chase the bees out. Then her uncle would collect the honey. She loved eating that sweet honeycomb. On holidays when her friends and family gathered in her home she would watch her older siblings dance the traditional Acholi dance. She stood behind them and tried to copy their every move. Then her parents would light a fire and the children would listen as the adults told them stories of times long ago. Life at home was full of love and promise. She remembers being so happy. She felt like the richest little girl in the world.
As all little girls do, she grew to be a vibrant fun loving woman. She fell in love with a good man and married him in a grand celebration that the whole village attended. They built their home, planted their crops and dreamed of a great future together. Helen was excited to become a mother and to raise her children to know the rich love she had felt as a child. Her first child came and the whole family came to ooh and aah over this new fat healthy baby. Then just two years later another beautiful baby joined their family. Everything was as it should be and they wanted for nothing.
Shortly after Helen’s second child was born, rumors began to spread around the village that a group of rebels were planning to overthrow the government. She hoped they were rumors. Life was good in her village and no one wanted to go back to the days of Idi Amin. Then one day some Ugandan officers showed up at her home to talk to her husband. She longed to know what they were discussing so intently under that tree. When they left, she approached her husband. He told her that the rebels were indeed beginning to attack villages in their area. The rumors were true. He then told her not to worry-that he would protect her and their children. Suddenly, she knew what he would say next. He had joined the army and was leaving the next day to go and fight the rebels. She cried hysterically and begged him not to go--not to leave them, but he felt that the only way to really protect them was to join the army and fight.
She cried for days after he left. She lay awake each night wondering if he was alive or dead. Her neighbors told her that the rebels were getting closer and that they were ruthless and held no mercy for women and children. She was so terrified, but she had to stay strong for her children. They were so young. She tried to remain calm as she breast-feed her youngest. Even if her life was in chaos, she wanted her children to feel at peace.
One day, a relative came running up the path to her home shouting and crying. Helen ran to her fearing the worst. The woman told
her that the rebels had slaughtered her sister and brother in law this morning. Helen dropped to her knees and wept. How could
this be happening? Suddenly she remembered her sister’s two small children. Shaking she looked at the woman and tentatively asked
about the 3 year old and the infant. “They are alive and with your father,” she said.
She could feel herself drowning in sorrow, so she asked God to give her strength. She was a mother and she knew she couldn’t fall
apart—not with two young babies. So got up brushed herself off and fed her children lunch. After feeding them, she went to her father’s house to mourn with him. Helen and her father held each other and cried. It was all too much to bear. Helen knew upon
entering the house that her sister’s child would only survive if she breast-fed him. So, she picked up her nephew and wept as she
breast-fed her sister’s child. She stayed with her father for a couple weeks and helped with all the funeral arrangements. It was a
painful time.
After two weeks, Helen made the decision to return to her home. All the children’s things were there and there were neighbors who
could help her care for her sister’s children. So, with 4 children under the age of 3, she returned to the house she had built with
her husband. Life was hectic. She seemed to be breast-feeding all the time. Then the other two wanted to be held and cuddled. God was
her only source of comfort. He somehow gave her enough strength to keep going. She would get so afraid sometimes. The gunshots and
bombs seemed to be getting closer, but when she would pray God would give her peace. Even now, she can’t explain how she felt that
peace as the war raged around her.
One day, she heard her neighbors screaming, “The rebels are here.” People were frantic and running with their children. Some were
screaming, some were crying and some were praying. Helen ran inside the house and saw 4 small children. There was no time. She had to
run, but she couldn’t carry them all. “God forgive me,” she cried and she picked up her sister’s children and hid them under a blanket. Then she took her two children and ran wildly into the bush. Then she hid and silenced herself and her children. After several hours, all was silent and slowly people began to leave the bush. She took her children and forced herself to walk toward her house. She began to shake expecting to see her sister’s children dead. To her great relief, they were scared but alive. She held them so close and wept uncontrollably. The weight of leaving them almost crushed her. She thought of poisoning herself, but who would care for the children?
She wondered how God could love her. How could he forgive her? She felt like she had had no choice. She prayed all night and even in her deep despair, God comforted her. He came to her. She said she felt him holding her saying, “I will never leave you. I know you did the best you could. I will protect you and the children. Depend on me.”
A few days later the rebels came again. Again she chose to run with her children and to leave her sister’s children hidden in the house. As she lay silent in the bush, she prayed for those children. She asked God to supernaturally protect them. Unlike the last time, she felt the peace of God even through the loud pops of gunfire and exploding bombs. God’s presence seemed to be all around her. She could feel it in her bones. When all fell silent, she went back to the house and was shocked to find the children eating. The rebels had cooked food at her place and left some for the children. They had spared her home and her sister’s children. Helen fell to her knees and began to worship the great rescuer. God had promised to save her and the children and he did. That night instead of crying in despair, she sang out loud hymns of praise. As she closed her eyes, she could feel God’s presence. It was so peaceful and so loving.
