What you’ve got when it’s gone
Up until this point, Deena and I have both been so fortunate to stay pretty healthy. We take good care of ourselves (and each other) to sustain the energy we need to do this work. On Tuesday, however, I must have caught some kind of stomach bug, one that didn’t pass after an hour but stayed with me for longer. Reaching a point of discomfort and probably with a fever, Deena suggested we leave the village and head back to the orphanage where I could have space to rest and a real bathroom to ease the unpleasant nature of whatever was eating away in my stomach. I wanted to stay, but I didn’t disagree with her. And when our bright blue truck pulled away from our village home, I can’t say I felt relieved. I actually felt really sad.
Once the Benesi’s caught wind of the fact that I was feeling under the weather, they became so concerned. I didn’t want them to worry, as I knew I would be just fine with time and the help of medication we brought from home. I sat next to Mama, who’s expression was so full of sadness and concern, as though she were really my own mother, and I rested my head on her shoulder insisting I would be just fine and see them later in the week. She nodded and hugged me back. We sat, all of us, and I looked at their worried eyes and heard from Papa that he had already called Raphael to come get me. They said they would pray for me to get better fast, and in this scene, which is so clear in my memory, I had a seemingly simple yet profound moment of realization. It is going to be so hard to say goodbye to this family that I’ve become a part of in so many ways.
This pivotal moment helped both Deena and me realize how much we have right here. We were sad to miss school, to miss choir rehearsal and even to miss two nights sleeping in that tiny room sharing that tiny bed because spending time at a quiet isolated orphanage just can’t compare. Aside from the fact that they take such good care of us, we are constantly learning so much from each other – sharing our very different experiences in this world and enriching each other’s lives from all we gain through these new perspectives. Living with the Benesi’s really does give us a chance to look at the world through their eyes, as much as possible, and I like what I see.
During the whole ride home, I kept thinking how easy and natural it felt for me to leave the village to recover because I don’t associate that environment with wellness. Yet for the people we left behind, that is their life. When they get sick, unlike us, they don’t run to medicine. For the most part, they stay right where they are and use the powers of their own immune systems to heal. Newborn babies adapt to that lifestyle from the minute they are born. People drink water from the well without thinking twice about it. For us, second to the amount of school supplies we brought were the plethora of medicines and toiletries we thought were essential to have – just in case. On Wednesday, there I was, fumbling through our prescriptions to see what would heal my stomach. Meanwhile, I am surrounded everyday by some of the strongest most resilient people I’ve ever known. It never ceases to amaze me.

Kevin is pictured here, holding her newborn baby cousin Jonathan, who is a few days old and wrapped in chitenges, already getting accustomed to village living. Of course, I too needed to hold this precious little miracle.

My stomach bug didn’t last long. After a day that seemed like a week in Africa time, during which I rested and drank a ton of water, nursed by a great gal, who’s becoming a lifelong friend, I was pretty much back to myself and excited to get back to work. Though Blessings and Raphael suggested we spend another night just to be safe. They were busy with their own projects, not expecting the unexpected illness, so we were on their schedule and agreed to stay put. Oddly enough, in many ways, I am grateful for leaving because only in leaving could I really begin to understand what I am experiencing. Saying goodbye, even for just 2 days, left me that much more grateful for all that I have gained.