Divine Intervention

The other day I was walking across the compound from the lab towards my room and Teacher Fantaye and a small group of students were standing around with one boy in the middle of them all. As I was passing, Fantaye stopped me and asked if I thought either Sachi or I could help with the boy's wound. When the crowd parted, I saw Shefik Jemal from 6B standing there with a swollen ankle about the size of a baseball. Fantaye so kindly pointed out that the only thing Shefik had dressing his wound was a dirty cloth tied around his leg. I couldn’t help but to show my surprise by exclaiming, “Oh my gosh! No, there is nothing Sachi or I can do for him. He has to see a doctor. There is no other option!” When Shefik looked embarrassed and ashamed with his head hung low, I realized I had forgotten all gentleness or tact. I then readjusted my tone and demeanor and told Shefik that he needed to see a doctor either that day or the next. When I asked him his preference he said, “Tomorrow,” as quickly as possible so as to relieve himself from the uncomfortable situation. I reassured him that I would go with him to the hospital so that I could “help” him (which we both understood to mean covering the financial burden. Since he had let it get that bad I was sure his family was unable to do so.)

So, the following day, Shefik and I met after school by the flag pole to begin our up-hill trek to the hospital. I was amazed because he walked the entire way barefoot, on rocky volcanic soil, a mile uphill (try to top that one with your old-school stories, Dad) without uttering one word of complaint or discomfort. Right before we left (we were trying to do so as secretly as possible as I am unable to cover the cost of everyone’s hospital visits), we ran into the headmaster, Bedelu. He asked me where I was going and I answered honestly- the hospital. He followed up with, “You’re not going alone are you?” as he spotted Shefik standing a few yards away from me. Once again, I was forced to answer honestly but then told him it was a secret and asked him not to mention it to anyone. He replied with the kindest words he possibly could have used (although I’m not sure he knew the weight they would hold for me.) He told me, “You know there is a place in the Bible that says the light of Jesus cannot be hidden. I don’t think you can hide your light. Also, every day when you give first aid to the students, the light cannot be hidden.”  What an answer to prayer! If there is one thing I want to walk away from this year knowing, it’s that the light of Christ has shown forth. May the glory be given to God for His light to be shown to a school full of ragamuffin Ethiopian kids who don’t have soap, clean water, or bandages to mend their own wounds.

Let me complete the story by telling you what came of Shefik’s situation. After finally making it up to the hospital, Shefik was seen by the doctor right away and I was chatting away with the nursing staff when I heard, in a rather serious voice, “Mandy, you need to come in here.” Dr. Fikadu, the hospital’s surgeon (yes THE surgeon. There are no others), informed me that Shefik had an abscess infection and that he would need to be admitted in order for it to be treated properly and asked what I thought we should do. “If he needs to be admitted, then let’s admit him,” was of course my response as I tried to assure them that their hesitation over the cost of the stay wouldn’t be an issue. After that minor issue had been settled, I made the quick transition into the mode that I can so easily take on. That mode can quite fairly be equated to that of an over-protective, helicopter mom who has nothing better to do than worry about things that needn’t be worried about. For example, I made sure they were going to give him dinner, breakfast the next morning, lunch if he had to stay that long, plenty of blankets if he wanted them, and company so he wouldn’t get lonely.  Of course they agreed to all of my demands and even threw in a shower for the sweet little angel! My friend Zondra chose to describe me as an “advocate” for the kids and I’d like to think that’s a rather nice way to put it. I’ll take that title.

After getting Shefik all settled in, Sister Meseret, the matron nurse of the facility, helped me to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation. Had Shefik let the infection go on much longer, it would have spread to his bone and he could have lost part, if not all, of his leg. I almost cried when that reality was brought to the forefront. I am truly convinced that divine intervention occurred in order for Shefik to keep his leg and for us to have yet another reason to rejoice in the goodness of the Lord. The next day when I showed up to pay the bill and pick up the sweet little pumpkin (we made use of the Project Mercy bus this time), I was told that in addition to the 150 birr I paid the previous day, there was another 300 birr to be paid. Allow me to put that into American terms and perspective for you. For Shefik Jemal to receive 3 nutritional meals, a shower, a night’s sleep in a warm bed (as opposed to his grass mat at home), and the removal of an abscessed infection, and a series of antibiotics, the grand total came to a whopping $22! There you have it folks. That’s the serious situation that is happening in this part of the world. Families are unable to afford $22 to ensure that their child can keep his/her leg. The sad truth is that this area is quite a bit better-off than others because of what Project Mercy is doing. However, the marginalized continue to be marginalized and kids lose legs from the lack of a band-aid. I am more thankful than words can describe that, this time, Shefik did not.