A few days later, the rebels came again. Again she heard her neighbors begging for mercy before they were murdered. She heard people
running and screaming. She went to grab her children and then stopped. She remembered that God had promised to protect her, so with her heart beating wildly she gathered all the children together. As they sat holding each other, Helen began to pray. Her voice was shaking, but she continued to talk to Jesus reminding him of his promise of protection.
Suddenly the door flew open as 3 rebel soldiers rushed in pointing their rifles at her head. They were all shouting at her. She put up her hands and continued to pray. It was loud and confusing. She began to beg them to spare her children. She had heard them slaughter her neighbors, so she was expecting the same. Still she continued to cling to God’s promise of protection. Then something miraculous happened. One of the rebels told her to get up, get her children and run. Immediately, she grabbed the infants and told the other two
to grab hold of her skirt. Then they ran. As she looked back she saw them burning her home and everything she had. She had nothing but the clothes they were wearing, but God had kept his promise, she and her children were alive.
Helen’s husband never came back. The great love of her life was gone, but a new love was beginning. Over the next 20 years, Jesus has
provided for Helen. He has fed her when she has had nothing to give her children. He has provided school fees in ways too miraculous to believe. He has provided places for her to live when she had nowhere to lay her head. But most of all he has never left her and he has loved her better than any man ever could.
Helen is caring for her grandchildren now as two of her own children have died of AIDS. She lives in a condemned bathhouse and sells
brooms in the market. Looking at her is looking at extreme poverty. She has nothing. Her and her 6 grandchildren sleep on the floor of that old bathhouse. It is only God who feeds her. It is only God who gives her peace. It is only God who gives her joy. It is only God who loves her.
As she stood in front of the other widows and told her story of God’s great love for her, she gushed about how good God has been to her. Then she fell to her knees and raised her hands up to heaven and began to praise God for his goodness and provision. In that moment I saw her for who she really was, a bride of the King--a Queen in God’s great kingdom with all the resources of heaven at her disposal. Queen Helen, poor in the eyes of the world, but rich in the eyes of her beloved.
Jane
The full story about Jane can be found at Desperate Women, Desperate Times.
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.
Lovincer
The full story about Lovincer can be found at Victory Admist The Battle.
I met Lovincer last year as she worked as house help for a friend of mine. She is a widow and a mother of 4 children. I was surprised to see her on this side of town. As I came closer our eyes met and she came quickly over to greet me. We embraced each other and I noticed that she had grown very thin. Thin is not a compliment in Uganda as being thin is often the hallmark of hunger or disease.
I sat on a nearby bench with her and listened to what had happened to her in the last 5 months. The woman she worked for had left Uganda 4 months prior and since that time she had not been able to find employment. Now her landlord was pressuring her everyday for the back rent and threatening to throw her out of her one room apartment. Lovincer looked at me and said, “You can see how thin I am. I have not been able to properly feed my children or to take them to the clinic when they are sick. It is only God who can help me now.” She then told me that the sponsor who had been paying the children’s school fees could no longer do it after this term. At that point, she just stared out into the distance and shook her head. “I do have one good thing though. I just started a new job today cleaning this mall; although I am walking almost an hour and a half to get here, as I have no money for transportation. Also, I am not home for my children and some are still in primary school, but what can I do? We need to eat.” At that point the battle for survival just seemed so intense. There we sat huddled together like two scared people in a foxhole. I reached in my bag and gave her some money to get her through the next few days. It wasn’t the victory she needed. I was only the medic on the battlefield stabilizing the patient enough to survive the next few hours.
Agnes
The full story about Agnes can be found at A Blessing Given, A Blessing Received.
Last Friday, I was busy finishing the last of my breakfast and going through a mental checklist of what I needed for the day when my phone began to ring. Suddenly, I was in a mad dash around the house looking for my often-misplaced cell phone. I reached quickly for the phone and answered it. “Karo, Karo. I need help. I need help.” I stopped immediately, listened intently and said, “This is Kari. Who am I speaking to?” The panicked voice on the other end of the phone belonged to Agnes, a widow suffering from HIV and the latest opportunistic infection. In the calmest voice I could muster I asked, “Agnes, Agnes, what is happening?” “I am sick, Karo. I am not well. I can’t walk. I haven’t eaten since you fed me on Monday. I don’t know what to do. Please, Karo, can you help me? Please can you help me?” Her voice was rising to a terrified sob and she just continued to repeat her cries for help. Again I tried to keep my voice even, comforting and calming. I interrupted her, “Agnes, Agnes, I will help you. I will get money to you and I will send someone to go to the market to get food for you. I will help you. I will help you.” After getting some vague details about where she was staying, I set out to feed Agnes.
