Spotlight on Service: Summer Mission to Swaziland Reveals True Meaning of Friendship
Kate Rideout
Escondido Charter High School
Escondido CA
One of the best experiences of my life comes from a marvelous continent called Africa. On the top of a hill in Swaziland there is an orphanage which houses thirty-two of the most amazing children. In Swaziland, July 23 is a holiday commemorating a former king's birthday. It is on this day that all the villagers come to El Shaddai for a "medic day" to receive medicine for their ailments.
On medic day, I met an amazing orphan named Nomphumelelo. There we sat, escaping the hot African sun in the shade of a tree, sharing lunch between ourselves and five other children from the village. At this time, Lelo asked me if she could see my notebook that I had in my backpack. When she gave it back to me, she had written, in the most elegant and beautiful cursive writing, a letter. It reads "I love you so much. May God bless you, such a beautiful girl. May God be with you. You are my friend. I am so happy that you are my friend." At the bottom she drew a butterfly and a flower, complaining that they were ugly. To me, they are the most beautiful things on the face of the earth.
We began to talk about our homelands, telling stories while teaching each other through laughter. We told about the animals we see, sports we play, and what kind of activities we like to do. As I got ready to leave for the hotel, we shared an embrace that was as if we had known each other forever instead of only a few short days.
Although we had been visiting the orphans everyday for eight days, even taking them on a safari, the best day was when we performed "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" with them in front of the whole community. On that energetic day of July 26, the orphans of El Shaddai and the children from the U.S. bonded in such a way I had never experienced before. Two worlds became one, and you couldn't see a single difference between us.
After finishing the play, the village children joined us. The music of Joseph surrounded us as we danced together, smiling all the while. The children danced with jubilation as their smiles were etched on our hearts. Their laugher rang above the mountain tops, echoing all the while. Grandmothers of ten children, two-year-old orphans, and even the Americans became one in spirit and heart as they danced on that mountain top.
When we had finished our dancing, we were allowed an hour and a half with the children before leaving for the hotel. I spent most of my time with many of the younger orphans and village children. All across the grounds you could see people playing with children, tickling them, taking pictures, and trying to learn all their names in one try. Many of the village children would run up to me and ask for sweets, pleading with their huge brown eyes. All I could do was look back into them with love and say "I'm sorry, I don't have any." Then they would run to the next person.
Katie and Nomphumelelo
When time came for us to load our buses and leave, we said our goodbyes, even though we didn't want to. We first said our goodbyes to the village children, then the orphans. I went to hug Noxolo, an eight year old girl at El Shaddai. As we started to take pictures, I began to cry and hold her close. I didn't want this incredible day to end. Everyone was coming up to her and saying goodbyes, and Noxolo kept asking "You'll come tomorrow, yes?" And all we could do was shake our heads, hug her, and turn away before she saw us crying.
Then I saw her. Nomphumelelo was sitting on the "jungle-gym" crying. I noticed something familiar about her pants. I then realized that she was wearing the jeans I had given to her two days prior. Walking to her, I couldn't keep my mind off the fact that she was wearing my jeans. I simply walked up to her and just embraced her in a hug. We held it until someone came up to say goodbye to her. When it came time to leave for real, we both broke down and cried. We both knew that it would be a long time before we saw each other again. Promising to write to her, I finally got in the van.
Looking back towards the waving children with gigantic smiles on their faces, I finally realized what was wrong. I all have so much, and they have so little, and there is very little that I can do that will actually change that. Yet they still manage to smile every day and give thanks for what they do have. There is a sense of helplessness and grief that I have for these wonderful people of Africa.
It is that very fact that left a dent in my life. It's like someone just chiseled it on my heart. I came home feeling so guilty and snobbish for having so much, while these amazing people that I bonded with have so little, that I just wanted to give everything away,. . . but I knew this wouldn't help. The strange thing is, even when we were over there, they were so full of love and joy because we were there to talk with them. That is the true lesson here. They are the true people of God.