I loved seeing all the babies! Their precious faces were so innocent. They had not asked for the life they were given. They had no idea that flies resting on your face is not normal. They had no idea that the next five years were going to be a battle of survival. Many of the babies whose eyes I gazed into would not survive to age five. I knew that, but sometimes knowing in your head and knowing in your heart are very different.
There was a particular baby that caught my attention. Whenever I saw him, he was alone and he was crying. I felt so sad for him. Most babies were being carried around by someone who loved them. This little guy seemed to have no one. At one point I tried to approach him to see if I could hold him for a moment. Touch is so healing! However, as I got closer, he started to cry harder. My pale skin can be a bit startling in the summer but I guess to him it was down right frightful. Next thing I know I am surrounded by people peering at me wondering what I did to make this baby so upset. I said, “he was already crying, I swear!” It was a moment that I wondered why I had not learned Kirundi before I came! The crowd faded and the baby was once again alone, still crying. I knew it was not that he needed a diaper change since they did not wear diapers. Yikes! He was probably not hungry since the babies are the only ones that are fed very well since mom is nursing (very publicly and unhindered I might add). I hunted down one of our translators and asked him why this baby was always alone and crying.
“He is probably very sick.”
That was so heavy. In the village of Bugenyuzi, they burry a child a week. In that moment I knew, if I were ever given the chance to return, those eyes were not ones I would see again.
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