Yet somewhere deep inside me, I was scared to death, quite literally that this was the end for her. I have seen what AIDS can do. It is a monster of a disease. Its only aim is to destroy the one who carries it. It shows no mercy and gains strength as the one fighting it weakens. It robs you of your own dignity and steals your very ability to care for yourself. Its craving for death is insatiable. It is not easily intimidated and will stand its ground against even the fiercest attack. This monster is dangerous and will always be fatal. So, it is always with great respect for this horrific disease that I go armed with the only thing that can destroy it. This is a fight for God himself. Only he can battle this beast and win. So, I hold the hand of my father, the mighty warrior, and set out for battle.
I was quite far from Agnes when the call reached me and I knew that she needed help quickly, so I called Lisa, a young 20 something American girl, who had come to Africa to see what God was doing here. I had known her only a few days, but she was available and in the right area. I wanted to go myself, but my travel time would delay the help for Agnes, so I gave the blessing to someone else. This was hard, as I love Agnes and I wanted to see her for myself. I wanted to hold her. I have come to crave these kinds of adventures with God. The kind where God takes you into pain, into darkness and then suddenly shows his magnificent light. It is both humbling and empowering to love another person in the presence of Jesus himself. In those moments I long to become less, so he can become more. Even so God was going to send this young girl in my place.
I directed Lisa as best as I could by phone to Nakawa where the widow Rebecca lived. Rebecca would then help Lisa find the room where Agnes was waiting. Lisa wandered through the slums of Nakawa for some time asking each person if they knew the widow Rebecca. Finally, after about 20 minutes, an older man approached her and asked if she was looking for the widows. He then took her to see Widow Joyce. Joyce was overjoyed to see Lisa and invited her in for tea. As they drank tea, Lisa explained about Agnes’ frantic call. Joyce then stood, took Lisa by the hand and marched her straight to Widow Rebecca’s home.
Widow Rebecca had just finished washing her clothes and getting ready for the day. After hearing about Agnes’ frantic call for help, they set out to find her. Rebecca is terrified of riding motorcycles, so instead of taking a boda to Agnes’ home, they walked and walked and walked. Agnes lives on the top of a high hill just outside of Kampala. As they walked the long steep dusty road in the heat of the day, Rebecca told Lisa that she was unsure which path led to Agnes’ home. Lisa was close to frustration. It had taken two hours now to get to this place and now they had no idea how to find her.
In total desperation, they began to ask the men working in the rock quarry if they knew a widow named Agnes who had one daughter.
Each person seemed to know a different Agnes, but not one knew the one they were looking for. Lisa was getting worried that they might never find her. Then a gentlemen driving one of the rock trucks overheard them speaking and told them that he was sure he knew where Agnes stayed. He took them down a path that lead to a small dilapidated home. As they approached the home, Agnes slowly stumbled forward and then collapsed into the dust. Lisa, Rebecca and the driver rushed to her side. Her skeletal frame seemed to have to no muscle to hold it up.
The driver picked her up in one swift motion and brought her into the house. Lisa came into the small house and watched as he put her sick frail body down on the mat. She began to thank Lisa over and over for coming to her rescue. Then she reached her shaky hand out and with great effort picked up a bar of soap. Agnes commented that Lisa’s feet were dirty. Then she asked for a basin of water and began to wash Lisa’s feet and shoes. Lisa tried over and over again to tell her to rest and not to bother with her feet, but Agnes remained determined to do what she could to love Lisa in the same way she felt loved by her. Lisa was overwhelmed by her act of love and in awe of how God can show up in the strangest places.
Rebecca took the money, went to the market and then spent the rest of the day cooking for Agnes. Rebecca helped her to the toilet,
helped her eat and helped her get medicine for her aches and pains. Rebecca gave up working in the market. She gave up earning money
for her own family in order to help her fellow widow. She has seen first hand what AIDS can do, so she stayed and prayed with this
sick frail woman hoping that God would show up in the darkness.
Over the weekend, I had prayed for Agnes and sent messages of hope and encouragement to her. Then on Sunday night I received another
call. It was Agnes, only this time her voice was calm. She simply said, “Thank you Karo. Thank you for loving me.”
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