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| Hopes & Fears |
It was forty five minutes of our lives, a lifetime of theirs. Let me list what Henry and I saw.
We were sitting in a mud hovel, on a mean foam mattress. The air stank of sweat, stale. The sunlight through the gashes in the tin roof danced upon the dusty floor. Chaos in all corners: a broken hoe, a spade, a bottle for paraffin, scraps of paper. No pictures, no chairs, no table, no toys, no flowers, no water, no electricity.
We asked the man and his wife about their lives. Four children, no steady job, one pig, one chicken, a vegetable garden, firewood for the stove outside, a hole in the ground for their faeces.
We asked about their fears and happiness. Greatest fear: death by HIV, leaving the children behind. We urged them to be tested at the charity's clinic, to obtain the free drugs. Greatest happiness: Christmas and Easter, when they may receive new clothes, and extra meat.
It was time to depart, a silent relief for us as sweet as the late afternoon air we gulped down at their door. They didn't know, but probably sensed, that we'd be back quite soon, with items chosen by us in the market and paid for by the Quicken Trust. Caressed by shock, I found myself smiling. And then, most shattering of all, as we said farewell, the woman fell to her knees at my feet and smiled in return.
John
www.quickentrust.com
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