“A Mother’s Heart” by Carrie Arcos

The team from Mosaic spent a day at the Avila Orphanage (supported by Breath of Heaven donors),  interviewing and photographing the children to learn their stories. They took the next day to follow-up with some of them by going to the neighborhoods where they had lived before.  One member of that team wrote the following article as she reflected on that experience.

Her eyes were not on me but on her daughter who played in the small dusty yard, which extended from the winding dirt road in front of the home.  Loveness held a small orange ball in her hand and threw it high into the air.
       

 

“Wouldn’t you be sad to see your daughters leave?” I asked the mother.
“Sad?”   She said the word as if it were foreign to her, continuing to watch her daughter. “There is no such thing as sadness,” she simply responded.     

I turned my attention to Loveness who was now running her hand over hair that barely covered her scalp.  Barefoot, she ran, disappearing behind a large tire acting as a pot for a plant.  I wondered what would happen to this girl.  Would she continue to be sponsored for her schooling and end up marrying and having children of her own some day, or would she vanish like she just did, like so many did?

There had been some sort of misunderstanding. The day before, Loveness and her sister Irene had returned to their uncle’s home where they were temporarily staying and had announced to the extended family that the Americans were coming to take them to America.  Instead of shock and outrage, the family had gathered together and discussed the possibility, coming to the conclusion that if both sisters would remain together, then this should be arranged.
So, I sat with a young mother that day who was prepared to give her only children to strangers because she knew that they would have the chance for a better life.  What could she offer her daughters?  She had no money, no job and no husband to care for her or for them.  She could not send them to school.  Her brother had wanted to take in Loveness, the youngest, but she had insisted, no, the girls were a pair.  Because of this, both girls live in an orphanage together with other children, many with a variation of the same story.  

We did not take the girls with us that day.  I could see that Loveness didn’t really understand as we were leaving, but she showed no tears.  She just stood next to her sister and watched our van until we disappeared. 
For many Zambian families, the desperation born of the struggle to care for children whose parents cannot (either because of death, illness or lack of resources) is something that is faced everyday.  Because of this, there is a certain numbness that must take place in order to ensure daily survival.  Emotions like sadness and regret are luxuries that those of us who have much can afford to feel and to indulge in.  Living from hand to mouth is what many Zambians do, something most Americans don’t understand.  Americans plan for the future.  Africans live in the now because the future may not arrive.

Loveness and Irene are considered single orphans.  This is because their mother is still living; they are orphans because she is unable to care for them.  The father in the family is really the provider in Zambian culture. When he dies or leaves, many times the family cannot survive, and the children are left to find food for themselves.  Villages, homes, orphanages and the streets are overcrowded with such children.  And I’ll admit the need is great, too great for a single person to bear.

When looked at as a whole  - with the staggering statistics, numbers and poverty levels  -  it’s hard to even know where to begin.  How can I really help?  What can I possibly accomplish?  These are questions that many of us who have visited impoverished countries find ourselves asking.  Maybe we do this to avoid the guilt when we return to the States and wait in line for a cup of coffee that costs more than what one person will make for a whole day’s work in Zambia.  The point is not to feel guilty, but to try to make small changes that can help alter the trajectory of a single life.  If we can do that  -  effect a change in the life of a single child  -  that is a gift whose impact will extend to every person who comes into contact with that one transformed life.