Last night, after church, we walked one of the young girls back to her homestead. She is fourteen years old and is in charge of taking care of her eight year old sister while their mother is working out of town. Their mother comes home once a month to drop off money for school fees, transport and food. This past month, she was unable to work so she had no money to bring home to the girls. This had been brought to our attention on Friday afternoon, so we wanted to go to the homestead and check things out.
I had met this girl in 2009 when I was here on a vision trip. At that time, the mother was working in this area, so the girls were not left home alone for weeks and weeks. Their father is deceased, and there is no other immediate family in the area. I can’t even imagine being in the position where leaving my two young daughters home, alone, all month so that I can go to another city for work, is my best option. Or, perhaps, my only option. Such is life here…
Inside the tiny cement block structure, we let our eyes adjust to the darkness. Not too much of the evening sunlight finds its way into the two small windows. Inside sits a double size bed, a large dresser, a table and some miscellaneous cooking supplies. To put this into perspective, the bed takes up more than 50% of the area inside. Claire and I sit on the floor. Our hostess asks Eric and Jacob to sit on the edge of the bed next to her.
She tells us that there is a man staying in the other building located on the homestead. This immediately raises red flags to me; a non-related man residing in such close proximity to two vulnerable girls? I tactfully yet directly ask her if he causes any trouble or makes her feel unsafe. She assures me that he is a “good” man; a former co-worker of her mother’s who still is employed in this area. Occasionally he helps out with money or food, but has not done so recently. He is not home, presently, or else we would have insisted on speaking with him. The situation is not ideal and I am still not completely at ease with it. Sadly, this is not at all unusual in this area. Vacant buildings/structures on homesteads are often inhabited by distant family members, friends, or (in this case) virtual strangers. Such is life here…
Eric asks our young friend how we can pray for her. She echoes a very common prayer here: that she will finish school. She also wants prayer so that she can continue to worship God. She asks us to pray for her mother to be healed so that she can resume her work and provide for them. Finally, she asks us to pray that thieves will stay out of their house. She shows us how the lock on her door is broken, and only locks from the outside. In other words, when the lock is functioning properly, they can only secure it when they are leaving. When the girls are inside, at night, the door is not locked from the inside! Eric tells her that we will return the following day with tools and a new lock that will (hopefully) be able to engage both from the outside and the inside. As he is examining the door and assessing what he will need to make the repairs, my heart drifts to the powerful thunderstorms that passed through this area a few nights back. How terrified these sweet children must have been as the thunder crashed and the lightening flashed outside around them.
We decide that it would be most helpful to return the following day and have her accompany us to the store. That way she can show us exactly what she and her sister need to sustain them until the end of this month. Perhaps, while Eric is working on repairing the door, I will be able to meet the man living on the homestead. For my own peace of mind, I feel it necessary to speak to him personally. However, ultimately, what I will have to do is surrender that to the Lord, as well.
As we are leaving, I take her into my arms for a good-bye hug. I whisper to her: “I love you, I am so proud of you.” Her arms squeeze tight around me as I hear a small sob escape out of her brave set mouth. I reluctantly let her go from my grasp, asking the Father of the fatherless to watch over her and her little sister through the night…and every night to follow. I trust Him and know that He watches over these children; and all the others like them. I believe Him when He promises justice and retribution towards anyone who dares to harm them. I am certain that He loves them and cares for them perfectly and completely. Then why does my heart feel so heavy as we turn to walk away? Why, when I look back and say:
“Good night…sweet dreams…we will see you tomorrow!”
