Patience and Praise

I didn't think it would be a special afternoon. It was Friday and I was feeling a little tired from my first week back in the office. I was just going to take it easy, but there was a lady waiting to see me - Patience. She had a screaming, hungry baby girl (Praise) wrapped on her back, and she told me her story. Patience is HIV+. When she found out she was pregnant, she tried to have an abortion, but they refused to do the operation at the hospital. They told her that the life inside of her was a miracle, and so she had to do whatever she could to help that miracle. And she is doing just that. Patience does not breastfeed her baby because HIV can be transmitted via breastmilk. She has been feeding baby Praise formula, but the price of baby formula in the shops (if you can find it) has just doubled. Patience has been making peanut butter as a business, but right now because of all the rains, it's hard to access groundnuts, so money is tight. She went to the hospital, and they gave her a prescription for formula, but there is no formula in the hospital pharmacy. So she came to The Salvation Army; and to me.

I felt absolutely brokenhearted listening to this beautiful young woman who is doing everything she can to make sure her little daughter has a chance in life. We don't supply baby formula here, so I tried making some calls to some agencies to see if anyone supplies milk. No calls got through because our phone lines were down. She doesn't have a phone or a way to be contacted, so I eventually just had to ask her to call back the next week.

I spent about an hour with Patience and Praise - talking a bit, but mostly just in silence. I was full of admiration for the sacrifices Patience is making to give her daughter a chance at life. I was moved and touched by the tenderness I saw between mother and daughter. I was thinking about a couple of close friends who are pregnant in Canada, and imagining their agony at being in this situation. I was thinking about a trip to Toys R Us I made while we were in Canada - seeing the mountains of toys, gadgets, books that most parents in my home country can afford for their children. When all Patience wants is milk. Life. I was thinking about how poverty kills. I was thinking about how love is stronger than everything else, but sometimes it doesn't feel that way.

The next week I called various government and nongovernmental agencies, but no one supplies baby formula anymore. "Times are tough in Zimbabwe" "You know our economy is in a bad state right now" "Well, we used to have programmes like this back in the days when things were ok..." I talked to a man at UNICEF and asked him what I could advise Patience. His response was, "just tell her to breastfeed." When I said, "but won't there be a high chance that the baby could contract HIV?" his response was, "Mrs. McAlister, it's better for the baby to get HIV than to starve to death." Those are the options for Praise: HIV or starvation. I was absolutely shattered. How can we tell Praise - and all the babies of this generation - that they were just born at a bad time? and so they don't get the chance to live?

I wish I could tell you that I did something heroic. But I couldn't. Yes, I gave Patience money to buy a tin of baby formula that would last a few days. She burst out crying, and tears kept rolling down her face, "may God bless you! I didn't know how I was going to manage, but God sent me to you." But what about when those few days are finished and once again the bottle is dry? John came up with an elaborate plan to import baby formula from Botswana to help mothers in this situation, but what about when we leave? What about when donors get tired? What do the babies do then? The baby actually has a higher chance of infection when mothers combine or alternate baby formula with breastmilk. It all just seems so hopeless and devastating.

I prayed with Patience and Praise - that they would have life; hope; endurance; miracles. But when they left I cried for a good few hours, and they have not left my mind or heart. When I was in Canada, everyone urged me not to get too stressed. One well-meaning friend advised me to curb my natural affinity towards caring for people and empathizing with them. But I wouldn't be me if I didn't love others; if I didn't share in people's pain as well as their joy. That's what love is! But sometimes love really hurts because there's nothing you can do... and that leaves you feeling quite shattered.